Matador Network's Blog, page 2317

6 drunchies from around the world

AT THIS POINT, you don’t know whether to say it’s getting late or getting early. You really need to get to bed. But holy shit you’re hungry.

Thailand – Soup in a bag / pad thai

Photo: Kevin Poh

The woman with the cart will be waiting in front of your hostel, and she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. The cart is sizzling hot, and you slur as you order. The rice noodles are piled high on a plastic plate, and she mixes in dried shrimp, peanuts, and pepper. That brown sauce she’s pouring over it is fish sauce, soaking the noodles and saturating the shrimp until they puff out into the dish. She tops it off by squeezing a lime into the mixture and then hands it to you.

Your friends order the soup in a bag, and the woman behind the cart drops the beef and vegetables into one bag and the broth into the other. Back in the room, they will burn themselves as they try to pour the contents of one flimsy plastic bag into the other, cursing they didn’t order the noodles hanging limply from the corner of your passed-out mouth.

Germany – Currywurst

Photo: Allison Moore

You really shouldn’t be hungry…all that lager filling up your belly. But it’s Munich — you know there’s a currywurst stand up here, somewhere between the biergarten and the skeevy underground electro-club. It’s calling you. Giant wurst cut into medallions and slathered with ketchup and mayonnaise, a snowfall of curry powder above that. Chips on the side, though in your drunken state you revert to calling them fries.

It’s like the best parts of Belgian, German, and Thai food had a baby and named it “Hangover Cure.” Currywurst is picking up in America (LA especially), but you’ll be dirndl’d if the German stuff isn’t a cut above.

France – Crepes

Photo: Colin Mutchler

It can be tough going out in Paris. The streets can be tight and hard to navigate, the locals even more so. As the crowds gush into the streets at closing time, most of the city is already ready to shut down, rolling over angrily in bed and pushing the pillow over their collective head.

But all hope is not lost. The mass of flowing humanity stagnates in the streets for a time until, like a drain in the bathtub, they flow towards the nearest crepes stand. Quick and easy pancakes, topped with fruit and created fast enough to satisfy the insane faction of drunkards they’ve been tasked with caring for. The fluff expands in the stomach, absorbing the alcohol and leaving the head clear for the morning. It’s Paris’ way of comforting the foreigners, easing their transition into another day of being denied directions.

Australia – Cheezy chips

Photo: Ayca Wilson

It’s a Canadian specialty, poutine. Luckily, the Commonwealth knows how to share. The place is always packed, but the line cooks know the order before they’re made, and the drunken revelers sit at the tables outside, the warm night air keeping them company until their order is called.

The twice-fried chips are scooped into a cardboard tray, stray ends sticking precipitously from the sides. The cheese curds of Canada’s poutine are traded out for shredded cheeses, at least four kinds at once — cheddar, American, mozzarella, parmesan, anything. The shreds leech the heat from the chips and melt into their embrace, while warm gravy covers the lot.

You hear your name from the end of the line, and the woman hands you your chips, gravy spilling out and soaking into the napkins she holds underneath the tray. You hand it back and ask, “Can I have a little extra gravy?”

Turkey / anywhere – Döner kebab

Photo: Davide Gabino – StrolicFurlan

The how of ending up in front of the stand doesn’t matter. There’s too many ways to go about it. Whether the blackout is blocking your memory, or how you party in that country is just too different from the last time you found yourself ordering a kebab, the result is always the same. Mouth watering while a block of meat — is it lamb? beef? — turns around a heatlamp, taunting your willpower with every continued rotation.

The man with the stand asks you what you want. It’s impossible to make a choice at this point, so you say the only thing you can. “Everything.” There are too many kinds of kebabs in the world, and the implication of your order resonates across borders. The spicy kebabs of Asia. The sloppy kebabs of Australia. They stride boldly forward through experimentation, far more elegantly than the drunken stagger of the people who eat them. God bless Turkey for their contribution to the global welfare.

America – Fast food

Photo: Adam Bailey

You drift in and out of consciousness, slumped against the window of the passenger seat while your designated driver takes the wheel. The roads are clogged with taxis and fog as the 2am exodus of the drunkards reaches its peak. You wonder why the bars don’t close later, like most other places in the world. The sun isn’t yet two thirds around the world.

But on the upside, as your driver points out, the greasy eats aren’t yet closed for the morning. The possibilities are endless: navigating the streets of New York to a pizza stand, ordering an animal-style burger or bacon-wrapped hot dog from In-N-Out in Los Angeles. Driving through a taco stand. Ordering takeout. America is a melting pot of cuisines and quick bites, claiming each origin as its own and turning them into something entirely new, something entirely satisfying to the stomach lined with ethanol and indecision, available in an instant.

And as you eat your greasy pile of fat and carbs in whatever form they take, falling into the footwell of your driver’s car, you’re thankful for the opportunity to eat it. No matter what you’re eating, when you’re drunk, it hits the spot. [image error]

Just imagine a free world [vid]

AT THE RISK of being called a “bleeding heart liberal!” or, worse, a *whispers* socialist, I’m sharing the below video as a thought experiment. It’s obviously not as simple as what is presented — hundreds of questions arise about the logistics of such an endeavour. But, put all that aside for a few minutes and just imagine what it might be like. After all, everything that is created in this world starts from imagination.

To learn more about the Free World Charter click here; to sign it, click here.

The Yacht Week Thailand [pics]

December 2013 saw the launch of The Yacht Week’s (TYW) introductory route through the southwest islands of Thailand. A leader in week-long yacht charters since 2006, The Yacht Week has become somewhat of an institution among young adventure seekers. I was lucky enough to be invited along for the ride and I’m still spinning out.

Uncharted territory for TYW, the West Coast of Thailand is home to some 39 main islands and a hundred or so smaller ones dotted about the region. Our itinerary unearthed a raft of epic sailing through unspoiled natural beauty. With a fleet of 13 yachts and a crew of 120 TYW alumni from around the world, there was no messing around.

Bookings for TYW Thailand 2014 route open April 1, 2014. To give you a teaser of what’s in store, here are some highlights from our week.

All images courtesy of Beau Pilgrim of Beau Pilgrim Photography.

Our fleet sailing in unison.

Anchored off Railay Beach.

The TYW DJ for Thailand, Todd Van Berkel (TVB) from Melbourne, Australia, put together a sick playlist for us, the top tunes of which are featured here. Listen along as you view the rest of this post.

“It’s catchy, melodic, and involves lusting over a banana.”

“Favorite crowd pleaser for everyone to sing along to, with a perfect summer vibe.”

“Everybody put your hands in the air — TJR can do no wrong with this energetic fast-paced banger.”

TYW Skippers come together for the first trip briefing.

Ao Po Grand Marina was our port of departure. This once quiet spot on the island of Phuket is shaping up to rival the first-class international marinas of the West Coast. Located in Phang Nga Bay, where dramatic limestone karsts jut vertically out of the ocean, the marina is attracting hordes of super yachts and sailing yachts alike.

This was there we met Philip, our local skipper. He pulled out regional maps and tide charts and laid down the law about the route. Skippers, crew, and the media team crisscrossed with luggage and camera equipment. Our briefing was interrupted by a TWY alumni:

“Are you guys ready for this!!!?” Rocking a t-shirt with a map of Thailand, his enthusiastic smile was welcomed with familiar high fives. “This is going to be next level!”

I took a deep breath — was I ready for this?

From Ao Po, we sailed northeast towards Koh Roi and anchored off the bay. As soon as the anchor tugged the ocean floor, crew rushed to the top deck, sprinted off the edge, and plummeted into the water! It was GoPro central — a perfect opportunity to get sick footage and explore some local caves. From Koh Roi, we headed out to the night anchorage, south to Ko Yao Noi and the Paradise Resort.

Exploring hidden caves off Koh Roi

On day 3 we arrived at Railay Beach, one of the locations where Hangover 2 was filmed — which seemed a tad ironic that day. The skippers banded together and executed some impressive maneuvers, harnessing our fleet together in the bay. The long boat was the place to be! Todd spun some wicked tunes and it was, hands down, one the best parties I have ever been to.

With an insane backdrop of BASE jumpers and paragliders, like pirates the crew drove into the crystal waters, swimming to their neighbors to demolish their supply of vodka and rum.

Put your hands in the air!

Thai long boat anchored off Railay Beach. The beach is harbored on the mainland of Thailand in Krabi province. Railay is car free — you can only get here by boat. Other than a few long-tails screaming past our yacht, causing some heaving swell, the conditions were perfect!

From Railay, we turned southwest towards Chicken Island and our night destination of Koh Lanta.

On Koh Lanta, we saw women walking down the dirt roads, barefoot, with over-stuffed rice bags on their heads. Children, maybe as young as 11, driving mopeds, with boxes of fruit precariously balanced on their foot-wide floorboards. Lanta is pretty much the opposite of the hectic woofer-thump of Phuket and the frenetic hustle of big cities like Bangkok.

Next, we left the peaceful pace of Lanta and headed towards the well-developed party island of Koh Phi Phi Don. This island was among the most devastated areas following the 2004 tsunami, but years later you wouldn’t know it. TYW crews escaped the crowds, tucking into the hidden bays and pristine beaches of Phi Phi Don’s smaller cousin, Koh Phi Phi Lee, a protected island that lies a mile to the south. That all said, at night we made full use of the big island’s party life.

TYW crew party till dawn at the Slinky beach bar.

Koh Phi Phi Don at night, viewed from the lookout.

After two days on Koh Phi Phi, we made a dash to Maya Bay on Phi Phi Lee, getting a last fix of paradise before our long sail back to Ao Po Grand Marina in Phuket. The last day on the water was one of the best days of my life. Like a family, we maneuvered into a flying-V formation, sailing northwest from Koh Phi Phi towards Khai Nui.

Fresh coconuts and cocktails on Khai Nui.

Khai Nui is a privately owned island on the east coast of Phuket. The miniscule, almost deserted rock is home to a shipwrecked beach bar called Chokdee Restaurant & Bar. I took some time out and sat at the back of the bar, watching the pick ‘n’ mix of bikini and swimming togg clad international crew pop champagne corks and sip on a rainbow of cocktails.

A hand reached over my shoulder, and a Spanish crew member grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. Laughing, he shouted, “This is the best week of my life. If you can’t have fun here, you can’t have fun anywhere.”

The day was slipping away from us, but we held on strong and launched into our last leg back to base camp. And as the curtain fell on TYW Thailand, the crews called for an encore. Whispers crept through the fleet, “Should we change our flights? I’m not ready to leave this place, who’s in?”

The TYW Thailand closing party was held at XANA Beach Club, a venue where the Black Eyed Peas had rocked out the previous week. With its stunning beachfront location, 35-meter pool, state-of-the-art sound system, and epic cocktail and food menu, we had an absolute blast.

TYW closing party. Cheers to a legendary week!

I am a massive believer that you carve your own destiny. But that week (with a little help from TYW), destiny dealt me a bloody good hand. There’s no doubt that Thailand is going to be a top destination for The Yacht Week in 2014.

Fireworks at XANA.

If you need to see more, check out TYW’s video teaser from Thailand. Film curated by Albin Sjödin Visuals. [image error]

All images courtesy of Beau Pilgrim, an adventure-junkie-slash-nomadic-photographer always searching for shots that make people smile on the inside. Beau has a degree in Nuclear Medicine, tried the 9-5 life and decided instead to document life on the road through his lens. Born in country New South Wales and raised by the coast in Newcastle, Australia, Beau’s passion for the ocean and beach culture strongly parallels his photography. Beau shoots above and below the water and loves fighting the elements to nail the perfect shot. When he’s not behind the lens, he enjoys surfing, kitesurfing, and snowboarding. You can find more of his work at beaupilgrim.com.

How to recognize a Brazilian

Photo: Gustavo Gomes

It’s very easy for a Brazilian to recognise other Brazilians in any environment. We just know it! But it occurred to me that maybe what I think is very characteristic of Brazilians might not be perceived the same way by people from other nationalities. So I decided to do a little research to find out from my international friends how they recognize Brazilians in a crowd. The results are funny but not terribly surprising.

Standard going-out attire for men: shirtless, casual cap, silver chains

While Aussies wear skinny jeans, a tight shirt, and pointed shoes to go out, Brazilian men generally wear a much simpler outfit where the shirt, many times, is forgotten. Of course, this outfit is more common at daytime parties, but that doesn’t mean Brazilian men don’t dress like this at night as well. Especially if it’s a Brazilian party overseas that involves a lot of dancing. The temperature goes up, the shirt comes off. Actually, the temperature doesn’t even need to increase that much…who needs a shirt when they have a huge silver chain to cover their chest?

Tatoos

Brazilians love tattoos. Men and women.

Jeans and runners

Brazilians wear runners (sneakers) with basically everything, but jeans and runners is the trademark (in fact, I’m wearing this combo right now). Runners are common in every season, even when it’s boiling hot. Let’s face it — Nike socks really go with everything.

Being the last ones to arrive and leave the party (unless they get lucky)

Brazilians’ timing for parties is very different from Australians’. I remember my surprise when I went out in Australia for the first time. I left home around 11pm (thinking it might be too early), and to my surprise the party was already finishing! By midnight people had reached that loud, annoying stage, and some were even being carried home. Brazilians start partying late and therefore finish late. A normal night out would start around midnight and would carry on to 4, 5, or even 6 in the morning.

Plastic surgery

Brazil is famous for affordable, high-quality plastic surgery. To have your boobs done in Brazil is not unusual. It’s so easy and quick that everybody does it (same for Caesareans, which are heavily criticized in Australia but super common in Brazil). Perfect boobs combined with the other characteristics mentioned in this post = 100% Brazilian.

Girls wearing leggings as pants

Even after all the fuss about it, Brazilian girls still wear leggings as pants. It doesn’t matter the size of the booty, they just love leggings. My boyfriend always points this out to me when he sees someone wearing leggings on the street and says: “Look! A Brazilian!” And he’s right! Ladies, sorry, it came from him not me. Personally, I particularly love leggings but never, ever, as pants. Especially when they’re secretly see through, which is very common to see around.

Speaking of booty…

Yes, “bunda” is the national passion of Brazil and is a characteristic of Brazilian women. I don’t look like a typical Brazilian — I don’t really have any ass — but this is me. The dialogue below has happened to me more than once during my life in Australia:

Guy: “Where are you from?”

Me: “Brazil.”

Guy (looking to my back): “Really? With this ass?”
G-string bikini (“fio-dental”)

If you see a girl at a beach party wearing a g-string bikini, chances are she’s Brazilian. I went to a beach party once where a few people were wearing bikinis and swimwear, but all the eyes were focused on two specific women who were wearing g-strings. It was easy to identify them as Brazilian, and they indeed were. They had perfect fake bodies as well.

So fair enough, they were showing off. Funny thing is, despite the fact that not every Brazilian has a bloody perfect body or can afford the surgery to wear a g-string, they still wear them. Not every Brazilian does it, but if you see g-string bikinis in Australia, I would dare to say there’s an 80% chance of it being a Brazilian.

Brazilian accent

If you still can’t recognize a Brazilian based on the above, all your doubts will vanish the moment a Brazilian starts speaking to you in English. We have a very unique accent that will always be there. It doesn’t matter how good our English is. It’s our charm so, take it or leave it. [image error]

Tweets from emergency plane landing

Photo: Shashi Bellamkonda

“We are making an emergency landing” is not a phrase I ever want to hear while flying. It happened to Shashi Bellamkonda on a flight from Washington DC to Boston, and instead of panicking and screaming, “WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” he did what any digital marketing mogul would do – he live tweeted the entire event.

Bellamkonda’s plane made a safe landing after smoke began coming out of the cabin’s vents, and air pressure dropped. Bellamkonda’s tweets circulated the web in real-time, showing his followers photos of passengers donning oxygen masks, standing on the tarmac after landing in Delaware, and eating pizza while waiting for a new plane to arrive.

Photo: Shashi Bellamkonda

The fact that Bellamkonda, and most of the passengers on board, remained relatively calm during the situation is pretty amazing to me. It shows their complete trust in the pilot and landing procedure, and that even if your plane is going down, social media can help you crank out one last #YOLO for all the world to see.

See more of Bellamkonda’s photos and tweets via The Daily Mail.

The Rastafarians of Jamaica [pics]

I PHOTOGRAPHED THE RASTAFARIANS in one of the most beautiful places on Earth — Jamaica. All you see are rolling hills, dotted with trees and vegetation, and lush fields of tall grass swaying with the wind. After about a week in the heart of the island, you see that it has a life and breath all its own.

On touching down in Jamaica, we met our guide, David Chen. David is a Londoner who grew up in Jamaica, and his accent reflects that interestingly smooth blend of Jamaican and British English. After we deplaned, we loaded into an incognito hunk of metal sedan which was waiting at the airport, allowing us to traverse the island in style.

1

Water to wash the heart
Not two minutes from the airport David spotted an islander chopping coconuts with a machete, and we pulled over to pay homage to an old island tradition. David explained that fresh coconut water is the only water that "washes the heart." The coconut sellers on the island refer to young coconuts as “jelly coconuts” and often the spoon is fashioned from a piece of the outer shell, chopped off with a machete. We pressed on to our temporary residence, a township by the name of Saint Thomas, several hours from any large city. Most people in the township live in shanties of concrete or thatch; however, in some areas, you can see some houses built.





2

Keven
That night we took shelter in a small house with a local family. The youngest boy, named Keven, tried fruitlessly to give me his entire portion of bread and cabbage during supper in the township—maybe two tablespoons worth. It was very humbling to see people who care so much about one another, and I was immensely grateful for their hospitality, and somewhat stunned to see how little materialism lived in the hearts of these people. Life simply isn’t about what you have in Jamaica, or even if your house has a metal roof. Far more concerning is if your neighbor has a roof over their head.





3

Rasta Bertram Thompson’s hut in St. Thomas
Early the next morning, I awoke before the sun rose and walked outside to see a Rastafarian riding along on his bike with a fishing pole, and I ran over to talk to him. He told me his name was Bertram Thompson and that he lived down near the beach—maybe 500 feet from where we were staying in Saint Thomas.





Intermission





Surfing the Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica [pics]





The other side of Queensland: Journey into the Outback [pics]





11 ways to absolutely crush Cape Town in 5 days [pics]












4

Bertram on his bike at the beach
I went down to the beachfront with my guide, David Chen, and knocked on the door the shack. Moments later, Bertram emerged, looking as though he’d just awoken from a good nap, and invited us in as the sun crested over the ocean. A small kitten followed us through the door.





5

No "isms"
I set up a small mic as Bertram made a fire inside the hut, and then sat down to talk. He mentioned that he had been feeding that little kitten the past month or so with some fresh fish. In asking Bertram a bit about his religion, I said something with the word Rastafarianism in it. Bertram told me that, although he didn’t mind, nearly all the Rastafarians do not like the word Rastafarianism since they don’t like “isms.” Additionally, I learned that the Rastas are not meat eaters and are largely vegetarian—with little more than fish being an exception.





6

Workroom
Bertram showed me the part of his cottage that he’d fashioned into a rudimentary wood-carving area. He explained that lots of driftwood washes up near his home, which he carves into different figurines in his spare time. He told me how he hopes one day his wood carvings will be in a magazine. Shortly thereafter, he jokingly introduced me to his “girlfriend”—a carved figurine of a mermaid, fashioned from driftwood.





7

Bertram's “girlfriend,” a carved figurine of a mermaid






8

Shakers
Bertram excitedly showed me a bag full of Jamaican shakers he'd made, fashioned from the remnants of coconut shells.





9

Portraits
The author with Rastafarian Bertram Thompson (left) / David Chen (right)





Intermission





Fjord Norway was made for road trips [pics]





Meet the man infiltrating the sickest urban objectives in the world [pics]





Powder days on the Gaspé Peninsula, Quebec [pics]












10

Lincoln Massey and his goats
The next day we set off to drive three hours up into the Airy Hill Mountains to drop off supplies to an orphanage. On the long drive up, I saw a short Rasta walking the opposite way with a number of goats, including two babies in tow. We stopped to ask about directions to the orphanage. The young Rastafarian introduced himself as Lincoln Massey and told us he was headed into a different town to pick up some cheese bread, a popular food in Jamaica I can’t bring myself to care for. I talked with Lincoln for some time and mentioned that walking with goats isn’t so common in the US. He laughed heartily, taking a puff of his religious paraphernalia. I asked if I could take some pictures of him with his goats, and he happily obliged. Although the baby goats were pretty unruly at first, they were eventually calmed by Lincoln’s reassuring voice.





11

Twelve-finga showing how he got his nickname
A young man, who introduced himself as “Twelve-finga” (see above), guided us to the spring. We hiked into the densely forested area outside of Kingston to reach the spring. After hearing about all this magical water, I determined to get a taste of this spring-birthed elixir. Not two minutes after we arrived in the small clearing where the hot spring resided, a young female Rastafarian enthusiastically grabbed a hold of me and took me by the arm to a river rock in the middle of the spring. She proceeded to spontaneously douse me in hot spring water, which she effusively slapped into my skin.






12

Healing
It’s hard to know if my new friends were testing me, but I do know that calling this place a “hot spring” is an understatement. I could see the steam coming off my arm despite the already warm and sunny Jamaican climate. But in an effort to prove myself, possibly in an unnecessary fashion, I sat still on that cool river stone and endured the steaming water being slapped on me for what must have been 15 searing minutes. I did feel a sort of healing from the spring, though. And I drank that water – which a wiser person probably wouldn’t have done. [image error]




Special thanks to:

David Chen, my guide (and sometimes translator)

Borrowlenses.com for their incredible help throughout my tour

LowePro for making a bag that is seemingly impossible to destroy.

This post was originally published at Kevin Garrison Photography and is reprinted here with permission.

A talk with a Palestinian activist

Photo: Kara Newhouse

Rising to greet me, Osama Abu Karsh, of Ramallah, squashed out his cigarette. In a minute, he’d light up another. Interviewing Palestinian nonviolence activists can be dangerous to your health. His ridiculously tiny table seemed purposely designed to inflict a mischievous intimacy on unsuspecting strangers.

All around us, in the Ambassador Hotel in East Jerusalem, up the hill from the walled city, young Americans and Europeans were involved in a lot of noisy backslapping. Abu Karsh sat without moving at all. He was the lobby’s still point. Was his aura of solitude the result of his years in prison? Slender, delicate-boned, he didn’t strike one as the political activist type, except maybe for the liquid intensity of his eyes.

When the first intifada broke out, in December of 1988, Abu Karsh was 14. Many Palestinians remember the first intifada as the nonviolent intifada, with its tax resistance campaign, its boycott of Israeli textiles, its largely peaceful street demonstrations. Israelis remember that uprising differently. They remember encounters with tough young Palestinian street fighters like Abu Karsh.

“I got involved by throwing stones at soldiers, by throwing Molotov cocktails at jeeps. Then, they arrested me. I was in jail for three years.” During his interrogation, he was beaten, had his hands raised for hours at a time over his head, and was made to sit outdoors in the cold winter rain. “After that, your skin becomes very dry.” His voice was matter of fact. He did not make eye contact when he spoke of his prison experience. He addressed his words to my left shoulder. The only time his voice skidded into emotion was when he spoke of his dry skin. Maybe it is only through reduction that the truly terrible could be expressed.

How was it possible, I asked Abu Karsh, to see the harshest face Israel shows Palestinians, and to think it can be softened through dialogue? “It didn’t happen overnight. It took a long time. I certainly didn’t believe in dialogue as a teenager. But I did see how nonviolence could work while I was in jail. We had daily lectures from Fatah leaders in jail. At first, the Israelis refused to allow them. But we went on hunger strikes, and they backed down.”

“People are tired of all the violence: the Israeli violence, the violence between Hamas and Fatah. People are now willing to hear about nonviolence.”

A successful political experiment in a cold prison laboratory, a stepping stone to an ideology. Easier to understand than the shift in consciousness that grafted itself on to the shattered youth of Abu Karsh, a member now of Combatants For Peace, an action/dialogue group of former Israeli and Palestinian fighters, and the Palestinian organization, MEND (Middle East Nonviolence and Democracy.)

“Psychologically, it was hard for me to talk to the Israelis. How could it not be? Even when I met with Israeli ex-fighters for the first time many years later (in the winter of 2005) it was very hard. There was a lot of mistrust, a lot of fear. We were afraid of them, and they were afraid of us.” That seemed to surprise Abu Karsh, that Israelis would fear Palestinians.

After jail and completing school (he graduated Birzeit University with a BA in sociology), in the reflective season of Oslo, Abu Karsh re-thought his root assumption about the conflict. “I was 24 years old. I was working with Fatah youth at Birzeit. I was taking part in the dialogue that was taking place at the time between Fatah youth and Labor Party youth. I got to thinking that the path of dialogue with Israelis, the path of nonviolence, was the only way to achieve peace. Armed struggle was not going to work. We tried it. We needed to try something else.”

Abu Karsh takes the pragmatic approach to nonviolence. An enlightened pragmatism motivates many Palestinian activists, but not all. In Bethlehem, Sami Awad, director of the Holy Land Trust, has in his possession a vast collection of threadbare books by Gandhi. “I grew up with a Christian sense of loving your enemy. I believe in nonviolence spiritually, philosophically, as well as politically.”

Abu Karsh had to excuse himself from time to time to answer his cell phone. During breaks, I tried to put myself in his skin. Not always a comfortable place to be, I was sure. Scabbed with memories of prison beatings. Marginalized from the bitterly framed and deeply held beliefs of many in his community about Palestinian resistance. The violence of the second intifada horrified him.

“I searched for ways to struggle peacefully. In 2002, I went with some other Fatah people to Lucy Nusseibeh, the Director of MEND, and asked her for nonviolence training. MEND is a grassroots organization that reaches out to ordinary Palestinians.” I nodded. I was familiar with MEND. Lucy Nusseibeh has been a friend since I met her at a café in Cambridge, near Harvard Yard, in the spring of 2005. I had seen her in her office in Beit Hanina talking to young women in hijabs about nonviolence.

“How do Palestinians respond to nonviolence organizers like yourself?” I asked him. “There is resistance,” he acknowledged, “but not as much as before. People are tired of all the violence: the Israeli violence, the violence between Hamas and Fatah. People are now willing to hear about nonviolence.” I had heard from Awad and Nusseibeh that they got more requests for nonviolent trainings than they had trainers to accommodate them. Abu Karsh said, “For the 40th anniversary of the occupation, Combatants For Peace organized a nonviolent protest demonstration in Anata. Twelve thousand Palestinians demonstrated. There would have been more, but soldiers turned people back at the checkpoints.”

He blew a thoughtful stream of smoke across the table. He knits together victory and adversity with seamless tranquility. I think of the popular Palestinian word, samoud. Steadfastness. “Twelve thousand,” I repeated, trying to remember an article I never read. [image error]

On the rise of WWOOFing in Brazil

Photo: Eduardo Amorim

With recent currency inflation and the approach of two major sports events, the 2014 FIFA World Cup and 2016 Summer Olympics, now more than ever traveling in Brazil can be expensive. Projects like World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms, or simply WWOOF, are a way for travelers to counterbalance this expense and live for free with locals.

WWOOFing is an exchange — in return for volunteer help, hosts offer food, accommodation, and a chance to learn about organic farming and sustainability. Volunteers can expect to do a variety of tasks such as gardening, fencing, milking, sowing seeds, and cleaning pens, and are usually asked to work 4 to 6 hours a day; stays range from just a few days to several months.

The organization, which started in England in the 1970s, is a global initiative with over 50 participating countries. Starting its Brazilian venture with less than five farms in 2007, the project now counts around 100 hosts and 200 WWOOFers.

“For WWOOFers [volunteers], it’s an opportunity to see and experience a different side of Brazil and learn about organic techniques. And for hosts, the program brings the world to them without having to step out of their place,” Natalia Chiu of WWOOF Brazil told The Rio Times.

“The first few years were hard, as we had to educate people about WWOOF,” Chiu reminisces. “But now more and more people know about WWOOF in South America, and we have more and more participants from countries in South America as well.”

Four years ago, WWOOF host Marianne Soisalo moved from London to the remote town of Alto Paraíso, near Chapada dos Veadeiros National Park. Here she bought land and started building, planting, and preparing a retreat for people interested in their health and self-development. Ms. Soisalo plants her own fruits and vegetables for subsistence, and for the past year and a half has been hosting WWOOFers who help cultivate organic shiitake mushrooms.

“I love receiving travelers from all over the world who are keen to experience life on the land, learning together about the production of an important alternative protein superfood such as the shiitake…. I feel I have a lot to give as my land is somewhere I would certainly appreciate spending time if I were a visitor traveling in Brazil,” explains Soisalo.

Carioca couple Daniel Cintra and Juliana Torres got married on a WWOOF farm in the village of Aldeia Velha, Rio de Janeiro state. Since then the avid WWOOFers have been traveling throughout the country trying their hand at building treehouses, beekeeping, and mushroom cultivation, to name a few.

“Brazil will remain a great place for WWOOFing due to its biodiversity and the hospitality of its people,” Cintra conjectures. “We were very well received in the vast majority of the farms and have only good memories. We still want to know other WWOOF farms, but more than anything we want to have our own place where we can welcome WWOOFers the same way they welcomed us.”

A year-long membership costs US$38 and includes a WWOOF Brazil ID and a list of hosts’ emails and phone numbers, which you are then free to contact to organize your stay. [image error]

This post was originally published at The Rio Times and is reprinted here with permission.

Hilarious Amazon reviews for TV

LATE LAST year Samsung released an 85″ wide screen television to the tune of $40,000 on Amazon. The reviews came pouring in. Unfortunately for Samsung they were all from Amazon customers who recognized the ridiculousness of a $40K TV. Fortunately for us though, because some of them are absolutely hilarious. Like these:

(The above reviewer actually comes back to update his review over the course of his daughter’s enslavement.)

I was a little let down by the Customer Questions & Answers section, but there are some clever ones sprinkled in between the childish dick jokes.

What are you waiting for? Get yours before they’re out of stock!

Jo'burg in one word [vid]

In Johannesburg, arts and culture rupture the concrete that encases the city skyline. In these multiple fissures on the city’s surface, you can play hide and seek with live hip-hop / rock / electronic fusion gigs, discover holes in the wall that open out into reclaimed spaces and sub-culture bars and clubs. It’s the grind and the hustle, beauty battling stifled growth afoot the skyscrapers and traffic jams. There’s so much to discover from basements to rooftops.

To put Johannesburg into words is difficult, so who better to do it than 17 of its young creative sons and daughters at a festival squatting and setting fire to the centre of the city? Johannesburg is… [image error]