The view from my office is great, but sometimes strange. My colleagues and I have a discreet vantage point of all of the demonstrations on Reforma, the aptly named street popular in Mexico City for protests of all types.
Being a pedestrian in this city is not easy. I personally don't take unnecessary risks when crossing the street, not only because I am short and am afraid people may not see me, but because drivers here are truly aggressive and ruthless.
Today my office mates and I had a bird's eye view of a man in a suit and tie getting smashed by a truck as he tried to dodge through the cars on Reforma. Police officers tossed a jacket over his head and directed traffic around his body. (I didn't stick around to watch, but apparently he seemed to be showing signs of life when they took him away in the ambulance).
Less than two hours later, as our building was being rocked by norteño music being blasted from the street, I looked down again to see protesters bouncing around on the same spot, having closed the street to demand something or other for Baja California. You could still see the bloodstains.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Sunday, November 09, 2008
An article on my granddad...
WCMessenger.com News Headlines
A day to honor
Brown honored to serve his country
By Travis Measley | Published Sunday, November 9, 2008
Decatur resident and World War II Army veteran Don Brown is 94 years old, but his mind and memory are still as sharp as tacks. Storming the beaches of Normandy a day after D-day and serving under General George Patton in 1944 are memories one does not easily forget.
Brown's first taste of what war-life was like came in 1918 when he was only 4 years old, living in Decatur. On Nov. 11, 1918, Brown and his mother joined a large crowd in the Decatur town square to celebrate Armistice Day, the end of World War I. Twenty-four years later, Brown, a graduate of Texas A&M University, found himself in Georgia for officer training in preparation for the United States' involvement in World War II. Two years later, in 1944, 2nd. Lt. Brown was thrown full tilt into the European campaign.
"When we got over there, the officers met with Gen. Patton, just like in the movie," Brown said with a laugh. "That rascal, he got right up there in front of that big flag and gave us the motivational speech and then we were off."
On June 7, 1944, the day after the initial landing at Normandy, Brown and his company hit the beaches of northern France. During that first tour, a bullet lodged in his arm, and Brown was forced to leave his company for medical attention.
"The bullet went into my forearm and down to my wrist and just kind of stayed there," he said. "It didn't really impede me or anything, but many soldiers back then were dying from infection and that's what really worried me."
After receiving treatment in England for a few months, Brown returned to find that only nine or 10 of the 200 men in his company were left alive.
"That was one of the realities of being Army infantry back then - you fought until you were either dead, wounded or the war was over," Brown said. "I lost 70 or 80 of my best friends over that, and that is something that really wears on you."
Brown was one of the lucky ones in the European campaign. He suffered only one other major injury - fragments from an artillery shell - with little or no residual physical effects. Mental trauma, however, is another story.
"Returning home was OK," Brown said, joking that his daughter was born nine months and 15 minutes later, "but I was really shaken up for years afterward. When you spend all that time in the trenches, sleeping so little, seeing men die, you become extremely paranoid. For years afterwards I would get severe anxiety attacks in big crowds. A lot of men don't like to talk about what they went through, but I do."
Brown spent most of his post-war life in Dallas, working for Lone Star Gas. He was married twice and has a daughter, Linda, and two step-daughters. A few months ago he moved into Governor's Ridge assisted living home. The walls of his room are decorated with pictures of his wives - both were named Ruth - medals from the war, including two Purple Hearts, and the bullet the doctors removed from his arm.
"You know, when I look back on it, it was just something that happened," he said. "We all had jobs to do, and we did them. I'm just happy I survived. It was an honor to serve my country, and it saddens me to see the troops now not getting the support they deserve."
A day to honor
Brown honored to serve his country
By Travis Measley | Published Sunday, November 9, 2008
Decatur resident and World War II Army veteran Don Brown is 94 years old, but his mind and memory are still as sharp as tacks. Storming the beaches of Normandy a day after D-day and serving under General George Patton in 1944 are memories one does not easily forget.
Brown's first taste of what war-life was like came in 1918 when he was only 4 years old, living in Decatur. On Nov. 11, 1918, Brown and his mother joined a large crowd in the Decatur town square to celebrate Armistice Day, the end of World War I. Twenty-four years later, Brown, a graduate of Texas A&M University, found himself in Georgia for officer training in preparation for the United States' involvement in World War II. Two years later, in 1944, 2nd. Lt. Brown was thrown full tilt into the European campaign.
"When we got over there, the officers met with Gen. Patton, just like in the movie," Brown said with a laugh. "That rascal, he got right up there in front of that big flag and gave us the motivational speech and then we were off."
On June 7, 1944, the day after the initial landing at Normandy, Brown and his company hit the beaches of northern France. During that first tour, a bullet lodged in his arm, and Brown was forced to leave his company for medical attention.
"The bullet went into my forearm and down to my wrist and just kind of stayed there," he said. "It didn't really impede me or anything, but many soldiers back then were dying from infection and that's what really worried me."
After receiving treatment in England for a few months, Brown returned to find that only nine or 10 of the 200 men in his company were left alive.
"That was one of the realities of being Army infantry back then - you fought until you were either dead, wounded or the war was over," Brown said. "I lost 70 or 80 of my best friends over that, and that is something that really wears on you."
Brown was one of the lucky ones in the European campaign. He suffered only one other major injury - fragments from an artillery shell - with little or no residual physical effects. Mental trauma, however, is another story.
"Returning home was OK," Brown said, joking that his daughter was born nine months and 15 minutes later, "but I was really shaken up for years afterward. When you spend all that time in the trenches, sleeping so little, seeing men die, you become extremely paranoid. For years afterwards I would get severe anxiety attacks in big crowds. A lot of men don't like to talk about what they went through, but I do."
Brown spent most of his post-war life in Dallas, working for Lone Star Gas. He was married twice and has a daughter, Linda, and two step-daughters. A few months ago he moved into Governor's Ridge assisted living home. The walls of his room are decorated with pictures of his wives - both were named Ruth - medals from the war, including two Purple Hearts, and the bullet the doctors removed from his arm.
"You know, when I look back on it, it was just something that happened," he said. "We all had jobs to do, and we did them. I'm just happy I survived. It was an honor to serve my country, and it saddens me to see the troops now not getting the support they deserve."
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Local news
The international news channels are 100% election coverage tonight, but all of the local news here in Mexico City is focused on the dramatic crash this evening of a private jet into one of the busiest intersections in Mexico City. To make things more dramatic, the plane was carrying Mexico's Interior Secretary (a key player in the war on drugs), and the crash occurred during peak rush hour traffic. The news shows dozens of tangled cars engulfed in flames and an endless parking lot of traffic.
I am sure conspiracy theories will abound about drug cartels and terrorism, but I can't imagine how a jet crash into rush hour traffic could be orchestrated.
I am sure conspiracy theories will abound about drug cartels and terrorism, but I can't imagine how a jet crash into rush hour traffic could be orchestrated.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Why does everyone want to be a strong man?
Russia just tested successfully a long-range missile and is apparently increasing its nuclear arsenal as part of a "grandiose plan" to beef up the country's defenses. My question is: what happened to the euphoria of the nineties and the voluntary mutual reduction of nuclear missiles? We all knew about Putin's penchant for the good ole days and perhaps suspected that the U.S. and NATO hadn't really taken Russian opinion seriously enough on several important military developments, but who would have thought that Russia would so comfortably seek to increase its number of enemies?
In Russia, the west is quickly losing an important ally-- and Russia seems keen on and surprisingly smug about regressing to its former role as a feared enemy of the west (even seeking support from a ragtag list of anti-Western countries to recognize the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia).
Looking at the other side of the coin, perhaps the U.S. and Europe are better (or at least more predictable) enemies than Iran and Syria. By so openly posturing to be the head of the anti-West pack, Russia can perhaps try to ensure that it will not fall victim to more attacks on its own territory by those most dangerous and unpredictable suicide bombers (God knows Russia needs all of the help it can get to win Muslims over after the long list of egregious human rights violations it committed in Chechnya and the Northern Caucasus). Or perhaps Russia just wants to be head of something-- even a ragtag bunch of nuke-hungry West haters.
Is it naive to think that transparent and rational cooperation can be mutually beneficial?
In Russia, the west is quickly losing an important ally-- and Russia seems keen on and surprisingly smug about regressing to its former role as a feared enemy of the west (even seeking support from a ragtag list of anti-Western countries to recognize the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia).
Looking at the other side of the coin, perhaps the U.S. and Europe are better (or at least more predictable) enemies than Iran and Syria. By so openly posturing to be the head of the anti-West pack, Russia can perhaps try to ensure that it will not fall victim to more attacks on its own territory by those most dangerous and unpredictable suicide bombers (God knows Russia needs all of the help it can get to win Muslims over after the long list of egregious human rights violations it committed in Chechnya and the Northern Caucasus). Or perhaps Russia just wants to be head of something-- even a ragtag bunch of nuke-hungry West haters.
Is it naive to think that transparent and rational cooperation can be mutually beneficial?
Friday, August 22, 2008
Todos tienen su camino
Somehow I biked over 700 km in less than 10 days and am now jet lagged and chapped lipped in the airport in Atlanta, waiting for the second leg of my flight to Mexico City.
Just a bit of background: the road to Santiago de Compostela is a pilgrimage for both Catholics and those just wanting a physical challenge. There are many roads, but the most popular is the "Camino Francés," which begins on the French side of the Pyrenees. The most common way to do the camino is by hiking it, but biking and riding a horse is also acceptable. I even saw one guy trying it on a unicycle. At the end, those who have traveled more than 100 km by foot or more than 200 km by bike receive a "Compostela," or an official document that certifies the completion of the journey. One has to obtain a pilgrim's credential, a document somewhat like a passport, in a church prior to the journey. As you travel down the road, you get the credential stamped by churches, albergues or restaurants along the way to prove that you were there. The vast majority of the pilgrims were Spanish, Italian or French. I learned about the journey in college and have been wanting to do it ever since.
Because of limited vacation time, my boyfriend and I decided to bike it, and started in Pamplona. The schedule generally involved getting on the bike by 7am and getting off again at 8pm, with a few short breaks throughout the day. I have never felt the primal need to eat and sleep so strongly as on this journey. The eating part was generally great-- even (and perhaps especially) in the tiniest villages, the food and wine was amazing. The sleeping part was more difficult. True pilgrims generally stay in "albergues," which are cheap (3 to 7 euros per night) and very simplistic living quarters that range from semi-private spaces to large rooms with rows of bunk beds or floors of local gyms. Luckily, I never had to sleep on the floor of a gym. I did, however, have to learn to cope with the varied sounds and smells of other people sleeping (I used earplugs and buried myself deep inside my sleeping bag each night).
The most challenging parts of the journey were physical, though it was also humbling to realize that there is always someone else who is faster or stronger, and that the instinct to stay ahead or be the first to finish is entirely irrelevant. No two paths, nor the motivations that drive them, are alike.
Just a bit of background: the road to Santiago de Compostela is a pilgrimage for both Catholics and those just wanting a physical challenge. There are many roads, but the most popular is the "Camino Francés," which begins on the French side of the Pyrenees. The most common way to do the camino is by hiking it, but biking and riding a horse is also acceptable. I even saw one guy trying it on a unicycle. At the end, those who have traveled more than 100 km by foot or more than 200 km by bike receive a "Compostela," or an official document that certifies the completion of the journey. One has to obtain a pilgrim's credential, a document somewhat like a passport, in a church prior to the journey. As you travel down the road, you get the credential stamped by churches, albergues or restaurants along the way to prove that you were there. The vast majority of the pilgrims were Spanish, Italian or French. I learned about the journey in college and have been wanting to do it ever since.
Because of limited vacation time, my boyfriend and I decided to bike it, and started in Pamplona. The schedule generally involved getting on the bike by 7am and getting off again at 8pm, with a few short breaks throughout the day. I have never felt the primal need to eat and sleep so strongly as on this journey. The eating part was generally great-- even (and perhaps especially) in the tiniest villages, the food and wine was amazing. The sleeping part was more difficult. True pilgrims generally stay in "albergues," which are cheap (3 to 7 euros per night) and very simplistic living quarters that range from semi-private spaces to large rooms with rows of bunk beds or floors of local gyms. Luckily, I never had to sleep on the floor of a gym. I did, however, have to learn to cope with the varied sounds and smells of other people sleeping (I used earplugs and buried myself deep inside my sleeping bag each night).
The most challenging parts of the journey were physical, though it was also humbling to realize that there is always someone else who is faster or stronger, and that the instinct to stay ahead or be the first to finish is entirely irrelevant. No two paths, nor the motivations that drive them, are alike.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Halfway there
I am currently at the Viatoris Hostal Sahagún, about halfway to Santiago de Compostela. Having biked more than 350 km since Monday, my muscles are strangely used to soreness and my nose has a permanent sunburn. I won't talk about my rear end, but I am definitely thankful for my genetics.
I am overwhelmed with the friendliness and kindness of both the locals and the other pilgrims. I am also overwhelmed with the timelessness and beauty of the many small towns and landscapes I have cycled through. Last night I stayed in a little town called Hontanas and experienced an amazing sunset and a multitude of bunny rabbits and fat partriges hopping down the trail on the way towards Monasterio San Antón this morning. Riding through the vinyards of the Rioja (and drinking the cheap wines that are served instead of water with dinner) was also amazing...
I have decided to dedicate this pilgrimage to Georgia since the country and my friends there have been constantly in my thoughts since I began...
I am overwhelmed with the friendliness and kindness of both the locals and the other pilgrims. I am also overwhelmed with the timelessness and beauty of the many small towns and landscapes I have cycled through. Last night I stayed in a little town called Hontanas and experienced an amazing sunset and a multitude of bunny rabbits and fat partriges hopping down the trail on the way towards Monasterio San Antón this morning. Riding through the vinyards of the Rioja (and drinking the cheap wines that are served instead of water with dinner) was also amazing...
I have decided to dedicate this pilgrimage to Georgia since the country and my friends there have been constantly in my thoughts since I began...
Monday, August 11, 2008
Pamplona
I am currently in Pamplona, about to head east on a bicycle towards Santiago de Compostela. Pamplona post-Feria de San Fermin is quite calm, though I can visualize perfectly the great parties here. I never realized Hemmingway's significance in making Pamplona's running of the bulls an internationally recognized phenomenon...
I am still nervous about the situation in Georgia. While I think military involvement would not be prudent because of the high stakes (it could quickly escalate and go beyond Georgia), there should be a very strong diplomatic front.
I am still nervous about the situation in Georgia. While I think military involvement would not be prudent because of the high stakes (it could quickly escalate and go beyond Georgia), there should be a very strong diplomatic front.
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