What Next?

Perplexing. Baffling. Those are a few of the less than effective words to describe my thoughts about the New World... the digital world.

I'm pretty good at it. I've been ahead of the curve on several occasions. I love that in the past, I had the same access to "publishing" (digitally) as did any major corporation. I know the answer is never to stick one's head in the sand, but to somehow find a way to work with the New World and not whine about it.

I've been watching the newspapers struggle and like everyone else, I have no idea what the answer is. Fine, newspapers are old-school. Advertising has always seemed lame to me anyway, something I've never quite grasped. I do grasp when things go viral and grassroots. I GET IT.

What I don't get is how these new models can generate any income if no one pays for anything anymore. Let's face it, "exposure" doesn't pay the mortgage. And is a blogger every bit as qualified to write about something as an educated expert?

Um, sometimes. I can't get behind the concept that every reporter is somehow above the rest of us. I've met some reporters who really are all that. I've also met a surprisingly large number of prancing boutique snots. Would a blogger (me?) have more insight into Kuwait City than a Middle East stringer, for example? Or into how to maneuver through Barcelona on a shoestring, moreso than a Spain-beat reporter? Damn straight. I have self-interest in both these areas.

But do I know more about local education than a local public radio reporter? Absolutely not. Do I know more about what books are coming out than a cultural critic? Nope. More science than a science expert who has been translating scientific terms for mass consumption for 40 years? No way. And who pays the salaries for these experts? Advertisers, who hope to influence the buying decisions of the audience of the expert.

My assumption is that things will be rocky but will eventually work out as a new model.

But what about books? The eReader and the Kindle have blazed new ground... what about when Apple produces something like the Kindle and it gets through to the masses? When digital book downloads become common? Pirated editions are already out there.

In short, we're next.

But you know, at my level, the income generated from book writing is so miniscule that giving away content for free is barely different...

The End of the Bolivia Section of Our Show

Finally! I'm done going through the Bolivia video footage from my hundred-dollar flash camcorder.

This last one is of something that is standard operating procedure for tourists to Potosi. First, you tour the silver mines and reward your mining hosts with gifts of cookies and dynamite.

Then you go explode your own dynamite. Like so.

More of That Stuff I Do All Day

Well, well, if it isn't my day job again.

No wonder I have to work all the time. Everyone else is busy being on TV!*




*That's a joke, in case you are one of my colleagues reading this.

New York Morning

"Do you have a hundred-calorie bagel?"

Startled, I looked at the young, thin woman standing in line at the deli counter next to me. What the hell? Hundred-calorie bagel? Must figure out what that is later.

The deli guy looked confused too. But he knew more than I did.

"No. But we have Thomas' English Muffins." He showed her the calorie count on the packaging.

"I'll make it work. How about turkey bacon?"

"Yes, we have turkey bacon."

"Okay, give me turkey bacon and egg whites on the Thomas'.'"

This is probably a standard exchange for deli guys all around New York, but the funny thing is that this wasn't an upscale deli. It was just a rundown, dark, hole-in-the-wall deli. The kind of place that probably employs illegals under-the-table and racks up health department violations every month, leading me to think I should be drawing some kind of conclusions about... well, something. Maybe about turkey bacon, and egg whites, and hundred-calorie bagels. Maybe I should try that next time. With a side of fries.

Dispatches from Aunt Karen

Aunt Karen—along with my two cousins and uncle—is in Iceland. (Holiday bargain alert!)

She sent a few photos and told me it was okay if I shared them. I'm particularly interested because, you know, girls and horses... I like the furry Icelandic ponies.

How to Get a Free Trip

The mere act of typing out "How to Get a Free Trip" will shoot up my rankings, bring me even more people than those who confuse the spelling of slang for a certain part of male anatomy with half the name of the African antelope called the "dik-dik."

Not a month goes by when I don't get an inquiry from a stranger who wants to know: How do I get sponsorship to travel around the world.

The answer is simple and straightforward.

You don't.

You pay to travel around the world. If you can't pay, you can't travel.

Is there such thing as free trips? Yes and no. Some travel writers get paid trips to some locations. They do not, however, dash off an e-mail to an editor with a link to their blog and in return get offered a travel scholarship. Does. Not. Happen. Editors have dozens of working writers that they'd be happy to assign a trip to and are not waiting for a grand concept offered to them by a stranger. "I know! Send me on a free trip and I'll blog about it! No one ever thought of that before!"

So how did *I* get to travel around the world and blog about it?

I paid for it. Same as everyone else.

As for sponsorships, I do have a list of those on my site. But these were usually discounts of about 20 percent. Sometimes a small section would be free. For example, of the 52 days I spent on ships in 2001, 17 of them were free. That leaves an huge bill for the other 35 days.

Which I paid for.

I am grateful for the few complimentary trips I did receive, but many of the discounted offers turned out to be more expensive than other local offers at full price.

So why am I ranting about this today? I'm sorry. I don't mean to annoy everyone. I am happy to answer nuts-and-bolts questions about specfic aspects of travel. But I do get tired of the inquiries that basically say "I can't be bothered to read through the FAQ or Links on your site--just tell me, how do I get some of that action?"

Simple enough. I didn't and you don't.

Words

I made a "Wordle" of this blog. It's almost cool. But kinda not.

I couldn't make the Wordle use words from anything but the main page. Grump, grump, grump. I feel like I've had a cold forever. But of course it's only been about two weeks. Prior to that, I had the flu.

Real Estate Redux

Back when I sold my second condo, I whined a lot here on this blog about how if I didn't have a contract by Thanksgiving, the party would be over and I'd probably be stuck with my place as the market plunged.

I am not a financial analyst; just a person who can read and see when things are insanely out of control.

So fine, I sold and the party ended. It was a bit later than I expected it, but nevertheless, I sold about 4 months and $25,000 after I should have. That's okay. I'm just glad to have gotten out when I did, and glad that my good friend Yancey had a better, closer place that he owns outright, and it needed a tenant/house-sitter.

But I know that mortgage rates are down now and I know that at some point, I'll perceive that it's time to buy again. So I keep an eye on things. I read articles like this one and this one, which tell me that we are not near the bottom yet in this region.

But you know, reading these articles really pisses me off. Six million dollar apartments? Ten million dollar apartments? My sympathy knows no bounds.

Nazca Lines

I put together my Nazca Lines footage and photos into a little video.

Sorry to report that it is quite difficult to photograph the Nazca Lines. I saw them on a flight out of Ica, Peru, on December 28, and just made a long—VERY long—day out of a stopover in Lima.

Small Town Life

I open my eyes Saturday morning and thought:

What the hell am I doing with my life? What is my point in hanging around here? Why am I here in JC, when so few of my friends live in this part of the world and those that do are preoccupied with family? Isn't this the same thought process I go through after every trip, when I contrast my life away with the mundane daily routine here..?

Some mornings are like that. Not all of them, which is an improvement over how things were in mid-2008.

When I'm here, I get caught up in the daily drudge.

But sometimes, I have days where I remember why I chose JC, at least in opposition to Manhattan or Brooklyn.

The doorbell rang early in the morning. Could be the mailman, I thought, or could be Jehovah's Witnesses.

Either way, I wasn't going down to the front door in my polar bear pajamas, so I ignored it.

Later, I went downstairs to discover it had been the mailman. He'd left a package collection slip for me. I knew what it was—the new battery for my old GSM phone. I was sending both my old European-band GSM phones to Aunt Karen who was taking them to Iceland for the family to keep in touch on vacation. The mailman's slip said I could go on Monday to pick up my package at the post office.

But I wanted it today. I'd be at work in Manhattan on Monday, not at the JC post office.

I went out on the streets of JC, hunting the mailman. Near the commercial strip called Newark Avenue, I saw a junk shop. It wasn't enough to get a new battery. I was going to have to charge the new battery for 16 hours before Aunt Karen could use the old phone.

I went into the junk shop.

"I have a really old Siemens. I need to find a way to charge it here, to see if it works, but it's 230-volt. Do you have anything?"

The proprieter brought out a plastic bag labelled "Siemens." He dug around, then pulled out several incompatible chargers.

"Let me see the phone," he said.

I handed him the phone. He walked away for a while and rustled around in the back. I called after him.

"It's a 2002 phone from Australia. I think it's a long shot."

He came back and handed me a compatible charger, then charged me five bucks. I grinned. JC rules.

And then I walked outside and saw a postal truck. I chased down the mailman, who looked at my slip.

"That's Ruben's writing. Let me call him."

He called my mailman.

"He'll meet you at home in ten minutes."

I rushed back home and had barely put my feet on my stoop before I heard him.

"MARIE!"

Our mailman has kept tabs on me as I had moved from one end of Eighth Street to another. All my mail from my old address finds me here.

JC is so marvelous, because it is like a small town right next to one of North America's largest cities.