Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 374

2014 Israel – Gaza Conflict: Twitter Sentiment Analysis by MasterMineDS

Digital War

Missiles range launched from Gaza Strip

[Publisher's Note: This article arrived yesterday August 5, 2014, but is being published on August 6, 2014]

Today at 8AM a cease fire has been declared in operation Protective Edge. The public discussion over the operation, however, will stay with us for a long time.

Public opinion is one of the key influence factors on countries and people behavior. In the digital and social networks world, that opinion might very rapidly turn itself into large-scale action (the ‘Arab Spring’, for example) , thus better understanding of it might shed some light on future trends and phenomena which are about to take place.

During armed conflicts, in addition to the traditional battle front, another front takes place in cyberspace, particularly if Israel is involved.

The MasterMineDS office is based in Tel Aviv. From here, a quick look at Facebook provides the common Israeli sense of solidarity with the military operation, proudly showing Israeli soldiers finding another rocket launcher or assault tunnel on one hand, and mutually helping each other at the home front between missile attack sirens, on the other hand.

However, while this is the situation in Israel, a brief view on TV channels, as well as news websites from all around the globe, actually shows very severe reactions, emotions and opinions against Israel.

 

Twitter is Left Behind 

Israelis love social networks. They are highly active on Facebook, LinkedIn, and Instagram; WhatsApp and Viber were invented in Israel and are also very popular among its citizens.

But when it comes to Twitter, the amount of tweets per citizen is fairly low compared to the rest of the world, and it seems Twitter is being left behind in the Israeli arena.

With that in mind, we decided to research the global public opinion regarding operation Protective Edge as it reflects these days in Twitter, and by using sentiment analysis techniques find out whether Israel is regarded as a country who defends itself, or as an aggressor.

 

MasterMineDS’s Part – Tweet sentiment analysis

Twitter is left behind

When you live in a country at war (like Israel), it is natural, although possibly incorrectly so, to feel as though the whole world is talking about the war going on in your backyard.

We at MasterMineDS are doing our part for the situation by trying to better understand the mood on Twitter regarding the on-going Israel-Gaza conflict from a quantitative, unbiased perspective.

We have decided to try answering the following questions through analyzing the data available from Twitter:

Level of interest by country: What portion of the Twitter conversations are related to the Israel-Gaza operation in every country?
Tweet sentiments: sentiment analysis will allow us to find the ratio of tweets supporting Israel’s activity to non-supporters in every country.
Anomalies: Who are the anomalous users in different regions and what are they saying?

After setting up a server to collect millions of tweets per day, we started analyzing the data.

The analysis is based on roughly 17,500 daily Protective Edge related tweets, gathered for over a week on July 25-July 31, 2014, over 120,000 tweets in total.

Total tweeter conversations during that period stood on roughly 10,000,000 tweets per day.

Those numbers represent only a portion of the entire tweets database, due to capacity limits embedded in Twitter’s api. Nevertheless, the gathered sample consistently represents trends and proportion between countries.

 

First Goal: Level of Interest by Country

 

A point of interest in this research is the volume of the conversation around the world about the situation in Israel and Gaza.

We wanted to find out, per country, how many people are talking about the Israel-Gaza conflict through all the general tweets out there.

We have mapped the top 40 countries in aspect of the public conversation per country about the Israel-Gaza situation:

Who is interested in the Gaza situation?

We have organized the list by the amount of interest, Markers with higher then 1% of conversation are Big on the map, less are just a red dot.

As you can see, Pakistan leads the table, with 5.25% of the conversations in the Pakistani Twitter are about the Israel-Gaza conflict. Despite being a Muslim country, the numbers looked a bit high, therefore we decided to more deeply investigate it. See results below. 

Next on the table are Israel’s neighbors Jordan and Lebanon, with 4.5% and 3.6% volumes, respectively. For those of you who were wondering, no, the conversations are not pro-Israeli.

Generally speaking, we noticed that the variance was high between the Arab countries that either contain a large population of Palestinian minorities or are known as radical  vs moderate Arab countries.

One of the big surprises for us was Turkey, where the interest in the situation was around 0.45% despite the high volume of general tweets [Turkey contributes about 10% of the world's tweets regarding Protective Edge]. As it seems, the people of Turkey love to tweet in general, yet not discussing the situation at the same extent. Are these the first signs of a difference in priorities between the Turkish government and its citizens? Only time will tell.

For the people of Israel who were planning on taking a trip to see the great Safari in Kenya, prepare yourself for plenty of questions from the locals. Our data shows as much as 3.33% of Kenya’s Twitter conversations are related to our subject.

South America, in general, seems to be worrying about other issues and despite some media noise from some countries over there, the current Middle East situation is not on their daily agenda. 

The bottom line for the rest of the Western World is steady: less than 1% of the total conversations are related to the Israel-Gaza conflict. 

 

Second Goal - Finding the Sentiment:

After measuring the extent of the conversation, we wanted to test the sentiment level of the tweets for\against Israel.

For that purpose, we have created an algorithm for finding the sentiment level, based on the severity of the tweet content.

Then, we created user segmentation, based on their amount of followers, tweets, sentiments and sentiment levels.

Finally, each user was assigned to one of 4 types: with\against Israel, and high\low social impact using Protective Edge related tweets.

In order to better understand the general feeling or pulse regarding the situation, we have created the following map, and pinned around 2,500 markers on it

- The map contains random tweets related to the conflict, and has a negative\positive sentiment.  

- Pro Israeli sentiment is represented by green markers.

- Pro Palestinian sentiment is represented by the red markers

- The marker size represents the user’s involvement level

-The sentiment accuracy level for this map is 90%.

As you can see on the map, the USA is the only country that has a relatively high representation of the Israeli perspective by the users [around 30% of the tweets are in Pro-Israeli]. Other countries in the world may contain some Israel supporters, but they are quite a small minority. 

Final Goal: Anomalies and Interesting Cases

The Twitter audience is generally not fond of users who are extreme in their views. Users who are tweeting radical content are bound to have fewer followers. With this in mind, we have decided to look for and try to track the users that express their tweets demonstrating extremist content, or exhibit properties such as frequency or having an interesting social root.

Here are some examples of our findings:

Pakistani Hater

Zahid from Pakistan is flooding the stream with more than a 100 anti-Israeli tweets per day. Zahid managed to add 50 more followers to his list this week, with a total of 1,500.

The persistence of Zahid’s work in tweeting substantialy contributes to the extreme involvement levels in Pakinstan, a country that uses Twitter quite poorly.

A deeper analysis of the Growth Hacking Techniques used by Zahid can be found will be published soon.

Few Vs. Many

A few brave users can be found at the heart of some Arab countries, tweeting in favor of the Israeli side. For their own safety, and despite the great amount of appreciation we have for those users, we have decided not to reveal their user names. What we can say, however, is that it seems that some of those users are originally from Europe and are currently in those countries for work related reasons.

The first user is located in Kuwait, and he is calling on the Israeli government to stay strong.

Another user is located in Turkey. His tweets are arguing that the Hamas is a guerrilla organization who threatens journalists not to expose any violent actions it turns against the people of Gaza.

For the Attention of the Israeli ambassador in the UK:

Israeli Ambassador Daniel Taub

 The user Tony Huges is busy these days promoting an e-petition calling to expel Israeli ambassador Daniel Taub from the UK to his 1,500 followers.

 

 

Summary

Israel – Looking for Tweeters?

Our findings show, that while the western countries are not extremely interested in the conflict, the amount of users who condemn Protective Edge operation is dramatically higher than those who support the Israeli side, legitimizing pretty severe messages through the web against the state of Israel.

As it has been demonstrated in this article, a deep sentiment analysis of social network data, such as Twitter, could lead to very interesting insights of global public opinion.

Intelligent use of some the of findings – in this case by Israeli foreign affairs officials and others - could help in engaging more people to help balancing the world’s public opinion, both during the fighting and after the cease fire.

 

 

About The writers:

MasterMine Data scientists is located in Tel Aviv, Israel and specializes in data science and analytic solutions

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Independence in India: “The Unshackled Soul”

Independence in India: “The Unshackled Soul”

God created this Cosmos with one prominent thing in mind, “UNIQUE”. When I say unique, it translates straight into the exclusivity of each living matter. And in nexus to that, the state of feeling free rather than just being free explains our distinct ways of experiencing Independence. The reason for that liberty will have a countless variety, but the state of feeling that freedom would remain the same.

The unshackled mind, body and soul for me comes from the experience of two small, but noteworthy incidents. Describing them aptly and truly would surely communicate the essence of my ink to anyone who gives it a read.

I am morning walker, yes walking for health like an implied reason, I use to walk. Just walk! Until one day I discovered something so great that it rescued me from the old useless fetters I used to live in and taught me a key lesson in life. The morning time is a quiet time when you actually listen to yourself like no other hour of the day. Walking past a series of house skeletons I saw the common boundary wall that segregated each house from another. What could be so special about an unconstructed house’s boundary? Well, all the boundary walls appeared the same except for the one that lay between the 1st and the 2nd house. The wall had withstood the weathers resulting in abrupt breakage. If the wall be climbed, then the steps would look nothing but crooked and ugly. Sometimes you do things on an impulse but sometimes you do things just for doing it. No marvelous reason adorns your explanation. And at that moment, so was mine. Despite having no reason to climb the wall and walking it, I still did it and believe me, I would have regretted if I didn’t.

Stepping on the boundary itself made my heart pounce like that in an intense cardio workout. I felt scared for the fact that I had to walk that irregularly stepped wall with nothing to balance. And the fall would throw me straight into the overgrown weeds and wild cacti so abundantly grown down. Even after pushing myself a lot I couldn’t do it. This process of seeing the wall, climbing it and then coming down without taking a single step continued for many days until one fine day I told my head, I will not go back unless I walk the wall. Head was strong but the heart, pulsating to be heard from miles ahead, still had its head nodding in “NO”.

One step on the wall, and I told the cacti, here I come, but then the second step relived into another and another ultimately conveying me to the other end of the wall. For those who want to imagine how the wall was, that terrified me so much, here is a small introduction to it. The common wall of the two houses, one brick’s width wide, broken after first step to a steep step of about one staircase rise. All in all a crooked and dangerous path to walk on, that was about 6 feet high.

When I stood on the other side of the wall I took a minute to absorb in the fact that I made it to the other side. Looked around as if looking at the world with pride over my accomplishment and then walked it again to come back. When I stepped down, I felt like doing that again, the same thing that once made me ghost scared. I happily did it, again and again. When I finally thought of bidding it goodbye for the day I realized that not only my fear went away when I reached the other end of the wall but at the same time I felt free, “YES”, free from the fear of my body. In another incident that happened during my morning walk itself when I climbed the boundary wall of a park that stood right in the center surrounded by houses, I walked my way through by stepping the park’s perimeter without the fear of what anyone would articulate or think when they would see me, an adult strolling on the wall instead of taking the road.

In the first incident, I called that adjoining wall as my FEAR CONQUEROR while in the 2nd incident I call that as the WALK OF FREE I AM. The quintessence of both the things that happened released me of my fears and escalated my independence, my freedom. When that fear of falling went away the fear of what the populace would say sublimed like camphor. What I learnt and loved was the fact that such trivial and inconsequential looking incidents in life can transform the very iota of your thinking.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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The Siberian Syndrome in the UK

Bob Dylan sang ‘You Gotta Serve Somebody’. John Lennon, offended by Dylan’s subordination retorted immediately with ‘You Gotta Serve Yourself’, Well, actually I think they are both kinda wrong, It depends how you look at it.

I am highly strung, full of nervous energy, distractible and scattered. Spread thin. I read 4 books at once and have more pies than fingers, I had recently got out of the London life trap and made it to Russia, but I still carried a million silly problems in my head. Stood on the icy platform in Yekaterinburg I was independent and serving no-one, but it wasn’t bringing much freedom, at least not mentally. It really took some subservience on my part to actually start feeling free. It seems independence brings it’s own pressures whereas freedom lives without them. Big difference.

The next three days could well be hellish. It was a strange time to travel, it was natives only at this time of year, and in this part of the world you are dreaming if you think you will find any English speakers. I was traveling alone but sharing a 4 berth cabin on the Trans-Siberian Express with three Russian soldiers and a dog, a beautifully behaved brown cocker spaniel as it happens, but the soldiers were huge and pretty intimidating. They polished knives in bed. Not of the cutlery variety.

They had faces I wasn’t familiar with, much harder and more defined. I remember thinking I have never met anybody like these guys. This was in February 2014, at the height of the Ukraine crisis and although I couldn’t understand a word of the soldiers Russian,  the occasional ‘Obama’ or ‘Americans’ was distinguishable. Despite trying to look as nation-less as possible, at no point did I feel uncomfortable. There was some concern that if things did escalate much further (and lets be honest it really looked like it would do) I would not be getting across the Mongolian border. I could be holed up in Siberia for a little while, like a spy or something, which was sort of exciting.

So thats the political and physical backdrop. Geographically we were ploughing through the tail end of a tough Siberian winter. Through white nothingness, occasionally broken with pylons and occasional tracts of human life that cling to the metal rails like tubes into hospital apparatus. How could anyone live out here?

She pressed on, resolutely. The rhythm of the track setting the pace for life onboard. The gentle belch of heat from the corridor pipes pumped regular stints of sleepiness into the carriage. The flock patterned curtains, the hoover humming in the distance, the smell of polish, the bubble of hot water . I realised this train was reminding me of my Grandmas house, except she had toilet paper.

At one stop the soldiers bought me a little present, a small stone cat stood upright on its legs. I would have loved to have talked to them, they seemed good guys. I hoped they wouldn’t be sent to fight for our leaders ego’s. I quite possibly had a vodka too many and tried to explain Beatles songs to them at one point. I’m not too sure.

There is something about the in-between destinations where I am at my happiest. Maybe because ‘they’ can’t get you during this period, there is nothing they can bother you with until you arrive at your destination.  All I had to do is sit. and. wait.

It had taken 56 hours since a shower, a little vodka and being held captive at my lost Cossack Grannies, for it to happen. Cocooned, conditioned and regimented, the Trans Siberian Express on its way to Irkutsk is the only place on earth I have ever, truly felt free – and it was down to confinement and structure.

The Russians don’t get it, well not the young ones I met in Moscow anyway. They can’t understand the Western obsession with this ‘so long, so boring train!!’. I laughed, and said to be honest I have no idea why I have always wanted to do it, I just have. The concept of a journey which lasts so long may as well be measured in football pitches or London buses, because it’s just too hard for us to grasp. Perhaps it’s the manipulative nature of time which causes us a lot of us problems, if you can occasionally do away with those shackles, you’ll be half way to serving nobody.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Running away from it all, running out of money. Working on a book on the Beatles. Never been published – probably a good reason for that.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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La Ventura: Modern Mexican Food Melts in Your Mouth

La Ventura: Modern Mexican Food Melts in Your Mouth

I had the opportunity to experience Jeffrey Saad‘s new restaurant, La Ventura, on Ventura Boulevard last night. “[Saad's] insatiable appetite for ingredients and flavors and encyclopedic knowledge of spices allows him to create ‘food without borders.’” I fully enjoyed everything and highly recommend you visit right away.

A few fun facts: Jeffrey was the host of Spice Smuggler on the Food Network and United Tastes of America series on the Cooking Channel.

Join the La Ventura Team for an exclusive Herradura event Tuesday, August 12. Extremely limited seating, call today for reservations.

Excited to try @tastelaventura Thx @breadandbutterpr! Look for @nokia #oneshot #photos #ILoveLA!

Enjoying guacamole, chips and the la Ventura special margarita with herradura double barrel reposada tequila– with agave harvested by Chef Jeffrey Saad. Aged in double barrel! Only 250 bottles exist only created for #LaVentura

At the next table, we are tempted by their order of Mar y Tierra: grilled skirt steak, shrimp with tamarind-chipotle sauce–served with rice, drunken bacon pinto beans & a stack of warm flour or corn tortillas.

Incredible tastes! Achiote chicken Taco, Carne Asada Taco, Grilled Achiote rubbed fish, corn and plantains! Amazing food!

Decadent desserts! Homemade Salted Caramel Ice Cream and Churros with piloncillo caramel and chocolate dipping sauces. #Heavenly!

Thank you to Betsy Flanagan, Bread and Butter PR, Jeffrey Saad and the entire La Ventura team!

 

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August Views on WSGT

From the latest WSGT news:

This August there are many views to pay attention to:

My Wharton article, Harnessing YouTube Marketing Power, was the MOST POPULAR POST on the site for over a week! Next article on Venture Capital Funding.


We Said Go Travel on YouTube is at nearly 240,000 views so probably one month away from ONE QUARTER MILLION VIEWS!  


I created my first ever Instagram Photo Essay about an event at the Fairmont in Santa Monica. What do you think? Click here to read it.


I have started to work with USA Today and my articles on 10best lunch spots on Ventura Boulevard, 10best salsa spots in Los Angeles & more will be live soon! I will keep you posted.


See photo below of enjoying Los Angeles at the Hollywood Bowl. Want more photos? See my Instagram Feed!

Thank you for your support. Connect on  Facebook,  Google+, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest,  SlideShare,  Twitter, and YouTube.

Thanks again! Lisa (Click here to sign up for this newsletter. )

WE SAID GO TRAVEL WRITING CONTEST

Thank you to all the participants in the Summer 2014 Independence Writing Contest! The entries are being published twice a day. Click here to read them all! I expect to have winners announced in mid September.

The Fall 2014 Gratitude Travel Writing contest will open September 11 and close on November 27, 2014 (Thanksgiving Day!)

Wonder what it is like to travel by public bus in India? 57 videos share three months of traveling!

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Soaring with Seagulls in Chincoteague, Virgina

Soaring with Seagulls in Chincoteague, Virgina

Foamy waves lap at my bare feet as I walk along a stretch of coastline. Below, the sand glistens brightly with a thousand jewels. I watch the tumultuous toss and turn of the ocean as the pale turquoise water sifts through the debris of uprooted sea wrack, littered pebbles, and bits of shell and marine insect. Then, with a silent roar, the sea would hurl all of these back onto the shore, where the rocks neatly sort themselves by size. I begin to pick up my pace and run, my arms spreading out wide as they morph into a seagull’s white wings. I see the bird swoop, its belly skimming the edge of the water as it dips. As the bird disappears into the horizon, another movement catches my sight. Horses, of assorted brown, black, white, and gray, their tails glossy, legs lean and muscular, and their pelts sleek, gallop from their homes in the trees, as if challenging the shoreline, sending up a spray of sand and air. I sit down, content. Here, the sky was the limit, the horizon the end. Nothing could be heard but the never ending sea, and the occasional cawing of the sea birds as they flew away, shrouded by mist. Here, all was serene and I had no burdens. I was free.

The first thing that stuck out to me about the wildlife reserve was that it stank, just like a skunk. Turns out, the huge mud puddle in front of the visitor’s center is actually a human waste treatment plant. I wrinkle my nose in disgust and attempt to stop myself from visualizing what else could lurk in such a seemingly harmless pond of dirt. So, to ease the scent from our nostrils, I follow my family into the visitor’s center building. What really captivates my attention immediately were photographs (wait, no, closer observations reveal that they are drawings and paintings!) of ducks- some flying, some resting, some in awkward positions. I marvel at one, whose ruffled black and white feathers were rendered so soft that I could almost touch it, while I admire another for the fine nuances of phthalocyanine green and ultramarine blue that created a marbled appearance in the duck’s patches of fur. What really astonishes me, however, is that these young painters were only a few years older than me (imagine, painting a photorealistic duck at age fifteen!). I vow that one day I would join the ranks of these talented artists.

Besides uttering the word “wow”, I was speechless once I place my feet in the lush woodland. Mighty oaks, maples, and evergreens stretch above us into the clouds. The leaves piece together a deep green sky, streaks of light falling through cracks in the branches, illuminating the wildlife below it. Now and then a fallen tree blocks our path, and I had a delusion that we were in the majestic redwood forests of California. We emerge in a clearing at the flank of the Chesapeake Bay, a gentle breeze rippling the fabric of the water. A heron perches on the receding waves, and I look down just in time to see a pair of mallards gracefully gliding along. I steal a glance beside me and my jaw dropped. Lines of photographers had stampeded the little bridge we were standing on, absorbing in the entire scene through their clickey-eyed cameras. Then it hit me. Why did I forget to bring my watercolor brushes and sketchbook? I thought to myself miserably.

About the Author: Adele Peng is an avid photographer, artist, and biologist “in training”. She is currently in rising seventh grade in Oakton, Virginia, and writes passionately. During the summer, she often visits China and Canada, and enjoys exploring the East Coast with her family.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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A Treetop Escapade in Australia

When I saw this treetop retreat on airbnb.com, I knew I had to go to Sunshine Coast, Queensland. The thought of my own glass capsule perched up high in the lush Australian bush brought me to the hinterlands in spring 2013.

I arrived as the sun set into a breathtaking canvas of peach and tangerine streaks in a clear cobalt blue sky. Speechless, I climbed up narrow wooden steps and entered the Bali-styled thatch-roofed escapade. It was like a dream with floor to ceiling views through glass enclosure held firmly by bamboo structure. A king-sized bed with silky white drapes filled the centre of the space. Leave-motif flowed through the furnishings, from bed cover to plush pillows.

I picked up a pair of binoculars from the dresser and stepped out to the small balcony. I could see black and brown birds on the trees. A sea of muted greens embraced me. I spotted a wooden chubby house, dolls and teddy bears sitting in a row in its doorway, and laughed. I felt rejuvenated.

The secluded lodging was hosted by a carefree, nature-loving couple, Andrew and Amy, who welcomed me warmly to their piece of heaven. They gave me a tour and explained every little detail to help me settle down before leaving me to bask on my own.

I pulled on the thick warm bathrobe and descended the stairs to a wooden deck connected to a semi-outdoor bathroom. I stepped into a white bathtub with wooden façade and turned on the rainwater shower. Rubbing creamy goat’s milk soap onto my tired body, I could hear gentle sound of wind chimes behind the ornate wooden partition. Feeling refreshed from the hot shower, I got dressed and looked around. There was a modern toilet bowl behind a weave partition.

The couple had thought things through. There was even a rack with a kettle and microwave. I boiled water and made a cup of piping hot peppermint tea. I brought my beverage to the deck and sat on one of the two rattan chairs next to a hammock.

As night crawled, the sky turned dusky. I switched on the fairy lights using the small remote control that Andrew gave me. The white lights danced up high, enhancing the glowing green and red ones planted in flower pots on the deck. I sipped my tea slowly, basking in the jingle of the rainforest and singing crickets, feeling so close to the elements.

Just then, I heard voices of a man and a woman talking. It was Andrew and a Middle Eastern woman. He introduced her as Saleema, my masseuse, who travelled two hours for an exclusive Lomi Lomi treatment. He left her to set up the space in the yoga studio adjacent to the deck.

Minutes later, I walked into a dim room with glittery star-shaped ornaments hanging from the ceiling. The walls were covered by weaved palms.

Saleema asked me to undress and lie face down on the narrow massage bed. I closed my eyes and stretched out my hands at the sides of my head. As she rubbed warm coconut oil onto my body and kneaded my tight muscles with her strong smooth palms, the tensions left me. I felt lighter and lighter, almost as if I was floating. The spiritual Hawaian songs she chose, the wind that blew with her sharp movements, the sound of the forest, all blended into a harmonious symphony of nature, lilting me to sleep. It was my most memorable two-hour massage.

After saying goodbye to the masseuse, I stumbled up the narrow steps back into my cocoon. The mattress was soft and comfortable, and my host had even spread a magnetic topper for therapeutic effect. I snuggled under the blanket, watched stars dancing in the blue black sky, feeling one with the universe, until I fell into a dreamless sleep. I was free.

About the Author: 

Rumaizah Abu Bakar has practised public relations in Kuala Lumpur for fifteen years. Her collection of short fiction and travel tales, The Female Cell, was published by Silverfish Books in 2011. She also co-authored News From Home, an anthology by Malaysian authors, in 2007.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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The view from prison in South Africa

The view from prison in South Africa

“The wind blows where it wants to. It does not have a dwelling place neither can it be contained. It is probably the ultimate symbol of freedom.”

These were my thoughts when I was waiting in the crowd of spectators at the annual Argus Bicycle tour in Cape Town, South Africa. The wind was blowing everything into nebulous images before my eyes. I had to concentrate very hard to spot my boyfriend amongst the tired cyclists speeding across the finish line. My phone rang, I missed him! We found one another in the crowd and the personal victory he experienced was not hanging around his neck, but shining from his eyes! We went to his car and the silence that came when the doors closed felt like victory to me!

Our week in Cape Town was packed with unforgettable activities. Abseiling from Table mountain, picnic in Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, wine tasting, fine dining and sun bathing to name but a few. The highlight however was our trip to Robben Island. We boarded a ferry from the beautiful V&A Waterfront that took us to this small piece of land just off the Cape coast. The wind was doing one of her freedom dances around my head and I decided to join her instead of fighting her. The smells she brought were magnificent. Salty humid air with a touch of kelp and sea shell and the warm hand on my thigh was like a guard protecting his treasure.

I was not sure what to expect of this small piece of earth that played such a big role in shaping one of the worlds most influential leaders. The day I took my first breath Nelson Mandela was already serving 12 of his 18 years on Robben Island and unfortunately I was born with the skin colour of the oppressor. It was in my youthful ignorant teenage years that I first laid eyes on Nelson Mandela. I still remember the day when he was released from prison. He was smiling and waving to the world. My parents anticipated a civil war at the time but nothing of the sort happened. The wind was calm in Cape Town that day, but the wind of change that went out before him carried the seeds of a new era into the troubled Southern tip of Africa. And what followed was the transformation of an entire country.

Robben Island is the summit of an ancient mountain that is now submerged in the traitorous waters of the Cape of Storms. It is 2 miles long and 1.1 miles wide. The Dutch name means “seal island” and on your way there with the ferry, you are bound to spot a Cape Fur Seal or even a Southern Right Whale or Dolphin. There are 132 species of birds on the island and 23 species of mammals, including tortoise, various types of buck, snakes, lizards and spiders. It was used as a prison from the 17th century until 1996 and became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999.

We arrived at the Island with mixed emotions that leaped from guilt, joy, liberation and humility. Are we going to be seen as typical white South Africans whose ancestors invented Apartheid or will we be seen as the next generation who wants to set things straight? The first thing I saw was the motto of the prison written in black on white; ‘We serve with pride’. We started the tour of the island and met up with our guide who was a former political prisoner on Robben Island. We visited the exercise yard and the main communal cell block where political prisoners often shared accommodation with criminal inmates. The famous cell number 5 was the highlight of the tour, the small space where Nelson Mandela lived for almost 20 years of his life. The bed roll and blankets were neatly standing in place next to the iron sanitary bucket. On a small wooden table was his plate and cup.

The air conditioned bus was like a shot in the arm after the hot and intense tour through the prison. We drove past the limestone quarry where prisoners worked during the day as well as the Lepers’ Graveyard. The view of Table Mountain with the city of Cape Town nestled at her feet was breathtaking. I wanted to linger a bit longer to absorb all the sights, sounds and smells of the moment, but we had to go. Our last stop was the souvenir shop where I saw a striking photograph of Mandela with a Christo Brand, a white warden who he befriended while in prison. There I saw a man with great character who saw through colour into another’s heart and on our way back with the ferry, my personal journey was contained by this historical tour of significance. I felt free to serve my fellow country men and liberated to practice the ministry of reconciliation.

Cowards die many times before their deaths.

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me most strange that men should fear,

Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come when it will come.

- Nelson Mandela’s favorite part from Julius Caesar 2.2.32-7

About the author

I am a freelance writer/journalist with a passion for travel. Both physical and emotional journeys inspire me.

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The Party in Hong Kong

The Party in Hong Kong

Beep beep beep beep beep! The MTR gates shut behind me; my inhibitions waving goodbye from the window of the zooming train. I make my way through the blur of multicolored faces, escalator after escalator, in a concrete underground maze. When I finally reached ground level, the familiar sight of red walls greet me, along with the notorious sign that reads Exit D2. As people zigzag their way into each other, the Chinese characters from the print ads in the subway become a constant reminder of how different this place is from what I am used to.

As my friends and I make our way above ground and take the last step to exit the subway, the humid evening air embrace us as if expecting company. “We have arrived,” my friend said, the twinkle in her hazel eyes unmistakable. We parade into the street, welcomed by the symphony of lights that emanate from buildings, malls and bars just like stars – much like how we feel. Instead of a blare of trumpets, we are greeted by the strangely appealing discordant harmonies of bass drops, car horns, drunken laughter and alien accents. A short uphill trek take us to the heart of the place – a 711 store that both causes and nurses hangovers and broken hearts. And with a few drinks that comprise of a surprisingly pleasant selection of world beers, tropical vodka mixes, mini-wine bottles and the occasional accompaniment of noodle bowls or pork balls, I’m ready for the rest of the night – hopping from one rooftop bar to another, one club to another, one flight of stairs to another, one group of strangers to another, one set or arms to another, one side of myself to another.

Whenever I am here, I forget who I am, or who I am supposed to be. I forget about the things I worry about. I forget about what people expect me to do or how people expect me to behave. I forget the things that hold me back from experiencing life to the fullest. Like my ancestors before me, I just surrender to the rhythm of the night and forget everything but the beating of my own heart.

When you forget everything, all that is left is you. Without the influence of the past or future – it’s just you and the present seeing eye-to-eye. You freely raise your hands up in the air, dance the way you want to, befriend a random stranger, pretend you are royalty, just do what you want to do and feel what you want to feel, even for just a night – spilling over to the next, and the next and the next until life becomes just one grand party you take part of and celebrate.

To feel most alive – that is what freedom means to me. To submit to the senses and silence the mind. To have so much energy to last until sunrise. To be open to all possibilities and not say “I can’t” or “I won’t” because in this place, both do not exist. All that exists is YOU, and that is what matters most in the world.

I found freedom in the rugged rawness that reeks from the streets of Lan Kwai Fong, because this is where, for the first time in my life, I stopped thinking and started being.

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Walls of Water in Costa Rica

I stood on the black sand beach, surfboard tucked under my arm, watching the local surfers slash and attack the curling beach break. Most of the surfers were kids, who charged the waves with a fearlessness I never had. Each ride lasted only a few seconds before the pounding waves swallowed the riders, leaving behind a trail of spray and bubbling froth that rippled towards the expansive beach. Although the waves violently crashed in the shallow water, I felt at home. This picturesque Costa Rican bay, lively jungle stopping abruptly at the first crab holes on the beach, reminded me of a simpler time in my home state of Hawaii. The only thing I cared about was surfing because it instilled a sense of ownership and freedom in my life. I yearned to feel that way again.

As I baked in the dense humidity under the midday sun, a surfer walked in front of me, waved, and said, “Pura vida.” Literally meaning “pure life,” this common Costa Rican phrase exemplifies the lush beauty of the country and, more so, its residents. I likened pura vida to the word aloha, something that I had heard a great deal of growing up in Hawaii. This passing Tico, local Costa Rican, surfer whistled at me and pointed a hundred yards off shore to a large rock, rich with umbrella trees, protruding roughly forty feet out of the water. Waves collided with the tip of the rock and peeled towards the beach. I strapped the leash around my ankle and jogged into the lukewarm Caribbean Sea.

There is always a high level of risk when surfing a break for the first time. The current, water depth, and waves themselves remain mysterious until you’re out in the surf. It can be frightening, but even a familiar break can be unpredictable. Part of the beauty of surfing is the gratifying sense of accomplishment I get after conquering a new wave. While the rides allow me a glimpse at true bliss, the ability to read the waves and be in tune with the ocean’s movement is what brings me joy. Every wave differs, and it took time for me to analyze how those waves at Playa Cocles in Costa Rica broke before I caught one. I had to romance every rolling wall of water I caught. Some of the eight foot waves tossed me over the falls and punished me below the surface in the washing machine of swirling currents. The beauty of those waves on the surface did not equate to the dark thundering underneath the water. The ability to relax and let the crashing water toss you at its will is incredibly humbling. After years of countless wipeouts I discovered the sheer force of the ocean under the waves. Waves are frightening creatures and there’s a freedom I get from confronting my fear of them.

About seven rides into my session, I saw the wave of the day creeping towards me. I paddled ferociously until the wave lifted me up and pushed me down its face. Water splashed in my eyes as I planted my feet on the board to take the drop. Adrenaline rushed through me as I carved into the bottom turn, rode up the face, and snapped my board back down. Looking down the line, I saw the wave about to barrel. I pumped my board as quick as I could, crouched down, and the lip of the wave curled over my head, enclosing me in a serene tunnel of rushing water. The world became distant and I like a bird gliding on a gust of wind. Sadly, that tube engulfed me and spit me out the backside of the wave after pummeling over me.

I paddled to shore and sat on the beach, admiring the spot I had just surfed. I am not the best surfer, but I held my own out there. With surfing, I am free from the typical competitiveness associated with sports. I surf for the insurmountable happiness it has brought me ever since I was introduced to the sport. Surfing is my escape.

About the Author: Vincent Stevens enjoys juxtaposing ideas and approaching interesting subjects or topics from off-the-beaten-path standpoints in his writing. His travels and life experiences end up in unique memoirs and essays. Vincent was born and raised in Hawaii, but moved to California to attend the University of Redlands, where he graduated with a BA in creative writing.

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