Estar jodiendo es mejor k estar jodido

donde estabamos....
right, in Marrakech.
So on the way out of town, I stopped in Djemaa el-Fna, the main square again, where I had eaten so many plates of cous-cous and chicken. I decided to have my fortune read. Aware of the language barriers, I proceeded to the first woman I found available, who spoke no english or spanish. After explaining this (about a minute into my fortune), she switched to French, which I think she hadn´t quite mastered either. Beyond something about continuing my travels, I really didn´t understand much. There was also something about the end of the world, or perhaps she meant geographically, which would be appropriate, since I plan to go to Tierra del Fuego in Argentina (often called, el fin del mundo). 
I should also note that the men in the square playing little flute/horn instruments were snake charmers and you can add about 100 snakes to the list of things one can find in Djemaa el-Fna.



I took the train from Marrakech to Casablanca, then onwards through Rabat to Fès. The man sitting across from me for the first few hours spoke no english, and almost no spanish, yet insisted on having a conversation anyway. Smiling for most of it, and nodding my head like an idiot (perhaps agreeing to all sorts of outlandish things...) I did manage to successfully convey that I am a trade unionist and I hate Bush. With that, he took off his left shoe, and placed some almonds and nuts from his pocket on the table in front of us. "America!" he exclaimed and pointed to the shoe in his hand. Then "ah....." (something in Arabic that we can probably guess). Then he proceeded to smash the nuts with his shoe yelling in Arabic with a bit of french mixed in (I heard the word "merd e"). The poor woman next to him looked afraid for her life. She was dressed in a full hijab, so I could see nothing but her eyes, but her eyes said fear. He laughed a bit and almost returned his shoe to his foot before beginning an encore version of the same demonstration, but this time the shoe was "Blair" or "Sarkozy" or perhaps both of them....

I should say that he may have been stoned. There were a bunch of teenagers smoking hashish right behind us between the carriages, and the contact high was strong enough to give me a bit of a buzz. Later on, he reached through the slit in his jellaba (big overcoat with a hood everyone in Morocco wears) and into his pocket to offer me a handful of nuts. I said "shukran bezzef" (thank you), and begrudgedly placed my hand under his to receive a pile of nuts, pocket lint, and a few crumpled up receipts. He smiled, a bit embarrassed by all the trash that unintentionally came with his gift, but t hen proceeded to watch me eat like a hawk. I got the impression it was some sort of test in the faith of our new international friendship, so I ate a few nuts slowly, while carefully sliding the rest up my sleeve, pocket lint and all. We exchanged emails and he made me promise to come stay with him if I ever visit Rabat. Who knows? 



In Fès, I stayed at one of the worst hotels I've ever been to. I got the distinct impression that besides myself, everyone else there was a prostitute or their client (this impression is based on hard empirical evidence in the form of paper thin walls and passionate screams that even I don't need an arabic translator to interpret). The other thing that kept me awake most of the night, was their unique pillows. They were like rocks. Actually, they were rocks. Seriously. Rocks wrapped in thin fabric.

My hotel was in the Ville Noulle, the modern french part, because I wanted to stay close to the train station. Most cities in Morocco have 2 parts. The old part, and the new french part. This meant I had to take the local bus to get to the medina where all the souks and interesting things were. I'd been riding the local buses for a few days now. Pretty much on par with a local bus in Mexico, or even areas of the US with no funding for public transit, and more or less as crowded as the 38 Geary in San Francisco, or the number 6 subway line through Manhattan at rush hour.... so these bus rides for 20 cents were pretty uneventful.
 That day, a man who had sniffed so much glue, that I was getting high from standing next to him, was sandwiched between myself and a few kids. All of the sudden, he started staring at me. I pretended not to notice. Then he moved on the stare at the man next to me, and then began screaming (in arabic) for a minute or two. Keep in mind, he is about 5 centimeters from my face, and although the bus was loud, t here was no need to scream. Eventually he moved on to screaming at the kids, then the man collecting money at the back of the bus (why they collect the money at the back of the bus is beyond me). After that, they booted him off at the next stop. Yeah, a bit like riding the 38 Geary during rush hour I suppose. Maybe more like the 22 Filmore. (sorry for the San Francisco public transit references for those of you who have never been there....)

A few seedy bars later (it can be hard to find a drink in a muslim country where alcohol is haram (forbidden), but not that hard luckily), and I was back in the hotel for one last night before heading to Tangers.

I only saw Tangers through the window of a petit taxi, but it looked a bit like Tijuana.... actually, it is a lot like Tijuana from what I understand.


After that, it was just a 35 minute ferry ride to Tarifa, España. Of course, with immigration to pass through on both sides of this historic straight of water, the 35 minute trip took nearly 6 hours, but rather than bore you with why (I could never match the level of boredom I felt anyway), I'll leave that story for another day.

Around 11pm, I found my hostel, some fantastic italian food and wine, and even a bit of Fernet Branca to wash it all down.
I slept like a baby, woke up and showered with hot water, and spent the day exploring this amazing city, walking along the edge of Europe, and staring across the blue waters at the hills of Africa.

More to come, hope everyone had a great xmas, Eid al-Adha, Hannukah, or Kwanzaa. And have a happy new year!
-Steve

PS - one last thing... for those of you who don't want to be bothered in the streets of Morocco, when they try to speak to you in english, french, spanish, or italian, just answer with "u minia ruskia crove" then look them square in the eye and say "jopa".

K Viva España

Tarifa, España
Lots to say... but no time. Its so sunny out, I want to go back outside.
I´m in Spain, in Tarifa, which is a beautiful city.
I´ll write more soon, about the rest of Morocco, charmed snakes, my french fortune, gardens, crazy guys on the bus high from sniffing glue, immigration coming back into Europe....

in anycase, I´m alive and well, and wish everyone a happy new year until I have time to write a proper email.

Marruecos

The earth is truly a different color in Africa. At least in Morocco. As my flight came into the valley that cradles the ancient city of Marrakech, I stared out my window at different shades of reds, orange, yellows and pinks that stained the soil below me. This amazing valley is framed by snow capped mountains that millenniums ago, held an ocean, long before Berbers, Arabs, and imperialist Europeans fought over the landscape.

Stepping off the plain was equally surreal. When I left Frankfurt that morning, it was -8 degrees (Celsius, about 17 degrees F), now I felt the warm breeze of +21 (about 70) and the familiar smell of burning trash that perfumes the air of so much of the developing world (incidentally, I happen to like this smell. Perhaps its some sort of positive associations I have from previous trips).

After finding the "fabled bus", as Lonely Planet puts it, I rode into this historic city. Having no idea when to get off the bus, and lacking any sort of decent map, I waited until I saw a large square full of people and signaled to the bus driver that this place looks as good as any. I guessed well, and soon found myself in the center of Djemaa el-Fna, the huge square in the center of the Medina of the old city.

The air was thick with smoke, a combination of incense and goat heads (more on that later). Music permeated the smoke, as old men dressed in hooded outfits played little flute like instruments surrounded by fortune tellers, monkeys, and food stalls. The smell of burned 2 stroke motor oil mixed with that of a petting zoo as mopeds and sheep zig zagged across the square. I didn't know it yet, but I had arrived on Eid ul-Adha, the holiday commemorating Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son, before god intervened and told him a sheep would do. So everyone was busy with their sheep. A few folks sped by me on mopeds, with live sheep under their arms. Baaah. They seemed more afraid of their fate than not wearing a helmet.

With the help of allah (and a guy named Abdul who I had to tip), I found my way through the souks (market stalls) to the Riad I was looking for. This hostel/Riad is the nicest hostel I've ever stayed at in my entire traveling life. Giant walls enclosed patios full of carpets and pillows, fireplaces, free internet, a rooftop deck, plush beds and fancy bathrooms that look like they belong at a 5 star hotel. In any case, I dropped of my bags and started to explore the Medina.

Within 5 minutes I was completely lost. The winding streets felt like valleys between the tall buildings. Tarps draped across the top make for an even more confusing labyrinth of chaotic foot traffic. It reminded me a bit of venice, and the maze of streets their, but this was much more confusing. Around every corner were people, mostly kids, with propane tanks and torches setting fire to the remains of the sheep/goats from that day. There were a lot of dead sheep all over the city. I don't think this smells as nice as burnt trash.

2 hours later I found my way back to the Riad where I passed the rest of the evening chatting with other travelers who had just returned from desert and mountain treks. It began to rain, but it was still so warm compared to Germany that I didn't even mind. Eventually, my lack of sleep caught up with me and I crawled into my plush bed of Moroccan pillows and Berber blankets for the best nights sleep I've ever had at a hostel.

More to come.
Hope everyone is doing well, and has a great holiday season and new year.

in search of signs

signs of the times, eh?
Well, I'm off to Morocco y Andalucia for xmas and new years.
hope everyone has a nice holiday.
I'll write more later....
For those of you fellow union organizers out there.... my new year's question to you is:
have you ever likened our jobs to that of shepherds? you know... workers, sheep, organizer, herding them, etc.... its a bit cynical.... but so is life sometimes.

anyway, on that note, I'm off.
feliz navidad y próspero año nuevo.

Ikea Streik near Kassel

Ikea strike video

Another Paper is Possible

Trade Unions and Climate Change

Steven Toff & Gioacchino Tiralongo

WTF?!?!!

ummm... I was just going to post papers and summaries of my dinners with my comrades in the program, but WTF is this crap?

52% of the U.S. supports going to war with Iran??????

Are they putting something in your water over there?
I am so ashamed.

South Africa & Argentina

Below is a short paper I wrote about S. Africa and Argentina.... it is really brief.... per the assignment. Also, for some reason, none of my endnotes appeared.... I don't understand why. The end notes are still listed at the end, but without their respective numbers....
I'd be happy to email anyone interested in reading the proper article

On the eve of the 2001 UN World Conference Against Racism held in Durban, South Africa, COSATU called a general strike. Protesting the ANC’s plans for privatizing state assets (meaning both a loss of jobs and services for the poor), the timing of the strike was symbolic. The fight boiled down to what kind of post-apartheid South Africa was being built and how South Africa was “to engage with the process of globalization.”

In December of the same year, following a string of general strikes, the whole of Argentina rose up to say “¡Que se vayan todos!” (Throw them all out!). They weren’t only talking about politicians; they were talking about the entire economic model. After five presidents in less than three weeks, Argentina emerged from their crisis with a newfound outlook on their place in the global economy.

These nation specific examples of resistance are symptomatic of a global trend. To be clear, the “globalisation” being resisted is not synonymous with the advances in technology, the notion of a shrinking world and the blurring of cultures. When we talk about resistance to globalisation, we are talking about economics and a specific set of principles.

Challenging globalisation means struggling against modern-day global capitalism and its neo-liberal economic dogma. In its unquenchable thirst for global hegemony, it strives to open new markets by privatizing the ground on which we walk, the air we breathe and the water we drink. It recognizes no international borders and usurps prior ideas of the nation-state. Evidenced by an increase in the gap between the rich and the poor, the slashing of state budgets (and responsibilities), and an explosion of the informalisation of work, we should recognize this for what it is – an attack on the world’s poor.

The last point regarding the informalisation of work has been a massive challenge for trade unions – one that threatens to make us irrelevant. Union power is based on being able to organize and mobilize workers in the formal economy. Yet if the majority of the working class now finds themselves marginalized to the peripheral informal economy, where does the future of union power lie? What have unions done to meet this challenge? In both South Africa and Argentina, we can see a variety of tactics, as the workers in these countries struggle to find their footing in this “newly” globalised world.

South Africa
The trade union movement in South Africa has been wrapped up in a political alliance with the ANC and the SACP since the fall of apartheid. With the birth of so-called democracy, South Africa’s doors swung open to a new breed of capitalist development, while many on the left watched their hopes for revolutionary change dwindle into the neo-liberal market machine.

The strength of COSATU has been able to keep the government from completely embracing the doctrines of globalisation, yet elements of Keynesian economic theory are disappearing as fast as the formal economy. Zwelinzima Vavi, COSATU’s general secretary “rejects the allegation that it represents a new ‘labour aristocracy’ of core workers” maintaining that their policy proposals are based on “‘…workers and the poor as a whole, rather than considering only its members.’” In a telling statement to the press, Vavi admits that “‘…if we don’t get better coordination and solidarity between permanent workers and casual workers and the unemployment, we are doomed.’” Unfortunately, rather than engage directly with the growing informal economy, COSUTA has chosen to use their political leverage to influence policy at a governmental level (even if it is at times on behalf of informal workers).

Argentina
“In the mid-1990s…the IMF was still holding up Argentina as a miracle of economic growth”. The ruling Peronist parties had continued the practice of privatization and market liberalisation that began in the 1970s under right-wing military dictatorships. The CGT , Argentina’s largest and most dominant trade union central, has traditionally been tied to these parties despite their modern acceptance of neo-liberalism and privatization. Coupled with typical cronyism and corruption, the CGT was either unable or unwilling to challenge this. By the early 1990s, the largest public sector unions had seen enough of their jobs disappear, and broke away to form the CTA. This new federation would be founded on principles of democracy and social movement unionism, & rising to meet the challenges of informalisation in new and creative ways. For example, in a very unconventional move, unemployed workers can join the CTA directly, allowing the CTA to engage directly with the informal economy.

In December of 2001, Argentina’s economy came to a grinding halt, as the political and economic institutions of the country collapsed into a sea of protesting citizens. The growing informal economy now exploded to be a majority of the population. In the years since, a host of organisations born as seeds during the crisis have emerged as social movements for the working class, arguably doing more to organize the working class than either the CGT or the CTA.

The Challenge
As the nature of work has changed, unions have been slow to adapt to these challenges. In South Africa, there is a clear recognition of this problem within COSATU, yet there has been little action. And while the CTA in Argentina has taken some very concrete steps, such as opening up their membership to unemployed workers, their success has been limited by a lack of vision.

It is often difficult to discern whether unions view the informal sector as a threat or as a potential ally. While the informalisation of work is a clear threat to the formal sector and therefore a threat to the traditional base of organised labour, this threat does not come from the informal worker, but from the system itself. We must be careful not to transfer that fear unto informal workers themselves. Unions have remained confined to the formal sector, as they’ve watched their power diminish, and perhaps worst of all, they seem to have created an “elite” class of formal workers. Consequently, the only real challenge being mounted is from the formal sector on behalf of informal workers. Real change comes from below coupled with solidarity and assistance from the outside. Therefore, the fate of informal workers can and will only be changed by informal workers fighting back.

There is a separate challenge within this that I have yet to touch on. Historically, in addition to improving the livelihood of the working class, unions have been a vehicle for education and class-consciousness, and arguably a method for revolutionary change. There is something unique about the relationship between a boss and his workers in a factory. On the shop floor, ideas of struggle, class, hierarchy and power are all played out like a Shakespearean drama for workers to see. Be it a contract fight, a simple grievance, or a prolonged strike – workers’ education and conceptions of class are born in this theatre. Now that the setting for our drama has shifted, we must ask ourselves how unions can maintain their “revolutionary potential” in this new sphere.

Is the goal of organizing any group of workers simply to improve their standing and buying power, carving out a larger percentage of the surplus value created without challenging capitalism itself? Trotsky put it another way, “Under these conditions trade unions can either transform themselves into revolutionary organizations or become lieutenants of capital in the intensified exploitation of the workers.”

If the answer is the second, we must not only organize in the informal sector for the sake of organizing and union density, but we must develop models that build power while installing a sense of class-consciousness. A union is a collection of workers acting together. Workers can and must mean more than formal workers. And as we toss out our old methods of organisation and tactics rooted in the framework of the expired ‘fordist’ model, let us ask ourselves, how much good did these old models do us anyway?



End Notes:

Confederation of South African Trade Unions
African National Congress
Gevisser, Mark 2001‘The COSATU Strike’, The Nation, 30 August, [online] viewed 14 October 2007, .
Jordan, John & Whitney, J. 2003 Que Se Vayan Todos: Argentina’s Popular Rebellion – An Eyewitness Account of the Financial Meltdown And Ongoing Grassroots Rebellion Kersplebedeb, Montreal
Held, D & McGrew, A. 2003 ‘The Great Globalization Debate: An Introduction’ in The Global Transformations Reader, 2nd edn, eds. D. Held & A. McGrew, Polity Press, London. (pp 3-4)
Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. 2007 (eds) Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? (draft manuscript) (pp 181, endnote 1)
Wade, Martin & Wolf, M. 2003 ‘Are Global Poverty and Inequality Getting Worse?’ in The Global Transformations Reader, 2nd edn, eds. D. Held & A. McGrew, Polity Press, London. (pp 440-446)
Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. 2007 (eds) Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? (draft manuscript) (p 7)
Pillay, D. 2006 COSATU, ‘Alliances and Working Class Politics’ in S. Buhlungu (ed) Trade Unions and Democracy: COSATU Workers’ Political Attitudes in South Africa, HSRC Press, Pretoria (pp 167-198)
Pillay, D. 2007 ‘Chapter 3 – Globalisation and the informalisation of labour: the case of South Africa’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (pp 32-34)
Pillay, D. 2007 ‘Chapter 3 – Globalisation and the informalisation of labour: the case of South Africa’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (p 36)
Vavi, Z. (2005) Addresss to the COSATU Conference Celebrating Ten Years of Democracy and Freedom, Johannesburg South Africa (5 March) as quoted in Pillay, D. 2007 ‘Chapter 3 – Globalisation and the informalisation of labour: the case of South Africa’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (p 37)
Sunday Times (24/9/06) as quoted in: Pillay, D. 2007 ‘Chapter 3 – Globalisation and the informalisation of labour: the case of South Africa’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (p 38)
One very significant exception to this would be the SEWU (Self-Employed Woman’s Association). While now defunct, for a brief period of time this “trade union” of self-employed woman, did have a membership of nearly 5000 members. This organizing took place outside of the formal sector and outside of COSATU. There are hopes to revive the organization with COSATU now. It pains me to point out though, that despite the excitement of organizing in the informal sector, SEWU offers a pure ‘economism’ form of unionism for these workers. Demands see to be limited to economic issues. (Pillay 2007)
Klein, N. 2003, ‘Out of the Ordinary’, The Guardian, 25 Jan. [online] viewed 16 October 2007, .
Confederación General del Trabajo – The General Confederation of Labour
Rauber, I. 2007 ‘Chapter 6 – The globalisation of capital and its impact on the world of formal and informal work: Challenges for and responses from Argentine unions’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (p 64)
Central de Trabajadores Argentinos – The Argentine Workers Federation
Social movement unionism: as defined by Voss & Sherman’s characterization of ‘social movements’
Voss, K. & Sherman, R. 2000 ‘Breaking the Iron Law of Oligarchy: Union revitalization in the American labor movement’ American Journal of Sociology, 106 (2)
Camarero, H., Pozzi, P., & Schneider, A. 1998, ‘Unrest and Repression in Argentina’, New Politics, vol. 7, no. 1 [online] viewed 16 October 2007, .
Rauber, I. 2007 ‘Chapter 6 – The globalisation of capital and its impact on the world of formal and informal work: Challenges for and responses from Argentine unions’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (pp 59-67)
Rauber, I. 2007 ‘Chapter 6 – The globalisation of capital and its impact on the world of formal and informal work: Challenges for and responses from Argentine unions’ in Labour and the Challenges of Globalisation: What prospects for Transnational Solidarity? eds. Bieler, A., Londberg, I., & Pillay, D. (draft manuscript) (pp 59-67)
Isabel Rauber portrays the CTA as a new hope for change in Argentina. Unfortunately, I do not share her optimism. Many of the changes, such as the ability of unemployed workers to affiliate directly with the federation look better on paper than in practice. Rather, I would characterize the CTA as a group of predominantly public sector unions challenging privatization based on their own self-preservation (as public sector workers, privatization hits them the hardest). Their informal workers program is not entirely insignificant, however, it lacks any sort of revolutionary vision. When compared to the CGT, the CTA does appear to be a breath of fresh air, but we must remember how low the bar has fallen.
I would put ‘his/her’ here, however the sad truth is it is usually a ‘he’, but that’s a different paper….
As quoted in:
Clarke, T. & Clements, L. 1977, Trade Unions under Capitalism. Fontana/Collins, Glasgow (p 29)

três, dois, um...drei, zwei, eins, tres, dos, uno....

Well, its been nearly two months since I wrote anything, and I have been Scheiße at remembering to write anything in here. Its actually not that I don't remember, and more that I don't have the time. But I've decided to make the time.

Quick summary of the last two months.... then to my new project I will dedicate this blog to for a while - that project will be: I plan on having a 1 on 1 dinner with each member of my program. I'll post their comments and the meat of our dinner (haha) with their permission after each one.....

anyway,
Lets see, for the first few weeks I was in Germany, we didn't have classes yet. There was an alumni summer school taking place, which gave us the opportunity to lots of trade unionists from previous years. We also had some great lectures and discussions with professors, and a good introduction to what we are now studying. On the social front, everyone in our program began bonding, and we started to learn what we love and hate and about each other. At one point I took off on a ryanair flight for about a week with 2 other comrades from the program to Italia y Slovenia. I'll have to write about that trip in a separate section..... in any case, after that, I got back and we started classes.

My classes, for those of you who care, are as follows:
- Trade Union Strategies in a Global Economy
- Governance of the World Market
- Advanced Research Methods: Qualitative Designs, Social Movements & Campaigns
- Economia Solidaria, Movimientos y Debates en América Latina
(class is taught in Spanish and Português)
- The Politics of Privatization
- Environmental Politics in Global Perspective
- One World Seminar
- Economics Tutorial
- Português (language course)

There is a lot of reading. Lots of presentation and group work, which I suppose is typical for a masters program, and there will be a lot of writing, though most of it hasn't started yet.

I've pretty much confirmed I'll be in Brasil after Jan. of next year in order to do my second semester in Campinas, São Paulo. And I should be in Argentina after that for my internship, studying the intersection of trade unions and social movements there.....

I'll post some of my papers as I write them, so people can see some of the content of the courses.

Ich spreche Deutsch! Tatsächlich ist das alles, das ich sagen kann. Und ich denke, dass ich das falsch gesagt habe

an american, a russian, a nigerian, and an indian walk into a supermarket in a small town in the middle of Germany....

comic relief aside (doesn´t that sound like the beginning of some bad joke?), my life does feel a bit surreal these days. After spending a bit over a week in copenhagen, I headed down to Kassel germany through a variety of transportation methods. Trains, ferries, cars (hitching), and walking. I arrived at my new home on saturday evening last week.

This week has been filled with....lots of drinking actually. And international meals. I live with an italian, a nigerian, an egyptian, and a german guy. and upstairs from us are 2 more floors, filled with people from russia, ukrain, kyrgistan, malaysia, canada, palestine, brazil, india, and zambia, to name a few. we still are waiting on another person from s. africa, and there is a guy from korea who lives with his family (so he misses all the parties).

but aside from alcohol consumption, soccer games in our backyard, and wondering around this little college town, we´ve already had some fascinating conversation about trade unions, workers, politics, and that global plague we call capitalism. I´m really excited about this semester! I feel like its the first time I´m really going to be engaged in the subject matter. I mean, when I did my bachelors degree, it was in Labor Studies, but it was really a bit of a cake walk. I was already working for union, and aside from some great labor history, I don´t think I learned too much.

I am anticipating a complete language melt down at some point, as my brain will probably explode. I am taking one course in spanish (I have no idea why they offer a course in spanish in germany for english speakers, but I was excited to see it!), and the rest of my classes will be in English. I´ll also have a German course, AND they have portuguese classes. But, the portuguese classes are part of the normal university here, so they are for German students.... as in, my book, and much of the class may be in German. They won´t say "cat = gato", they´ll say "katze = gato". But I´ll see how it goes.... I´ll be in Brasil in February, so it can only help.

Tschüs!

update on cingular

I won! They credited my account so I now have a 30 dollar positive balance and 1 more bill for 29.99.

I´m actually quite surprised. I thought my letter was a bit over the top.

Fuck off Cingular

Dear Stewart Smith,

Lets back up a minute here. I already requested my plan to change to the 19.99 plan beginning on the 7/26 - 8/25 billing period (the bill that says 6/26-7/25 for 73.58 as you bill in advance for the time). Texting and insurance were also supposed to be cancelled. I called numerous times to correct this! First in June, then in July before I left. Since then I have called twice internationally from Europe.

While I appreciate the adjustment you made to the current bill, the above stated bill charged me 50 dollars more than I was supposed to be charged. The next bill (my current one) is also charging me 50 dollars more than I am supposed to be charged. And I will have another bill before my contract expires!? For who knows how much.

Since I will only have 1 more bill after this, that is supposed to be for 19.99 + taxes, the total for ALL THREE BILLS should be LESS than what I have already paid! Since I paid you 73.58 for the first overcharged bill, if you charged me nothing for the remainder of my contract, I would have overpaid. Or you could refund me 50 dollars for that bill, 50 dollars on this bill (instead of the 23.14), and bill me correctly for my last and final bill.

I am so tired of having to deal with this from Germany. It is the last thing I want to be thinking about while in another country. Please realize that every dollar we are discussing is for a phone that I AM NOT EVEN USING!

The whole time I lived in the U.S. that I used cingular (and at&t for years through my work as well), I was very happy with the level of customer service and never really had any problems. Now that I am trying to cancel my account, it has been horrible! I know all of the cell phone companies try and stop you from cancelling. But I am not cancelling to go to a competitor. I am cancelling because I live in Germany now!!

I propose this: I will not pay you another cent. My 73.58 debited from my account on 8/18 is more than enough to bring me to the end of my contract (had I been billed correctly). I consider my end of the contract fulfilled.

19.99 + taxes 7/26 - 8/25
19.99 + taxes 8/26 - 9/25
19.99 + taxes 9/26 - 10/23
= 60 bucks + taxes.

I paid 73.58 on 8/18. Technically, you owe me money, but I don't care. I just want to be done with this!

I would prefer to use cingular / AT&T again when I return to the United States. Do you want to screw me out of 50 bucks a month now and loose me as a customer for life? or will you honor the agreement and let me leave with dignity, so I might use cingular / AT&T again for another contract in the future? This is insane.

Sincerely,
Steven Toff

P.S. My contract did allow for cancellation without an early termination fee. When I signed up for my contract, I knew I might be moving out of the country and the salesman wrote on the contract that the cancellation fee would not apply if I moved outside of your coverage area.

But when I called, the customer service rep on the phone said that hand written part would not be honored. However, she advised me to switch my plan to the 19.99 plan for the time I would be gone, to save me the difference versus paying the cancellation fee. Naively, I thanked her for her advice and did just that.

I have since talked to a lawyer who advised me that the hand written section, signed by the employee who gave me the contract, would in fact stand up in arbitration. Despite the expert legal advice I accepted from a customer service rep.

P.P.S. - Speaking of arbitration, I have read the contract cover to cover as well as Cingular's Terms of Service Agreement, and there are other reasons why I could cancel without an Early Termination Fee. My plan changed without my permission, my rate for texting changed, you unilaterally changed my contract and assigned the entire arbitration procedure, waiving my right to participate in a class action law suit. All these changes constitute a violation of the contract and allow me to opt out without the Early Termination Fee, as outlined in your own Terms of Service Agreement.

Copen & Hangin

that's a really bad title for an email, but I thought it was clever at first. I'm in Copenhagen (get it?). Its been a while since I last wrote.... I've been to asia since then and come back to europe. Lets see....

So Athens was great. There were lots of old things, as you might imagine. Lots of french frys with oregano, which are truly the food of the gods.... Ellen bought some sandals from a guy who (together with his father) have been making sandals for 50 years, and made them for the beatles and Lily Thomlin, and the Duke of somewhere or other.... I bought his play (he's also a playwright). We saw lots of old things and I got in for free almost everywhere because I am university student in the EU. Pretty nice, eh?

On the 21st, Ellen flew to Dublin (after a pilots strike was narrowly averted), and I took the train to Thessaloniki. It was a night train which meant you have to buy a couchette, which, especially on a greek train, is a cross between a bed and a piece of wood (much more like the wood than the bed). But I arrived in the morning and threw my bag into storage at the train station, and proceeded to wonder around the town for 12 hours. It was really really hot. But Thessaloniki seems like an interesting place. Less touristy than anywhere I had been in Greece (except for Ikaria, but this was real Greece, and not just a little remote island). I went to the museum of Macedonian struggle (not to be confused with the country - which, according to the museum - stole their name and reinvented history), and I also saw the Jewish Museum. They had great air conditioning.

That night, back to the train station and got on the 12 hour night train to Istanbul. It was actually a really nice train. I don't know where it started but I think it was going all the way to Tehran. The rooms only had 2 beds in them and they were actual beds, and I had my room to myself. Besides the 3am boarder crossing where I was pulled off the train with a guy from Cyprus. I was the only american on the train and Americans (excuse me, United Statesians) need to pay a 15 Euro visa fee at the border. Same with folks from Cyprus for obvious reasons.

I arrived at the station and asked the tourist information desk how to get to Sultanamet. The woman appeared to be sizing me up, as I stood there sweating in her office. "You.... you walk. You're young and strong. I tell young strong people to walk. And fat people too. They walk because they need to. You walk because you can."
I followed the tram tracks for about 10 minutes and found my neighborhood, and shortly thereafter found the hostel my friend Michael had booked onnline.
I was meeting my friends Michael and Laura in Istanbul for a week, but they weren't arriving until that night. The room was pretty crappy, but I was too tired to notice. I did however notice the lack of Air Conditioning, that I thought we had specifically requested online.
That night M & L arrived and we suffered through one night without AC. In the morning, after double checking the web page and confirming that we were supposed to have AC, we decided to move out.
Well, to make a long story short (ummmm, shorter?) we got in a huge argument with the guy because he wouldn't apply our deposit for 6 nights to the 1 night, and he called the police (so he said, we watched him make a call in turkish, and he said the police were on their way, but they never came). Eventually we paid him and decided to take up the difference with Visa instead of him.
But in the end, it all worked out because we moved to fabulous place 1 minute away, that had a rooftop terrace with lots of blankets and pillows, where we slept for nearly the rest of the week. It was a fraction of the cost, and being outdoors on a rooftop in istanbul was better than air conditioning anyway. Waking up with the early morning sun wasn't even that big a deal, since the "call to prayer" was blasted from competing mosques at 5:30am anyway.

Istanbul was full of amazing landmarks and history, the Aya Sofia, an ancient Byzantine church later converted to a mosque later converted to a museum.... The blue mosque, the bridges and fish markets with overpriced water.... the bazaars, markets and spices, its all kind of a blur now.
One of the highlights from Istanbul would have to be my shave and a haircut... After months of traveling, it was time for a proper haircut, and I figured I should do it turkish style with the full shave since it had been about a week since I'd shaved anyway. My only concern was coming out looking like an old man since that's the majority of their clientele... But we found a hip looking waiter who spoke some english and asked him where to go, so he brought us across the street to an old man and a barber shop. Not being able to communicate at all with the barber proved to be a bit difficult, but manageable. Until he pulled out a large wand, covered in some sort of lighter fluid and set it on fire.... what the hell was he going to do with this? Silly me... he was going to burn the hair off my ears. He would throw the flame at my ear and then pad it out quickly, over and over again. To be honest, it did kind of hurt, but I was amused. He then took out some sort of dental floss looking stuff, and I thought he was going to floss my teeth, but he put it in his mouth instead, and wrapped it around both hands, making a kind of sling shot, that he would release with his mouth, to slap the thread against my face. He proceeded to do this for about 2 or 3 minutes to each side of my face.

So it was different. But I came out looking well groomed and at least 5 years younger, despite the pain.

On the second to last night, we moved inside from the roof, because my portland sixth sense (and yahoo weather) told me it was going to rain. We were right, and we avoided getting drenched in a thunderstorm.

Then on the last day, Michael and I (Laura had to catch her flight, but she was with us in spirit), went to meet with a trade union federation we had emailed. DISK, which I chose pretty randomly after doing a quick google search of turkish trade unions, turns out to be the most left wing radical union federation in turkey. It was amazing. The first thing they said to us as we arrived at the lobby of the building was "I hate America, and I hate Americans." Then they smiled. We said, "We do too, don't worry." At least we broke the ice a bit.
Nearly everyone we met had spent years in prison. Some had been tortured, and they all exhibited an amazing commitment to workers and the struggle. This next part may sound like I'm talking about something else for a minute, but just bear with me....

I remember being in Mexico in 2003, and watching the MTV latin music awards (I don't actually remember why). There was a scene when Kelly Osbourne was presenting an award with 2 members of the band Molotov. She would say something like "I have no idea what the fuck anyone is saying". Then one of the guys from Molotov would say (in spanish to the camera) "She says she loves latin music."

Our conversations through the translation of a young 25 year old trade unionist (the only person who spoke english at the union) were a bit like Molotov and Kelly Osbourne. Each time they would say something, they'd speak, in a really animated tone, for a few minutes, and every once in a while we could make out words like, "America", or "Capitalism", or "Iraq", or "Imperialism", but when he translated he would say something like, "We are happy to meet you".

All in all, it was an amazing experience, and we came away with a pile of posters and newsletter in english and turkish. That night, I took the mini-bus to Asia (literally, when you pass over the bridge, there is a sign that says "Welcome to Asia"), and headed to the airport, where I almost missed my flight, but that whole 2 hour rule for international travel, its been reduced to 25 minutes in Turkey, and I got on my flight fine.

Since then I've been relaxing in cold Copenhagen, as a guest at the wonderful Hotel Stine (that's my friend's apt.) I probably won't send out any more group emails, as I am leaving for Germany in about a week, to start the Masters program. So if you want to stay in touch, email me!

Hasta la victoria siempre,
Esteban

Κόκκινο νησί

hmmm.... so we were in pireus or however you spell that...and we walked around for a day and a half waiting for our ferry. Everything was closed, and while the area near the port was shit, the rest of the town was actually quite nice. Then at 9 o'clock the next day, we finally boarded our ferry. This process in Greece, as opposed to Spain, and Italia, was complete chaos. maybe because its the peak of the tourist season going to the greek isles, but in any case, we went to paros that night. Found our campground, and went to sleep. In the morning we awoke to find ourselves on this beautiful little island, with great beaches, whitewashed buildings with blue windows, and a few too many tourists. After 1 more night there (and a little more chaos figuring out how to get back to the port for our 7am ferry) we left for the island of Ikaria.

This little island, filled with fascinating history, in particular the fact that Greece exiled about 15,000 commies to it in the 50s, and now the island votes whole heartedly for the communist party, is about 8 hours from the mainland, close to Turkey, and was just what we were looking for. Despite the fact that the island is much less developed than any of the other touristy islands, it was booked to capacity, and we ended up sleeping on the roof of this pension we found. The town we stayed in was called Kampos, it has a population of about 94, but down the road to the coast about 4 km, there is another town called Evdilos, that has around 500 people (the big city on our end of the island). We spent our days eating figs and grapes from trees, baaing (is that a word?) at goats we'd pass on the road, and tearing down communist posters on walls for souvenirs. Oh, and we swam for hours in the different beaches nearly every day. We also rented a scooter, that didn't really have the best brakes, and 50cc wasn't quite enough to fly through the corners with our knees down. But it was a lot of fun.

But, as all things must end, our time on the roof of 'Rooms Dionysis' had to as well. Yesterday, we took a ferry back to Pireus, where we jumped on the metro and came into Athens around 10pm last night. Today, we saw the Acropolis, and lots of other old athenian greek ruins. Athens is nice, but a lot like any other big city, just with really old things kind of splattered throughout it.

more to come,
Esteban

boats, trains, and greek gods

okay... really briefly here....
made it to Greece, landed in Patras and found out that all the trains to Diakofto had already left, so we found a place to stay for the night. Cheap. Then we slept.... then we woke up.... then we went to Diakofto.
Our whole reason to go there was in order to take this old fashion rack and pinion railroad, that would take us up through a gorge, and we could hitch and take buses south through pelaponeses.... sp? anyway, the train hasn't run since april due to some landslides and a german couple there said they came 2 years ago and couldn't go then either.... so we stayed the night in Diakofto which was fabulous. The town is tiny tiny tiny, and we drank ouzo on the beach with white table cloths for 1 Euro.
In the morning, we changed our plans and just took a train to Pireius, where we are now. We were hoping to just board a ferry when we got here, but every boat to every island is booked until tomorrow night. So we're spending the night in this amazing port town (not amazing, actually gross, sometimes sarcasm doesn't travel the internet highway properly). And tomorrow we're off to the islands.

Hellas

aLive and weLL. 29 hoUrs on a boat Later.....In Patras, Greece.... stUpid keyboard won't Let me type an L or a U UnLess I make it Uppercase....wiLL wrtite more soon. Greece is Great!

What happened to Italy?

ummm.... Italia goes here. between the 2nd and the 7th of August.
Landed in Genoa, stayed with Giacomo, who was a wonderful host. Train to Pisa, train to Firenze, stayed there for 2 days at fantastic hostel with old man who played piano and gave us lots of his own wine that he made by stepping on the grapes. Train to Venice, lots of walking. Found hidden hotel room in the maze. Killed lots of mosquitos. Woke up really early. Despite staying up really late drinking wine at the steps of the grand canal. Too much coffee. Walked to ferry terminal with fingers crossed. got tickets. got on ferry. spent 29 hours on a boat.

oh, and there was a free hat somewhere in there....

la lucha sigue...

so, when I left off last time, I think we were about to board a bus from Marseille to Barcelona. I once swore I would never take another Eurolines bus in my life, but as life would have it.... its better not to swear.

The 7 hour bus ride wasn't too bad, and we did it at night, so we arrived in Barcelona around 6am and walked through the sleeping town. Well most of it was sleeping, as we wondered through the Gothic Quarter, some people were waking up and heading to work, while others were still stumbling back home from the night of partying. This is Spain after all.
We stayed awake on coffee and tea until we could check into our room at the Pension, which is great. Anyone coming to Barcelona, stay at ´La Calma´, Anyway, we´ve spent most of our days exploring, we went to a squat that has been occupied for years, and is an amazing example of permaculture, called Can Masdeu.

We´ve also done all the touristy things, and we spend almost every night just drinking wine in a plaza, or maybe beer if its really hot. We rented bikes and went out to an amazing beach that wasn´t too far from the city. Got sunburn. Also went to the Zapatista collective that I worked with 5 years ago when I was here. Last time, I helped paint a mural, but nobody seems to know its whereabouts now (it was painted on fabric, not a wall, so it could be mobile....).

I decided I wanted to visit the grave of Buenaventura Durruti, after reading how he was buried in Montjuic cemetery. But there are thousands of people buried there and I thought it might be a bit of a challenge to find him. Also, in Spanish cemeteries they stack people in tombs so its really confusing. The "Mont" in Montjuic stands for mountain, its also very tall (incidentally, the "juic" means jewish). So we began our research. At the zapatista collective, they referred me to Virus publishing, which is an anarchist publishing company (I actually remember sending them packages from AK Press when I was 18 years old in San Francisco). There, we looked up in a variety of books about Durruti, any info on where his tomb was, but we gave up. They suggested I try the CNT office nearby. So off I went, and they too, were very nice, happy to see me and my tattoo, but did not know where in the cemetery Durruti was buried.

Finally, today, we just decided to go. And I found a guardia near a maintenance office. I asked him if he knew, and he gave me a map that had it marked on it. Ten minutes later we were standing at the foot of his tomb. The workers at the cemetery were watering all the plants around him. I can´t help but wonder if the fascists in the cemetery get the same treatment (and for the record, it didn´t look like it. there were a lot of dead plants and brush around most tombs).

So, thats all for now. We leave tomorrow night by boat across the Mediterranean to Genova. Its an 18 hour ferry ride, but should be worth it.

Hope you´re all doing well.
hasta la pasta (hey, this time that actually makes sense),
Esteban

Ça ne casse pas des briques

I used to be much better at sending out updates. Lets see, new york was great. It was really hot. Then we flew to Dublin, and I had to change planes in Frankfurt where I wondered around looking for the Deutche Post to send my computer to Kassel, Germany and all my clothes and things I didn't want to carry around the Mediterranean all summer. That worked out okay, I was really tired after the flight (the flight was great - Singapore airlines is very nice), and I found out how little German I actually speak. But it went okay. Then I flew to Dublin, met up with Ellen at the hostel and we spent 1 night there before heading to Galway on bus. In Galway we roamed around a bit, caught up with my friend there, stayed a few nights and left for Athlone, which is this really nice little town in the middle of the country. nothing too special to report from there, but eventually we flew to London where we stayed with friends, got to see old friends, ran around London, spent way too much money on everything, and then flew away again (all these flights are only 20 euros each or so... thanks ryanair).

So we left the UK for the south of France, where we've spent the last week or so with an old friend of mine. It has been great to see her and catch up, to swim in a different beach each day, and drink fancy French wine for around 3 or 4 euros a bottle. Tonight, we're taking a bus to Barcelona, where I can continue to speak Spanish where I shouldn't (they speak Catalan in Barcelona, but at least I'll be in the correct country).

If you're curious about how Nicolas Sarkozy is planning on destroying France, email me and I'll tell you stories of privatizing education and taking away human rights (like the right to strike). I won't bore the rest of you with that.

Ooh, one little antidote, was that we went to the US embassy because I needed to have pages added to my passport, and I almost cried and laughed at the same time when CNN interrupted their broadcast of people dying in Islamabad to tell us the breaking news of Lindsey Lohan getting drunk or something. I don't miss TV, or the American media.

À boire ou je tue le chien!

Sigo las señales

If you're reading this, you are of a select group of people who might care about where I am, and what I'm doing. I'll post more later, but for now....ummm, I'm in the south of france, speaking a lot of spanish.... for now, life is really rough, I wake up around 10 or 11 usually swim in the Mediterranean and walk through some 15th century town, swim some more, drink some wine, eat some cheese, stay up late discussing politics or wine or cheese, or swimming... or all 3....I don't know if I'll write too often.

Ciao.