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Where does it come from? Who is responsible. Mystery, mystery. Find out here.
A little while back, Futurism turned 100. So entirely in contradiction with its name, I took a look back at the craazzy movement for PRI’s The World. It’s a short listen.
Some days, there’s a nugget of news that I’m called on to turn into something for the radio show. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s always a rush. Here’s one example – I don’t know if it’s a good one or a bad one. In any case, it relates to a British consumers’ group saying that the amount of luggage lost or mishandled by international airlines is soaring. Here’s the story.
The art scene as we know it today – bitchiness, cutthroat competition, personal intrigue – isn’t a modern invention. Here’s a story about an exhibition that offers one example from centuries ago: Venice.
This is one of the most enjoyable stories I’ve reported in a long time. Bohemian National Hall looks like just another grand building in Manhattan. But I met some lovely people with rich memories of the place from the 1950s. Take a listen.
Immigrants often have a friend — or, at least, an advocate — at their nearest consulate. That’s where they can sort out visa problems … get legal documents and the like. Here’s a look at the people that look out for one (small) immigrant community in New York. Listen here.
Here’s a story about what’s possibly the United Nation’s longest running failure: the dispute over Western Sahara. Listen here.
Here’s a selection of some curious music stories I’ve been peppering my days with recently.
One features the rough magic of cello scrotum.
This story looks at the contrasting fortunes of The Beatles and The Sex Pistols in the current economic climate.
And then there’s this, a look at Leonard Cohen’s evergreen ‘Hallelujah’.
The talented crowd over at PRI's Studio 360 are currently in Japan, getting all sorts of goodies ready for our ears. The special Japan shows will follow in the New Year, but in the meantime they're writing an excellent blog: http://studio360.wordpress.com I'm an enormous fool for not posting this earlier, but there it is: I'm an enormous fool. Dig around – there are some great early posts you won't want to miss.
There's a world-class collection of Russian Orthodox icon paintings in Massachusetts. Who knew? It's called The Museum of Russian Icons and you'll find it in the small town of Clinton. And it was founded by the man I talk about at the start of this radio story, which aired today on http://www.theworld.org/.
This is a short story we aired the day after the election. It pours the smallest, slightest amount of water on the result with the argument that a campaign built on such dramatic change can't help but be a bit disappointing in office.
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A short distance from the principal convention events, the National Democratic Institute is holding a series of discussions focussed on what an Obama presidency might do in terms of foreign policy.
The one going on right now features some of the main players in Senator Obama’s foreign policy team, notably Susan Rice.
The thing that strikes me immediately is how careful each of the speakers is to couch their thoughts in the framework of what Obama himself believes. The talk is of ‘Senator Obama’s vision’ and of ‘what Senator Obama thinks’. That makes sense: this week is focussed on transforming the image of Obama from idealist foreign policy juvenile into wise global leader. So while the stage is filled with some of the most experienced foreign policy specialists in the Democratic Party, they’re intent on making it sound like their opinions flow from the direction set by the candidate. That’s probably true, but there’s a unmistakeable intent to make that absolutely clear.
The other thing that’s kind of fun is that in three directions I see people fast asleep. Maybe that’s because the q & a is yet to begin. So far the discussion has been about the broad brushstrokes of Obama’s foreign policy. Engagement & diplomacy. The measured use of force or threat of force.
A few moments ago, one speaker referred to the perceived lack of detail in Obama’s speeches on these issues and rebutted. But if the detail is there, the problem is that not everyone is hearing it, in the room or in the electorate.
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Some late evening thoughts from Matthew Bell and me, taped before we settled down to a long night of editing and worrying.
Here’s something from today at the Pepsi Center, a quick comment on immigration by someone without whom the Convention could not run smoothly: a cleaner.
I forgot to post yesterday’s bedtime offering, so here it is in all its toothbrushy glory.
The ancient Greeks saw Chaos as the ultimate dark void, the original state of existence. As one history of the word puts it, chaos is ‘a place without any possible orientation, where anything falls in every direction.’
Welcome, then, to the Democratic National Convention 2008. The friendly, stressed Congressional staffer who helped us get our credentials (the passes you need to get in and out of the venues) told me that in previous years demand for access hadn’t been so great. This year, if you didn’t know already, is different.
It’s not quite clear what reporting is going on here, exactly. So much effort and time goes into simply getting in a position such that reporting could, might, if luck would strike, happen. It’s the wrong pass. It’s the right pass but you’re in the wrong place. Come back tomorrow. Not here, there. On the fourth floor, in section A, behind the – what’s that place called, Sarah? – behind there.. over there. The internet connection isn’t working? Try this, come here; you can’t go there.
This is my first convention, and it’s utterly, utterly bizarre. Of course, the business of the convention is not to satisfy the demands of journalists (unless those journalist command the attention of massed television audiences.) These proceedings are intended to lend platforms and ears to the many constituent parts of the Democratic Party.
But it’s also intended to set a narrative for us, the journos, and through us you. We’re supposed to key into the narrative about the party coming together, about the Clintons making good on a promise to unify behind Barack Obama. We’re meant to deliver the message that Obama himself can provide the backbone for a strong foreign policy that will protect the United States while at the same time providing economic relief for millions of Americans – particularly those electorally valuable white working class Americans.
So sitting here in the unassigned filing room, we’re little better than cattle, funneling the various bits of data – the photos, the video clips, the snippets of audio – back to our many media anthills. The data accumulates, and we’ll do it all again tomorrow. I’ve not happened across anything so much as resembling a surprise yet.
That’s not to say they’re not to be found. But it’s going to be a challenge, finding the unconventional in the convention.
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A couple of quick thoughts on plane from Houston to Denver:
There’s a man next to me sleeping under a plain blue blanket, clutching an information pack for delegates, detailing how to get from the airport to the hotels.
A copy of Fareed Zakaria’s new book about the United States’ place in the world rests in his lap. It’s clear what’s on this delegate’s mind at the moment: the future, whatever that may look like. But he’s sleeping, so perhaps it’s dreams that occupy his thoughts.
Who are all these passengers? Some will be delegates, like the man in my row. Others activists, still more volunteers, organizers, or journalists like me. Tourists and Denver residents too.
It’s difficult to know how many of them are bound for the convention. I imagine that they all are, and see in that thought every shade of the country – it resonates with the Obama campaign’s message (whatever you might think about that message), that there are no blue states or red states, only the United States.
But perhaps thoughts like that emerge because air travel itself – especially coach travel – has a forcibly unifying effect. They’re all in it together, whether they like it or not.
Walk ten minutes from the Pepsi Center in Denver next week, and you’ll come across what organisers hope will be a mass interfaith meditation. Going by the snappy title Meditate 08, the event is intended to be a refuge from the chaos of the convention. But I was particularly attracted by this snippet from the associated website:
The M08 steering committee is comprised of contemplatives from a wide assortment of schools and traditions, [and] believe[s] that there is – or should be – a place for Emptiness in the political process, and that the nation’s interests are best served by those who can connect with their basic goodness through the simple act of silent meditation.
Emptiness in the political process? I guess I know what they’re getting at, but – you know – be careful what you wish for and all that.
OK, this has absolutely nothing to do with the Democrats in Denver. But I’m testing some technology – a different way of storing audio for posting here – so I needed something to put up. It’s a mini story I did a couple of years ago, about how the quintessential American teenager of the mid 20th century, Archie, has become something of a role model for India’s growing middle class.
I’m headed to the Democratic national convention in Denver over the weekend. I’ll be there with my colleague Matthew Bell, both of us reporting for PRI’s The World.
I’ve never been to one of these things before. As a kid in the UK, I remember watching the American electoral process roll out in all its gaudy glory. And I was a total sucker for it. It was so extraordinarily different to the way politics played – and plays – out in Britain. Sure, we have Prime Minister’s Questions, the parliamentary knockabout show in the House of Commons, but there’s nothing to compare to the circus of a national convention.
In the UK, the equivalent event is the annual party conference (the major ones being Labour, the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats.) Historically, these events are dominated by images of leaders looking windswept in rainy seaside towns that are a few decades past their best.
Or of the so-called blue rinse brigade holding politicians’ feet to the fire in a way that only the elderly can do.
Things have changed a bit these days, with British politicians (starting with the Tony Blair of the mid-1990s) imitating some of the elements more associated with the American way of doing things. But there’s still nothing to compare with the exuberance, the theater and the sheer glitz of the conventions. And for that reason, I feel like a kid about to enter the candystore.
British farmers are increasingly using human waste to fertilize their crops. The technique has a long history, and it’s growing increasingly popular around the world. At our morning editorial meeting, the story was thrown to me with the hope that I’d do three minutes on the subject.
Our 8am sense of humour isn’t enormously sophisticated, so it seemed like a good idea. You know, to bring some levity to the broadcast and its regular diet of international trauma, both actual and diplomatic.
But make a few phone calls and a story always gets more interesting. (OK, maybe not always, but it did in this case.) I asked for more time, received more time and ended up with a longer, more serious report than we’d originally anticipated. I still get to say ‘poop’ on the radio, though. Twice, in fact.
Here’s the final piece that aired on PRI’s The World.
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Earlier in the year, I took myself off on vacation. I headed to the island of Bonaire, in the Netherlands Antilles, to service what I hope will eventually become something of a habit (cash allowing): scuba diving.
Bonaire’s interesting because its coral reef is still in great condition. Elsewhere in the world, many reef systems have been ravaged by pollution and changes in water temperature. Bonaire’s reef is doing well in part because the island’s instituted a comprehensive program of preservation.
Here’s an audio slideshow from the trip.
For more information on reefs, take a look at the International Year of the Reef site.
For your listening pleasure, here’s my guide to Rainforest Economics.
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Look out for a story airing on PBS’ Frontline/WORLD this evening. It takes place at the junction of history, technology and human rights.
Guatemala is slowly recovering from the trauma of a thirty-six year-long civil war. One aspect of that conflict was the suspected abuse of urban dissidents by the national police force. An police archive – millions of documents – relating to that period was recently discovered. But it was almost unreadable; it had been discarded, weathered, thought lost.
Now a Silicon Valley tech company is helping to scan, clean and analyze the archive. And it’s shedding light on those suspeced human rights abuses, and on a dark chapter of Guatemala’s history.
The story originally aired on the show I work for, PRI’s The World.
But the reporter behind it, Clark Boyd, has now done a version for the tellybox. Check your local listings and tune in.
But the Amazon serves other environmental purposes as well. For one thing, the giant South American forest affects the globe’s climate. Scientists are working to better understand that relationship.
Here’s the second part of my series from the Amazon.
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I’ve only been back a few days, but the Amazon is producing news like crazy. First up, a big shock out of Brazil: the environment minister, Marina Silva, has resigned. She says she doesn’t have political support to protect the environment.
Brazil is losing the only voice in the government that spoke out for the environment. The minister is leaving because the pressure on her for taking the measures she took against deforestation has become unbearable.
Not everyone’s disappointed. Some argue that Silva was a radical, unable to find room for the competing demands of environmental action and economic growth in the Amazon.
Things are different across the border. Peru’s government has just announced it’s setting up a new environment ministry, saying it’ll help protect the Amazon. The establishment of political muscle for the environment in Peru will be welcomed by many, but – as with all things – the proof will be in the pudding.
Tomorrow, PRI’s The World will air my first story from Manaus, Brazil. It’s a look at how the city’s rubber boom produced an unlikely sound in the rainforest: opera.
In the meantime, take a look at this slideshow of people pushing back the edges of the Amazon.
So, that’s that. I fly back to Boston today (Wednesday), arriving in the early hours of Thursday morning. I’ve been here ten days, but it feels like much longer – and much shorter. The days have been so packed, so different, that time has both stretched and compressed. I’m leaving with a better understanding of the Amazon, of Amazonas, of Manaus. But these aren’t places you understand in a week and a half. It’s hard even to get a grip on what the Amazon is.
I’ve been told that some Brazilians (not all) think of the Amazon as, well, a purely Brazilian entity. But the forest respects no border and spills into neighboring countries like Bolivia, Peru, Venezuela and Colombia. Also, the rainforest here around Manaus represents a totally different ecosystem to the rainforest in the southern Amazon. It’s just too big and too complex to boil down to something simple. And I haven’t even mentioned the rivers.
Manaus itself is a contradiction. It’s the heart of a long-cherished national program of investment, growth and territory marking. When the free trade zone was established a few decades ago, it was in part to establish a federal presence – and a business presence – in Amazonia.
Business ambition remains sky-high. Brazil, not unlike China and India, is a country of massive resources and an underwhelming record of economic achievement. And, like China and India, Brazil is now beginning to move full speed ahead.
But there’s an opposing force in these parts, one recognized by the State Government in Amazonas. The rainforest is an indispensable component of the global ecosystem. It must be protected. Programs like the Bolsa Floresta (a small subsidy paid to families living in the forest not to cut down trees) are showing how legislation could be catching up with the demands of the world’s environmental community. Still, such programs have their critics and any successful system will have to find a way to balance the demands of environmental stewardship with economic growth.
Thanks for joining me throughout this trip. I’ll be back in The World’s newsroom next week (I’ll be celebrating the marriage of two friends from Friday through the weekend) and I’ll continue updating this blog as the radio stories from the Amazon start to shape up. And listen out for a special day of Amazon broadcasts from the BBC World Service on May 15th.
Beyond that, you’re very welcome to check in here from time to time. While you’re at it, make sure you pay Clark, Jeb, Matthew, April, Patrick and Marco a visit too (they’re all colleagues at PRI’s The World) – you’ll find their blogs to the right.
Alex
A trip to the moon today. I was at Urucu, an oil and natural gas facility some 600km west (and south a bit) of Manaus. It sits above massive reserves of natural gas, and smaller fields of high-quality oil. And those reserves are in the middle of the Brazilian Amazon rainforest.
If you don’t believe me, take a look at the final approach into Urucu, as seen from my airplane window early this morning.
The Urucu facility itself is a strange, strange place. It operates much like an offshore rig – workers come for fourteen-day stretches, followed by weeks off. The regulation uniform is an orange jumpsuit (which produces immediate associations in the mind). Identikit gas-powered Petrobras 4×4s move at speeds no greater than 50kmph. And everywhere you look there’s a stern series of bins reminding you to recycle everything that can be recycled, lest the pristine state of the place be disturbed. I couldn’t help but think of one of those Bond villain lairs circa 1978. A remote location. Men in monochrome uniforms and hard hats, motoring around at purposeful, pedestrian speeds. And no visible trash.
Only there doesn’t seem to be much that’s villainous about Urucu. The environmental procedures and processes are deeply impressive, especially since the business of the place is the exploration and exploitation of fossil fuels. They even have a nursery for forest seedlings, ready for planting over closed wells. But whether there are lessons for energy strategies in other environmentally sensitive parts of the world – Alaska, say – well, that’s another matter. I hope to produce a radio story about Urucu for PRI’s The World before too long. Stay tuned, as they say.
Tomorrow’s my last full day in Brazil. Two interviews lined up: the first with someone from SUFRAMA, the organization behind Manaus’ free trade zone (the principal motor of the city’s growth in the last few decades). And then I’ll meet a representative of some of the Brazilian Amazon’s indigenous communities. So much is going on in this place, and fast. His is a perspective I don’t want to miss.
Oh yes, one other thing. Here’s a short audio slideshow of a bustling local market from yesterday morning in Manaus. I’d gone out with the hope of taking shots of the city’s faded architectural glories. But clouds and rain didn’t make for the best conditions. So I tried a bit of an experiment and concentrated on photos of umbrellas – the colors, the patterns, the owners. Let me know what you think. Thanks to my colleague at The World, Julia Kumari Drapkin, for putting it together at a moment’s notice.
Just a short update tonight, I’m afraid. I’ll be up again in about six hours to go to the airport. Not to return home – that’s on Wednesday – but to catch a flight to Urucu. It’s a offshore oil facility, only the ocean in which you’ll find it is green and full of trees. Urucu is run by Petrobras, the state energy company. And they make big claims about being conscientious stewards of the forest. So I’m going to take a look.
There could be one hiccup, though, and that’s the weather. The daily hour+ flight to Urucu has been cancelled a number of times recently thanks to downpours in Manaus. Hopefully I’ll catch a break.
Caught an opera tonight: Engelbert Humperdinck’s Hansel und Gretel. It was performed at the Teatro Amazonas, a glorious reminder of the Saudi-like riches that swamped Manaus during the nineteenth century rubber boom. H & G were Portuguese in this production and renamed Joao e Maria. But there was still an evil witch, dancing gingerbread and an exploding oven.
Listen out for a story about the opera house in the not-too-distant-future on PRI’s The World. It’ll include clips from a young American double-bassist who until January was living in Indiana and had never heard of Manaus. Now he’s playing with the Amazonas Philharmonic. I do believe that’s what might correctly be regarded as something of a curveball, no?
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Finally, some grim news from not far away. The BBC reports that at least fifteen people have drowned and many more are missing after a ferry capsized in the Solimoes river. That’s the river I wrote about a couple of days ago, the one that joins up with the Rio Negro to form the greater Amazon.
The capsizing happened near Manacapuru, only 80km (50 miles) from here in Manaus. It’s thought the ferry was overcrowded.
The BBC report says ‘Most of those on board the boat, which went down in a sudden rainstorm, were young people returning from a party.’
Amazonas State has a big ticket project to curb deforestation. Trees aren’t cut down here to the same extent as they are in, say, Mato Grosso (where soy is a passport to profit) – but even so Amazonas governor Eduardo Braga is adamant that the rainforest in his state be preserved.
I spoke with Braga back in Boston. And on Wednesday – just before I catch my flight home – I’ll meet Virgilio Viana, who leads the Sustainable Amazon Foundation. Before taking up that role, Viana was Braga’s Secretary of State for the Environment. Together, they’ve come up with something called the Bolsa Floresta, which loosely translates as ‘forest subsidy’.
The idea is that families in certain areas of the rainforest be paid a monthly sum of money not to cut trees down. The Bolsa Floresta is making waves: it’s been highly publicized here in Amazonas, and in the environmental community. So – is it a good idea? Depends who you ask. I’ll examine the program in one of my radio stories for PRI’s The World (which I’ll write when I’m back in Boston, and when I have the expertise of my editor William Troop to call on).
But today I met someone who’s firmly against the program. He runs a guitar workshop for disadvantaged teenagers in Manaus. The specifics of his criticism will have to wait – I want to put that criticism to Virgilio Viana before writing anything else. But here’s a quick look inside the workshop, fresh off the laptop.
Before we left, I traded Jobim names with the workshop leader. You say Corcovado. I say Wave. You say One Note Samba. I say Desafinado. And then he beckons me to play one of the newly-minted guitars. Now by this stage I was sweating buckets from running around grabbing video and still photos and pure audio and – oh yes – interviews. But he was insistent.
I spare you the resulting cacophony.
Tomorrow should bring music of another order. I’m off to the opera! (Really? The opera? Yes, really. The opera.)
I’m trying to get stuff out as soon as possible, but video production is slow, slow, slow. At least, it is if your laptop has a habit of seizing up and your expertise is negligible. (These things are true of me.) But I’m happy to present the fruit of many hours labour today: a peek inside Manaus’ extraordinary fish market.
The benches overflow with the morning’s catch: pacu, tambaqui, bocachico and many more. Knives flash across slippery scales. Wooden stakes skewer a dozen fish at once. A merchant assembles dried rolls drawn from the giant pirarucu. And, just outside, pans sizzle with whole fish crisped up in hot, pungent oil.
You can be assured that this will be the last fish-related post from the Amazon. That is, unless I suffer an encounter a local piranha. (Assuming it’s kind enough to leave me some fingers, of course.)
If you want an even more up-to-date sense of where I am and what I’m doing, you’ll find me twittering away here: http://www.twitter.com/gallafent
By the way, for a succinct look at the way reporters at PRI’s The World work from our base in Boston, check out a post from my friend and colleague Jeb Sharp.
And, while I’m at it, The World has launched a new blog exclusively about global sports. There’s some great stuff there already, so do drop by.
A friend asks: what does the rainforest smell like?
I’ve been trying to formulate an accurate (albeit subjective) answer, but it’s a tricky one. The truth is that it doesn’t really smell of anything, or at least of anything that I can directly label ‘rainforesty’. Shower gels can be rainforesty, for sure. But actual rainforest? Not so much. Now, there are people in the world with far better noses than mine. I’m sure they’d be able to pick out a multitude of woody notes and leafy tones. And maybe that’s the point: the rainforest is such a complex ecosystem – it’s thought countless species remain undocumented – that the smell, such as it is, turns out to be a complex affair too. It’s certainly not pungent. If anything it’s the moisture that acts on your senses (that and the sound.) Humid air creeps up the nostrils, latching on to vulnerable nasal hairs. It’s as if the rainforest won’t be contained: your nose is fair game for colonization too.
One curious experience today: I observed the Confluence of the Rivers (which, to my ears, sounds a bit like observing the anniversary of a medieval peace treaty.) It’s a natural phenomenon that occurs when two major Amazonian tributaries meet before becoming the broad Amazon beyond Manaus. The first river is the Rio Negro, so-called on account of its filmy, black water. Up close it’s not really black – it’s dark and grainy, the water logged with particles released from the tree-lined riverbanks.
The second river is the Rio Solimões, which is what the Amazon river is called before it joins up with the Negro. I’m sorry – it’s a bit confusing. There are countless tributaries of the Amazon and a variety of names throughout. Perhaps there’s someone who can clarify all this. Any takers?
Yes! [updated Friday morning] Thanks to Jesse N, a Brazilian now living in the States who writes:
In Brazilian geography we are taught that the Amazon river is born in Peru under the name Ucayle. When it crosses the border into Brazil it becomes the Solimoes river and when it passes Manaus and becomes very large it is called the Amazon the rest of the way until it reaches the Atlantic ocean. Basically it is the same river with three names – don’t ask me why!
Regardless, the confluence of these rivers – the Negro and the Solimões - is interesting because they flow at different speeds. That means they don’t merge, at least not immediately. You can tell just by looking because the Rio Solimões is a light brown (’café au lait’, everyone says) in stark contrast to the Rio Negro. They don’t mix. They simply flow alongside each other, divided and united.
Jesse N adds:
One other thing, the Negro and Solimoes waters have different densities (Solimoes with more suspended particles), and different temperatures (the Negro river is a lot colder than the Solimoes.) These are also factors that keep them from mixing.
I’m here in the Brazilian Amazon for PRI’s The World and the BBC World Service. But BBC colleagues are currently in another extraordinary place: Chomolungma. Sagarmatha. Mt Everest. (The first two names are those used in Tibet and Nepal respectively.)
Here’s a neat video from Jonah Fisher, a tour of the purpose-built media center just short of Everest Base Camp. Members of the media are there to cover the next stage of the Olympic torch relay, an event that’s caused much controversy this year.
[Thursday note: the people have spoken. Trout mask replica it is and shall remain. By the way, I learn that one of the principal sources of food for your average tambaqui is fruit that falls into the river. No wonder the fleshy fellow tastes so delicious.]
Cognitive dissonance on the plate this evening. I was chomping away on barbequed tambaqui, an Amazonian river fish that sits on your table like it owns the thing. But eating it, all I could think of was trout – in particular rainbow trout, a delicate morsel happiest in the company of lemon, English new potatoes and roasted almonds. So here I am, in a fantastic roadside fish restaurant somewhere on the edges of Manaus and all I can taste is something I associate absolutely with Blighty. Don’t get me wrong, it was scrumdiddlyumptious – and far meatier than the faintly wimpy trout – but the experience was a little odd.
Nothing wimpy about Mototraxx. It’s a Chinese-owned motorcycle company here with big plans for expansion. The motorbike market is massive across South America, and the bosses say they expect growth to continue. That means there’s room for newcomers like Mototraxx, who are competing with the Japanese giants, Honda and Yamaha. But the Chinese ambition is extraordinary: I was told that Mototraxx’s plan is to export bikes from Brazil.. to countries in Africa. I think I’ve got some good moments from my trip to the factory this morning, but something important was missing. Federal customs officials are on strike, at least in some parts of the country. And that means Mototraxx’s supply of new parts has dried up. So instead of the mechanical thrum I expected to hear from a full-throated production line, there were subdued groups of workers in spotless white overalls simply sitting and waiting for the gears to start moving again. At PRI’s The World, we’re in the sound business so the absence of interesting, descriptive sound is frustrating – especially when ordinarily you’d be in the money.
So, a small disappointment there, but nothing that can’t be overcome. And whatever worry I may have felt about the sound of silence was washed away by a remarkable afternoon with some local musicians. I’m not going to give away the name of their band quite yet, but I will say that they make beautiful, gentle music with one eye on rainforest preservation. They treated me to a private performance in a small home studio – and there wasn’t a pan pipe in sight. If the good burghers of The World’s Global Hit approve, I’ll get them on the radio when I’m back in Boston.
(By the way, I seriously considered titling this post ‘trout mask replica’. Think I should’ve gone with it?)
Here’s how it goes. You get the Brazilian cellphone. You get the cellphone to work. You get the cellphone to work with Twitter back in the States. And then you go and visit somewhere where there’s absolutely no chance of anything approaching a signal. But I guess that’s what you should expect when you’re in the Amazon rainforest.
It was oddly frustrating, not being able to send something back as it was happening. Odd because a cursory glance at the history of exploration in this region tells you that this really isn’t the sort of thing one should get frustrated about. But still, so much to tell, so much to tell..
Today featured a bone fide DiCaprio-Titanic moment, planted as I was some 53 meters above the ground with the rainforest canopy laid out before me in all directions. I couldn’t claim the jungle king’s crown – we all know who that belongs to – but this was an utterly spectacular experience. The micro-meteorological tower I climbed belongs to INPA, Brazil’s National Institute for Research in the Amazon. You’ll find tower K34 in the Cuieiras Biological Reserve, some 80 km from Manaus. It’s just rainforest, doing its thing. Specifically, the tower operates as part of an international experiment to monitor and better understand the various atmospheric processes, functions and exchanges of the forest. We’re talking things like rainfall production, carbon sequestering and CO2 emissions (sorry, I don’t know how to do the sub-line ‘2′: a sub-line crisis.)
The forest operates in different ways at different heights. So towers like this one are decorated top to bottom with technological jewels, little devices to produce specific data sets at different layers. The structure itself is plain, a small square of scaffolding that extends up, up and out. Twelve metal ladders get you to the top, assisted by regiments of purposeful termites that threaten to take matters into their own hands if you don’t get a move on. By the way, it’s called K34 for the reassuringly simple reason that it’s 34 km from one of the base stations in the forest.
Up at the top, I spoke with Alessandro C. De Araujo, one of the LBA scientists. He helped build the tower almost ten years ago and has become a passionate, informed advocate for the rainforest. And, as it happens, we share a birthday. Anyway, listen out for his voice when my radio story about K34 materializes in the near future. In the meantime, buckle up for an abbreviated journey with De Araujo from the highway out of Manaus into the jungle.
Tomorrow (Wednesday) is a mixed bag. First up, a fishing trip to one of the many Chinese motorcycle companies based in Manaus. (A ‘fishing trip’ is journospeak for ‘I’m not sure if I’ll get anything good from this, but I have a hunch it’s worth the effort.) Incidentally, Harley-Davidson’s only non-US factory is in Manaus, but H-D head office in the States turned down my request for a tour/interview. Still, the Chinese manufacturers are doing well here and it’ll be interested to get a sense of the scale of their ambition.
Then, changing tack, I’m attending a concert by a group of musicians that only plays instruments made from sustainable forest resources. Speaking of which, my own resources are running low. More tomorrow, and please do comment, send questions, ask for clarifications, offer witticisms: all welcome.
I’m a long way from Boston, but not so far that I can ignore grand news from the mothership:
We have a new podcast, The World in Words. It’s a look at international affairs through the lens of language, and it’s brought to you by my colleague Patrick Cox, whose football (soccer) team got off very lucky at the weekend.
Here’s a chat with The World’s Clark Boyd about the new ‘cast.
http://www.theworld.org/mp3/twiwpromo.mp3
And here’s the first podcast itself:
http://www.theworld.org/pod/language/WIWpodcast1.mp3
Finally, here’s the feed:
http://www.theworld.org/rss/twiw.xml
Enjoy.
Just back at the hotel from my first interview of the trip. It was with Marta Cunha, Amazonas coordinator for the Pastoral Land Commission (CPT), a civil society organisation affiliated with the Catholic Church. The CPT’s history is steeped in the liberation theology that dominated South American Catholic thought in the late 60s and 70s. Faith isn’t enough, nor is good work alone, according to L.T. Work and faith must be allied to political action, specifically political action to reduce poverty and eliminate oppression. I suspect there’s a better way of putting it, so do let me know if you can improve on that.
In any case, Cunha was clear that the CPT acts independently of the Church these days. And in Amazonas, at least, its work concerns both protection of the local environment and development of the working poor. I haven’t listened back to the interview yet, but I know that it’s fairly confusing stuff. First, you’ve got differences between what happens at state and federal level (no surprise there for Americans.) Then there are the different kinds of land ‘owners’, ranging from indigenous communities through smallholders (some of whom arrived as squatters) and on to large-scale soy & cattle farmers and governments (state, federal). Add to that large-scale migration of people from the south of Brazil, many with an eye on some Amazonas land, and you get a confused picture. I can’t pretend I get it yet, not at all. I did a bunch of reading before I left, but already it feels like what I’m after is breezing through the high branches, just out of reach. We shall see, I guess.
Tomorrow I hope to see the wood from the trees, literally. Ursula and I will be up early to drive to INPA, the National Institute of Amazonian Research. From INPA HQ here in Manaus, we’ll travel just over 80km to the Cuieiras Reserve, an area of preserved rainforest. The idea is to see – and hopefully climb – one of the LBA canopy towers, shining giraffes of metal that poke up through the top of the forest. The Large Scale Biosphere-Atmosphere Experiment is an international research initiative led by Brazil - I’ll interview one of the INPA scientists working there and hopefully grab a few photos too.
Oh yes, and my luggage arrived too. Goodbye Captain Sweat-a-lot.
Finally, I just tried my first Brazilian beer, a bottle of Bohemia (est. 1853). Impartiality be damned: it was delicious.
Turns out I’m not the only US-based journalist in the Amazon. (It’s OK, I didn’t really think I was.) The NY Times’ columnist Nicholas Kristof is in Ecuador. He’s got a good piece today about an ‘Odd Couple of the Jungle‘.
Manaus 04.27.08
Today’s goals were pretty modest. Get my bearings. Get a cellphone. Get some clean clothes. But really, the day’s been all about getting online. So much of the rationale for this trip is rooted in our (read PRI’s The World’s) desire to try something new. So, as well as bringing back radio stories – the core purpose – I’m hoping to experiment with other forms. This blog; Twitter; Facebook; youtube; flickr. All of them different ways to bring anyone interested into the trip, behind-the-scenes. And all of them online.
You’ll understand, then, the rising sense of panic that swelled from my boots up through my chest and into my throbbing right temple when it became clear that the disintegration of my hotel internet connection was not to be a passing event. Turns out the network was overloaded, but until that became clear I had a phalanx of concerned and helpful hotel staffers trying to put things right. They wielded cables galore, screwdrivers aplenty – some even wore overalls. I tried to explain in phrasebook Portuguese that the connection was good last night and this morning, and that maybe all it needed was a reset. But I fear I may have suggested that the life of a baby panda depended on the restoration of online business, such was their application. Anyway, all was lost.. until I made a quick call to someone back in the States (a special someone, if you must know.) Turning back to the screen, the internet had returned. Incredible. It felt like the end of a Boston winter. I know who I’m thanking for this particular miracle.
Back to the day’s tasks. Cellphone. No luck yet, I’m afraid. I found a shop with cellphones, and I was able to communicate the idea that I ‘don’t want a contract’. But it wasn’t clear if the phone would allow international text messages, something I need if I’m to tweet out on the road. This one will have to wait until the arrival of my fixer, Ursula tomorrow. She’s flying in from Rio late tonight.
At about the same time my bag should be on its way from Miami. My managing editor in Boston, Rob, asks if any recording gear is in that bag. It isn’t. I took all that stuff in my hand luggage. But there’s so much of it there wasn’t room for any spare clothes. Today I found some socks and a cheap t-shirt at the mall attached to my hotel, so I’m halfway decent. By the way, this hotel/mall matrix is familiar to me already. It’s got a very similar feel to the place I stayed in Dubai a year and a half ago. Here’s a link to that series, called Desert City.
So, I’m getting my bearings, but hardly in the what’s-Manaus-like sense. Bear with me and I’ll get there, hopefully tomorrow. Internet allowing.
Manaus 04.27.08 / 02:43am
I’m so close. Coming in to land at Manaus – a couple of hours ago – it was a game of ‘imagine the rainforest’. I knew in advance that the Miami-Manaus flight arrives past midnight, so I wasn’t expecting to see anything except lights. Still, it was tantalizing, banking to the left and glimpsing a shimmer of water. And those lights were active somehow, especially the ones in small groupings, before the city proper. Were those lights picking a way through the forest canopy? Were they outposts of indigenous peoples, sticking close to the business of Manaus? Or was the flickering nothing more than flickering, the kind of regular lights that you’ll see whenever you land at a city of about two million people?
Maybe the Amazon has that kind of effect on visitors; even before I’ve seen it, I’ve seen it a thousand times. It has an imaginative force that’s hard to deny, even when all you’re doing is landing in the darkness. I think it’s something I’m going to have to be careful about. It won’t be enough to wax lyrical about the scale of the Amazon, the grandeur of it all – although I won’t be able to resist doing some of that. There will have to be something more – some bones under the flesh – to make that dreamforest concrete.
In any case, if you’ve got your head in the clouds there’s nothing like the purgatory of the airport luggage conveyor belt to bring you down to earth. (Take a look at Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel for a dose of airport erudition.) ‘Have I been good enough to earn my bag?’, I fret, wilting in the heat. No, comes the answer, in the form of a list of passengers whose bags remain in Miami. My luggage, it seems, is staying for another mojito.
