Rockefeller, Guevara and two Ethiopian Servants.

We step out of the elevator to piles of pointed patent leather shoes arranged outside the door, in Iraqi- Kurdistan always a sure sign you’ve arrived at the right place. We remove our not so pointed, not so patent shoes and walk onto the glistening marble floor of a pent house apartment. The apartment is filled with shoeless Kurdish and Arab businessmen, industrialists and entrepreneur. The men range anywhere from 30 to 50 years in age and reek of shady dealings. There are no women here. As I glance up at the 3 consecutive chandeliers cascading across the ceiling, dripping in crystal I can’t help but think I’ve propelled myself into the belly of the beast. Then as two Ethiopian slaves, I mean servants appear producing platters piled high with baklava, dates and greasy grilled meat; I’ve removed all doubt. In this moment I know I’m in the belly of the beast. So what’s an idealistic American blonde, exempt from gender norms to do at a moment like this? Drink heavily? That’s what my partner in crime (the other blonde American) generally opts for. So as she heads for the Scotch I decide it's an opportune time to delve into the current upheaval in Egypt. Nothing like good corruption chat laced with pleasantries. So off I go onto the deep dark road of government corruption in the Middle East amongst the men who facilitate it. Iraq's recently topped the corruption charts as number 4 in the world and I can't help myself.

I have always considered experiences such as these highly valuable, but what happens when these people become your “friends”. The term friendship is negotiable like all things in the Middle East including the number of wives a man has, your daughter’s nuptials, a barrel of oil and how much you will pay for that political favor now and maybe two to three fold in the future. Nonetheless, if you spend enough time in the belly of the beast you may just develop some of their eating habits. And these acquaintances become that have now become friends may one day become co-conspirators.

A dear friend of mine would always warn that the company you keep might turn into the company you provide. I generally escape grazes with corruption unscathed but for how long? I even recently have wondered what is so wrong with the luxury these people choose to live. Crystals cascading across the ceiling and swimming pool in your penthouse is nothing I’d want for myself but who am I to judge? At moments like these I believe it is best to hearken back to the dear revolutionary, Mr. Guevara. I do not idealize Che nor do I diminish the violent acts he committed but, he was really on to something with the idea that "The amount of poverty and suffering required for the emergence of a Rockefeller, and the amount of depravity that the accumulation of a fortune of such magnitude entails, are left out of the picture, and it is not always possible to make the people in general see this." For a few moments munching on Baklava and staring at business suits I forget the idea described by our Venezuelan friend. But then the Ethiopian servants shuffles in, head down avoiding eye contact and I remember why extravagance like this should not exist.

So to the Rockefellers of the Middle East, I thank you for the experience and excuse myself as not allow those acquaintances to become anything more than a good story.

All That Glitters is GOLD!

Greetings from Northern Iraq!

Asians love sparkle. It is one of the few constants across the vast continent. From the shinny suits and glitter ties of Seoul to the sequined Saris of India over to Oil soaked Saudi and across the bedazzled fingers of Istanbul. Asians love it! Ghandi might have thought it was the “eye for an eye” mentality that was going to make the whole world blind but with the sun rising in the east, surely the reflection off Asia will blind us all first! What might appall the average westerner will be the perfect fashion accessory for the average inhabitant of Asia. The Eastern hemisphere has unabashedly subscribed to “the gaudier the better”, over the top, tacky and garish beyond palatability mentality. The Middle East and the Far East don't bond on much but the one common ground they can always find is an undying allegiance to all things that glimmer, glitter and gleam.

But we learn, not all that glitters is gold and these days most of the gold dotting the markets and bazaars here in Asia are in actuality painted plastic. So, what happens to all this plastic after the gold paint chips off? Chances are not into a recycling program that doesn’t exist. So with the high production of cheap and chintzy shit ranging from home decor to jewelry to kitchen wear one begins to wonder in 2 years where will it all go? In a ravine, dot the road side, pile up in public places? Most likely.

With a myopic mind set, people are purchasing at the lowest price not the highest quality. The plastic pieces are not future family heirlooms. After a few years when these items loose their luster, they will likely be disposed of inappropriately. And with plastic taking centuries to degrade the environmental future looks bleak. However, this environmental bleakness is the symptom of greater problem. The complete lack of foresight that is being exercised world wide. Yes, “developed” nations have done it, they've destroyed the environment but, because it has happened before does not mean it needs to happen again or that it should continue to happen. Iraq is covered in litter!

Environmental issues aside, there are other cultural issues at work under the golden exterior and public masquerading. The women seem so modest and yet there is seriously scandalous clothing being marketed in the bazaars which begs the question who wears this stuff? Could it be those Hijab and Berka clad women sporting the scandalous duds? I’ll let you know when I find out!

"Quite the jowl ey, China?"

Nothing is safe from slang and cultural relativism, not even nationhood. China is no longer a term reserved for the emerging super power. According to many South Africans “China” is your friend and seems to be a term of endearment. Gathered around a fire in the hazy heat of a Mozambican sunset, a Capetonian noted, “This is a quite a jowl ey, China?” I did a double take not quite sure he was addressing me. “China?” I asked. And quickly responded “No, no I'm an American, I'm not from China.” I soon learned China is not only a country in Asia but is interchangeable with mate, dude or brew (brew being the term known to the rest of the of the English speaking world as bro or brother).

While the South Africans may use the words China and friend interchangeably, let there be no mistake, the Chinese are not your friend. Their presence is strong in the South Eastern quadrant of the African Continent but they are not here to make friends, they have about 1,324,655,000 back in their own country. They are here like many before them to capitalize on Africa's abundant natural resources.

Where I might say the Asians have lost the plot on capitalism, the Africans glanced once at the introduction and decided it was not for them. Unfortunately for the African continent capitalist enterprise, blind ambition and the eager, insatiable pursuit of wealth was well received by the Asian Tigers. The Chinese in particular have really caught on hook, line and sinker and in Mozambique they have been hooking, lining and sinking an astonishingly large portion of the fish population.

The Chinese, Japanese and most of the world have developed an insatiable appetite for fish and the oceans are not producing at a rate to keep up with the pillaging. Mozambique in particular has become a target. Minimally enforced regulation and a coast line twice the size of California hosting a large percentage of the world's shark population has wet the Chinese pallet. Shark fins being the most sought after item. Why shark fins? Well, Shark fin soup of coarse! It is considered an aphrodisiac, a delicacy and is a high ticket item amongst the upper echelons of Chinese society. As a result Sharks are being fished out at an unprecedented rate.

In exchange for roadwork the Mozambican government recently licensed fishing rights to Chinese companies. This exchange may sound like a good idea for infrastructural development but corruption has bludgeoned any such benefit. What the Chinese are licensed to catch and what they in actuality catch are two distinctly different figures. When your enforcing body is paid next to nothing, anything under the table will quickly turn an eye blind and in ports up and down the coast of Mozambique it has!

China is not doing anything unique in the grand scale of history. Like many nations before them they are capitalizing on the majority of African governments' failure to control or regulate the exportation of natural resources. In recent weeks China has pushed Japan to the back seat and nestled them selves in as the world's second largest economy. After watching first hand the environmental exploitation of the African continent and particularly the coast line of Mozambique I have a new insight as to how this once developing nation is edging themselves, ever so quietly, into the next hegemony.

It will happen....eventually.

There is one thing you can almost always count on the East Asians for and that is speed, efficiency is a gamble and free spirited good times were never in the cards. East Africans on the other hand know not of this “speed” you speak of, efficiency is rarer still, but when it comes to good times they may well have invented the concept. A dear friend once relayed the Swahili saying, "haraka haraka haina baraka" and it translates most closely to "Great haste makes great waste". Now what the African people are wasting I am not entirely sure, but I was always under the impression it was my time! Waiting two hours for a piece of fish to arrive at a restaurant, waiting in front of a computer screen for 45 minutes for an email page to load only to realize the internet connection is incapable of supporting any actual emails and waiting another 30 minutes while a vendor finds change on a mere 50 met note becomes common place.

Moving with speed is anything but a pervasive concept in Eastern Africa however there is one facet of life in which speed has crept in, transportation. But do not be deceived, speed does not translate into efficiency. While you may be barreling down a crater riddled road in a tin death trap at 110 kilometers per hour do not anticipate a timely arrival. You and about 25 of your now close and intimate friends, a few chickens and some squid thrown in for good measure will be screeching to a halt every two kilometers. At each near death experience, some may refer to as a bus stop, you to drop off 2 friends and pick up 5 new ones. When you finally do arrive at your destination your are so grateful to have actually made it you don't even care it took almost 13 hours to complete a 350 kilometer journey. Nonetheless I still found the average rate of 27 miles per hour mildly offensive.

After eight months here in Eastern Africa I have become an expert in waiting! I'd say its a skill I have refined, revisited, processed and polished. Armed with this refined sense of waiting I have come to re-evaluate my initial sentiments on the matter of haste. At the risk of sounding cliché I have been taught the virtue is in the journey not the destination. And the journey here in the dark continent has been made with very little haste. They are far from the most productive people on the planet but they're probably some of the happiest. In the face of adversity there is no Xanax or Valium, no Prozac nor Wellbutrin. With their simplicity comes serenity. So, for the time being I will let go of my one million and ones thing to do, my Asia induced mania and I will wait. I will wait for that piece of fish, I will wait for my gmail that never loads, I will wait for my change and I will wait at death's door for late arrivals. I wait knowing that East Africans, can not, will not and perhaps should not be rushed. I am now armed with their assurance that whatever it is, it will happen....eventually.

Now, Today and The Day After Never.

When standing in the South African bush or a white sand stretch of Mozambique be wary of relying on locals to tell you when transport is arriving. While the person you are speaking to may reply in perfect English, it is highly likely that what you understand of and will expect from "now" or "tomorrow" varies drastically from what will actually be the case.

My conception of what one means when they say tomorrow has been revisited, redefined and revolutionized since living in Mozambique. I used to assume tomorrow was referring to a time with in the following 24 hours. I now understand that for most mozambicans and even some Soth Africans tomorrow can reference anytime in the next 24 hours, 2 weeks or even never-ever.

I can thank Mozambique for expanding my horizons on the term tomorrow but it is the South Africans who deserve credit for revolutionizing "now". The utterance of "now" previously resonated a sense of urgency with in a person. Thanks to South Africans "now" falls into a far broader time frame. Depending on it's repetition and placement with word "just", "now" can loosely refer to anything from this instant to the day after never.

As with many concepts in the world time has now joined the ranks of heat, poverty and modesty in being extensively and ultimately relative.

Cambodia is for Criminals...and sexual deviants

Cambodia hosts an alarmingly high percentage of the world’s creepy white male population over the age of 45. I have no statistical data to substantiate this claim but, I firmly believe it to be true! Whether it’s the allure of rampant Prostitution, the accessibility of illicit drugs or the white sand beaches is anyone’s guess. But, I’d probably go with the first two rather than the latter. Creepy old men aside Cambodia is a fantastic, culturally rich country.
If you keep a low profile in Cambodia you can do pretty much whatever you please, if you keep a relatively low profile and have bucket loads of money you quite literally can do anything and everything you want. Lawlessness has its ups and its downs and you really have to be a certain kind of person to appreciate the ups more than the downs.
Lawlessness can be problematic as far as corruption and ethics are concerned but, from a libertarian perspective it really has its perks. There exists nothing in this country that money can not buy, freedom, sex, drugs and sadly for a staggeringly low 960 US dollars you can have a human life. The going rate for murder pay offs varies on whether you kill a Khemer or foreigner but generally it sits around the single “K” range.
I am of the belief that Churchill was really on to something when he said the government that governs best, governs least but after a couple weeks in the far south of Cambodia I am fostering a new appreciation for law enforcement and regulation. Human rights violations are frequent, flagrant and given little regard.
I don’t believe all of Cambodia exists in the same way. The rural countryside which remains largely untouched by the aforementioned white male population will likely restore a little faith in humanity. Mostly an agricultural area where scantly clad children can be seen running behind mud caked cattle.
With an economy fueled by foreign aid and tourism Cambodia seems to be on a similar trajectory as neighboring countries Vietnam and Thailand. It is my hope that Cambodia can learn from the mistakes of its predecessors. But, with Cambodia complete lack of infrastructure I won’t hold my breath.

Sticking it Out

When I first came to South Korea I had no idea what I was getting myself into, which is usually how I like to go about things. This time the job I thought I would be working turned into the job I would be living. I work for a corporation for an average of 11 hours a day. The most accurate description I can offer is corporate slave, I won’t say corporate whore because I have yet to seriously compromise myself for The Man. I thought I would be working for a school; a fair assumption considering the company I work for is called Korea Poly School. But no, no the sparkly ties and shinny suits that run this institution are not truly interested in the education of children. They are a well-oiled money making machine, educating children just so happens to be their fuel. Making as much profit as possible is their only real business. The private English education system here is pretty much all the same. They capitalize on over privileged Korean children trying to learn English or better yet their mother’s desire for them to learn English. The name of this Korean phenomenon is a Hogwon. I am beginning to learn as I get older (note: this is the wisdom of a 23 year old) the unapologetic pursuit of capital is not unique to my company or any company really. It’s the same in any corporation anywhere in the world. It’s no different in Seoul than in London or even Sao Palo. Like the smoke filled cigar rooms of the past cigarette breaks in the stairwells of South Korea are where the “magic” happens. Climbing the corporate stairwell. The good old boys networks never disappear they just change faces as societies evolve and crumble. East Asia is making economic power moves. South Korea is getting a piece of that pie if it kills them and with the suicide rate what it is, it just might. I wanted a cultural experience and I got one. It’s just no the one I expected. This is not the Thailand of summers past. This is raw but at least it’s real.