It's a shame that our friends in Cameroon are going to have to suffer for the mistakes of their Nigerian brethren, but that is what happens when trends go viral, even those which have been exposed, pilloried, and revealed.
But yet they continue.
Which begs the question, are they successful, or ar they being scammed by others?
If interested, feel free to conact dear Ms. Veronica Camara at vero2camara@yahoo.com. I'm sure she would appreciate hearing from you. Sorry, no photos.
Dearest one,
Greetings !
I know this letter may come to you as a surprise considering the fact that we have not had formal acquitance before in terms of friendship or business partner but all the same, I would want you for God's sake to give this an immediate attention in view of the fact that the security of my live and possession is at stake. I want you to be my partner as I can agree for you to take possesion of these treasure under my name,
I am Miss.Veronica Jallo Camara,single, the daugther of a late Camara Santo Jallo,Managing Director,Jallo & Sons Mining & Gold Company, / Guinea Conakry, Who died recently due to political clashes. I and my mother left the country for Dakar,Senegal to avoid being killed as political instability is still in place due to military coup detat.
I am also to inform you that my late father had lodged the sum of (US$8. M and gold worth millions of Dollars in the bank.I am pleased to inform you that these money was realised from the gold and mining export and import from my late father's company.I shall be very greatful if you would kindly help me to relocate these funds to your position as well as my humble self to your country where I can begin a new life.
I will accept any condition you may come up with in this direction.You are also free to come down here as you will be very free to meet with me. Awaiting your reply very soon. Greeting and kiss from
Veronica Santo Camara
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
blogspatical
yeah, it's been some time. but don't worry. it's like riding a bike. not that i know anything about that, mind you. but i'll be back with some bon mot shortly. you expect as much, i'm sure. perhaps something travel related. would that work for you?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Reflections from a mountain state
Go west, young man
Horace Greeley popularized this line, first documented a generation before Greeley made it his mantra, and helped to define America’s 19th century spirit and growth.
Sure, it can be interpreted to be a number of things, but for me, it distills down to enjoying the splendor and natural beauty of our vast mountain ranges, still somewhat clear skies and air, and of course crisp water and expansive space and scale.
Though I’ve only driven cross-country but once, I have been able to find myself out in the mountain west on a regular basis.
And right now, I’m in Salt Lake City, fretting over a spring snow, frustrated by my unerring ability to catch winter weather several times over, while not getting to enjoy the benefits that come from sudden snow and fresh powder.
But it provides time to reflect, and consider the openness that exists in these regions, the trust and faith that seems to endure, and the grandness that forever reminds me why people keep turning west for recreation and relaxation.
Salt Lake City itself is a quintessential western city. Set up on wide blocks, with 8 city blocks to the mile, it’s not designed as an urbanist mecca, with too great a distance to walk between places, and too much sprawl to encourage all but the hardiest bikers. (and those folks exist. Even amidst a strong snow last night, there were a pair of riders, with their bikes, in a local grocery store picking up items for dinner)
The city feels a bit dated, perhaps having as much to do with the traditionalism of the Mormon community as anything else. But the architecture adds to this as well. Sure, there are a handful of new and modern projects under construction right near South Temple, but most of the high rises scream 70’s and the ugly phase of modernism. Buried beneath, and documented nicely with placards and other memorials, are the buildings that helped launch this city in the 19th and early 20th century, from classically designed hotels, to social houses, to banks and trading institutions.
The city of course is home to the complex of buildings and facilities run by the LDS, and that still does seem, to a visitor, to be the predominant element here.
But there is more, for those who wish to press further, from the University of Utah up on the hill, the magnificent State Capitol building to the north, the city-county building in the city center, as well as some other complexes that have sprouted up to support and sustain professional sports and entertainment, facilities that had central roles during the 2002 Winter Olympic Games, and some public plazas that really do seem to have come out of the Disney school of architecture and urban planning. Oh, Michael Graves, what have you done to us.
But despite the tranquil appearance, this is still a city, with the problems and issues that come with urban life. While spending time yesterday in the Moshe Sofdie designed public library, I sensed a flash go off in front of me. It seemed odd to see flash photography in the library. Looking up I saw a cop standing near the photographer, and upon second glance I notice the photographer was also in a police uniform, with CRIME SCENE PHOTOGRAPHER clearly marked across her back. So something was amiss in a place some once considered Eden, and judging by the number of marked and unmarked units outside the library, it was something significant.
And it’s a city with a remarkable view of the fantastic Wasatch range, a unique lake, and vistas that run for miles and miles.
Off to talk with students about journalism and media. Perhaps I’ll come up with a way to provide them with inspiration beyond that provided by nature. Naah, not gonna compete with that one!
Horace Greeley popularized this line, first documented a generation before Greeley made it his mantra, and helped to define America’s 19th century spirit and growth.
Sure, it can be interpreted to be a number of things, but for me, it distills down to enjoying the splendor and natural beauty of our vast mountain ranges, still somewhat clear skies and air, and of course crisp water and expansive space and scale.
Though I’ve only driven cross-country but once, I have been able to find myself out in the mountain west on a regular basis.
And right now, I’m in Salt Lake City, fretting over a spring snow, frustrated by my unerring ability to catch winter weather several times over, while not getting to enjoy the benefits that come from sudden snow and fresh powder.
But it provides time to reflect, and consider the openness that exists in these regions, the trust and faith that seems to endure, and the grandness that forever reminds me why people keep turning west for recreation and relaxation.
Salt Lake City itself is a quintessential western city. Set up on wide blocks, with 8 city blocks to the mile, it’s not designed as an urbanist mecca, with too great a distance to walk between places, and too much sprawl to encourage all but the hardiest bikers. (and those folks exist. Even amidst a strong snow last night, there were a pair of riders, with their bikes, in a local grocery store picking up items for dinner)
The city feels a bit dated, perhaps having as much to do with the traditionalism of the Mormon community as anything else. But the architecture adds to this as well. Sure, there are a handful of new and modern projects under construction right near South Temple, but most of the high rises scream 70’s and the ugly phase of modernism. Buried beneath, and documented nicely with placards and other memorials, are the buildings that helped launch this city in the 19th and early 20th century, from classically designed hotels, to social houses, to banks and trading institutions.
The city of course is home to the complex of buildings and facilities run by the LDS, and that still does seem, to a visitor, to be the predominant element here.
But there is more, for those who wish to press further, from the University of Utah up on the hill, the magnificent State Capitol building to the north, the city-county building in the city center, as well as some other complexes that have sprouted up to support and sustain professional sports and entertainment, facilities that had central roles during the 2002 Winter Olympic Games, and some public plazas that really do seem to have come out of the Disney school of architecture and urban planning. Oh, Michael Graves, what have you done to us.
But despite the tranquil appearance, this is still a city, with the problems and issues that come with urban life. While spending time yesterday in the Moshe Sofdie designed public library, I sensed a flash go off in front of me. It seemed odd to see flash photography in the library. Looking up I saw a cop standing near the photographer, and upon second glance I notice the photographer was also in a police uniform, with CRIME SCENE PHOTOGRAPHER clearly marked across her back. So something was amiss in a place some once considered Eden, and judging by the number of marked and unmarked units outside the library, it was something significant.
And it’s a city with a remarkable view of the fantastic Wasatch range, a unique lake, and vistas that run for miles and miles.
Off to talk with students about journalism and media. Perhaps I’ll come up with a way to provide them with inspiration beyond that provided by nature. Naah, not gonna compete with that one!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Still travelling.......
The saga continues (isn’t it supposed to)
Connecting through Chicago O’Hare in the winter is always an iffy proposition. I have successfully avoided having to do so for many years.
That streak recently came to an end in January.
Last evening, thought it is technically spring, I was reminded that it’s not just snow or rain that can hinder winter travelers through the second city, but yet another meteorological phenomenon. One that the city works to live down, even as generations of tourists play it up.
The phenomenon: wind.
Yes, the windy city is in fact windy at times.
So windy in fact that a connecting flight through O’Hare from Colorado Springs was forced to fly a holding pattern for 55 minutes over some part of that part of the United States that certainly today was flyover country.
And that’s where the story begins.
Dutiful flight attendants on the incoming flight to O’Hare cheerfully told all of us on the RJ-70 where our connecting flights would be gated. That was nice. It was civil. And it was helpful.
But it wasn’t quite accurate, as our flight arrived 65 minutes late, putting a great many of these connecting flights into a category that could best be described as illusory. But in their best impression of Julie Haggerty, they carried forward, and smiled. No waving, just a lot of smiling, and joking. But no assistance with re-connections.
This being a regional jet, rollerboards are not allowed as carry on. So along with a contingent of frequent fliers, I exited the plane, only to wait on the entryway for my bag. And wait I did. For what seemed like an interminable amount of time. And after waiting a few extra minutes to deplane, coming after what appeared to be the longest taxiing trip on the tarmac, even coasting by my scheduled connection to Washington, this was all insufferable.
And I’ll avoid mentioning that it was freezing in Chicago, the gangway was packed with more middle aged white guys looking for bags than at spring training for the Cubs fans, and the wind was coursing through the metal canister in which we were waiting. Yeah, I’ll avoid that, and the heavy steel door that would slam shut like a prison gate each time an airport employee would access the area.
Once my bag made it’s appearance, it became a race to the inevitable, a rush for justice, or really just me trying to make a plane that was inexplicably sitting at a nearby gate 10 minutes after it’s scheduled departure.
Of course there were no gate attendants at the end of the jetway. That would be too much to ask for a flight arriving at O’Hare an hour late in the early evening.
And the departure board nearby was fuzzy, with a digital hit on some of the screens. Naturally, my screen was one of them. But I was able to make out a sign, not the ON TIME sign that was aside a number of scheduled departures. Alongside my flight 624 was a second time, one that I couldn’t completely make out, but one that suggested there was still a chance of this connection working, and thus my avoiding the plane change limbo that would follow.
So off I went. From the ‘E’ wing of O’Hare all the way around to ‘B’ wing, B10 actually, which was quite a distance. I didn’t set my stopwatch, and didn’t stop to catch any of the usually amusing anecdotal images that I find in our airports. And for once, for just this time, speed, consistency, a good set of polyurethane wheels, and a loud voice, all helped to turn an impending disaster into a moment of triumph.
The headline: Good guy wins! Connection Made! No sweat broken! Well, that may be tmi, but I can assure you, my seatmate was happy with that point.
So I made the plane, but only after seeing the gate attendant closing the door. Yelling out to him as I turned the corner, he hesitated, took my ticket, and let me finish my journey across our wide continent.
As for windy, this note might contain too much wind itself. But it’s a fitting coda to the affect that the invisible hand of nature can have on our traveling plans. Plan accordingly, and be prepared to jettison those plans if necessary.
Connecting through Chicago O’Hare in the winter is always an iffy proposition. I have successfully avoided having to do so for many years.
That streak recently came to an end in January.
Last evening, thought it is technically spring, I was reminded that it’s not just snow or rain that can hinder winter travelers through the second city, but yet another meteorological phenomenon. One that the city works to live down, even as generations of tourists play it up.
The phenomenon: wind.
Yes, the windy city is in fact windy at times.
So windy in fact that a connecting flight through O’Hare from Colorado Springs was forced to fly a holding pattern for 55 minutes over some part of that part of the United States that certainly today was flyover country.
And that’s where the story begins.
Dutiful flight attendants on the incoming flight to O’Hare cheerfully told all of us on the RJ-70 where our connecting flights would be gated. That was nice. It was civil. And it was helpful.
But it wasn’t quite accurate, as our flight arrived 65 minutes late, putting a great many of these connecting flights into a category that could best be described as illusory. But in their best impression of Julie Haggerty, they carried forward, and smiled. No waving, just a lot of smiling, and joking. But no assistance with re-connections.
This being a regional jet, rollerboards are not allowed as carry on. So along with a contingent of frequent fliers, I exited the plane, only to wait on the entryway for my bag. And wait I did. For what seemed like an interminable amount of time. And after waiting a few extra minutes to deplane, coming after what appeared to be the longest taxiing trip on the tarmac, even coasting by my scheduled connection to Washington, this was all insufferable.
And I’ll avoid mentioning that it was freezing in Chicago, the gangway was packed with more middle aged white guys looking for bags than at spring training for the Cubs fans, and the wind was coursing through the metal canister in which we were waiting. Yeah, I’ll avoid that, and the heavy steel door that would slam shut like a prison gate each time an airport employee would access the area.
Once my bag made it’s appearance, it became a race to the inevitable, a rush for justice, or really just me trying to make a plane that was inexplicably sitting at a nearby gate 10 minutes after it’s scheduled departure.
Of course there were no gate attendants at the end of the jetway. That would be too much to ask for a flight arriving at O’Hare an hour late in the early evening.
And the departure board nearby was fuzzy, with a digital hit on some of the screens. Naturally, my screen was one of them. But I was able to make out a sign, not the ON TIME sign that was aside a number of scheduled departures. Alongside my flight 624 was a second time, one that I couldn’t completely make out, but one that suggested there was still a chance of this connection working, and thus my avoiding the plane change limbo that would follow.
So off I went. From the ‘E’ wing of O’Hare all the way around to ‘B’ wing, B10 actually, which was quite a distance. I didn’t set my stopwatch, and didn’t stop to catch any of the usually amusing anecdotal images that I find in our airports. And for once, for just this time, speed, consistency, a good set of polyurethane wheels, and a loud voice, all helped to turn an impending disaster into a moment of triumph.
The headline: Good guy wins! Connection Made! No sweat broken! Well, that may be tmi, but I can assure you, my seatmate was happy with that point.
So I made the plane, but only after seeing the gate attendant closing the door. Yelling out to him as I turned the corner, he hesitated, took my ticket, and let me finish my journey across our wide continent.
As for windy, this note might contain too much wind itself. But it’s a fitting coda to the affect that the invisible hand of nature can have on our traveling plans. Plan accordingly, and be prepared to jettison those plans if necessary.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Airport observations
People are larger in Chicago than in other cities.
Not necessarily in the city, but certainly in the airport. Not sure if they added girth to protect themselves as they hustle through terminals en route to another destination. Not sure if the center of the United States can bear more weight than the fragile coasts, east and west. Not sure if it’s March, and the masses need the mass to survive what have been described as a frigid winter.
Or is it just that we’ve grown as a people. Grown horizontally, that is. Yes, over the course of our American history, we have grown in size and weight. Both for men and for women. The average man weighs a bit more than in the time of Washington and Jefferson, and the average woman as well. We’re also a bit taller, 5’9” inches for men, and 5’3” inches for women, each about 2 ½ inches more than our colonial era ancestors.
And that’s good. It speaks to opportunities for healthier living, an easier life, and the wider availability of foods and medicines that both nurture and heal.
But there’s a flip side to our growth, and my friends in public health are both aware, and come across the side effects quite often.
We’ve gotten HUGE. I think this is my first airport trip since director Kevin Smith’s well publicized tiff with Southwest Airlines over his removal from a flight due to his size. And already I’ve seen a few folks who might wish to take Kevin on, in sumo.
What has happened to us? How did we allow this to happen? Is it ironic, or just smart politics, that the First Lady, herself a Chicago native, has recently called for a full frontal assault on childhood obesity. And will we do anything about this, both individually, and collectively?
At 2:45 this afternoon, several pubs at O’Hare are packed, empty glasses and beer bottles left on tables in front of patrons like pawn pieces from an abandoned chess game. The healthier food kiosks are not heavily trafficked. The mother sitting near me is feeding her five year old a McDonald’s Happy Meal. Even with the great distances one needs to travel to access connecting flights at O’Hare, it seems as though the desire for fitness and health succumbs to the desire to sate and numb.
And plopping down next to her, well, near her, really, is a seriously obese man who I hope doesn’t have a heart attack right here in the terminal. This guy has to be tipping the scales at 400, and more resembles an oompa loompa in chinos than anything else I can imagine.
What has become of us? And what will become of us if we continue on this path? It's as though consumerism, in the form of health and food consumption, has just run amuck.
But I’m not a businessperson, or a marketing maven. Just an observer. And if I could only see what was ahead of me, ahead of the large family shielding my view from the departure board, then I would know the likelihood of making my connection. The one to a room with no view. But that’s for another time, and another post.
People are larger in Chicago than in other cities.
Not necessarily in the city, but certainly in the airport. Not sure if they added girth to protect themselves as they hustle through terminals en route to another destination. Not sure if the center of the United States can bear more weight than the fragile coasts, east and west. Not sure if it’s March, and the masses need the mass to survive what have been described as a frigid winter.
Or is it just that we’ve grown as a people. Grown horizontally, that is. Yes, over the course of our American history, we have grown in size and weight. Both for men and for women. The average man weighs a bit more than in the time of Washington and Jefferson, and the average woman as well. We’re also a bit taller, 5’9” inches for men, and 5’3” inches for women, each about 2 ½ inches more than our colonial era ancestors.
And that’s good. It speaks to opportunities for healthier living, an easier life, and the wider availability of foods and medicines that both nurture and heal.
But there’s a flip side to our growth, and my friends in public health are both aware, and come across the side effects quite often.
We’ve gotten HUGE. I think this is my first airport trip since director Kevin Smith’s well publicized tiff with Southwest Airlines over his removal from a flight due to his size. And already I’ve seen a few folks who might wish to take Kevin on, in sumo.
What has happened to us? How did we allow this to happen? Is it ironic, or just smart politics, that the First Lady, herself a Chicago native, has recently called for a full frontal assault on childhood obesity. And will we do anything about this, both individually, and collectively?
At 2:45 this afternoon, several pubs at O’Hare are packed, empty glasses and beer bottles left on tables in front of patrons like pawn pieces from an abandoned chess game. The healthier food kiosks are not heavily trafficked. The mother sitting near me is feeding her five year old a McDonald’s Happy Meal. Even with the great distances one needs to travel to access connecting flights at O’Hare, it seems as though the desire for fitness and health succumbs to the desire to sate and numb.
And plopping down next to her, well, near her, really, is a seriously obese man who I hope doesn’t have a heart attack right here in the terminal. This guy has to be tipping the scales at 400, and more resembles an oompa loompa in chinos than anything else I can imagine.
What has become of us? And what will become of us if we continue on this path? It's as though consumerism, in the form of health and food consumption, has just run amuck.
But I’m not a businessperson, or a marketing maven. Just an observer. And if I could only see what was ahead of me, ahead of the large family shielding my view from the departure board, then I would know the likelihood of making my connection. The one to a room with no view. But that’s for another time, and another post.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
all is not forgotten
It might appear that it's been awhile. But it's not. That's just a state of mind. I'll be back. It's more like I've never left. There's time with new best friends from Germany, and travel, and writing, and coaching and prodding. And a little bit of living. And planning. And re-booking that which has been dropped, or canceled, or even neglected. But back I will be, even though I've never left.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Olympic Spirit
We're halfway through the Vancouver Games, and this is certainly one Olympics that has met the hype.
There have been stellar performances by many American athletes, great competition in several of the skills events, particularly short track speed skating. As well as some fantastic visuals from the mountains of jumping and ski-cross and all the boarding competitions.
Frankly, I'm still trying to figure out how Shaun White reached the heights he did, literally, or how Lindsay Vonn powered down the mountain with her injury, or how Bode Miller suppressed his own demons to become a great winner at these Games.
Other than NBC's boneheaded decision to relegate the USA/Canada hockey game to an off-brand and non-HD on my system MSNBC, it's all been good. Costas keeps it going. Michaels is palatable. And Mary Carillo really has some chops.
Hoping this week's coverage continues to be engaging. I know I'll be watching, and scoring the athletes from home.
But don't expect ESPN to buy into any of this. Try and find the Olympics on the main page. I dare you. To them, it's an afterthought. Which tells you a lot about how the worldwide leader treats events to which they don't have the rights. Lovely. And all business. Keep that in mind next time someone tries to hype you on the X-Games, bro.
There have been stellar performances by many American athletes, great competition in several of the skills events, particularly short track speed skating. As well as some fantastic visuals from the mountains of jumping and ski-cross and all the boarding competitions.
Frankly, I'm still trying to figure out how Shaun White reached the heights he did, literally, or how Lindsay Vonn powered down the mountain with her injury, or how Bode Miller suppressed his own demons to become a great winner at these Games.
Other than NBC's boneheaded decision to relegate the USA/Canada hockey game to an off-brand and non-HD on my system MSNBC, it's all been good. Costas keeps it going. Michaels is palatable. And Mary Carillo really has some chops.
Hoping this week's coverage continues to be engaging. I know I'll be watching, and scoring the athletes from home.
But don't expect ESPN to buy into any of this. Try and find the Olympics on the main page. I dare you. To them, it's an afterthought. Which tells you a lot about how the worldwide leader treats events to which they don't have the rights. Lovely. And all business. Keep that in mind next time someone tries to hype you on the X-Games, bro.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
