Unguided Blog

Are You Lucky?

Unguided — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 12:13:43 +0000

There are few authors who can tackle the issue of coincidence or luck if you will, more striking than Paul Auster. In almost all of his novels the element of chance is ever present. But is it not the same in real life, too? You are born in one place and find all the good things, change the place of your birth to a few hundred kilometers to any direction and you are in deep shit.

Greenpeace had an amazing photo story about e-waste, titled Scraplife: E-waste in Pakistan, written and photographed by Robert Knoth. In June 2008 Greenpeace tracked a shipment of e-waste from Europe to its final resting place - Pakistan. This is the story of what happens to that e-waste and the people it affects. You might want to see and read what happens to those who are less fortunate than you are and take action to tell Philips to take back and recycle. You could have been born there.

Long Gone to Find a Craptastic Government

Unguided — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 12:10:04 +0000

I had to give a hiatus to blogging due to a sickness of a relative of mine. Well, she is still sick but better at least. Same, however, can not be said for our beautiful government; they are simply getting worse. This lovely government with sweet ministers who are not even worth standing next to them in the same room, has finally added their most democratic endeavor to their score card: all access to blogger.com and blogspot.com domains has been blocked as of last Friday.

Of course, despite a few geniuses who claim this is a liberal government and will continue to say so, I have never shared their view. I am usually good at analyzing people, 25 plus years of management experience in weird and wonderful places gives one an edge, I believe.

I have always watched my language here. Yet, I can not find a more appropriate word for these people:

Assholes!

Come on, block this blog, too.

Gustav, My Friend

Unguided — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 12:01:42 +0000

Have I told you that Unguided is hosted in New Orleans? Visitors of the last 24 hours only saw a message saying “Error in establishing a database connection” and possibly never guessed why. Now you know the reason. Although the main site including mail and ftp servers were up and running, the database went haywire. The staff at the hosting company, well, they all evacuated the city. They were kind enough to say at their site they would continue to give support remotely by e-mail, but I decided to wait instead. After all, the Earth would not stop turning if Unguided blog did not function a day and it would be selfish, if nothing else, to annoy them in the middle of all things they were going through, or so I thought.

Today, I am glad to see my problem solved with no intervention on my part. My best wishes go to the people of New Orleans or Louisiana I should say, and I sincerely hope they are safe and sound after Gustav’s unwanted visit.

Searching for the Perfect Seas

Unguided — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 11:04:14 +0000

I am back, finally! Being unemployed for so long had taken its toll and I had to take a vacation to shake off all the dust. Fortunately, living in Turkey gives some privileges, so I did not have to take a long distance flight, bored with complicated hotel bookings, transfers at an airport in strange hours of the day, or night.

However, I am picky when it comes to where to go, if it is summer time. I have some rules, or so claim a few of my friends. I call them habits. I admit, it is sometimes difficult to explain to those who have not been born by the sea, but those who have will probably sympathize with me.

So, without further ado, my rules, written or unwritten:

1- I want to be by the coast, not on a beach.

I have never got this beach stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I am not against sunbathing or whatever. I simply can not understand why people like beaches. I can never get rid of the feeling that I am a piece of meat slowly frying on a pan when I am at a beach. No rocks, no trees to protect you from the heat.

2- I want to swim, I like swimming.

Surprised? Don’t! Yet, I remember explaining a few times to those who claim “but you can swim here.” Well, I can’t. How can I? You walk fifteen meters to reach knee high, another fifteen for waist high, and just you think you can finally swim, you find yourself in shallow waters again. And I do not like to walk hundred meters so that I can swim properly. A proper sea is a place where you get in and find yourself a few lengths deep in a second or two.

3- I like blue, not green.

I mean the color of the sea. It ought to be blue, all tones of it. And for that to happen it has to have a rocky floor, i.e. no sand.

4- It has to make you shiver slightly.

When you dive, you must feel the chill, especially in August, with temperature at high thirties in the shade. I remember once driving five hours to reach Oludeniz, Fethiye. When we finally got there, exhausted and almost dehydrated, I barely threw myself into the sea, or whatever it was, and, jumped back. It was hot, burning! A Turkish bath would be cooler.

5- It has to be a place where recyclers frequent.

You must be able to find a metal can neatly tucked in a cavity somewhere, not plastic bottles. Have I lost you? Leaving the can you used for future visitors is not littering, it is being thoughtful. Otherwise, how am I supposed to cook the scallops? After diving for a few hours to get them, there is nothing more annoying than not finding a metal can. Of course, you must bring your own lemons.

Now, these habits or rules, have naturally limited our options. Med and south Aegean was a no no; too hot, too sandy, too beachy, too … So we toured north Aegean and Marmara, following the coast line, occasionally heading towards the mountains to discover a hidden treasure, an uncharted ancient town, a secret temple where the fantasy itself becomes the religion. We found some.

Stay tuned!

A Small Tip to the Egyptian Government

Unguided — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 20:18:34 +0000

What happens when you combine oriental shrewdness with modern business practices? I can not help but think about it when I read the post EGYPT: What’s beyond traffic?! at Babylon & Beyond in Los Angeles Times. This is the paragraph to blame:

The new law has been met with several suspicions: First, many people allege the heavy fines aim at extracting more resources for the indebted treasury while others believe that the imposition of new safety measures aim at benefiting government-supported businessmen who would allegedly be involved in the importation of anti-reflection stop triangles, first-aid kits and fire extinguishers, which are now required in all cars. Prime Minister Ahmed Nazif had reportedly denied such accusations saying that the government just sought to tighten safety measures and eliminate traffic jams.

Ignoring Prime Minister Nazif’s comment, I have nothing to say about government-supported businesses will benefit most, because it is a certainty. I have doubts, though, if they will succeed pulling up the sorely needed resources to beef up the treasury. As the writer has pointed out:

On the contrary, the new law is believed to have opened a new door for more corruption as it gives cops a better chance to ask for higher bribes and turn a blind eye to violations in return.

If they are not careful, the new law is indeed likely to increase bribes while not being registered in inflation statistics for they are completely off the record, and leave the treasury empty like it usually has been before. Fortunately, there is an easy solution to every difficult problem as Occam had proved with its razor long time ago. Our elders have said: “There is no need to rediscover America, it has already been discovered.” For the Egyptian officials, this typically translates to: Follow our beautiful government (you, dear readers, follow me).

The trick, or tip, whichever you prefer, is the concept of open government. Be open about it. There is no need to hide that the treasury needs money and what is more convenient than the traffic offenders contribute more to this end:
Budget for traffic fines!

That is correct. It is probably too late for 2008, but 2009 budget should be around the corner within a few months. Prepare a budget item and name it “other revenue” (well, there is a limit for openness; just like everything in life, avoid the extremes and be discrete). Now place your desired estimate of revenue to be looted, correction, to be collected, in this column.

Here comes the best practices for management part. Split this amount to cities based on the number of vehicles in each city and assign them as targets to be achieved for the fiscal year 2009 and roll them out to the traffic divisions of the police department. Make sure that everybody involved understands that a- their promotions and raises depend on their reaching the said amounts; b- failure, that is falling short of targets will result in being appointed to weird and wonderful places (Sahara comes to mind) where no vehicles exist, at all (i.e. nobody to bribe).

This technique has been used by the Turkish government for more than 5 years with great success and to my slight amusement. It is great fun to visit the police station around 28th, 29th of each month. I always watch the “person in charge” asking the current figure to the semi computer illiterate officer who can only use one and only one finger. And it is a treat to watch him, upon hearing the number, which is almost always below their quota, pick his radio and yell “I need more tickets, do not come back to the station without them; don’t even think about it.”

The Ultimate Drug

Unguided — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 14:20:49 +0000

I came across this at Apache. Too bad the blog was suspended.

Warning: Consult your doctor before using medication.

Meltdown in Nuclear Industry

Unguided — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 12:40:50 +0000

I have always been against nuclear energy and construction of reactors in Turkey, but my objection is based on cultural grounds rather than scientific reasons. We seem to be somewhat relaxed and can not be bothered with procedures, specifications, rules, policies, so and so forth. This attitude is a sort of survival skill in a troubled part of the world and help us overcome a lot of problems. However, combine this with nuclear energy, frankly speaking, the first thing I would do is run away, fast, very fast. I simply can not imagine Turks running and operating a nuclear site.

On the other hand, I have always assumed Finnish (had a few first-hand acquaintances) to be cool-minded but warm-blooded people. Compared to French who can be temperamental but still logical (maybe because of Descartes and Lagrange), I thought the Finnish-French combination would produce good results. If there were any people who could build a nuclear reactor, if that was the only choice, this would be the ideal partnership.

I can not tell how disappointed I am after reading the safety procedures are in disarray at Finland’s Olkiluoto 3 nuclear construction site at Greenpeace blog. The contractor, French company Areva, is not only 2-3 years behind schedule, 70% over the budget and experiencing 1,500 construction defects along with a damaging fire, but also failing to implement vital safety procedures in the construction of its prototype European Pressurized Water Reactor (EPR) in Olkiluoto, Finland. What is worse, the Finnish nuclear safety authority STUK, and the country’s electricity generator TVO have all been aware of these problems and yet the necessary vital safeguards have not been implemented.

If this does not prove what a dangerous proposition nuclear energy is, what does?

The Internationale for Lala

Unguided — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 21:04:50 +0000

Quoting Lala in her comment:

However, that is interesting and now, thinking I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard this song, I will have to go and have a listen (so I’ll be able to spot a Communist )

There is an easier way of course: anyone with an appetite for steak is a good candidate.

I have found a reasonably good version of The Internationale in Youtube (in Hungarian with English sub-titles) and posting it for all fans of McCarthy. I also would like to thank to the anonymous person running the proxy server in Colombia (as you know Youtube is blocked by our beautiful government).

I made a typo in the previous post (actually it was the spell checker, not me, but I did push the “change all” button), Internationale ends with “e”.

Funny Things These Labels

Unguided — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 19:18:11 +0000

I lived in Romania as an expat for nearly three years. Although I can eat virtually anything (especially if I’m hungry), we used to go to a Turkish restaurant where we can find fish, I mean the ones we like, otherwise local fish (from lakes and rivers, occasionally from Black Sea) were plenty. After a visit or two, the Romanian staff quickly learned our favorites and all we had to was to choose the fish of the day.

One day, or rather night, we learned that the truck bringing the fish had a problem at the Customs. Not very much surprised as ordering anything and everything from the truckers in order avoid the unnecessary customs formalities (futile barriers against free trade, how pathetic) was a long standing Turkish tradition, we simply cursed our luck for that day’s truck was not coming from Greece, the other fish supplying country. The Greek, being law abiding visitors would have brought the fish (You did not believe that, did you? Good!).

Well, this unfortunate incident unfortunately disrupted our usual routine with the staff. While my friend ordered chicken, I took a pause to decide and I heard the waitress say:

“I’ll bring you a steak.”

“You recommend it?”

“No, but you’re a communist!”

“???”

“Communists eat steak. Shall I bring red wine, too?”

“Are you sure communists like red wine?”

She smiled, and said, “Yes.”

Sooo, while we were waiting for our orders, a heated discussion started: why was I a communist and he was not? Soon, the owner, her husband, and the chef joined our table(it’s always nice to have friends). We were all trying to figure out how I had become a commie. Unable to arrive at a conclusion that would make some sense, the owner decided to ask. Coming back, laughing, she pointed at me and her husband, “You both are communists.”

The restaurant had a basement floor where we used to hang out after the restaurant closed. We would go down and continue our discussion in late hours. It was very considerate of us, not disturbing the neighbors with our chit-chat and singing (No, the licensing authorities of course, had nothing to do with it). One of those nights, they heard me and the husband singing “Ciao Bella” and “The Internationale”. Well, Ciao Bella was innocent enough, but The Internationale?

You know, that song caused a lot of trouble for many. In the Turkish movie very appropriately named “International” they make a parody of it. During the military regime of 1980’s, a political fugitive takes refuge in a small town. A young village girl, secretly in love with the new boy in town, tries to impress him. He gives her a few books and records one of which being The Internationale. While she is listening upstairs, her father, hearing it, enters the room and asks what it is she’s listening to. Poor girl lies and says it is a popular song. Being the conductor of the local brass band, the father decides to teach the song that has appealed him so much to the band for the approaching military parade. A few days later, the parade starts, the band starts to play The Internationale as a welcome song for all the top military leaders present at the ceremony. Until halfway, everyone looks pleased, including the generals. Then somebody leans over the big general’s shoulder and whispers the ugly truth: this whole village is full of communists, and they are bold enough to declare it with The International. To make a long story short, everybody gets arrested, the fugitive is killed, the girl cries.

I can not remember whether it is based on a true story or not, it’s been some time. Let me tell you a true one instead, from the documentary of Tahsin Isbilen, “Asia Minor, Again”:

World War II years. The Germans invaded Greece, and the islands in the Aegean were falling one by one. Hunger, violence and oppression forced many of the islanders to take refuge in the coastal villages of Turkey, like Karaburun, Aliaga and Kusadasi. Almost 3000 of them lived in the then poverty stricken Turkey, the villagers sharing whatever little they had. The remaining Greek partisans gave the Germans a tough time. But they were not always lucky. Ambushed, 20 of them had to leave on a not so much seaworthy boat during night. After rowing for a while, they started to sing, yes, you guessed it right, The Internationale despite the warnings of the experienced partisans for the German patrol boats might hear them. They were lucky, though. It was the Turkish fishermen who heard them and came to the rescue. On the way, they taught the saviours our notorious song so that they could sing together.

So, if you happen to come across a fisherman old enough to have seen WW II, whistling or humming “The Internationale”, don’t be surprised. He probably does not know what it means, nor does he care. It was just a song he once sang with his friends from the islands long ago. Just a song.

Where is Our Lake, Dude?

Unguided — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 15:16:07 +0000

They were the real travelers, the free spirits nature had kindly offered us. They crossed deserts, flew over mountains which few humans dared climb, passed through valleys, over forests sunlight could not penetrate.

They were expert sailors, could find their way without the aid of a compass or electronic equipment.

They knew how to ride the wind. The strong and the experienced positioned themselves at the tough spots so that the weak and the young could have an easy ride.

They fought with adverse winds, they challenged the unforgiving heat of the sun. Flying at an altitude only eagles could, they slowly approached their final destination, all the way from African deserts to Lake Aksehir, Turkey. They began their descent, the part they liked most: the show off. Like a woman aware of her beauty, they, too knew we would watch them with eyes of appreciation; queens of the migratory birds, the flamingos. The young were happy, they made it. And for that reason, it took a while to understand something was wrong, terribly wrong. The adults were silent, only the wind. Panicked, they looked at the adults flying next to them. But they did not find the usual “you’re doing fine” look. Adults were too busy staring down, staring at a place the young ones’ eyes could not see, yet.

Their home… Their lake?

I dedicate this picture to our ever-praying beautiful government. Their deity may forgive them, I won’t.

Story credit: Freely adapted from Bekir Coskun, Hurriyet.

Unguided Blog

Are You Lucky?

Related Posts

Long Gone to Find a Craptastic Government

Related Posts

Gustav, My Friend

Related Posts

Searching for the Perfect Seas

Related Posts

A Small Tip to the Egyptian Government

Related Posts

The Ultimate Drug

Related Posts

Meltdown in Nuclear Industry

Related Posts

The Internationale for Lala

Related Posts

Funny Things These Labels

Related Posts

Where is Our Lake, Dude?

Related Posts