half a trip to Cuba

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Another trip down memory lane - this time a notebook with travel journal entries from a trip to Cuba, or rather half a trip - I guess I gave up writing for the last few days!

Like the US one I have not edited this or filled in the gaps - maybe I'll do an updated version later


Thursday 24th January 2008

Up at 5am, airport for 7am - 3 hour delay - flight didn't leave until nearly 1pm

Mooched round shops - Frankie & Benny's for breakfast - voted 'best breakfast at the airport' - I'm not convinced, the three egg omelette is very small - coffee at Nero, last minute purchases then off

Old style entertainment on the plane - and they ran out of booze!!  Chavvy cabin crew 'Mawgan'

Taxi to Havana - saw dozens of people on a truck

Arrived at Casa Humberto  - 'no room at the inn' - after ages we were collected and walked to a fabulous place owned by Myla, checked in, petted Linda the dog then were told to go back to Casa Humberto!!

Cute little house on the roof - no aircon, just windows

our 'little house' on the roof of Casa Humberto

Very cold night - shower cold

Met Sarah, went to Taberna de la Muralla on Plaza Vieja - good mojito, strange tapas - sort of cheesy garlic bread with ham


Friday 25th January 2008

Woke feeling cold - must get a blanket - at 6am, dozed until 8am then up - lovely sunrise, cold shower

Walked to Plaza Vieja - some good art shops - then Museo del Chocolate - thick Aztec hot chocolate and orange digestives!

Walked to Plaza de Armes - book market - then on to Parc Central and Capitalo with old style polaroid cameras

Down to Museo de Revolution via overpriced cafe, then lunch at Bar Cabaña - chicken and rice

Walked back through tat market - Museo de Fotograph - interesting but like family photos - cool 'view finder'

Coffee at Cafe del Escorial - giant moka pots - on Plaza Vieja



Walked along Malecon to meet Sarah at Hotel Nationale for mojitos, then dinner at Paledores - spicy lamb and spaghetti

Early bed


Saturday 26th January 2008

Sarah came over to Casa Humberto, walked through Havana Vieja and saw a parade



Taxi over to Hotel Libre - fab 50s design - three hours by pool - no tan despite brilliant sun

Back to Casa Humberto before meeting Sarah at Casa del Armistad for drinks then on to Tropicana - fab evening - lost jumper



Back via bar then late bed


Sunday 27th January 2008

Very hungover, no time for breakfast at Casa - ham and cheese croissant in square

Havana Club Rum Museum then walk along Opisbo

Tried to get lunch at Hotel Inglaterra and bar on Opisbo - no service

Torrential rain then back to collect bags and taxi to bus for 2pm - lunch at bus station

3pm bus - great coffee en route

Couldn't get phones to work so no accommodation booked


Monday 28th January 2008

Arrived Santiago 7am ish - 16 hour journey - Britney moment with casa hawkers pressed against windows of bus station

Went with Martin (a teacher) in an old Plymouth to Casa Marti - great house - Martin speaks English

Wandered around town - Casa Grande Hotel for view and mojito $2 - lunch at pizza place (had pork), ice cream from street vendor (first peso purchase!) - unfortunate side effect a few hours later!


Sarah and Hywel took a salsa class, I took a nap

Dinner at Casa - dry fish, vinegary fried banana, rice, soup and postre (only soup and postre were good) - not worth $8, bed early


Tuesday 29th January 2008

Nice breakfast at Casa - fruit, bread, honey, sweetened coffee, scrambled tomato eggs

Taxi trip (with Martin) to Moro - a fort - and Cay Granma - an island - $45 plus $10 for extra boat trip

Thought about hotel pool but $10 entry each plus taxi

Casa Grande for mojitos and black bean soup then back to casa roof to read

Paladores for dinner - fried chicken - then Casa de Trova

Casa de Trova

Wednesday 30th January 2008

Day bus to Camaguey - two hours late arriving, aircon broke so had to open windows





Really tired - nice casa with poodle and dalmation

In the courtyard of our Casa - no idea why

Dinner - tinned tuna and chips, drink in Cambio

dinner in Camaguey

Thursday 31st January 2008

Cameguey boring, breakfast expensive, coffee in Galleria Square

Casa organised taxi to Trinidad for $70 to avoid overnight bus and boring evening

Arrived Trinidad - wonderful casa - dinner at Estila - best on trip so far - roast pork, salad, banana chips, potatoes and creme caramel


Friday 1st February 2008

No cash!

Bus to beach $2

beach at Ancon near Trinidad

All day at beach - got sunburnt on shoulder and ankles

Bumped into Nicolas - French guy from Casa Humberto - had beer with him and arranged to meet up in the evening

Great fried chicken at Casa then out to Casa de la Musica - met Nicolas and a Cuban / Irish guy


Saturday 2nd February 2008

Borrowed cash ($200) from Hywel

Day out to mountains on a truck - 800m above sea

Interesting coffee plantation, then a walk from hell!

coffee plantation in mountains outside Trinidad

Met fun Aussie couple and nice French couple, guide was very cool

Nice lunch in Price on way back - walked around Trinidad - bought art, met Nicolas again at Casa de la Musica - very early night!


Sunday 3rd February 2008

Train at 9.30 to plantation - cool tower, train very dirty

plantation reached by train from Trinidad

Bumped into Aussie and French couples again

Ate only rice, beans and salad - Olga thinks I'm ill but I'm just too full!

Power cut in the evening - candles and torches provided

Got laundry done - very early night


Monday 4th February 2008 - Thursday 7th February 2008

No entries

sorting photos

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Like many people over the years I have uploaded photos to various sites across the internet.

Unable to track down some precious photo files a couple of weeks ago I decided it was time to reclaim and organise my photographic history.

Through Google searches (and some lucky guesses at forgotten passwords) I tracked down accounts with Flickr, Kodak Gallery, Photobox and Picassa together with the ubiquitous Facebook and dug out old CDs and negatives.

The most exciting find so far has been three sets of negatives, that included pictures from after my graduation ball together with the pictures of my post graduation road-trip by Greyhound bus across the US  (see my earlier blog: usa coast to coast by greyhound bus).

Seattle - from my road trip

6,720 photos later, I now have all my photos dating back to 1998 (when I graduated) organised in iPhoto on my Mac and backed up at Picassa Web Albums.  
My next target is a trip to my parents to track down earlier photos (hopefully) stored in their loft....

Speaking of Lewes...

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This weekend I attended the Lewes Speakers Festival, a three day event featuring a mix of authors, broadcasters, philosophers and other notable speakers on subjects as diverse as the Arts & Crafts movement, post Nazism in Germany and science vs religion.



Taking place in the All Saints centre a beautiful de-consecrated church in a pretty church yard, the audience frequently consisted of the type of uber-liberal ladies of a certain age that Lewes is known for - this proved particularly entertaining in the debate about the impact of liberal morality on the welfare state, but more of that later.

I missed the Friday evening launch topics (absolute monarchs followed by Marina Lewycka talking about her new book) due to work commitments.  But I was there bright and early on Saturday morning for the 10am talk on the The Arts & Crafts Country House. The speaker was Clive Aslet, editor-at-large for Country Life, his approach was an eclectic cantor through archive photographs from the magazine dating from the early 20th century.  The talk was a little rambling and breathless and the most interesting point he made was that Country Life, when first published, was conceived as aspirational but accessible guide for newly affluent professionals and industrialists - much as interior magazines and tv shows are viewed today.

Next up was Professor John Lewis asking Has Science Buried God?', he gave a balanced, but ultimately Christian, view that science is only possible because of the existence of a God - i.e. that it is only because the universe is created and given order, that science is able to study an ultimately explain it.  Professor Lewis, was a jolly and engaging Northern Irish man who relished a vigorous debate with non-believers - provided they passed the dinner test - that is, however vociferous the debate, could you still have a pleasant dinner with them and remain friends?  The chairman of the event, obviously very excited to be in Professor Lewis' presence rather took over the event and extended his introductory comments into a lengthy personal Q&A session to the exclusion of the audience, until after stating "Just one final question...", he was met with a weary "Dear God, please don't!" from the front row.

The pre-lunch slot was taken by Josceline Dimbleby (ex wife of David), this took the form of an on-stage interview by the editor of Viva Lewes the local what's on magazine.  It didn't get off to a particularly successful start, when Josceline wrong footed the interviewer with an unexpectedly intimate description of losing her virginity at the age of 18 - the talk was meant to be about her new book Orchards in the Oasis, which combines her love of travel and cooking.  Instead of latching onto this surprising but fascinating turn, the interviewer stuck slavishly to the script and responded "It's always interesting to hear about family influences on cooking...".  The interview never quite recovered, though Josceline came across as delightful and the rolling slideshow of food and travel shots made me hungry for lunch.

In the choice between a late lunch and Jonathan Meades talking about French society, post Hollande's election, lunch won out and we decamped to The Real Eating Company, before returning sated in time for AC Grayling's lecture on The Good Book - the Humanist Bible.

Grayling's style is relaxed and conversational and the topic was interesting, though my philosophy graduate companion felt it was lazy and derivative - partly because she had heard him give pretty much the same lecture some years before.

The last session of the day (for me) was a debate between Theodore Dalrymple (a writer and retired prison doctor) and Polly Toynbee (Guardian journalist and former BBC social affairs editor) on the assertion that 'the welfare state and liberal attitudes to morality are the principal causes of the breakdown in society'.  As you might expect the audience was heavily weighted towards Polly's viewpoint.


Sunday's event started at 10am with Baroness Julia Neuberger, senior rabbi at the West London Synagogue, talking about her new book Is that all there is? where she considers what it is that makes life worthwhile.  This was easily the best and most engaging talk of the festival, Baroness Neuberger was eloquent, witty and warm in her approach.
The next topic, Frederic Taylor on Exorcising Hitler: The Occupation and Denazification of Germany', was interesting but delivered in a dryer more traditionally academic style, though the debate afterwards was made more real by the personal experiences of those in the audience.
After a break for lunch at Bill's (regrettably missing a discussion on the paranormal) I returned for my final session - Peter Conradi (author of The King's Speech) on the The Great Survivors: How monarchy made it into the 21st century.  This was a light and fast moving cantor through scandals and high points of the last seventy years or so from Sweden to Spain.  
Three further discussions were to follow on Burma, low carbon economic growth, and drug laws, but it was time for me to go home.

Barcelona 40-1

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I always think that rain (at home) is a good start to a holiday, so when the rain is so heavy that you need to wear a kagool and get a taxi the 300 yards to the station it must be a really good start?

Gatwick was a breeze, though I still don't understand why the queues to check in at the airport retro style are so much shorter than than the queues to simply drop your bag - having checked in online in your own time and printed your boarding card using your own paper and toner (or your employer's)? I opted for the former and headed straight to the desk.

Arriving at Barcelona airport was similarly straightforward - barely 10 minutes from plane to taxi.

The apartment (my first experiment with airbnb.com) is very cute, and the neighbourhood in the Barri Gòtic is lively but central. After a quick change we pretty much head straight out, we have a quick beer in Plaça George Orwell and then head for the Ramblas - and almost immediately stumble into the Festes de Mercè parade. This consists of drumming bands and people in outsize medieval costumes - sometimes squirting water at the crowd. After about half an hour it becomes apparent that the same core characters are looping around so we head off in search of another drink.

We end up in the cathedral square where the symphony orchestra was about to start a free concert - Tchaikovsky I think.

We then headed over to Raval for more drinks and dinner. We stumbled across a Chinese country and western giv, sung in Catalan on an outdoor stage - it was actually pretty good!. A glass of cava at Buenas Migás half way then guacamole and ceviche at Rosa Raval. Then drinks at Café de las Delicies before heading back to Barri Gòtic and Plaça George Orwell for a lat(ish) San Miguel and some tapas in a slightly grungy bar - the pintxos (crusty bread with manchego and an anchovy) were delicious as were the olives and chorizo. Behind the bar the bar staff were whipping up omelettes to order, but we resisted and headed to bed.

Barcelona 40

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Waking bright and early on the morning of the big four o - I was pleased that the hangover seemed minimal. A Berocca later we headed out for Mercator St Josep La Bouqueria en route to Sitges for a day at the beach.

We settled on Bar Boqueria for breakfast - drawn by the extensive selection of tortilla available. One spinach tortilla and café con leche later we were good to go.

Reaching Sitges priced traumatic, primarily due to unusually appalling map reading skills and the lack of helpful sigbage on the Metro. Heading for an interchange at Passeig de Graçia we ended up at Graçia itself and after an altercation with a scary lady Metro worker headed back to Plaça Catalunya to access the adjacent Renfe station,

Sitges was beautiful - we hit the beach after a cheeky gazpacho and lay there for the afternoon, before heading back to Barcelona around 6 for a quick siesta and some olive oil crisps before the evening's activities.

Dinner was at Tapaç 24 - an amazing place by cgef Carles Abellan tgat has three queues - queue 1 is on the street, then queue 2 is on the stairs to the basement where the restaurant is based, then finally queue 3 is in the bar area. The food was amazing - as well as the usual tapas staples, we had one of the signature dishes - Bikini (toasted ham and cheese sandwich) with iberico ham, manchego cheese and truffle oil. We passed on the McFoie Burger for obvious reasons. For dessert we had chocolate ganache with pa (bread), olive oil and sea salt.

Covert FBI Power to Obtain Phone Data Faces Rare Test

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The Wall Street Journal:

Early last year, the Federal Bureau of Investigation sent a secret letter to a phone company demanding that it turn over customer records for an investigation. The phone company then did something almost unheard of: It fought the letter in court.The U.S. Department of Justice fired back with a serious accusation. It filed a civil complaint claiming that the company, by not handing over its files, was interfering "with the United States' sovereign interests" in national security.The legal clash represents a rare and significant test of an investigative tool strengthened by the USA Patriot Act, the counterterrorism law enacted after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.The case is shrouded in secrecy. The person at the company who received the government's request—known as a "national security letter," or NSL—is legally barred from acknowledging the case, or even the letter's existence, to almost anyone but company lawyers."This is the most important national-security-letter case" in years, said Stephen Vladeck, a professor and expert on terrorism law at the American University Washington College of Law. "It raises a question Congress has been trying to answer: How do you protect the First Amendment rights of an NSL recipient at the same time as you protect the government's interest in secrecy?"The confidentiality requirements make it impossible to definitively identify the company fighting the case. Its name and other identifying details have been redacted in court documents obtained by The Wall Street Journal.The phone company's lawyer declined to name his client or respond to questions about its identity.There are thousands of telecom companies in the U.S. However, the court papers offer clues that can be used to narrow down the list. The Journal cross-referenced the court papers against corporate websites and Federal Communications Commission records of telecom firms, and identified five firms that appeared to be possible matches with the company described in the case.Four of the five companies denied any involvement in the case and declined to be interviewed about national security letters. At the fifth company, a top executive declined to confirm or deny, either on or off the record, whether his firm had received an NSL or is involved in the case.That company, Working Assets Inc., runs a San Francisco-based telecom subsidiary called Credo, and uses some of its revenue to support liberal causes. The chief executive of Credo, Michael Kieschnick, offered his firm's view, in general terms, of these types of government requests. "There is a tension between privacy and the legitimate security needs of the country," he said. "We think it is best to resolve this through grand jury or judicial oversight."Unlike search warrants, NSLs don't require a judge's oversight.National security letters, which date back to the 1980s, have become more common since the passage of the Patriot Act, which expanded the government's ability to use them to collect information about people. As long as the head of an FBI field office certifies that the records would be relevant to a counterterrorism investigation, the bureau can send an NSL request without the backing of a judge or grand jury.Full article can be found here.

What Happens to all the DNA Collected in Courtrooms?

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Twenty-eight states and federal courts have laws allowing for the collection of DNA after conviction as well as allowing for pre-conviction DNA collection for certain offenses. What exactly happens to all that DNA? How is it used? The National Institute of Justice answers that question in a new article that includes interviews with state and federal crime lab representatives. Article available here.

Police Must Honor Ambigious Request for Attorney

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The Ninth Circuit ruled this week in an en banc opinion that an ambiguous request for an attorney must be honored in Sessoms v. D. Runnels . The case involved a 1999 burglary in which one of Sessoms' accomplices committed a murder. Sessoms initially fled but later turned himself in at his father's urging. A videotape of the subsequent interrogation with police revealed Sessoms saying "There wouldn't be any possible way that I could have a...a lawyer present while we do this?" He continued with, "My dad asked me to ask you guys...uh, give me a lawyer." The detectives told Sessoms that having a lawyer would only hurt him and would also be futile because his accomplices had divulged everything. The officers then read Sessoms his Miranda rights, which he waived, proceeding to implicate himself in the crime. He was ultimately convicted and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. The California Court of Appeals and a panel of the Ninth Circuit previously held that Sessoms' statements were too ambiguous; however the en banc Ninth Circuit held that the request for an attorney was clear from the meaning: Although it was couched in a polite and diffident manner, the meaning of Sessoms's request was clear: he wanted a lawyer then and there," Judge Betty Fletcher wrote for a six-judge majority.

FBI launches $1B ID search program

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The Federal Bureau of Investigation is stepping up in its quest to exploit new technology to hunt down criminals, investing in a new system steeped in biometrics.The FBI's $1 billion Next Generation Identification (NGI) program's aim is to significantly improve the existing fingerprint identification service. The ambitious project may raise the hackles of privacy advocates, but the FBI is intent on including facial recognition, iris scanning, DNA analysis and voice identification tech as the new face of criminal investigation -- reliability and accuracy concerns aside.The NGI program is also reported to include rolled and latent finger and palm prints.A pilot scheme is currently being run by the agency compiles all of this information for different purposes. As an example, one test matches up headshots in crowd photos which are then compared with database-stored images from security footage.Through the NGI, an algorithm would conduct an automatic search and return potential 'hits' to officers. In an additional advancement, a database will store visuals of scars, tattoos and other physical marks.The FBI has collected this kind of information for a long time. For example, voice recognition can be matched when a recording is sent from another group, as can facial images. However, the new scheme is being rolled out nationwide -- a first for the organization.In addition, the FBI plans to provide access to the new databases to state law enforcement agencies. In an age of security systems like Trapwire and torrent swarm poisoning, perhaps privacy advocacy groups have a right to be worried -- as the database may also capture and store images of the general public. However, it may also streamline services and make criminal investigations easier for the FBI to conduct.It is expected to be implemented nationwide by 2014.Full article can be found here.

“A Criminal Justice System for Spokane That Works"

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The Smart Justice Campaign Presents
“A Criminal Justice System for Spokane That Works"
Douglas B. Marlowe, J.D., Ph.D.Thursday∙ September 13, 2012 ∙ 6:30 pm ∙ FREEThe Bing Crosby Theater  ∙  901 W. Sprague Ave.
Dr. Marlowe will describe what alternatives to incarceration and other programming have been proven to be more effective than incarceration in reducing crime, and how these Smart Justice programs could benefit Spokane County.
For more information contact:Anne Martin - anne@spokaneprogress.org Julie Schaffer - jschaffer@cforjustice.org

Warrantless wiretap bill passes in US House, Authorizes 5 More Years of Domestic Spying

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From the Verge:

In a 301 to 118 decision, the US House of Representatives has voted in favor of the FISA Amendments Act Reauthorization Act of 2012, a bill which will extend the US government's previously established warrantless wiretapping programs for the next five years. The bill preserves far-reaching and highly controversial enhancements to government surveillance powers granted under amendments to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) in 2008, and has been met with considerable resistance from privacy groups and members of Congress on both sides of the aisle.FISA was originally tasked with preventing American citizens from being spied on following a 1978 scandal that found Richard Nixon's administration using US intelligence agencies to target activists and political opponents. But those protections have since been severely eroded, first by the USA Patriot Act in 2001, and again by the FISA Amendments Act of 2008, greatly expanding government surveillance powers to allow warrantless wiretapping of phone, email, and other communications.Full article can be found here.

Iowa Launches Website Listing Blood Alcohol Tests

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A website recently launched by the state will allow the public, as well as law enforcement, to search for breath alcohol test results, certification records on breath test machines and officers’ alcohol training status.

Criminalist Jim Bleskacek of the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation said he proposed the idea to ensure the breath-testing equipment is working and accurate because those results can determine whether someone will be charged and possibly convicted of operating while intoxicated.

The DCI is responsible for making sure the breath alcohol equipment is maintained properly and certification is updated,” Bleskacek, said. “The equipment is certified once a year, according to Iowa code, but we probably check the calibration and do maintenance about every 10 months.”Criminalist Jim Bleskacek of the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation said he proposed the idea to ensure the breath-testing equipment is working and accurate because those results can determine whether someone will be charged and possibly convicted of operating while intoxicated.

Bleskacek said while the intent of the site is to provide complete transparency, it also protects the rights of individuals, who in many cases have only been arrested and not charged and convicted. The names and driver’s licenses are not included in the statistics or results.
“You would have to know a date of birth in order to bring up a specific person’s results,” Bleskacek said.
The site allows the public to search for breath alcohol tests by county, date range, gender or name of officer, Bleskacek said. The 170 breath test machines in the state automatically download the data for the site via the Internet. Bleskacek monitors the site every day to ensure everything is properly uploading and there are no malfunctions.
The test results are usually posted within 12 to 24 hours of the arrest, Bleskacek said.
Mike Lahammer, Cedar Rapids defense attorney, said he checked out the site and doesn’t see any privacy issues.
“It’s interesting information and would be a good resource to look at certification (of equipment) and history of an officer,” Lahammer said.
“The statistics of average blood alcohol content levels are interesting but not really valuable for a defense,” Lahammer said. “In a defense, you look at the individual and the circumstances like their weight, height, age, how much they drank over a period of time, what time of day was it.”

Full article can be found at the Gazette here.

IRS Boosts Staff in Tax Refund fraud

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Tampa Bay Online:

The Internal Revenue Service is tripling the number of staff members nationwide who are dedicated to addressing the issue of identity theft tax refund fraud, U.S. Rep. Kathy Castor said.Castor, the Tampa Democrat, said she was briefed Friday by IRS officials regarding progress the agency is making to tackle the epidemic of fraud in which the Tampa area leads the nation.Thieves use stolen personal information — such as names, dates of birth and Social Security numbers — to file tax returns with fake income information and obtain fraudulent tax refunds.According to a recent inspector general report, thieves in the Tampa area alone stole more than $400 billion last year from federal taxpayers this way. Nationwide, identity thieves are stealing billions from the federal government through refund fraud.Castor said the IRS assured her it is increasing its screening filters, designed to detect fraudulent returns before refunds are issued. Across the board, law enforcement officials have repeatedly said the fraud is so pervasive, it cannot be stopped by arrests and prosecutions — that the IRS needs to stop sending "refunds" to thieves.The IRS told Castor that so far this year, it has prevented 2.3 million fraudulent refunds from being issued, totaling $15 billion. That's compared to 1.4 million fraudulent refunds stopped in 2011, worth $11 billion.Part of that effort apparently involves increasing scrutiny of tax filings originating from Tampa, Castor noted."I said, 'Geographically, where you know there is an epidemic, like the Tampa Bay area and the state of Florida, I assume filters are place.' They said yes."They say they're on the cusp of instituting many, multiple new filters to prevent the fraud from happening in the first place," Castor said."So they will flag, for example, multiple returns coming to the same address. That's a question I keep getting. How can it be that the IRS is sending multiple debit cards and returns to the same address over and over?"Castor also noted something police have been saying: often crooks will use the same fake numbers repeatedly on numerous returns. For example, two suspects indicted this week were accused of filing 17 tax returns, each seeking refunds of $1,453.The new filters, Castor says she was assured, "will flag that."While Castor was encouraged by the new IRS approach, she added, "I know from the folks coming to my office with checks and calls and people I see in the grocery store, this is still a huge problem and we've got to continue to press the IRS until Tampa no longer is number one for tax fraud."Full article can be found here.

SEC Warns on Rise of Affinity Fraud

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From AdvisorOne:

The Securities and Exchange Commission’s (SEC) Office of Investor Education and Advocacy on Wednesday issued an Investor Alert to help educate investors about affinity fraud, a type of investment scam that the agency is seeing more of that preys upon members of identifiable groups, such as religious or ethnic communities or the elderly.As the SEC explains, affinity fraud almost always involves either a fake investment or an investment where the fraudster lies about important details (such as the risk of loss, the track record of the investment, or the background of the promoter of the scheme). "Many affinity frauds are Ponzi or pyramid schemes, where money given to the promoter by new investors is paid to earlier investors to create the illusion that the so-called investment is successful," the SEC says.Fraudsters who carry out affinity scams frequently are (or pretend to be) members of the group they are trying to defraud. “Fraudsters target any group they think they can convince to trust them with the group members’ hard-earned savings,” the SEC says.For instance, a recent SEC action was against a Ponzi scheme promoter who sold promissory notes bearing purported annual interest rates of 12% to 20%, telling primarily African-American investors that the funds would be used to purchase and support small businesses such as a laundry, juice bar, or gas station. The promoter, the SEC says, also sold “sweepstakes machines” that he claimed would generate investor returns of as much as 300% or more in the first year.At its core, the SEC says, “affinity fraud exploits the trust and friendship that exist in groups of people who have something in common.” And “because of the tight-knit structure of many groups, it can be difficult for regulators or law enforcement officials to detect an affinity scam.” Victims often fail to notify authorities or pursue legal remedies. Instead, they try to work things out within the group. This is particularly true where the fraudsters have used respected community or religious leaders to convince others to join the investment.Full article can be found here.

Feds Join Shooting Probe

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From the Spokesman Review:


A man charged with attempted second-degree murder in connection with a shot targeting three black youths was ordered held in jail Tuesday as federal authorities also indicated that they would investigate the shooting as a possible hate crime.Jimmy J. Blackburn, 29, pleaded not guilty before Superior Court Judge Sam Cozza, who ordered Blackburn to remain in custody on a $500,000 bond. Cozza set Blackburn’s trial on the three attempted murder charges for Nov. 19.Blackburn was arrested Sept. 13 as Spokane police officers converged at the Days Inn, at 120 W. Third Ave., to investigate the shooting of Paul A. Haney, 33, who was found dead in the parking lot.According to court records, investigators believe Kevin M. Heaton, 35, is responsible for that shooting and remains on the loose. Heaton had paid for the room in which Blackburn was found at the Days Inn, but the court records don’t indicate whether Blackburn had any involvement in the Haney shooting.Outside the hotel, however, investigators found a red 2012 Rocketa Sicily moped that was linked to a shooting the day before near 33rd Avenue and Thor Street.In that case, three black youths were walking on 33rd Avenue at 4:20 p.m. on Sept. 12 when they heard a white man yelling racial slurs at them. That man was later identified as Blackburn, according to court records.Blackburn challenged them to fight. “At this time, (Blackburn) asked the victims, ‘Have you guys ever had a gun pointed at you?'” according to court records.Blackburn then walked over to the moped – which had been reported stolen earlier that day – and grabbed a locked pistol box, the records say. Unable to open it, Blackburn threw it on the ground several times until it opened.According to one of the boys, Blackburn “pointed the handgun” at them and said “they could have a six second head start before he shoots them,” court records state. Blackburn then began yelling for someone named “Suicide” to come out of the house at 3304 E. 33rd Ave.Full article can be found here.

Albert Maysles: Ladykiller

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For those of you who don't get the opportunity to spend a lot of time with me in real life, sometimes I'm incredibly sensitive. Like, cry at a Kleenex commercial sensitive. Mandy likes to point out the time Spirited Away left me almost hysterical, when a train didn't stop for the little girl, it just blew right by. It happens once in a while when I find something poinient or particularly moving, and these days if I start crying for no real reason, I just get excited because my contacts will last another hour. It just happened again, but this time it was a really touching, awesome story and I thought I might share.

I'm taking a full course load this summer, which means this summer is the opposite of last summer. Last summer was the beach, partying, eating out, lazing around,  and this summer I'm inside almost all the time. Either in class, at my work study job, or doing computer-centric homework. Tonight, I'm listening to interviews with famed documentary filmmaker Albert Maysles for a research project.

Albert, currently

Albert (left), David (right) during the filming of Salesmen

Albert and his late brother David are responsible for Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter, Muhammad and Larry, as well as one of the first feature documentaries Salesman, and like five films about Christo and Jeanne-Claude, who I love. I picked the Maysles out of a hat, and it was really lucky. Not only are the subjects of their films actually of interest to me (I met Muhammad Ali once, and I'm currently in the middle of Keith Richards's autobiography), but Albert seems like a really great role model, a stand up guy and he's from Boston. There is a website called Albert Maysles's Glasses, dedicated to how awesome his signature frames are (Barney's even issued a limited edition Albert Maysles's frame.) Here are two quotes from interviews I've been listening to from ViceTV and NPR:

“In this culture of ours which is supposed to be so open and so open-minded, I think that we have this protective instinct. If someone is going to open their hearts and minds to another person then they’re vulnerable. ‘Oh my god, oh my god they’re vulnerable! They’re going to get hurt.’ I think the healthiest thing you can do is share your thoughts with another person.”  

“I’ve ended up with all of these films and over the years, they’ve all held up. There are so many things that documentaries can teach us.”

Anyway, he was talking about how Salesman, his first feature with his brother didn't get any deals or whatever, so they rented a movie theater in order to have a screening. This is in the 60s, there was no March of the Penguins, Bowling for Columbine or whatever, even before opening weekends were a thing. Documentaries didn't have a place yet. So after the film David and Albert, Al to his friends, were standing at the exit. Everyone was coming by to shake hands and congratulate them on such a fine job with the film. Al noticed there was one person, a woman lingering in the theater, the very last to leave. Then he noticed that she had been crying, a lot. THEN he was struck by how attractive she was... and that's how he met his wife. NO JOKE! She was moved to tears by how amazing his film was and then they got married.

Sometimes I wish my life was so simple.... actually, that means I'd probably be married to this guy.

I hope everyone is having a slightly more enjoyable, slightly less productive summer than I am.

Boy Band Crushes

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I hate talking about dreams. I mean, I really hate it. Unless you can sum it up to two sentences, or somehow make it relevant to something tangible, seriously. Shut up about it.

I'm going to break that rule right now, sort of, in order to tell you that a few nights ago I dreamed that I was walking down the corridor of the Portland Jetport, which looked more like the atrium of a giant mall than an airport. I saw Justin Timberlake waiting in line in a small office. He was in disguise with a dark, curly afro wig. He winked at me.

Then I saw this: Reasons Why Boybands Were Better in the 90s via Hairpin, and remembered that dream. I realized that in the 90s, I always had a difficult time figuring out which member of N'Sync was actually the most attractive. That's because none of them were. Like a good wine, Timberlake got better with age and and some incredibly funny skits on Saturday Night Live.





  (Don't hate- they were all over MTV, which was the center of my universe then. I didn't find out about the Velvet Underground or the Magnetic Fields until I was well into my 20s.)

 I think I'm going to have some funny/awesome stories for you all soon, I promise. #pleasedonthate #iknowmyblogkindasucksnow #tthroughthebestoftimesthroughtheworstoftimes #throughnixonandthroughbush

Fluff: It's What's for Dinner

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Here's one for all you foodies.

It's summer, a time for goofing off, hitting the pool, the beach. Drinking margaritas, mojitos, and other refreshing adult beverages brought to us frigid New England bitches* from warmer climates. Instead, I am trying really hard to graduate in May, and part of gittin' er done means two four week classes. While I'm working 20 hours a week at my work-study job, writing crazy letters to the editor, make it to the beach, and fulfill many wedding-related obligations. Oh, and the Bachelorette. I'm bummed Ames is gone, but I'm really starting to root for JP. What? She's from the County. Gotta keep it real.

Let me break it down for you. Each semester is 15 weeks. So taking one class during a four-week session is the roughly the equivalent of taking three. Taking two is like taking six, which is eighteen credits. A normal student takes between 12 and 15 credits. Over 18 is considered "an overload." That's what I'm doing now. During summer. But I guess it's technically finals week and I'm able to write this blog... so....

One time, I also found myself taking 15 credits and working a part time job. I was probably as poor then as I am now, though back then I was under 21 and still a non-drinker. At Montserrat College of Art, somehow, I didn't understand financial aid, credit hours, or the fact that I was moving away to go to college at a place that didn't have a fucking cafeteria. WTF, Montserrat? It was kind of insane, now that I think about it. Probably more work than I've ever done in my life. Drawing and painting homework has the propensity to take way, way longer than writing a paper or reading a book. Trust me. I've never stayed up until 3:00 a.m. because I felt like an essay wasn't done. Or because I wouldn't have the right light to finish the essay in the morning.

But because I'd never lived away from home and therefore had never really prepared any of my own meals, let alone gone shopping for them, my food became like, abstract art or something. Here's a recipe for something I ate all the time.

Prep time:
5 min
Ingredients:
2 slices Pepperidge Farm Cinnamon Swirl Raisin Bread
1/3 cucumber, peeled and sliced thin.
1 tbsp Marshmallow Fluff
1 slice cheddar cheese
Directions:
Carefully slather Fluff unto both slices of bread. Arrange cucumbers on one slice, cover with cheese, then the other slice. Firmly press the sandwich down with your clean hand, as Fluff and cucumbers are slippery. Enjoy!

I'm not kidding. Pepperidge Farm was like, a luxury that I didn't know I could afford myself. We bought local at my house, sort of. Country Kitchen all the way.

It's hard to say whether I could ingest this marvelous concoction today. I'll let you know if I decide to try.

*a genuine Southern gentleman said that to me once, about women here; instead of comforting him, I laughed and said it was true.

The Photo Essay and Steel Dragon

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As I just mentioned in the previous post, I have a crapload of work to do this month.

One thing I just finished is a photo essay, which I accidentally made into like, my diary. We presented in class today. Today, everyone seemed pleased that the class was finished. Although for the most part, it was one of the most engaging classes I've had at USM thusfar. It was only ten of us, and we met three times a week for over three hours a day. There was only one "token" traditional student in the class, everyone else was older, transferred or whatever and we all had our ridiculous life stories to share. Our discussions were lively, bordering on rowdy, and it's safe to say at least half of the class left today as better, more well-rounded students.

I found a site that would let me share the power point presentation that I made. The only reason I'm doing this is to juxtapose it with the presentation that happened right before mine. Malcolm's essay was more of a wham-bam movie about his life-long connection with Sebago Lake, including old family photos, history of the lake and history of his Armenian family. His presentation had the feel of a summer blockbuster movie trailer. My presentation actually killed the conversation when it was finished.

Here is the song accompanying Malcolm's presentation. You only have to listen for about a minute or two to get the gist.



And here's my sad, silent presentation. It helps if you click the full screen mode. The quality isn't great, but I'm no technology wizard. Here you go:

My Photo Essay

At Caiola's: Party of One

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Back when I was waiting tables, which seems like a lifetime ago at this point, I’d often hang out at bars, by myself for two reasons: 1) I got free meals at work and was too lazy to cook the rest myself, and 2) What is at one moment a quiet, thoughtful afternoon of solitude can become an afternoon filled with bemusing stories of camaraderie. 100% of the time if I’m dining alone I will take a seat at the bar instead of a table for one. It’s so much more entertaining. Which is part of the reason why this woman dining alone at Caiola’s was so fascinating to me. Her back to the room, facing the window, she almost mocked me and my need for togetherness.

I took Mandy out to Caoila’s for her birthday. She’d never been, and I decided I’d rather spend an evening enjoying outstanding food and drink rather than take a chance on a gift that she’d feign excitement over and consign a respectable 12 months later. We had an amazing time! The food was decadent and complex, but not so complex that I couldn’t understand the menu, if you get my drift.

It was a Wednesday night, and we were in the back room, through the kitchen. Being the sous chef that has to stand near that door must be the worst. There was a group of three respectable upper-middle-aged guys in the corner to my left, one had a Southern accent and I heard them talking about Marketing, television, and the Bangor Daily News. (Hmmm). Behind Mandy was a younger couple who left shortly after we arrived. Then a woman, about 62ish, waltzed in and sat at a two top against the wall diagonal from us, facing the window. The waitress only put down a single place setting, water glass and menu. Table for one.

I knew almost immediately that I wanted to be her. She had a black cardigan, a simple canary-red blouse underneath, with a mid-calf ivory colored a-line skirt that had, like, ribbing or piping instead of stripes throughout. It was a beautiful skirt- hip, yet age appropriate. Her ballet flats, undoubtedly leather, matched her blouse as though they came together. Perhaps they were in fact ordered from the J.Crew catalogue at the same time. Dark framed reading (?) glasses hung low on her face, probably Michael Kors or Kate Spade or some designer brand. My favorite part about her was the bag she carried. It was my dream bag. A caramel leather tote whose sides slouched in around the handles the same way my canvas bags do. It was my dream bag. I think if Diane from Cheers was a real person and lived to be 62, this woman is what she would be like.

Out of the bag she pulled a pristine hardcover book, and inevitably tuned out everyone except for the waitress, who was forced to break into her line of vision when she brought yet another Grey Goose martini with a twist. Or maybe this woman opted into the Buy Local movement and ordered a Cold River martini. I liked that she didn’t like it dirty. I tried a dirty martini once, it was like salty... salty... it was like drinking the ocean if the ocean was made out of olives.

Occasionally she’d pull out a legal sized pad and take notes. On what, I’m not sure. By the way, I wasn’t trying to stare. She was directly in my line of vision.

I imagine after her iceburg salad, steak or bacon wrapped scallops and three martinis she probably pulled out of the parking lot in her 1992 Volvo Station wagon. Although her 3,000 square foot home with its commercial-grade kitchen was only 1/6 of a mile away, you know she didn’t drive because you never see fancy women like that just walking around the West End. Her youngest daughter usually uses the Volvo but she’s WOOFing in France now. It had better visibility than the Mercedes anyway, plus she liked the sentimental value of driving it. Yeah, she was a little tipsy but it was a very short drive if cops are going to venture into the West End, they don’t make it past Brackett, Spring, and the hospital respectively.

One thousand feet later, she pulled into the secret road between Carroll and Vaughn Streets in the West End that connects all of the garage/back entrance/guest houses and settled in for one more cognac in her fucking jacuzzi tub.

Or maybe she was just too exhausted from running her law firm all day to prepare herself a meal. Maybe she didn’t want to sit at the bar because she wanted some peace and quiet for a change. Maybe she was supposed to meet up with the Oshers and they’re still in San Francisco, or the Hagges, but they were at a fundraising dinner and this was her back up plan. All I know is while she was sitting alone at that table, with the dim lighting, Amelie soundtrack and blowing $65 before tip on a meal for one person, I wanted to be her. Minus her imagined kids.

Rob Sheffield is Awesome

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I'm in the middle of reading and thoroughly enjoying Rob Sheffield's latest book, Talking to Girls about Duran Duran.

He just recounted running into a friend from high school a few years after graduation. They talked about Morrissey and baseball for hours, but never saw each other again.

I thought it was strange to spend an evening having so much fun with someone i didn't know so well, and not to hang out after that, because i was too young to know that adult life is full of accidents and interrupted moments and empty beds you climb into and don't climb out of.

Well said, Sheffield. Well said.

Midcoast Weekend Pt. 1

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Cleveland and I stayed in Boothbay Harbor this weekend. Here are some highlights. Lowlights to come.

1.       The berries. We were hiking (ahem, walking) in the La Verna Nature Preserve in Bristol, ME, contemplating the many reasons Dirty Dancing should NOT be remade (more on that to come).  He was burdened with the very serious task of looking out for poison ivy. I can never remember what it looks like- I always think it should be redder and more poisonous-looking. While scouring the underbrush, he found some blackberries. “Hey Amanda! Check this out!” So I ate one…and then like Mandy when she goes to Forever 21- I got the crazy eye. It’s like I had one mission and one mission only. To find! More! Berries! He could have left me on the trail and I probably would’ve been so caught up in my foraging that I wouldn’t have noticed. I could have sustained myself out there for days! Weeks!! It was so badass.  I started trying to remember whether Survivor is still on the air... Feeding yourself with berries from the woods is so cool.

Here's a map. What's not pictured is the contemplation point:
 


2.       Cleveland’s family was visiting a few weeks ago, and they had to cancel the kayak trip they were going to take. They left him with the voucher. So we went kayaking! Our guide, Damon was a typical river guide, super chill, really knowledgeable.  He even explained the dreaded headwind that I always seem to be paddling against whenever I try to paddle in the afternoon. Attean Pond, I’m looking at you! I’m happy to say that according to Damon, I’m “a natural” at kayaking and excited to check ‘palindrome boating activity’ off of my bucket list.

(no pictures, we were too busy paddlin' for our souls.) 

3.       When Cleveland’s family was visiting, they also took a Hardy Boat to Monhegan Island. Every time the Hardy Boat makes a trip, they ask their passengers to fill out a comment card about their trip, and enter those people into a drawing for a free Hardy Boat ride. They’ve really got the incentive part of survey-based research figured out. Anyway, Cleveland won a free trip! We decided to go on the Puffin cruise to Eastern Egg Island, the southern most Puffin breeding ground. Let me tell you, the cruise was awesome. We needed binoculars to see the birds, so the awesomeness stems from the narration by Dr. Stephen W. Kress from the National Audubon Society and the Project Puffin. There weren't too many birds, since the breeding season was nearly over, but we did see a few hanging out in the ocean. 
 
Dr. Kress was so excited about the Puffins, floating near the boat he’d say, “Just look at the beautiful lighting on that bird. Oh. Just beautiful.” He said this like four times for every bird we saw. Which was maybe six. Or the same two birds three times. I don’t know. But I had no idea Puffins were so adorable. I happened to learn all kinds of interesting Puffin facts, so email me at amandajennifer at gmail dot com if you're interested in hearing a rant.

BABY PUFFIN!

And look at these guys!



4.        Shaw's Fish & Lobster Wharf Restaurant. My friend’s dad thinks that no one should ever order lobster at a restaurant, and I sort of think he’s right. With the exception of places like Shaw’s, however, where you will actually see the boats bringing in the day’s catch next to the deck you’re eating on. The restaurant is on a wharf, hence ‘Wharf Restaurant,’ which I think sort of negates the idea that lobster is inappropriate to eat at a restaurant. I still felt like I was covered up to my elbows with salt water after eating it, but it was worth it. So fresh, so delicious. 



There was also a bar we did not get a chance to hit, but look at this weird thing: 



 It says you need to be born in 1994 to drink at that bar. WTF! I'm no math wizard, the only reason I caught it was because I was born 10 years earlier and I am NOT 31!

Grand Falls Hut

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A few days ago I went on a little adventure with the Nature Conservancy and Maine Huts and Trails.

Cleveland drove and it was raining the whole way there. A lot. He frowned and sighed for the majority of the  three hour car ride, but for some reason I wouldn't budge. I kept saying things like, "It won't be that bad! Think of this as a challenge, like we're going to feel amazing afterwards. And we're going to be so relieved to get warm in that hut and sit by the fire and drink hot cocoa! We'll only be soaking wet for a few hours!"

WTF was I thinking? I'm still not entirely sure. He even confessed considering offering an alternative plan, like hiding away in a hotel with a hot tub somewhere just to not do it.

It was nice, being at the hut, getting warm, and it actually felt like we earned that Jumbalya with the fruits of our labor... surrounded by hardcore ski/outdoor people who were debating which remote Maine roads were washed out by Hurricane Irene between the Forks, Sugarloaf and Saddleback.

This is a Polyvore set that I made roughly outlining my outfit. Note: my shirt wasn't yellow, it was black and white.



This is what our companions were wearing, with the exception of possibly Maggie, who kept her Ponomo earrings on the whole time.

Just kidding. That's from the Patagonia website.

Here's the hut:

mainehuts.org

 A friend recently told me that I'm outdoorsy now. I said that I didn't have the right gear to be outdoorsy. Seriously. Do you have any idea how much Gortex costs? At one point, when we were packing, Cleveland pulled a hat out of his closet. I said that he should bring the hat, he said he didn't particularly like the hat, thought that it looked sort of stupid. I'll tell you. We both looked sort of stupid in Cleveland's grandfather's beautiful wooden canoe, with our piecemeal outdoor gear (anything not cotton). But that stupid hat definitely kept his head warm and dry.

One of of the other women on the trip, a fundraiser, also paddled to the hut (as opposed to hiked.) Her and her husband run an adventure/coffee business non-profit business and is currently looking for takers on a Costa Rica trip: part sustainable coffee tour, part white water rafting/adventure. She asked me how our paddle was (they literally paddled six miles an hour downstream. That's a lot.) Cleveland and I are new to paddling together- I'm inexperienced at steering, and he's not terribly experienced in a canoe, though in his defense he's done more kayaking and rafting than I have. But we somehow found our groove and we made decent time. Adventure woman seemed genuinely happy for us, then remarked, "They don't call them divorce boats for nothing."

At the end of the second day, my muscles were definitely aching. We paddled 12 miles and hiked about 5. Grand Falls lived up to it's name, and I'm excited to visit Maine Huts and Trails again... when it's sunny. Maybe this winter?




image c.o rangeleysnomobile.com

If these walls could talk..

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Hi there. I'm not going to bother making excuses for the unannounced Spring/Summer hiatus. Thank you for waiting! I've missed you!

Here's a short descriptive essay that I wrote in the Spring, about my old bedroom.




My eyes open from yet another crucial, rejuvinating afternoon nap. I channel my inner four year old and rub them with loose fists until the sleep is gone. My right arm made its way under the pillow again, this one sheathed in a goldenrod case of a slightly higher thread count. I prop myself up against the pillow and look around at my surroundings, this sad collection of belongings I call my most personal space. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is barely visible from through my single woven wooden shade. This peice made it’s way over from my previous place on Gilman Street, an attic apartment with long hallways, sloped ceilings and a thick layer of dust. I should be outside, enjoying the beautiful day, but sometimes I can’t resist a short snooze with my cat, Baby. I am the center of her universe, and she’s great at snuggling.  

The closet door is closed for once; the carmel wood visible, free from its usual carpet of discarded clothing. Paint on the intricate tin ceiling is peeling, and although I’ve never found any chunks of paint on the floorl, exposed spots of black suggest otherwise. In one corner is my dresser, a small vintage piece bursting with clothes, its tired little legs barely able to support the weight. Situated like a faux-vanity is a polished piece of metal standing in for a mirror, propped on top and leaning against the wall. The reflection isn’t clear, so I never use it. I just like the shape, and it seems like an appropriate place to hold the tiny love letters my boyfriend attaches to the flowers he’s been so kind to have delivered to my door.  

All of the surfaces and corners of the room are completely cluttered. On a small knee-high book shelf lives an ivory jewelry box, that girls my age likely coveted when we were young. It could stand in for a castle in a My-Little-Pony scenario, for those of us who prefered ponies to Barbies. I thrifted this one, though, and the music box in the bottom drawer stopped working long before it became a part of my life. On either side are random piles of papers; things I know I need to keep but have yet to find an appropriate place for. On floor under the bottom shelf is a black horizontal metal mailbox, shaped like a giant 3D letter, that I picked up at the hardware store a number of years ago, back when my friends and I had many zipcodes between us and we took the time to actually communicate in writing. Some of them I haven’t exchanged more than a Facebook “Like” with in years, but inside that box is evidence of a time when we took the time to consider what were the most important parts to share and seal in an envelope. We’d pay 35 cents to have someone carry it miles and miles. The functionality of the US Postal Service continues to blow my mind.

I am quite pleased with some of my art, however. There is triptych of sorts, three images in black frames on the wall opposite the door. It may not actually be a triptych, but there aren’t very many times that word comes up unless you’re discussing art history. The center image is of me. I’m leaning in a doorway, my back to the camera. I was 18, an art student at a school two miles from the North Shore of Massachusetts. The image was from a study another student in my building was doing, a color study. I was wearing dark denim Levi’s and a white tank top, which matched the door frame and connecting walls. My dyed-red curly hair blends in with the shadowy doorway. I can’t remember whose apartment that was, or why I was there. But the student who took it had the same name as me, her and her boyfriend were from Texas. He was going to Emerson, in the city, and they both left after the fall semester because he proposed and they wanted to plan their wedding.

The image to the left is a blind, one-line drawing a 3rd grade art student made at a summer program a dear friend of mine was teaching. It’s simple, and not terribly meaningful, but its small insignificant story makes me smile. On the opposite side is an image I picked up at a religiously owned thrift store. It’s a long exposure of a dark-haired woman wearing a striped shirt, leaning over a concrete balcony. She is faded, like a ghost, facing the camera and leaning forward into the balcony. It reminds me of Roman Holiday for some reason, although the woman isn’t pocket sized like Audrey Hepburn.

These images hang over a radiator that comes up to my waist. In the winter, I drape my towels over it so they’re warm when I step out of the shower and dry fast for re-use. Five feet away is a small, salvaged side table/plant stand, which I painted black. It came as a matching pair that I found outside of a mansion in a free pile on my way home, back when I lived on Park St. I used spray paint out on the back porch, and apparently the wind blew some on the next building over- my landlord made a huge deal of it when I moved out, but she never liked me anyway.  

Next to my bed, between the end of the bed, which consists of a second-hand mattress and box spring that sits on the floor, is an end table, repurposed as a night table. There are about five empty or half-empty glasses and mugs. I try to remember which water is was most recently poured, so I can quickly quench my thirst before getting up to consummate my day.