text:
Monsoon Festivals of Chhattisgarh
Articleसरगुजिहा लोक गीतों में वर्षा, Songs of rain in Sarguja
ArticleCelebration of Togetherness: An Account of Teeja and Ganesh Chaturthi in Dhamtari
Image Galleryपोला/गौठान: मानव एवं पशु संबंधों की छत्तीसगढ़ी परम्परा, Pola/Gauthan: Chhattisgarh's Unique Relationship with Cattle
OverviewSaavan ki Phuhaar, Saavan ke Tyohaar: Festivals of Monsoon in Chhattisgarh
Celebration of Labor: Agricultural Festivals of Hareli and Pola in Chhattisgarh
Practices and RitualsNatural Environment
Vijeta
Vijeta is an action researcher in Jharkhand. She completed her MPhil in Development Practice from Ambedkar University Delhi on "The Child's Life world and Education in 'Anganwadi': Learning Experience from Pakar Toli, Jharkhand". Building on this work, she is currently working in Chhattisgarh.
PolaMonsoon FestivalsLabourChhattisgarh
Festivals have been an intrinsic part of our society for time immemorial. These festivals become opportunity for people of various communities to come together in celebration, which in turn reflects the nature of continuity in our respective cultures. One is aware that the connection shared between human and their social communes with nature are often reflected in their festivals, folklores, arts and other cultural or ritualistic activities. Similar to many ancient communities, one also finds that the 'Adivasis' of Bastar share a deep bond with their environment. In fact, their gods and goddesses–ancestral deities and culture are deeply derived from the flora and fauna, the natural and supernatural, that surrounds them. One also finds that various festivals celebrated across different seasons are derived from the practices rooted in nature. For instance, Chherchera, Amakhavni, Navakhani are few among the many festivals, that celebrate the fruit of nature.
Agricultural festivals of monsoon celebrate the pastoral life. Chhattisgarh, which is also known as 'dhan ka katora' or 'bowl of paddy' has earned its title due to the deep relationship between labour and nurture. We further find, that this relationship between labouring and nurturing is best reflected in the practices of cultivation. Hence, agricultural festivals are opportunities to celebrate the fruits of labour, impossible without a deep connection with nature. Thus, each process in agriculture i.e. ploughing, sowing, planting, reaping of crops and finally, harvesting are marked by festive celebrations. The life of Gond communities, for instance, are sustained by tilling of soil and thus, agricultural activities and practices are found to be deeply embedded in the Gond culture. Rituals throughout the festive celebrations are directed towards offering gratitude to gods and deities, since natural and supernatural energies are considered integral to the processes of cultivation. The sequence in which these festivals are arranged have a deeper relationship with the life cycle of communities.
We find that during the Kharif period, agricultural festivals start with Akti, the day when the seeds are sown– people come together to pray for good harvest and celebrate Savnahi or Beej Pando. A few days later, when the seedlings begin to appear on the surface- rituals for Bhojli are performed to offer prayers for good health of the crops. As the crops become green and healthy, Hareli is celebrated among cultivators across Bastar, Chhattisgarh. Although, Hareli is considered to be the pratham tyohar (a prominent festival) in Chhattisgarh, it is only celebrated when seeds have germinated and seedlings have become visibly taller. The festival, based on the calculations of planets (grahas) is celebrated after the land has been ploughed and seeds have been sown. Beyond this no agricultural tools are used on the land. Hence, it is a festival of finally cleaning and worshipping the agricultural tools that have finished their work for the season.
Pola on the other hand, is an event of offering gratitude to the bail (Ox) and his labour on the field. The Ox is a farmer's most important labouring asset, that must be honoured and worshipped. Another important festival among the farming communities is the festival of Navakhani, which is celebrated in the month of bhadrapad, according to the Hindu calendar. Navakhani means 'consuming the new crop'. It is celebrated after the new yield of rice crop is harvested. The new rice grains are ceremonially cooked and offered to the village deity, clan deities and ancestors on the ninth day of the month of bhadrapad. The auspicious celebration of the new crop starts on the seventh day of the month of bhadrapad, when the Baiga (healer and ritual head) of the village offers new rice to the Adivasi god Devgudiyo. These three festivals can be said to be the most important festivals during the season of kharif across the farming communities of Chhattisgarh. However, this essay will seek to elaborate on the ritual practices of the two most important monsoon festivals of Bastar- Hareli and Pola.
Hareli
Hareli is celebrated patchily in Chhattisgarh. Although, it began as an agricultural festival of the Adivasis, today different communities of Chhattisgarh worship different deities as they celebrate Hareli. As shared above, Hareli is a festival celebrated in the kharif season (i.e., the agricultural season during autumn starting in the month of July or asadh according to the Hindu calendar). It is celebrated on the day of the new moon (Amavasya) of the month of Saavan (also called Shravan Amavasya). Hareli is colloquially derived from a Hindi word haryali, meaning 'greenery'. Thus, Hareli is a celebration, as well as gratitude for the greenery on earth. We come to understand that Hareli is celebrated for two reasons; first, to protect livestock and the people from diseases, bad omens, and witchcraft; second, to express gratitude to the tools, which were used in the process of cultivation (after rice transplantation is over)- tools which play an integral role in ensuring that the earth remains fecund.
Stories of Hareli
Preparations for Hareli begins a day before it is celebrated. The Raut or Yadav community plays an imminent role in it. The shepherds of the village (more often belonging to the Raut community), traditionally observe a fast on this day and bring back medicinal herbs or plants from the forest. They carry herbs or plants like shatawar (Asparagus), gondli (wild onion), Dashmool kanda (dotto kand) and so on, to prepare a medicinal concoction for good health and immunity of people. This concoction is cooked through the night in a new earthen pot. The next morning, people of the village collect to worship Sheetla mata (the guardian deity of the village) with oil and turmeric. They then walk to the gauthan where the oxen are collected.
Figure 1: Cattles are Collected at Gauthan for Hareli
It is ensured, that the gauthan is cleaned by the people before the morning rituals start. At the gauthan, the Baiga (the village healer, who can also be a ritual head in the village) worships the animal deity, Sahada Deo. The concoction that has been prepared by the shepherd and londi are distributed among the residents by the village ritual head.
Figure 2: Medicinal Concoction being Distributed and People holding londi in Plates after Sahada Deo is Worshiped
The residents of the village offer paddy, pulses, and other grains to the shepherd and Baiga as a gesture of gratitude. After receiving the medicinal concoction, people gather together to worship ancestral deities. The londi or bati which are small circular balls made of kneaded wheat flour is offered to the oxen. The londi is covered with castor leaf and a small pocket of salt is kept by its side. It is believed that londi and castor leaf has medicinal properties, which protects livestock from diseases. In the afternoon, people wash and clean their agriculture tools used in the process of farming (like the hoe, spade, shovel, trowel, axe etc.) and, they also clean their houses and area surrounding it. These tools are placed on an elevated platform made of red soil and, worshipped. Murum or red soil is used to repair broken roads and pathways in the village. The gauthan and cow sheds at home are also repaired. Thus, on this occasion, londi in the castor leaf given to oxen and agricultural tool worship, are the highlights of the occasion. Perhaps, a way of thanks-giving for the labour they do.
The diversity of cultural practices in Chhattisgarh gives us other reasons of celebrating Hareli. In some places, the goddess of crop 'Kutki Dai' is worshipped and prayed for good harvest. The Baiga goes to the lakra and minjhari fields to bring them in bundles. He then visits every household in the village and ties the woven bundles of minjhari grains and lakra fruits to their roofs and, in return is offered grains. In some places, branches of Bhelwa tree or Neem tree are placed in the middle fields. The entrance doors of the houses are adorned by hanging branches of the neem tree. These trees, as we know, have herbal properties, that purifies the air, repels insects that may cause harm, and help in preventing several diseases. It is believed that from the month of asadh to saavan, witch-craft takes place. Neem tree and Bhelwa tree are also used for protection against bad omens. In few places, cow dung is also used to remain protected against black magic or witch-craft. Liquidated form of dung is used to draw image of human at the entrance of the house. At some places, a chain of human images is drawn.
Among the Baiga community, Hareli plays an important role. On the day of Hareli, members of the Baiga community educate their disciples about medicinal properties of herbs, plants, and trees. They continue to teach their disciples for the next 15 days and, this goes on till rishi panchami. On rishi panchami, they test their disciples, and if they pass, they can practice as a baiga (healer). It is believed that during this time, the disciples have the opportunity to learn many things about medicinal herbs, plants, and trees because of their easy availability during the monsoon season.
Gedi (stilts) is an important part of Hareli. Particularly, children are often found playing this. The act of walking on bamboo sticks is called 'gedi'. It is a game in which children mount on bamboo sticks and walk around the fields. It is believed, that the stilts have a magical significance i.e., it encourages the crops to grow. Gedi is mostly made of bamboo trees; it is also made of gotiya or sarai wood, with six feet height. Two wooden sticks are used and, two feet from the ground foot rests are made of hollow pieces of char wood or bamboo. These foot rests are called ditto-palk in Gondi. The hollow char wood or bamboo is filled with pebbles, which creates a sound when the stilt is used. The use of gedi is allowed only for a couple of months during the rains, from the day of Hareli till the day of Navakhani. After this day using stilts is considered a taboo. Hill Maria tribe do not use gedi every fourth year, it is considered a taboo to do so. Nowadays, this game is played only in some parts of Bastar. The culture of playing gedi is increasingly lost. To revive the culture several races and competitions are being organised by panchayats and Pradhans.
On the auspicious occasion of Hareli, most of the traditional food are prepared with rice flour, like chila roti, muthiya, angarkar roti, chousera roti etc. Also, many varieties of green vegetables are prepared like kanda bhaji, kochai patta, chowlai bhaji, bohar bhaji etc. Bore bassi is an important meal prepared of rice on this day. Many varieties of sweets are also prepared with rice like doodh fara. Few Adivasi communities also brew mahua (local alcohol) for offerings and consumption.
Pola Festival
Pola is celebrated shortly after Hareli. Pola is celebrated when rice grains start germinating. It falls on the day of the Pithori Amavasya (new moon day) in the month of Bhadon. This is also called Kushopatini Amavasya. This is celebrated after the second process of removing weeds (nindai-kodai) of kharif crops. The festival has two important aspects, first it is indebted to the bullocks and second, a belief is widely held that during Pola, the goddess Annapurna is impregnated. A festival centred on the celebration of gratitude towards the labouring animal in the field reflects the beauty of human-non human relationship.
It is also believed that on this day, as goddess Annapurna is impregnated, the rice plants are filled with milk, that later become grains. Therefore, on the day of Pola no one goes to the field for work. Similar to Hareli, Pola is also celebrated differently among the various farming communities across the region. In some areas, few rituals are performed at night by the eldest married male member of the family. Late in the night, they go to their respective fields to worship the god Bhaishasur and goddess Bai Rao. The rituals performed at night are performed to impregnate the crops. Many cite that, it is due to this reason that this ritual is performed only by the married male members of a household. During the ritual animals are also sacrificed. In the present times, however, hens are sacrificed more often due to the ease in their availability and affordability. There is a belief that fertility of the seed grain is reinforced by the blessings of gods, as the blood of the sacrificed animal is sprinkled over it. During the months of asadh to saavan animals are not to be sacrificed because these are known as months of nurturing. It is only in the month of Bhadon, that sacrificing of animals begin during the festivals. At some places, the Baiga and few important male members of the village visit each worship area at night and eat the prasad (devotional offerings) there. No one is allowed to carry the prasad back to their houses. Furthermore, a man with a pregnant wife is forbidden to perform the ritual and worship the deities.
At certain places (particularly in Maharashtra), Pola is also known as Bail-Pola where nandi-dev, considered as an important devotee of Shiva, thus, oxen are worshipped on this occasion. In some places, it is also believed that it was on this day, that Krishna was attacked by a demon Polasur, sent by Kansa to kill the child. Eventually, Krishna killed the demon. On the other hand, the Gonds of Bastar consider Bhaisasur to be their god, thus, they worship bulls and oxen.
The day starts with installing a clay sculpture of an oxen, often considered to represent Nandi, which is the main idol worshiped during the ceremony.
Figure 3: Nandi being worshipped on Pola
Along with it, various clay toys bought from the market are placed. Terracotta toys are a speciality of Chhattisgarhi art. Terracotta toys like jata, pot, many utensils and oxen idols are worshipped. These rituals are performed by women. Among the Gonds, first, Bada Dev (also called pen) is offered dhan ke baal (rice panicles). The toy utensils are filled with snacks like thetri and khurmi. When the rituals for the day begins, men, women, children have different roles to perform. Children are given toys to play after worship and men decorate the oxen. In some places, celebrations are marked by decorating oxen with ornaments. Usually, the rope tied on the bulls for agricultural purposes are untied on the day before Pola. While in other places, Oxen are coated with oil and turmeric paste and later cleansed. They are further decorated with ornaments and in the evening the Oxen-races are organized. Children play with clay idols of Nandi bull fitted with wheels of clay or wood. Young girls play with chukiya, jata, bartan (utensils)- while boys can be seen running around with their wood or clay Oxen. Children take Pora (Pola- the clay toy) with them in the field in the evening, and break it; this ritual is called Pora Patkana. They take one toy each and break them in the field, after which they continue to play games such as the Surpati, Kabbadi and Kho-Kho in the field.
Feast and market
Figure 4: Market for Pola Festival
Pola brings colours to the market. The market becomes a profusion of decorative items like Oxen, bullock idols, toys, bullock head-gear and other ornaments for the bulls. Festivals are incomplete without the special reference to food.
Figure 5: Bada being Prepared for the Feast on Pola
On this occasion, gudha-chila, anarsa, sohari, chausela, thethri, khurmi, bada etc. are prepared for offerings and as a ritual for celebrating the festival.
In the month of Saavan, when the farmers have toiled and worked hard- Hareli and Pola– both become occasions to celebrate the labour of cultivation. While Navakhani– is a festival that celebrates the fruits of labor; Hareli and Pola celebrate the act of labour. On these two days gratitude is offered by farming communities to his tools, land, nature, and animals. It is a celebration, an acknowledgement of the integral role played by various non-human actors, without whom the agricultural activities would cease to exist.
An acknowledgement remains important to Shri Govardhan Mandavi for his contribution to this article. Shri Mandavi is a peasant, rigorously active in reclaiming the identity and culture of Gond Adivasis. His important inputs and detailed understanding of Gond life-worlds has made this article possible.
Elwin, V. (1944). 28. Stilt-Walking Among the Murias of Bastar State. Man, 44, 38-41.
Sinha, R. K. (1981). A Note on the Nature-Man-Spirit Complex of a Tribe (Pando)'. Nature-Mani-Spirit Complex in Tribal India, Delhi: Concept, 69-115.
"https://naidunia.jagran.com/chhattisgarh/mahasmund-hareli-festival-celebrated-with-gaiety-148728"
"http://www.indiafellow.org/blog/2018/01/bail-pola-a-way-of-celebrating-the-man-animal-relationship/"
https://naidunia.jagran.com/spiritual/vrat-tyohar-such-coincidence-pola-festival-celebreted-on-somvati-amavasya-1285507
http://beautyspotsofindia.com/hareli-festival/
https://www.indianetzone.com/55/hareli_festival.htm
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Gergely Lajtai-Szabó · 12/06/2017
Protected bee eaters being eliminated in Dunakeszi by a filming crew
animals environment nature
"Two days ago, the ruckus of excavating machines disturbed the courtyard of the former cooperative of producers in opposite to the stables next to the plains in Dunakeszi-alsó", founder of Rex Dog Shelter Foundation dr Péter Király claimed. He tried to convince the construction manager to cancel the project due to the vast natural valuables in the area. All in vain: the excavators buried the younglings of bee eaters alive in the loess wall where they were nesting.
According to Nepszava.hu, trenches are being dug in the area for the shooting of a World War I film, not concerning the natural rarities in the area. Király thinks that the destruction is far from over yet. "The sound and lighting effects of the military operation being filmed and the environmental destruction of the wading tanks will probably chase the remaining birds from the neighborhood", as he wrote on Facebook.
"A World War I film will be shot here from next week, for which several trenches and pyrotechnical devices will be installed by a crew that has arguable permissions. But the territory is the natural habitat of the bee eaters that are under special protection and have around 325 euros of intrinsic value. I have been there at the beginning of the process and showed the manager personally the multiple dozens of bee eater nests in the loess wall. He promised me to evade this territory in a 20-meter-wide radius. The very next day, an excavator tread a part of the nesting site in the ground. The birds that were made homeless because of human carelessness desperately search for their chicks that were buried alive. I think we shall not stand it idly.
The sound and lighting effects of the military operation being filmed and the environment destruction of the wading tanks will probably chase the remaining birds from the neighborhood, not to mention the calm of the horses nearby and people living next to the plains. Though environment destruction is a crime in Hungary, the environment protection expert who visited the site multiple times during the recent days could not offer quick and effective help. I wrote a letter to representative Tamás Benkő, I pressed charges in the name of Rex Foundation, and I hereby ask the citizens of Dunakeszi-alsó to resolutely stand up against the committed and the upcoming barbaric environment destruction, together," the vet claimed.
The worst part is that, according to Király, the expert who visited the site multiple times could not help in stopping the environment destruction. New information appeared on Facebook since then: The crew was accused not only for environment destruction but also animal cruelty. The foundation pressed charges at the authorities, environment protection organizations and the municipal.
The most recent news state that destruction ceased and there is only minimal working process, under police surveillance. Dunakeszi's municipal published a declaration that the film shooting in the territory of Eurotrust Ltd. has probable environmentally damaging effects. The charges accused the crew of endangering the nests of bee eaters by digging trenches in this territory in order to create a World War I setting. The ranger of Dunakeszi Mayor's Office immediately departed to the scene and informed the competent authorities, the representative of Danube Ipoly National Park (DINPI).
The territory is not under protection; thus, it is not a protected nesting site. Moreover, as it is a private territory and, furthermore, the owners gave permission to the crew to use it, so neither the municipal nor the authorities can fine the staff. Still, the municipal initiated a procedure and asked for the records made by DINPI with the expert's opinion about the estate. If the municipal finds anything that is against the rules, information will be provided.
The bee eater is one of the most colorful birds in Hungary. It is related to tropical areas by both its vivid colors and its annual journey to Africa. It usually arrives in May and departs in September. Its diet consists mostly of wasps, butterflies and sometimes bees, hence its name. It nests in holes carved in walls, sometimes in higher grass. Despite the fact that it is a protected bird, their nesting sites are often destroyed barbarically. It is important to inform the responsible green authorities or the MME if any illegal action is witnessed related to the nests.
Bee eater (Merops apiaster) was chosen as the Bird of the Year in 2013. It is a highly protected species; its intrinsic value is 325 euros. There are approximately 20-30 thousand couples left in the Carpathian basin.
Ce: bm
Source: Nepszabadsag.hu
Gergely Lajtai-Szabó
Hen says:
Only one word for this: Idiots. For some Forints in their pockets. Despicable

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Q: error during gcc 4.7.3 compilation I am trying to compile local version of gcc 4.7.3 on the cluster.
For configuration:
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while compiling I got:

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make[6]: * [all-recursive] Error 1
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make[5]: * [all-recursive] Error 1
make[5]: Leaving directory
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make[4]: * [all-recursive] Error 1
make[4]: Leaving directory
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make[3]: * [multi-do] Error 1
make[3]: Leaving directory
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make[2]: Leaving directory
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make[1]: * Waiting for unfinished jobs....
libtool: link: ranlib .libs/libgfortran.a
libtool: link: ( cd ".libs" && rm -f "libgfortran.la" && ln -s
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make[6]: Leaving directory
  `/home/users/didymos/opt/gcc-4.3.7-scratch/powerpc64-unknown-linux-gnu/32/nof/libgfortran'
make[5]: Leaving directory
  `/home/users/didymos/opt/gcc-4.3.7-scratch/powerpc64-unknown-linux-gnu/32/nof/libgfortran'
make[4]: Leaving directory
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make[3]: Leaving directory
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make[2]: Leaving directory
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make[1]: Leaving directory `/home/users/didymos/opt/gcc-4.3.7-scratch'
make: * [all] Error 2

Any ideas?
Thanks

A: Can you check that libgmp depends on? If libgmp depends on a library A, then most likely the undefined symbols would be in A.
If you have manually compiled libgmp from source, Can you add the configure command in the question?

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


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Each individual has a personal learning style which represents his preferred way to learn, and the way in which she learns best. There are several categorizations of learning styles. The important information for the teacher is to use a variety of learning approaches to involve each student in his preferred style at least part of the time, and to recognize that all pupils will not equally respond to a particular teaching method. Variety in teaching approaches has many rewards for the teacher and the pupils.


In January, Hawaii's three former governors offered this plan for fixing our school system. The effort was organized by a nonprofit group called Hawaii's Children First, which is dedicated to reforming public education in Hawaii. (Disclosure: Steven Petranik, editor of Hawaii Business, was one of the group's organizers.) Here is the governors' full declaration.
The interests of Hawaii's children should be our highest priority. Unfortunately, our public education system often fails to put students first. Furlough Friday is the latest and most obvious indication that something is badly wrong.
Teachers, principals and parents – who want to do their best – are also victims of our broken system.
Hawaii can create schools that put students first, but meaningful change will be difficult. The public education system spends billions of dollars each year and employs more workers than do Hawaiian Electric Industries, HMSA, Alexander & Baldwin, Hawaiian Airlines, Kaiser Permanente Hawaii, First Hawaiian Bank and Bank of Hawaii combined.
Yet what have been the results?
• Median scores on national exams put Hawaii near the bottom of all the states.
• Business and military leaders say the reputation of Hawaii's public schools makes it difficult to attract top personnel to the Islands.
• Labor unions say public school graduates are often unable to pass apprentice exams.
• The University of Hawaii says many public high school graduates are not ready to take college-level courses offered at the community colleges. According to placement exams, 79 percent need remediation in math and more than half in reading.
The present system is controlled collectively by the Board of Education, Legislature and governor. It's as if we have a single car with three very different drivers, each trying to navigate a different route while arguing with the others. The results are predictable. We can't expect good results – or know who to blame for bad results – with so many competing leaders.
In the schools, it is unrealistic to expect success from principals who have little control over resources and staff. For example, it can take years of painstaking effort before a principal can remove an underperforming teacher from the classroom.
Here is how we can create an education system that puts students first.
Make the governor fully accountable for public education in Hawaii by replacing the elected Board of Education with one that is appointed by the governor.
No one is fully accountable now. The governor, Legislature and elected school board all share responsibility for education. Shared power means no one is fully accountable, and each group blames the others for failures.
Ask yourself: How many members of the Board of Education can you name? What do you know about their backgrounds? What are their positions on education? Most people will have difficulty answering these questions. In contrast, voters closely watch each election for governor and the major issues in the campaigns are well reported and understood. If the governor was accountable for public education, student outcomes and key education issues would be highlighted as a major part of the state's main political campaign.
Make no mistake, powerful interests will fight to protect the status quo.
An elected school board may seem more democratic; but few individual voters watch school board campaigns nearly as closely as do the unions that represent teachers, administrators and other employees of the Department of Education.
Virtually every governor over the past 50 years has tried in one way or another to decentralize or reform the DOE. Each effort has had broad support from the public, but each failed because the system fought back against effective reform and the governor did not have the authority to overcome an entrenched bureaucracy. By giving ultimate responsibility to a single elected official – the governor – real reforms can happen.
Give principals the power and resources to be true leaders of each school, and then hold them accountable.
Principals make all the difference in the success or failure of a school; there are numerous examples nationally of a principal transforming a failed school. But most principals in Hawaii feel powerless to make needed changes. We must give them the resources and clear-cut authority to transform their schools. Principals should be able to hire teachers and terminate underperforming teachers based on an evaluation process that emphasizes student growth and achievement.
Principals also need to wrest control of their budgets from centralized bureaucracies, which are insensitive to local needs. Principals currently control less than half the school-level budget, and almost all of that must cover personnel costs, leaving little for the particular needs of individual schools. Put 90 percent of each school's budget under the principal's control, with support and oversight from a complex-area administrative team. They can allocate school-level resources better than a centralized bureaucracy. Though centralized services seem to make sense from an efficiency standpoint, greater efficiency will be achieved when principals have the option of paying for services from the DOE out of their school budget or finding a more cost-effective alternative.
Children need more time to learn and teachers more time to teach. Hawaii had one of the shortest school years in the country, now made even shorter by Furlough Fridays. The quality of classroom time is crucial to learning, but so is the quantity.
Preparing for important student tests takes time. Teachers argue that the testing required by the No Child Left Behind Act forces them to teach to the test and neglect other learning. Tests are not only required by law, they are a significant contributor to assessing student outcomes. Increasing classroom time will help students master the fundamentals and meet the standards that are tested, without sacrificing the development of other essential skills, such as critical thinking.
• Poverty: Apologists say Hawaii has a lot of students from poor families, but the reality is different. Hawaii has a relatively low percentage of students from poor families, as measured by qualification for the free-lunch program under federal criteria – 28.88 percent versus the national average of 30.53 percent.
• Special Education: Some say Hawaii has many special-needs students, but Census Bureau data show Hawaii has a relatively low percentage of students who require special-education services – 11.69 percent versus the national average of 14.65 percent.
• Unions: Some people blame unions for Hawaii's poor school system, and it is true that unions have helped block many reforms, but most of the states with the highest ranked school systems have unionized teachers.
• English-language skills: Another inaccurate excuse is that Hawaii has a lot of students with poor English skills. Students with limited English proficiency comprise only 8.67 percent of the total public-school enrollment in Hawaii. The percentages are much higher in many other states: California (25.6 percent), New Mexico (19.9 percent), Nevada (16 percent), Alaska (15.6 percent), Texas (15.2 percent), Arizona (14.9 percent), Florida (12.2 percent), Colorado (11.8 percent), Oregon (10.5 percent), and Utah (10.2 percent).
• Money: More resources are always nice, but school funding is not the reason for poor student performance. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, Hawaii is 13th highest among the 50 states in per-student operating expenditures, $11,060 versus a national average of $9,666. Hawaii's all-inclusive per-student annual expenditure of about $16,000 far exceeds the annual tuition at most of Hawaii's 125 private schools.
• Private schools: Some people say private schools in Hawaii cherry-pick many of the brightest children. But 11 other states have a higher percentage of school-age children in private schools than Hawaii's 16 percent.
Our recommendations are the foundation for a transformation of Hawaii's public schools, but we recognize that more is needed. Emphasizing student growth and achievement will require restructuring the education bureaucracy, ensuring that more resources make their way to the classroom and adopting changes that improve the quality of teaching, such as pay for performance, a student growth-and-accountability model, better support for charter schools and other reforms associated with the "Race to the Top" program.
Of course, further reforms should be the subject of many future conversations, but we stress, that accountability is essential and that student growth and achievement must be the primary objective.


In the same way that DDD Scotland made a welcome return this year, the same was true of DDD Reading. A .Net Community event which is hosted in the Microsoft Offices in Thames Valley Park. I have attended this event before, in fact, it was actually one of the first .Net Community events that I went to, and this year I was asked along to present my talk on Cake.
I will be taking on board some of these comments for my upcoming talk at DDD North.


Going through a divorce is a major life change. Even if the separation from your spouse is the best possible thing, it still will be stressful. One of the best ways to ensure that your divorce runs smoothly, and that you minimize as much stress as possible, is to prepare ahead of time. Here are some things that you should do as soon as the divorce process starts.
Money is a major stressor in the divorce. Not only will you be dividing the assets as part of the divorce agreement, but you will also be responsible for your own living expenses and legal fees. If you don't plan ahead, it could be very hard to have money to live off of during the divorce. This is why you should open up a separate bank account months leading up to the divorce and start setting aside money. This way, you won't be at the mercy of your estranged spouse to get the money that you need to survive.
As a general rule, people usually have their spouse as their power of attorney. This means that if something were to happen to you, your power of attorney would make all of your legal, financial, and medical decisions. The concern is that if something happens to you, which it always could, your estranged spouse will be making life-altering decisions for you. This is why you should meet with an attorney as soon as you start the divorce process and change all of your estate planning documents. Make sure that you have someone that you trust as your power of attorney, and, if needed, change your will and trust to accommodate your new situation.
Many people choose to live separately while they go through the divorce process. This shouldn't be a problem, unless you don't get a separation agreement. When you abandon your house, you give your spouse adverse possession of the property. That means that until the divorce is final and a judge rules on the divorce, you could have a hard time getting back onto the property. Your spouse could change the locks, take away the kids, and much more. A formal separation agreement will only serve to protect you and your interests.
By doing these three things, you can protect yourself while going through a divorce. Contact an attorney like Lisa J Kleinberg for more information.


text:
CALIFORNIA TO FLORIDA
CA to AZ
AZ to NM
TX & LA
LA, MS, & FL
Spain & French Pyrenees
France –Bordeaux & SW Coast 1
France – Notre Dame des Cyclistes
Belgium & Holland
Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania
EASTERN & SO. EUROPE
Slovakia and Hungary
Croatia, Slovenia & Bosnia-Herzegevina
Israel & the West Bank
Zealot City
Jerusalem Syndrome
Roadkill Safari
INDONESIA & MALAYSIA
East Java and Madura
Java - Jalan-Jalan
Rumah-Rumah
North Sumatra & Malaysia
THAILAND, LAOS & CAMBODIA
Monkmania
I: Hue, Danang, Hoi An
II: Hoi An to Hanoi
III: Hanoi, by Wendy Tucker
IV: Hanoi to Mong Cai
I: Guangxi
II: Hong Kong to Hengyang, Hunan
III: Hunan and Jiangxi
IV: Zhejiang
V: Shanghai and Jiangsu
Dehli to Agra
Rajasthan 1: Agra to Bundi
Rajasthan 2: Bundi to Dungarpur
Gujarat 1: Dungarpur to Palitana
Gujarat 2: Palitanta to Jungadh
Maharastra 1: Jalgaon to Ahmednagar 1
Maharastra 2: Ahmednagar to Bombay
OTHER VOYAGES
Belize, Mexico and Cuba
Belize and Guatemala
Belize to Bacalar, Mexico
Bacalar to Oxkutzcab
Havana to Vinales
Around Vinales
Back to Havana
California AIDS Rides
France, Belgium, Luxembourg
Minneapolis to Milwaukee
Moab and the Four Corners 1
TRIPLOGUE
Indonesia V: North Sumatra and (a little bit of) Malaysia
25-26 April, Samosir (f)
Our entire Samosir Island (actually a peninsula) experience seemed surreal. One event characterized the entire experience. As we were walking through the quiet town of Tuktuk we came a boy sauntering with wide swings of the hips wearing a round biscuit tin on his head. We'd seen many women carrying all kinds of goods as crowns but this was the first male. To add to the novelty of the moment he smiled as we passed and said only "cake". Deftly he lifted the tin off of his head popped the lid and showed us the homemade Bundt inside. As if anticipating the next question before we even asked, "berapa?" (how much?) he tipped the lid to reveal the price. Seven hundred rupiah was too little to dicker with and we bought a slice without balking. As we munched our purchase we began to analyze why we'd bought a piece of cake, neither of us was actually hungry. It was the ingenuity of the offer that had lured us. After being subjected to seemingly thousands of "hello mister hav-a-looks" and other unoriginal touts it felt only right to reward this entrepreneur. And, who could argue with the price, less than a dime?
The next day's agenda seemed a recursive. We'd planned to circumnavigate an Island in the middle of Southeast Asia's biggest lake in the middle of one of Asia's biggest islands. (It could be even further complicated because there is another lake nested on the island of the lake….) A little investigation revealed that our itinerary was just a little too aggressive and neither Andy nor I were willing to subject our butts to similar hardship that we'd felt at Danau Maninjau. We opted to rent motorbikes in order to do the 150+km tour of Somosir.
Renting the bikes was a frustrating experience, but well worth the hassle. Within a few kilometers of Tuktuk the road disintegrated and we were soon motoring along a sandy potholed path some four hundred meters above the lake's surface. Had the air not been rendered hazy by local and remote forest fires we would have been treated to a spectacular view of the lake below.
Samosir Bataks are Christian and this being a Sunday they were all in their best attire and on their way to churches that dotted the remote countryside. It seemed strange to see crosses adorning roofs in the Indonesian landscape and even more unusual to see Indonesians in western dress. Men in dark suits and women in brightly colored long dresses walked the dirt roads to and from church. Unlike their Muslim counterparts, the Christian women of Samosir wear makeup and are unbelievably outgoing. Wearing sometimes clown-like countenances they heckled us and jeered us as we passed, seemingly with more vigor than the male Bataks.
The concave-boat-hull rooflines of the Batak residences are almost as striking as the Minangkabau houses of around Bukkitinggi. Indonesians seem to take great pride in the look of their homes, especially their roofs. Is there some function to go with all that form?
Function was something missing in the bridges of Samosir. Most we crossed were in such disrepair as to be dangerous; no wonder there were so few four wheeled vehicles on the road. Most of the wood-decked crossings had gaps so large a basketball could easily fall to the river gorges below. Most had the trunks of palm trees replacing part of their planking. Still we'd see huge dump trucks tooling down the road leaving the unanswered question, "how do they cross the bridges?"
By lunchtime the sun had baked us and we were ready for a breather. At a sidewalk café we ate mie goreng next to a rather large community event being held under a canopy in the street. I had thought from the fidelity of the public address system and tone of voice of the announcer that it was a cattle auction. The dress of the attendees contradicted this assumption --it turned out to be a funeral.
After mourning our lunch we decided to brave the now mounting heat and continue our ride around the Island. Mercifully the road between the bridges had smoothed and we were able to ride with sufficient speed so that the wind cooled us. Throughout the day we past copious numbers of Christian crypts fashioned from cement with stylized Batak roofs. We wondered if they spend more money housing the dead than the living. Certainly more was invested in crypts than river crossings.
Batak crypts on Samosir
Busted bridge
27 April, Tuktuk to Brastagi, 112km (a)
"The boat to Haranggaol? Ohhhh… It already leave." I suppose we shouldn't have been surprised, since we've found boat information (and not only in Indonesia) to be unreliable at best. Everybody we asked yesterday told us it left at seven; now they were saying six, making me wonder how anyone gets on boats at all. Nevertheless, the words were hardly welcome, since it meant sixty extra kilometers of riding over what looked to be mountainous terrain. Worse yet, we'd risen before dawn and pedaled seven kilometers without so much as a cup of coffee. In fact, I went the whole day without coffee. Fred says my resulting crankiness manifested itself in a number of ways, while to my mind it was one of our more enjoyable riding days yet.
It was certainly one of the most challenging. Rather than taking us to a port on the north side of the lake as planned (and Toba is big –the biggest in Southeast Asia), our vessel dumped us back in Prapat, a place neither of us was eager to re-experience. We pedaled straight out of town, knowingly ignoring one-way street signs in order to avoid an unpleasant hill. Soon we were pumping up a giant hill, though, following the main highway to Medan up the lip of the crater encircling Lake Toba.
A half-hour later we had climbed three hundred meters. The view of the lake would have been fantastic were it visible through the forest-fire haze. At our turnoff that led northwards following the lake, a handful of lounging cops advised us on what lay ahead. "It goes up about two kilometers more," said one, "and then it's all downhill to Brastagi." Estimations of distance varied from forty to a hundred kilometers. The cop who thought it was a hundred k was right, while the one who told us it was mostly downhill was egregiously wrong. Indeed, our first two kilometers on the side road took us sharply up –through lush jungle silent save for animal sounds—but it was hardly to be the last hill. What made all the climbing tolerable were the cool mountain air and the unbelievably quiet road, most of which had been recently resurfaced. As we passed through some rough looking assemblages of houses that pass for villages in these parts, I wondered what it would be like to live in such a vertically-oriented environment, perched above a virtually inaccessible expanse of blue. Many of the people had a wild mountainy look to them, with unkempt hair, dirty clothes and skin and rough manners. As we passed sweatily by, most were too stunned to muster the meekest "hello Mister," for which both of us were grateful. Some did manage hearty Batak greetings of "Horas!" though, a word that's fun to shout back (as well as being the alpha and omega of my Batak vocabulary).
We caused quite a stir when we stopped at a roadside warung. A middle-aged male patron wanted to impress his pals with his English abilities. "Where you prum?" came the inevitable question. When we told him, everyone nodded their heads and shouted excitedly, "Amerika, Bill Clinton!" Over and over, our new best friend tried to convince us to have some tea, but given the general hygiene standards of the place, we thought it best to stick to bottled beverages and headed out as quickly as possible.
The road climbed up a long series of switchbacks from here, snaking through rock-strewn forests of pine. We knew we were near the top when a huge broadcast antenna materialized out of the mist before us. My altimeter read 1400 meters before we plunged back down along a semi-surfaced road that dumped us into the vast vegetable-covered plain containing Tigaringgu, a godforsaken crossroads where we had lunch.
After cruising up and down the main (and only) street, we settled on the cleanest-looking and most popular eating establishment, the first Padang-style restaurant we've seen where at least ninety percent of the dishes were unappetizing fish smothered in chili sauce. I ordered the only item that looked and sounded fish-free, spicy tempeh, and was dismayed to find it contained dozens of tiny fish heads. Normally Fred's the picky eater in the family, but he chomped it all down as I picked out as many of the staring minnow eyes as I could. Though not even he would touch the apparently poisoned soup that was plunked down before us. As we ate, the other customers (all men) stared silently as the employees (all women) giggled hysterically, making for an altogether self-conscious dining experience.
Tigarinngu marked the kilometric half-way point of the day, and we'd already climbed nearly 1200 vertical meters, so the relatively level terrain which ensued came as an immense relief. The road's surface alternated mysteriously between excellent and execrable, as it had been resurfaced in utterly random stages. Miraculously, we found Magnum ice cream bars in a gritty-looking town called Seribudolok. I asked our sullen hostess what it meant. "A thousand mountains," she explained. When I told her I thought we'd climbed them all today, she indicated a nearby volcano and suggested we climb that one, too. No thanks, I said, pointing my bike in the other direction.
Our cultural diversion came about an hour later. We had passed into the land of the Karo (as opposed to Toba) Bataks, and I was anxious to see an example of their traditional architecture. The small village of Dokan fit the bill nicely, with a collection of crumbling old multi-tiered wooden houses looking vaguely like furry flying saucers decorated with cow heads.
Back on the main road, the closer we got to our goal, the busier traffic became --mostly heavy trucks hauling god-knows-what, driving straight down the middle of the road as if it had been built uniquely for their benefit. Villages became more abundant and less pleasant to cross, especially since school had just adjourned for the day. As well as screaming "Hello Mister!!" at full volume, many of the little monsters –boys and girls alike-- would slap our arms, grab at our bags or block our path. When one little urchin (not the first) picked up a stone and chucked it in our general direction, I leapt off my steed and pursued him on foot around a car, through a chicken coop and into the rice fields before giving up. Fred said he was glad I didn't have my pepper spray handy… Climbing up a hill into the busy town of Kabanjahe, I got miffed by a persistently honking Kijang (Indonesian sports utility vehicle, and the type of auto most likely to contain buttheads). When I turned around to give the driver my most convincing one-finger salute, Fred wisely noted that it might be best to charter it the remaining ten kilometers to Brastagi.
Another dollar well spent, it turns out, since it was uphill (albeit gradually) the whole way, along a miserably busy road. At first Brastagi didn't look too appealing: a busy main street lined with ugly concrete blocks. The people at the tourist information office were surprisingly friendly though, and even proved informative. As well as recommending a hotel for us, they told me that the back road we planned to take to Bukit Lawang tomorrow was "a Dutch road" now only suitable for trekking, and that the only way was along the main highway through Medan --not exactly welcome news, but helpful.
The place they'd recommended was uphill of course, a gigantic monstrosity of a "resort" catering to nouveau riche Chinese from nearby Medan, more of an anthropological encounter than a hotel. We were bewildered to find it bustling with people, piling out of their shiny new Mercedes. Normally in Indonesia we're the only guests at any given hotel, and this was Monday. Someone explained that tomorrow is yet another national holiday, "an Islamic one" this time (if someone could convince the Indonesian government to observe Jewish holidays, no one would ever have to work). Fighting his way through the throng of hyperactive Chinese families –invariably accompanied by their white-uniformed, darker-complected pribumi nannies—Fred scored us the last room in the hotel. "It's a small one," he warned, "and the worst value we've found anywhere in Indonesia. But the guy at the desk says there are no more rooms in town due to the holiday." After stowing our bikes under a staircase, he led me up to what he called "the servants quarters" –and that's exactly what the room was, a tiny garret attached to a larger suite. If any doubts remained that the room had any other intent, the diagrams explaining how to use the western-style toilet dispelled them. Nevertheless, there was enough room for our gear plus two stiff-n-sore bikebrats. Somehow we found the strength to go for a sunset walk around Brastagi's hillside suburbs, where we passed by a large number of more savory-looking lodgings, all of them looking empty. In the fading light, we descended the hill along dirt pathways through Brastagi's kampung suburbs, where I was surprised to see peasants returning straight from the carrot fields to respectable-looking houses with roofs sprouting parabolic t.v. antennae.
We ran into one of our friends from the tourist office earlier, and he recommended a Chinese restaurant. Not surprisingly, it was filled with high-decibel families from our hotel. But the food and the service were delicious. The owners –Chinese homos d'un certain age and identical twins—gazed at us knowingly from behind the cash register. We nodded our approval on their fine selection of the service staff and patted our full bellies in satisfaction before heading out into the cool mountain air. The main street that had looked so dismal only a couple of hours earlier was now teeming with life. Makeshift restaurants were set up all along one side of the street, and the still-open shops were doing brisk business. Hasn't anyone here heard of the Krisis Moneter? One interesting fact in our guidebook might have the answer: the province of North Sumatra (and there are eight provinces on this island alone) accounts for more than 30% of Indonesia's exports. Up to this point I had thought that the road to riches in Indonesia was paved with rice, but North Sumatran products like cocoa, rubber and coffee are what fetch (currently overvalued) hard currency. I wonder if for some of the people staying at our hotel, the Krismon is actually good news.
Lake Toba, barely discernable through the haze
This Karo Batak house has seen better days
28 April, Brastagi to Medan, 73km (f)
This was the first day I can ever remember unfavorably anticipating a ride that included a 1400-meter descent. The big problem was that our path would be along the road that led to the third largest city in all of Indonesia. We'd thought to ourselves that some good fortune would smile upon us; at least it was a holiday and most of the traffic should be travelling in the opposite direction, from Medan to the cool holiday hill station of Brastagi.
The day we'd discovered that a ride to the orangutan reserve along a quieter road was out of the question, at least unless we passed through Medan. Our large scaled map represented a beautiful looking road from near Brastagi to the reserve, while the smaller scaled map mysteriously did not. When we stopped at the tourist information center we were advised that the road was no longer navigable and that we'd have to go to Medan.
We were mistaken about the advantage of the traffic travelling in the opposite direction and much of the ride was way too scary too describe. Just thinking about it turns my stomach. The most frightening aspect was when cars, trucks and buses coming at us overtook slower vehicles without regard to our occupation of the oncoming lane. We visited the road's shoulder frequently in order to avoid proving Newton's law about space and objects occupying the same.
It is a pity that so much of my concentration was on the road and vehicles because the scenery (what little I saw) was of the green and jungly variety. At least the ride was effortless due to our loss of altitude.
Swinging around a corner I nearly fell off my bicycle in shock of seeing ten bicycles and their lycra clad owners sitting by the side of the road. We stopped and had tea with a cycling club that had ridden up the nasty hill we were coasting down. Benson, a middle aged Chinese father and cycling enthusiast and his son Wandi had formed the club and had taken the group for a holiday ride. They offered to escort us back to Medan, which we accepted gladly. It is often hard to match our pace with unburdened riders. Usually riders without packs are too slow descending and too fast on flats and up. Today was no exception to the mismatched cycling rule. One good thing about traveling in a pack is that you are more visible to motorists --not that they showed us any more courtesy as a group.
I was actually glad when the cyclists pulled ahead as the terrain started to level off. Many of them were riding a little more dangerously than I could watch. Bravely they played chicken with the oncoming cars, tempting fate as they tested the nerves of the motorists. I sat back at a comfortable distance, not wanting to be part of any possible collateral damage. Much to my amazement we made it to Medan in one piece, parting company with the last of the cyclists before looking for lodging.
Later in the day we ran into one of the cyclists at the mall (where else?) with his family. His children slurped ice cream while he advised us of the location of a bike shop. His wife seemed to ignore our presence Andy surmising her disapproval of his hobby due to safety concerns. The mall proved to be a great place to stock up on supplies and recharge ourselves away from the stifling heat and rancid smoky air of Medan
Our escort into Medan
Live bats sold as asthma medicine on the street in Medan; we considered buying them all and liberating them.
29-30 April, Bukit Lawang (a)
I had wanted to pedal up to the orangutan reserve in Bukit Lawang, but Fred thought it wiser to motor up and leave our bikes to be serviced in town. He had broken a spoke on the way down from Brastagi, and both our chains needed replacing. When I called the bike shop our friend had recommended in order to get directions, the friendly voice at the other end of the line said, "I'll just send my driver by to pick the bikes up." I could get used to Indonesian-style service…
The ride up to Bukit Lawang, however, proved to be less easy. Everyone we talked to gave us different advice, and in the end we chose to trust a travel agent, who went so far as to flag down a passing bemo for us. "This will take you to Binjai," he instructed, "and from there you can take a taxi to Bukit Lawang for only 5000 rupiah." It sounded to good to be true –for good reason too, since it was a lie. The bemo unceremoniously unloaded us ten kilometers short of Binjai. When we finally did make it there, the "taxi" turned out to be a minivan that cruised the highway looking for more passengers. At first it seemed like a pretty good deal, since we were the only passengers save a chatty guy in the front seat asking the usual questions. But as we progressed, the van quickly filled up. At one point I counted more than twenty people squeezed into the van, which was so crowded that the ticket-seller had to hang off the side. And the music –sappy Indonesian love songs—was cranked up so loud that I feared the windows would blow out. I looked out at the endless palm oil plantations, trying to think of anything but my discomfort. The two-and-a-half hour trip seemed five times longer. When we were finally able to disentangle ourselves from the limbs of other passengers and get off the noisy tin can, I promised Fred we'd take a proper taxi back.
Our first impression of tourist-infested Bukit Lawang wasn't overly favorable. A pair of sleazy-looking touts fell upon us, pushing hotels and jungle treks. Once beyond these unsavory characters, however, the place felt pretty hassle-free. After a necessary shower we headed upriver to the orangutan rehabilitation site along a long path lined with cafes, guest houses and low-budget travel agencies. A dugout canoe took us across the river to the rehabilitation center (visions of strung-out orangutans filled my head), where we had a quick lunch with a Dutch dude traveling solo. A steep and slippery trail led first past a group of caged orangutans (most of whom had been kept as pets in nearby Medan) into the forest. After only a few minutes climb we began to hear them swinging noisily through the trees and caught glimpses of orange fur among the leaves. The end of the trail was a stiflingly hot muddy patch looking over a small wooden platform, upon which two Indonesians were seated. One guy was banging the wooden planks with a rock to call the orangutans, while his partner removed bananas from his backpack. A handful of other tourists encircled us, and we all took turns slipping on the mud and falling on our butts.
Three of them showed up. The first one came right along the path, forcing us to move out of its way, while the other two swung wildly through the trees. They drank milk from a cup and ate entire bunches of bananas at a time; one of them made away with a pack of cigarettes. The orangutans seemed more interested in the human contact than the food, though, and apparently enjoyed hamming it up for the cameras. We all clicked and flashed away until the rain began to fall, at which point we were sheparded back down the slope. The whole experience wasn't that different from a zoo, yet it felt magical somehow to be in the jungle among "wild" apes.
We met two other Dutch while waiting out the torrential rain on the way down. Arian and Sandra were attractive young newlyweds on their honeymoon. They had just arrived from Amsterdam the previous day and we gave them some advice for the road ahead. They joined us for dinner back at our lonely hotel, during which we tried our best to explain for them Indonesian food.
The next morning I went back to see the orangutans again while animal-hater Fred chose to chill. At breakfast we met an American dude called Eric, all kitted out for a safari. He worked for Prudential Securities and was putting together a deal in Kuala Lumpur. It was his first visit to Southeast Asia and he was committed to experiencing the highlights, which he believed to be the Sumatran jungle and Cambodia's Angkor Wat. Along with his guide Anton, he planned to visit the orangutans no fewer than four times. I wonder if he made it to all four feedings, since I found it to be pretty much the same experience the second time around. The only major differences were the far greater number of tourists (mostly old Germans) and the addition of a mother orangutan with her tiny baby. Another added bonus was seeing one orange ape puke up some bananas onto the platform and then casually scooping them up to taste them again. Recognizing the three orangutans from the day before, I asked one of the rangers if it's always the same animals who show up. He told me that six of them come regularly and that they all have names. The baby, for example, is called Jan, after the month he was born.
On my way back down river, I arranged a van to take us into Medan, where we learned on CNN that anti-government riots were going on at a nearby university. Maybe it was time to leave Indonesia after all…
Orangatainment
Hamming it up for the white apes
1-2 May, Penang, Malaysia (f)
In the dark and dingy waiting area of the "fast" ferry to Malaysia I sat flipping a coin while Andrew inquired as to why we were so late. Bryan came up to me and introduced himself while I watched an Indonesian babe flirt mercilessly with Andrew. Andy came back and explained to us that he'd just been proposed marriage and that we were waiting for the Indonesian immigration officials to arrive. It is too bad that the customs officers couldn't double as immigration. There were at least six of them and they were far more interested in smoking and working on a crossword than what anyone had in their bag.
Bryan was (I suppose he still is…) an actor who became disenchanted with the whole Hollywood scene and somehow escaped the vicious cycle of waiting tables while auditioning for parts. His tale is, however, far more interesting than the average thespians'. Just as he found himself at his low point an attorney contacted him and explained that an interested and anonymous individual would like to finance his studies in the Seattle area. He could choose any school and any program as long as it was in Washington near his grandparents. I'd just finished a nostalgic rereading of the parallel Dickensian tale of Pip and his benefactor so I couldn't help but ask him, "Did you ever figure out who your 'Havisham' (or convict) was?"
He hadn't yet but supposed it was a good friend of his grandparents who had some vested interest in their happiness. Bryan took up studying Asian literature and moved to Seattle. We finally boarded the "fridge-boat" and found seats in the back. Andy's girlfriend from the waiting lounge boarded and passed out vaccination cards. Jokingly (and loudly) he pointed to Bryan and told her he was looking for a mate much to the amusement of the entire boat and the embarrassment of the girl. She blushed and ran from the cabin. I feared retribution and it seemed I might be correct when "Mr. Andrew" was paged on the boat's public address system. Andy returned promptly with her notebook indicating that she wanted Bryan's coordinates so she could write. After scrawling Andy's brother's (Marty's) details in her notebook we passed it back to her as they cranked the motors of the vessel.
Immediately we realized we were sitting in the wrong place. The metal hatches leading up to the deck rattled with the vibration of the motor. I envisioned a five-hour headache and went forward to find seats in the other cabin. We moved and spent a peaceful trip sleeping, reading and chatting with Bryan about our respective travels.
When we arrived we were made aware of our error in switching cabins. We had been sitting in the occidental cabin and had moved into the Indonesian cabin. We then had to wait shivering on the icy boat for an hour and one-half while the Malays processed all the bules and most of the Indonesians before we got to exit the boat. After a ride into town and a shower we set off to meet Bryan for dinner. As we entered the lobby of his guesthouse across from the Chinese mansion where they filmed Indochine (the movie) in, we discovered Bryan in the middle of a little crisis. Bryan had inserted his credit card in an ATM and the machine had eaten it. The big problem was that Bryan was to be in Penang for only one night. He'd only come over to renew his Indonesian visa, not wanting to worry about it as he toured eastern Indonesia. Now he had no cash and no card and was testing the viability of Visa's lost card services. We went on to the restaurant to wait on Bryan as he spent his night in customer service hell. Arriving during happy hour we slurped down two cool beers and munched tasty appetizers (reserving two icy Guiness Stouts at the happy hour price for Bryan). Our waiter, Jeff, who we'd pegged as a sister, cared for us well. Bryan, who finally arrived, didn't see his plucked eyebrows nor any of the other tells that led us to our assumption and doubted us. I took it as a challenge and managed to not only get him to admit he was a drag queen, but to produce photos to prove it. As a male, one might say that Jeff had unfortunate looks, but as a girl he was exquisite.
Something of the dinner or our lunch on board the boat did not agree with me at all and the result was a rather problematic (is there any other kind?) IPFE. The next day I spent the bulk of the day not knowing whether to sit or pray in front of the porcelain Buddha while Andy forewent the ride around the Island of Georgetown. Finally by evening I'd recovered enough to eat some white rice after eating only yogurt and crackers during the day. I even felt strong enough for a walk around town.
Penang was more interesting demographically than Indonesian towns. Indians lived along side of Malays and Chinese in what appeared to be perfect harmony. Colonial deco architecture, similarly, cohabitated with Asian and other styles to make it a visually eclectic town. Somehow Andy convinced me that it was a good idea to see the movie "U.S. Marshal's". After the screening I wondered whether it ever achieved commercial release in the states.
Before and after the movie it became clear that regardless of race, religion or creed the god that Penangians prayed to is food. Nearly every inch of retail space, meter of sidewalk and scrap of dirt in the park is dedicated to the preparation and service of meals. Colorful, fragrant and delicious looking food is everywhere you look much to my consternation. I felt though I was in culinary heaven without a stomach.
Indonesian ustoms authorities; more interested in the answer
to number three down than what is in your bag
3 May, Penang to Alor Setar, 102km (f)
Legs quivering just a little I mounted my bike and we were on our way to our first riding day in our very brief tour de Malaysia. Yesterday's nervous stomach still with me, I wasn't sure about whether I should ride or not, but was willing to give it a try. The option to take some form of transportation would be there if I couldn't continue. As we rode to the ferry to peninsular Malaysia a few things were obviously different here than in Indonesia.
First of all there were huge numbers of private cars all in a rush to get somewhere. Even in their haste they were very orderly and careful to give us a wide berth. The vehicles we had to watch out for were the buzzing scooters that wound their way around town without regard to anything or anyone. At least we were traveling closer to their speed while on our bikes in contrast to the day before on foot where we were at a distinct disadvantage. Along with finding more autos we discovered that there were far fewer bikes and the roads much wider and better maintained. Shortly after beginning to ride we'd tagged Malaysia as the Ohio of Asia.
Our map of Malaysia was dreadfully insufficient. It marks none of the small roads or the ferries we'd need to take today. We asked a number of folks for advice on how to proceed to Alor Setar with most everyone replying we'd have to take the main road. Just before we succumbed to the idea of toughing out the miserable and long highway route a cyclist named Chew See Lim came to the rescue and gave us detailed instructions on how to find the ferries and which lanes to take. He even escorted us along the first ten kilometers. The whole idea of the journey appealed to him except that it provided no income. This clearly violated his Chinese values.
Malaysian villages, at least in this area, were drastically different than their Indonesian counterparts. They looked far more prosperous, with nearly every house sporting a shiny four-wheeled vehicle in its driveway or under the house. Speaking of the homes, they are built on wood columns sitting about two or three meters from the ground. We assumed that the space below the house was reserved for domestic animals, though few people keep them now. Many families have finished the lower part of their house with masonry to make a ground floor. Few of the picturesque houses on stilts remain.
Our first little ferry ride made me understand why so few people knew about the boat alternative. Descending the rakishly slanted and tilted stone steps with our bikes was difficult enough, but subsequent hoisting of the bikes onto the rowboat required more dexterity than I felt capable of. Somehow we managed to load and unload the bikes before proceeding to the next ferry. Riding quickly through coconut palm studded villages we arrived at the beach. Ferry is too generous a description for the boat we took across the bay. I little outboard launch took only us across. On the other side similar acrobatics were required; we had to carry our bikes over the rocky breakwater to continue our ride. After a drink we set out in the now blistering heat.
I made Andy stop frequently so I could cool down. I'd not eaten so many popcicles since I was a child.
Chew See Lim had warned us that the afternoon would be hot and that we would face a head wind most of the latter part of the day. Unfortunately for us he was correct. Normally a headwind would cool us off but the effect was like being in a convection oven. Hot moist breezes blew across the massive fields of wet rice into our faces. One surprising thing was that in all of the acres and acres of rice there was nary a person tending to it. It was very surprising after Java and Sumatra, where every square inch of rice padi seemed to have personal attention daily. Later we saw that indeed there were vast differences in rice cultivation methodology; can you spell m-e-c-h-a-n-i-z-a-t-i-o-n? Huge motorized rice harvesters dotted the roadside.
We detoured a little on our way into Alor Setar. Road signs that had clearly marked our route suddenly disappeared and we went off track for a few kilometers. We found our way back and delighted in the tailwind that pushed us the last bit into town. The surrealistic state of Alor Setar was perplexing. A huge beautifully maintained Mosque set on an expanse of green lawn sat in the foreground of the massive pink stuccoed mall. A massive telecom tower a la Deutschland sprang from the center. At first we couldn't figure out how a podunk town like Alor Setar rated such development until we read that the president hails from here.
After a tour of town we opted to see "Lost in Space". Neither of us were expecting much of the movie and were not surprised by anything but the quality of the theater, its screen and sound system. Are we in Asia? Andy's supposition about the movie was that they'd had a bunch of leftovers from the special effect cutting board (perhaps the script too…) from "Starship Troopers", "Alien III" and, perhaps, "Toy Story" splicing it together and making a new movie. When we exited the movie darkness had fallen upon Alor Setar. It seemed even more artificial by night.
The telecom tower that had looked big by day was overwhelming by night. A glass elevator to the rotating restaurant revealed the (lack of) splendor of the surrounding countryside. Perhaps one day lights of homes and streets will spread out around the tower like the carpet of lights beneath Chicago's Sears Tower, but for now there is mostly darkness. If President Matahir has his way, perhaps we will see a cityscape like that. He is planning to try to increase Malaysia's population four-fold by 2020. We both snickered at the idea and surmised that he could probably get a little help from neighboring Indonesia.
On the way down the elevator we had an experience that characterized our interactions with fundamentalist Muslim women. Andy asked the lift operator in Malaysian and English in what year the tower was constructed. Her head covered by a white scarf, she hesitated and answered "yes!" We surmised that the jelbeb (headdress) indicated that she was out of service, sort of like the canvass bag they put over a parking meter that doesn't work.
Cyclist guide du jour, Chew See Lim
Ferry number two on a three-ferry day
4 May, Alor Setar to Hatyai, Thailand, 98km (a)
Malaysia, though east of Sumatra, is one hour ahead, which means that the sun here rises at a far more civilized hour. For a bikebrat in the tropics, this quality worthwhile makes this a worthwhile country to ride in. As well as letting us sleep an hour longer, MST (Malaysia Standard Time) means that the sun sets later, prompting a later dinner and livelier nightlife. It felt great to be up and riding before dawn, though the road out of Alor Setar was hardly inspiring. It was like Indonesia with its soul sucked out. Private cars and motor scooters have replaced Indonesia's bizarre and funky modes of transport here –not a duck herder in sight. Alor Setar seemed a lot bigger leaving than it had coming in, and the traffic remained heavy even after we'd penetrated the endless flat expanse of rice fields. The still cool air and a good rideable shoulder made the ride bearable, though. I was surprised by the number of squished frogs, birds, snakes (some of them disconcertingly huge) and civets (a minky sort of creature) on the roads. For such a developed country, Malaysia seems to have preserved its environment (or at least its native wildlife) reasonably well.
After fifty kilometers of soporific pedaling, we made our first stop in ugly Kangar, the largest town of the tiny sultanate of Perlis. While we munched on tasty Indian roti with curry, a table full of Malays at the next table asked us about our trip. When we told them we were on our way to Hat Yai, knowing smiles blossomed on their faces. "Beautiful girls there…and so cheap!" the leader of their band thoughtfully appraised in a mixture of Malay and bad English.
The temperature rose at an alarming rate; my thermometer was already showing 34 degrees at ten a.m. We slowed down, prayed for clouds and guzzled down water to replace all the liquid we were sweating out. The traffic thinned out considerably and the scenery improved, studded with lumpy limestone formations. All I could think about was finding shade, and by the time we reached the scuzzy border town of Padang Besar I was practicaly in a trance. We cruised up and down the only street, looking desperately for ice cream. Finding none, we pedaled soggily into Thailand.
Lumpy landscape near the Thai border...
...icy reward on the other side


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Cannabidiol: mechanisms and efficacy in medically refractory epilepsy
March 10, 2018 neurologybuzzcannabidiol, Dravet syndrome, Epilepsy, GPR55, healthy alternative alternative medicine, Lennox Gastaut syndrome, medical marijuana, medically refractory, seizure, tetrahydrocannabidiol, THC, voltage-gated potassium channel, voltage-gated sodium channel 2 Comments
Virginia Thornley, M.D., Neurologist, Epileptologist
One of the most challenging therapeutic goals are to keep patients with epilepsy seizure free. Once a patient is found to be medically refractory, it is not unusual to find patients on 3-4 medications for seizure control. However, oftentimes, the means to the end is often wrought with its own challenges with patients suffering side effects placing their quality of life secondary to the medical control of their condition. More and more patients and their families are turning towards a more naturalistic approach including diet and cannabidiol use which has fewer side effects as a means to control seizures. The literature is fraught with a paucity of scientific data with small clinical trials, animal models, and anecdotal data. Larger clinical randomized control trials are pursued.
Mechanisms of Cannabidiol and THC
In the brain, there is the natural endocannabinoid system. Endocannabinoids are released after exercise referred to as the runner's high which contributes towards our sense of well-being. In the endocannabinoid pathway, cannabidiol has a low affinity to the CB1 receptor and modulates THC tetrahydrocannabinol by blocking CB1 receptor. It is thought to modulate THC by blocking the CB1 receptor acting as an inverse CB1 agonist (2). This may be the mechanism behind combining CBD with THC, CBD modulates the side effects of THC making it less available to exert its effects. Delta9THC is found to work at the level of the CB1 receptors which are rich in the brain and CB2 receptor which is more predominant in the immune system. THC can bind to other targets exerting inflammatory properties. CBD has less binding capabilities to CB1 receptors and is thought to exert its effect by working through other mechanisms such as voltage-gated potassium and sodium channels and the GRP55 in controlling seizures. Cannabinoids are lipid binding or lipophilic making it less available within the system making it challenging to deliver (3).
Cannabidiol clinical trials
In one study, 216 patients were enrolled and followed 3 months after administration of the first dose cannabidiol. Initially, the dose was 2mg/kg which was titrated up to 50mg/kg. 76% were enrolled in the safety profile study and 64% were enrolled in the efficacy profile study. In the first group for safety, 20% had Dravet syndrome and 19% had Lennox-Gastaut syndrome. Side effects were noted in 79% of the patients in the safety group. These include somnolence, diarrhea, seizures (11%), fatigue and reduced appetite. Five disenrolled due to adverse effects, 30% had serious side effects including 1 death of consisting sudden death syndrome. 12% had serious side effects including status epilepticus which may have been related to cannabidiol use. The median reduction of seizures was 36.5%. The study concluded that cannabidiol may be an effective strategy for reducing seizures in medically refractory seizures. The flaw with the study is that the doses at the higher end may have been too high for the patients to tolerate, a lower titrated dose may have been equally effective in controlling seizures and minimizing side effects. Nevertheless, the results were promising as it proves to be beneficial in controlling some of the seizures.
https://neurologybuzz.com/
Devinsky, et al, "Cannabidiol in patients with treatment-resistant epilepsy: an open-label interventional trial," Lancet Neurology, 2016, Mar., 15(3):270-280.
McPartland, et al, "Are cannabidiol and 9 delta tetrahydrocannabivarin negative modulators of the endocannabinoid system? A systematic review," British Journal of Pharmacology, 2015, Feb., 172(3):737-53.
Gaston, et al, "Pharmacology of cannabinoids in the treatment of epilepsy," Epilepsy Behavior, 2017, May, 70(Pt B):313-318.
→ The state of medical marijuana in urologic tumor burden control through inflammation reduction and reduction of tumor cell proliferation in cell cultures
← Peripheral neuropathy: chronic pain amelioration with cannabidiol and tetrahydrocannabidiol
2 thoughts on "Cannabidiol: mechanisms and efficacy in medically refractory epilepsy"
Charmaine Gregory says:
There is not a shift in the ED that goes by without at least one patient presenting with reaction to cannabis. Never thought about using this drug in medically refractory epilepsy. Interesting.
neurologybuzz says:
Well, most people think of the intoxicated person when you hear about marijuana. But cannabis refers to the whole plant. Cannabidiol is non-intoxicating and has medical value and works in the endocannabinoid system innate in our system. THC has even more medical properties also works within the endicannabinoid pathway at low doses without intoxicating effects. Unfortunately, because it's more popularly used recreationally at high doses it's been widely rejected as a medicine. And the medical properties are overshadowed by the stigma. Even I thought it was bad I had no idea there were forms where there was no intoxication. In Europe they have a spray with CBD:THC with little side effects since 2010 for spasms in Multiple sclerosis.


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Creating a Social Travel Platform with Melvin Boecher from Travel Dudes
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I plan to visit Buenos Aires in mid October and stay any where from 4 to 6 months. I have been inquiring abouts airline tickets. The cheapest was the less then 1 month return round trip ticktet was $ 1,400 US. the 6 month return was $4,800 US (insane). The one way ticket was more expensive then the round trip ticket, I would like a open return. In your collective wisdom what is the cheapest way.


The route runs from Kirkstall Abbey and it follows the route of the Kirkstall Abbey Trail event for the first couple of miles and then it breaks away to follow the River Aire along a fantastic clear trail to Apperley Bridge.
Marathon and Half Marathon distances available.
Race details last updated on Tuesday 20th November 2018 a	11:30am.


text:
« Samples of Mo Jackson Songwriting & J&J EnterPrizes Corp. Home
"The Chryslers" ...
Welcome! Includs Memoir of Related Bands, other Musicians & Singers of that time.
About The Chryslers
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"Just Reflections (New Age Mix)" Video >>Click Here<< | "Elsewhere, Somewhere (Jazz Instrumental Mix)" | >>Click here for short sample.<<
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Some of Their Highlights...
More than a dozen T.V. appearances between 1966 & 1971. Including a standing-room only performance at the Memorial Stadium Decency Rally before an estimated 70K crowd with seating on the grass.
Recorded the vocals on the record, "Because I Love You " & " I'm Not Gonna Loose You ".
Discovered by Music & Business legend Chuck Weber, they were the 1st to record on Jody Enterprises (JE) record label (founded by Chuck Weber, Joe Sokolas, & Dave Shapiro).
Pictured Left-Front: Judge Marshal B. Murray. "Bert" as he was affectionately called, was the original 4th Chrysler. Sometime during the mid-1960s, Bert shared his vocal talents and creativity with The Chrysler Trio forming The Chrysler Quartet. From 1 of the singers in The Chryslers to his present position as a Wisconsin District Court Judge, in the U.S.A. He is a testament to the 'self-made man'.
Pictured Left-Rear: Rev. Wendell Amprey. "Amp" as he was fondly known in the 1960s, was the original 3rd Chrysler. His talents were, imaginative, spontaneous, incredible and versatile. In the early mid-1960s, when he joined and formed The Chryslers Trio, he seemed always philosophical & humane. It is no surprise that today, he is in service to human-kind through his Christian Ministry activities in the U.S.A..
Pictured Center: Randolf B. Hammond. "Randy" as he was affectionately known, is the original co-creator of The Chryslers. One could say, The Chryslers started out in the late 1950s as a duet, morphed in the 1960s to a trio, and finally a quartet- for a short while. Randy's talents were incredibly, high-energy, focused and determined. He is now semi-retired but occasionally, sings vocals for studio vocal recordings.
Right-Rear: Darnell McManus. Darnell is a 3rd. generation 'Chrysler' as a quintet singing group. He replaced the legendary Lamont Davis (1st Lead on the recording "Because I Love You"). Darnell joined The Chryslers in the late 1960s & brought wonderful new stylings to their vocal harmonies. His control was amazing. His voice was soothing and enchanting to listen to. Now retired but- one never knows!
Right-Front: Larry Jackson "Mo", as he has been fondly named since the mid-1950s, founded The Chryslers along with Randy. As early as then, he played show-tunes & standards on Trumpet. It was natural for him to expand into Jazz groups, Rock & Roll singing and Songwriting by his teen years. Mo, has been retired-disabled for sometime but, is returning to Songwriting and Composing. Mo currently has approximately 50 songs written or in development and 4 ready for Licensing and/or Distribution. Click Here- for short sample of Mo's songs!
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I received a copy of Apocalypse Five through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review.
Apocalypse Five is the first novel in the Archive of the Fives series by Stacey Rourke. If I had to define the novel for you in just a few sentences, I would say that it's Hunger Games in a science fiction setting, only with a couple major twists thrown into the mix.
Apocalypse Five is a combination of so many things, that I honestly don't envy whoever had to make the decision on what category to put it into. It's a little bit science fiction, young adult, survival, post-apocalyptic, and so much more. It also touches on other elements, some coming of age, a little bit of romance, that sort of thing.
Warnings: My comparison to Hunger Games is accurate in one sense, at least. There are children (okay, teenagers) in this series. And adults too, of course. These people are used as soldiers for what appears to be entertainment. Their deaths are not always easy or quick, but they're not overly detailed at least.
Apocalypse Five was a fast-paced novel full of so many twists and turns. With every new twist I thought I had a handle on the situation, that I fully understood what was happening it this world. Only for another twist to come along and further shake my perception of the world. It left me feeling like I had to constantly stay on my toes as I read – waiting for the next big reveal.
I enjoyed reading this novel. I liked how quick the pace was, and while there was a lot of violence in it, it never really felt overly gory or graphic. That's a hard line to walk on, so I really appreciate it and feel like it deserves to be pointed out.
I'll admit that it took me a couple of chapters to really get into this book. The first chapter really threw me through a loop. It was great that it started right out in the action, but I had no idea what was happening or who these people were. Once I got farther along I was able to truly understand what I had read, but it did take me a minute.
That being said, once I got past that point it didn't take long for me to start becoming attached to the characters. And trust me, I tried to say ambivalent about them too – after that introduction (and my comparison to the Hunger Games) I was afraid to become too attached to anybody. So the fact that I did despite all of that says something, I think.
I'm not sure how I feel about the final twist in this book. It's interesting, and I do look forward to seeing that get developed further. At the same time it leaves me with more questions than answers. It's not a cliffhanger, not quite. But it did change the book from feeling complete to making it very clear that there's a lot more going on that we initially thought. I'll have to wait and see what is shown in the second novel before I comment on it too much though.
I like that I wasn't able to predict what was going to happen next. It's refreshing to not have any clue what is going to happen, even if it is also a little bit stressful – I was constantly concerned about the fate of the five main characters.
I really enjoyed reading Apocalypse Five, and am looking forward to the sequel. The only shame is that I'll have to wait. I guess that's the downside to reading a novel the second it comes out (okay, I read it slightly before it came out, but you know what I mean).
I am an avid animal lover, photographer, graphic designer, and much more. I love to create art, and am willing to try any artistic technique at least once. I am particularly fond of artworks involving a lot of emotion and color. The purpose of my blog is for me to be open and honest with myself and the world about my attempts to grow as an artist. My other major passion is reading. My TBR pile is larger than I'll ever be able to read, and yet I can't resist adding to it on a nearly daily basis. I love to read science fiction & fantasy, graphic novels, and pretty much anything I can get my hands on. I have a couple of blogs, as you can see. One is primarily my photography, while the other are my book reviews. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out!
This entry was posted in ARC, Science Fiction, Uncategorized and tagged Apocalypse Five, Apocalypse Five by Stacey Rourke, Book, Book Review, Books, Fiction, Literature, Review, Science Fiction, Stacey Rourke. Bookmark the permalink.
This shelf is mostly a TBR shelf, with a few exceptions here and there ( I REALLY need to sort out my books soon). Anybody else have a shelf just for their TBR pile?
My tbr for this week, can't wait to get started! Anybody read it yet?
Look what arrived in the mail this week! Talk about good timing!