Make serendipity happen...

It's a very strange phenomenon. You can spend all day roaming Fort Collins and never stop to talk with anyone. Yet if you roam a city in a foreign country where you don't speak the native tongue, and few of the natives speak yours, you'll find you make friends in a hurry. While stopping for lunch in a restaurant, we had trouble telling the waiter to return after we had a chance to struggle through the menu. Four girls at the next table interceded on our behalf and bought us some time. The next morning as we tried to decide which bus to board for our tour of Turgen Gorge, we heard a young voice say hello. Sure enough, the 4 girls were planning to take the same tour! (3 buses later we finally found ourselves in the right bus - but that's another story.) We had a great visit. Two of the girls are Civil Engineering students at USC. We took pictures and encouraged them to email us - and offered them a place to stay if they could make it to Colorado. After only a few weeks we have "close" friends from Canada, Bulgaria, Virginia, South Carolina, and Kazakhstan. The oddity of finding someone speaking English seems to be enough to warrant a conversation. And everyone who speaks English is interesting! Is it because we are starved for companionship? Is it because those travel to faraway places are interesting? Is it because those who learn English as a 2nd (or 3rd or 5th) language are naturally brighter and more open? Or do we just need to start talking to more people at home too?

Switchbacks are for wimps - Part 4

OK, it finally happened. A truly enjoyable hike! As part of a bus tour (another whole story in itself) we took a trip to Ecyk lake. This lake bore the brunt of a massive mudslide in 1963 which broke the natural dam, dropped the water level dramatically, built up massive amounts of silt in the lake, and killed hundreds of people. The drainage looked much like Big Thompson Canyon after the flood or the alluvial fan of Lawn Lake. Up river from the lake is a nature preserve with a very pleasant *flat* hike. For about an hour we penetrated deeper and deeper into the hills and enjoyed stellar views of the mountain range. At the end of the hike was a Georgian designed mudslide dam. This massive structure built of concrete "timbers" is designed to hold back rock, soil, and silt, while allowing water to filter through. The hope is that this will prevent a repeat of the Ecyk Lake disaster.

A beach day always beats a work day...

The dean of the college used us as an excuse for a "team building" day at Kapshagay reservoir. The whole college staff tried to sneak off campus at 9AM - tough to do when you're riding in a 20 passenger van with the school logo and slogan on the side. Nothing could diminish the party atmosphere - not even the fact that the destination beach was closed due to downed electrical lines from the storm the previous evening. In good male tradition, the driver headed onward, never revealing that he had no idea where he was going. Sometime after loosing sight of water, a groundswell emerged to force the driver to turn back. This led us to take a promising looking road, which got progressively narrower, but ultimately led to a beach. For only a small fee, were were able to drive out onto the sand where we set up "camp" amidst the locals and the free-roaming cows (was I back in India?) For only a few more tenge we were set up with tables, chairs, and umbrellas. While the guys set out for a quick dip in the water, the women loaded the table with all sorts of food and beverage. (I know this sounds sexist, but it's the way it happened.) We had no idea that there would be such a great feast. Of course, we could have guessed when we stopped by a roadside fruit stand (of which there had been hundreds along the way) and purchased a few hundred kilos of fresh fruit. I just had not idea where all the bread, meat, cheese, cookies, vodka, etc. all came from. Other than the challenge of digging the van out after it sank quickly into the sand, it was an awesome day of fun and sun.

Switchbacks are for wimps - Part 3

You'd think we'd have learned by now. But we struck out yet again for a hike on the trails outside Medeo hoping for an invigorating hike with excellent scenery. We did get the scenery, but the hike was a bit more invigoration than we'd hoped for. Once again we found that the trails in Kazakhstan climb relentlessly - this time with over 1200' gain in about 1.3 miles. The views are stunning, and even the rain during the hike added to the overall beauty of the trail. We climbed a ridge line with Almaty to our right and Madeo to our left. We never did reach the promised meadow, but we were rewarded with beautiful views of the Tian Shen mountain range. Maybe we'll get that gentle trail the next time!

It's just a hut trip...

I love to spend winter weekends climbing a few thousand feet on tele skis to stay in a 10th Mountain division hut above treeline. The huts are quite rustic with outhouses, wood stoves, and no running water. Yet they feel extremely plush after a hard day's climb into the wilderness. It turns out that many of the "deprivations" of hut living feel quite luxurious in the context of a back county adventure. And so it goes for foreign travel. I got through many a night by saying, "Just think of it as a hut trip." When the heat became oppressive because the villagers closed in too tight during a focus group in Bangladesh, it was just a hut trip. When the hotel in Chennai, India had dirty sheets and hard mattresses, it was just a hut trip. When the hot water disappeared on Thursday morning, and was not back on by Monday night as promised in Almaty, Kazakhstan, it was just a hut trip. It seems that setting your expectations low leads to a might higher degree of satisfaction with those things that are going well.

Food is Culture

Our hosts at KIMEP took us out for a fantastic traditional dinner including Kazakh and Uzbek dishes. We were lucky enough to not have to order, but merely sit back and enjoy the feast. Dining at the Tobeteka restaurant involved sitting around a low table with a shelf beneath the table. This way you are able to lay back on cushions, spread your legs out in front of you, and enjoy the feast. The main dishes rely heavily on mutton, beef, and horse in either straight meat or sausage presentations. All are served with breads or pastas as complements. The flavors are extraordinary, and the meals very filling. We also learned quite a bit about the nomadic origins of Kazakhstan and the influence of this on menu choices. The food seems to bring out stories of home and family from the east and the west. The inevitable comparisons of foods and the occasions on which they are served led to yet more stories about upbringing and families. All in all, eating together is a great way to learn about people.

If you want to learn, you have to take risks...

Joyce and I have been working on our risk taking skills this week. We were invited out to a shashlik (meat kabobs) restaurant with some Peace Corps friends. The only hitch was that we had to get across town on our own. Since no buses headed where we were going, we had to "hire" a car. In Almaty, everybody is a potential taxi driver. You just put out your hand and very soon someone pulls over to offer you a ride - for a price. Once you communicate where you are going but telling the driver your desired cross streets, he makes you an opening offer. Then you negotiate. Of course, if he can't understand where you want to go, you've got a problem! We did pretty well butchering the street names in Russian and managed to convince the driver that we knew where we were headed. However, the price he quoted was just too high. There is an "English Speaking" tax on most negotiated prices in Almaty, but we thought we should fight back. We did manage to get the price down to about 1.6X what it would have been if we spoke Russian, so we felt pretty good. Now all we needed to do was find out host's house based on one visit I had made there a week earlier. We actually made it! Another evening we decided to try the Kazakh specialty beshbarmak (see photo.) We carefully selected the restaurant from our guidebook - and then couldn't find it! We did find a restaurant that looked like it could have been the right one, so we ate there. 100% Russian/Kazakh menu, and the waitress spoke no English. So, with poorly drawn pictures of animals and some odd attempts to make animal sounds, we managed to order our authentic dinner. And for the record, horse tastes pretty good!

Switchbacks are for Wimps - Part 2

Joyce and I decided to visit the ski town of Chimbulak outside Almity. As with everything else, getting there is half the adventure. The #6 bus departs from a stop across from the Hotel Kazakhstan on Dostik. The hotel is a Soviet-era edifice with a "crown" of gold trim on the roof. The rooms are reputed to be expensive, even though many of them are not yet renovated to western standards. The #6 bus departs about every 35 minutes. While there never seem to be many people waiting at the stop, it's amazing to see the crowd emerge as the empty bus arrives. Within seconds we are pushed to the back of the line and find ourselves standing on a crowded, but not yet packed bus. As the bus heads uphill, more and more passengers join the 25 minute ride to Medey. The 50 tenge (40 cents) fare to the skating rink avoids a 1000 tenge cab fare - a 20:1 savings! However, from Medey there is no choice but to pay another 1000 tenge for a cab to Chimbulak. Two chair lifts carry passengers a couple of thousand feet vertical. We didn't realize that each lift was required a separate ticket, so we elected to hike underneath the second chair lift. Again, no switchbacks. It's not clear to me what kind of vehicles are able to make it up these roads. However, and extremely scenic view of Almaty emerged the higher we climbed. We felt transported back to Colorado as the rocky peaks shed their tree coverage. Our high alpine experience peaked at around 9600', but could easily have gone higher if we'd been willing to "do the vertical." The trip back to Almaty involved the same taxi to Medey and bus to town. Again, standing for the whole bus ride. While public transportation is plentiful, it is not always pleasant.

Gorky Park...

Gorky Park - the name alone evokes images of cold war era spy novels with clandestine operations and surreptitious meetings. Our visit to Gorky Park (Central Park) was a bit less exciting, but quite pleasant nonetheless. On a hot Sunday afternoon, we ventured downhill and east of town to find this large and well attended venue. Part amusement park, and part strolling park, there was plenty of people watching to be had. Kids were plentiful - as were doting parents. It looked as if the lakes had been drained for a few years - so that was too bad. But the fortune telling parakeets were quite the sight. And what a treat to watch a movie in Russian - especially one that did not take much translation. We saw Wall-E (or, as locally pronounced, Vall-E.) While we didn't understand all of the finer points, we caught the gist of the movie. And that is probably true of our stay in Kazakhstan so far. We're becoming comfortable in Almaty and beginning to understand much more about what we are seeing.

Joyce Arrives...

After almost a month on my own, I am thrilled to be sharing the rest of my travels with Joyce. She arrived at 2AM on the 4th of July, so we're both recovering from lack of sleep. I took this photo on the square near our apartment (the red roofed building in the background.) It's clear that I have forgotten how much taller I am than Joyce! The second phase of these travels are a "trial run" of our plans to visit other countries for extended periods. We feel strongly that to know a place you need to live in a place. This will be a challenge as we struggle to understand Russian and Kazakh.

Switchbacks are for wimps...

I don't know what hurt me the most on this hike - my first return to 8000' in a month - or my first real exercise in a month. But the two conspired to make this hike out of Medey (location of an Olympic-class ice skating rink) quite a challenge. Actually, I'm blaming it all on the Kazakh's lack of desire to build switchbacks. This seems to be as true on roads as on hiking trails. So, after 3 miles of gaining 700' per mile, the trail started to get steep! And I decided that the more prudent course of action was to return. That earned me my "road rash" as I slipped out on a scree field on my descent. Every the boy scout, I managed somehow to leave my first aid kit (and my water purifier) back in my apartment based on the ever wrong assumption that it would be "just a short hike." Lesson learned. My new Kazakh friend was kind enough to offer antibiotic cream and band aids when I met him later on the trail - how often do you meet someone who has spent time in Fort Wayne, Indiana - let alone a Kazakh! So, all is good, and I'm tired. Time to rest up before my next adventure!

It's All Greek to Me - sort of...

As I struggle trying to read Kazak and Russian, I've been noticing an interesting pattern. Whenever I'm confused, I try interpreting the text as Greek instead. I've met with some pretty good success. For example, the first title is interpreted at rho alpha mu sigma tau omega rho and hence pronounced Ramstor. Ok, so a c doesn't look much like a sigma, but it works! In the second photo you see the spelling of Almaty - alpha lambda mu alpha tau ... whoops! The bI is a single character and seems to be pronounced like a Y. I've done a little research and there are more vowels and consonants in Russian than in English. I'm sure I will slaughter many more words before this is over, but at least I've been able to get a start.

Successful First Class...

I have now completed 1/3 of my teaching assignment at KIMEP (Kazakhstan Institute of Management, Economics and Strategic Research) in Almaty. Although it was a somewhat grueling 15 hours split over two days, I find myself excited and energized by the experience. I am teaching Computer Information Systems in an Executive MBA program. For most students in the class, this is not a topic with which they are currently familiar, or which they would like to pursue. Yet I was very pleased to find the students interested in the class and very willing to engage in discussion. Some of the students even read all of the assigned pre-reading and wrote multi-page summaries of what they read. So, a couple of observations. First off, I had expected that the students would be relatively reserved for a number of reasons: cultural differences, lack of interest in IT, nervousness over my status as PhD - and an American, distractions from the students' "day jobs," etc. What I found instead was a great willingness to participate in class activities and a desire to understand the topics we discussed. The students did not seem afraid to challenge me (in a very respectful way) or push me to provide further explanation. I particularly appreciated the "simultaneous translation" as students used dictionaries to try and translate CIS vocabulary into Russian so they could understand the concepts. One thing is clear; they have learned "English" and not "American." So, it's a shopping trolley, not a shopping cart. (Does that mean that websites leave "biscuits" on your hard drive?) Another striking observation is that while much internet activity is based on trust, these students are more inclined to distrust others. They wanted to know if their companies "could spy on them." They wanted to know why a buyer would ever trust a seller on eBay. Again, some important cultural differences. Tomorrow I move into the apartment which Joyce and I will share for 4 weeks (she arrives on July 4.) I hope to see more of the town and venture into the nearby mountains for a hike or two. I also hope to get the bulk of my prep work done for the next class session two weeks from now.

Taj Mahal

The Taj Mahal in Agra, India is one of the eight wonders of the world – for good reason. This monument to love and wealth is genuine art in architecture. The grand scale, use of symmetry, and use of water accents is truly inspirational. Of course, a lot of the allure may have been 2 ½ hours free from beggars, rickshaw wallas, and street vendors who are not allowed inside. The scale of the edifice can only be appreciated by walking the gardens and pausing to appreciate the structures from every angle. The bas relief and inlaid marble are amazing. The crowds are calm, appreciative and fairly subdued making the whole experience quite enjoyable. The Taj is most certainly a national treasure of India which the government is working hard to preserve by banning diesel vehicles in the vicinity. (Additional pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/Rick.Turley/TajMajal )

What You See Depends Upon Where You Go…

As I leave Delhi at 5AM bound for the Agra to see the Taj Mahal, I am struck by the very different India I am seeing. Sure, there are still people sleeping on the road medians, and other squatting beside the road, but the scene is much more tranquil. The city has not yet awakened and hence is not yet in its fever pitched state. As we drive out of the city we pass the government buildings and the museums. Here the architecture is regal, and the overall feeling serene. Further south, the city buildings are replaced by offices, factories, and shopping centers. We seem to have entered the suburbs. The roads are relatively clear (remember, it's still before 6AM) and the architecture is more modern. This begins to look like a city where we could do business. (I've just passed a Woodward Governor plant – are be back in Fort Collins?) Impressions seem to be about choices. Where do you choose to visit? What questions do you choose to ask? To paraphrase an important line, wherever you go, there you are. So choose wisely.

Spice Sauna…

I've never seen a riot. Today I came very close. We left the gate aboard our busses for our Spice Jet flight from Chennai to Delhi at about 8 PM. It was clear from the start that this was not going to go well. While we waited on the tarmac, the incessant drone of the auxiliary a/c unit ebbed and flowed. As we boarded the plane, we were immediately assaulters by hot, humid, stale air. The aux a/c was not functioning at all, and the temperature was easily 100°. As more passengers filed in, the temperature continued to rise. Soon sweat was dripping from our faces, and down our entire bodies. The stale air was suffocating. Then it started to get interesting. A reassuring voice told ups "We'll be able to start our engines and turn on the a/c as soon as all passengers arrive and are seated – 10 to 15 minutes - 20 minutes at the most." At first a few, and then many passengers got up to stand by the open door. Before we knew it, most of the passengers had left the airplane to stand on the tarmac – over the objections of the flight crew. When, after 40 minutes, we finally we told to prepare for takeoff, the passengers grudgingly reclaimed their seats. But when the plane did not immediately depart, a mob once again rose to their feet to voice their extreme displeasure. Some wanted the airplane doors reopened so they could go back outside. Others demanded to enter the cockpit to talk with the pilot. It was starting to get ugly. The plane was taxiing while passengers were still blocking the aisle and demanding that the doors be reopened. I thought a lot about how crowds reacted in similar situations I've been in. I felt as if this group was very quick to complain, and was quite unrealistic in their expectations about what could be done. I had felt that Indians would be more stoic and patient. Instead, they appeared to be aggressive and determined to be treated well. Hmmm…

Sunday Night's Allright...

Sunday evening seems to be family night at the beach in Pondicherry. What earlier in the day was small groups of wandering folks, became a sea of humanity in the evening. As eeveryone celebrates the cool sea breeze, street vendors hawk their goods. We are offered and endless number of chess and backgammon sets, small drums, and food. The crowd seems tranquil and happy. The street is blocked, and there are no horns! What a paradise. We didn't mind missing our movie, beause the people watching was so good. Children begged for another ice cream, and young couples enjoyed being close under the cover of darkness. Pondicherry certainly has resort feel - very different from the rest of India which we have seen so far.

Parlez-vous Français?

The French Quarter of India? Surely you’re joking! Only 160km south of Chennai lies the seacoast town of Pondicherry (Puducherry.) This anomaly on the Bay of Bengal is an oasis in the otherwise noisy, crowded, and rushed world of India. Controlled variously by the French, English, and Indians over its colorful history, Punucherry represents welcome relief from the bustling Indian cities. We could easily have been in Paris or New Orleans. Coffee and croissant, cappuccino and pastry, espresso and crème brulee. Puducherry reconnects us with western European familiarity. We are no longer the only white faces in a sea of Indians. The pace slows. The breeze is welcome. The change of scenery is restful. Yet we do not escape the ubiquity of poverty. The beggars are still working the streets. The familiarity eases our discomfort. It’s just a reminder of what a long, strange trip it’s been.

The Ballet of the Traffic - Part 2...

After spending 2 weeks cursing the auto rickshaw drivers for their incessant badgering about whether we wanted to hire them, we finally found ourselves needing a ride. Then the negotiations began as one driver after another refused to take us while using his meter. They quoted rates. We refused and walked on. We finally got the 20 rupee quote we wanted, only to have another walla inform our driver that he had to raise the quote to 30 rupees. And the dance begins. The attached video provides some idea of the excitement of traveling in a motor rickshaw on the streets of Chennai. Lane markings are an infrequently utilized suggestion. Acceleration is always at a maximum – but with a 175cc engine, it’s not very much. Drivers weave and bob looking for even the slightest advantage. Following distances are closer than I am even comfortable standing next to another person. Yet for all this apparent chaos, there is an incredible structure. Drivers are courteous, always allowing others to cut in front of them. Horns are honked continuously as a courtesy to other drivers and pedestrians. In fact, many vehicles tout a “Please Honk” sign on the back. While I am always grateful to survive any time spent near a road, I am also struck by the apparent serenity of an extremely noisy and presumably dangerous undertaking. How do you find peace in chaos?

Holy Cow...

As I start my 4th day in Delhi, I am struck by my deep lack of desire to add to this blog. I found Delhi to be much like Dhaka in very many ways. The streets and shops are virtually indistinguishable from Dhaka - except for the addition of cows running loose in the street. The weather is similarly hot and humid. We are still easily distinguished as non- natives, although Delhi residents appear less likely to just stop and stare at us. And Delhi residents are more entrepreneurial in the sense that we are bothered more by street vendors and rickshaw wallas trying to sell us trinkets or a ride. Mostly, I believe, the difference has centered over the level of planned activities for our team. It has been extremely difficult for our team, with the lack of an in-country partner, to set up meaningful meetings with local players. It seems to be extremely difficult to get people to return calls. It appears that you cannot underestimate the power of well-connected local partner for conducting research. We plan to fly to Chennai tomorrow to see if a city which has not yet adopted CNG is interested in using hydraulic hybrid retrofits to reduce fuel consumption.

Sense of Scale – Part 2

View Larger Map

As I prepare to board my plane to leave Bangladesh for India, I am struck by my inability to create a single photograph which adequately illustrates Bangladesh’s sense of scale. As the plane climbs away from Dhaka, I am surprised to see an even stranger anomaly. The scene which unfolds before me could occur over any major western city. The neat rows of large apartment buildings are arrayed along a network of city streets. As we fly over the adjacent rural areas, I see neatly arrayed homes surrounded by large expanses of uniformly divided, well-maintained farmland. I was completely unprepared for this discontinuity with what I thought I knew from my experiences on the ground. My impression of Bangladesh is formed By my experiences being surrounded By incredible densities. On any given city street, I am constantly overwhelmed by the number of people, rickshaws, CNGs, cars, trucks, and busses all competing for limited road space. Crowding the edge of the roadway is a seemingly endless row of shops. Your sense is that if you can only get out of this area, things will calm down. Yet along the 170 km drive from Chittagong to Dhaka, this scene repeated itself every 5 km. Even the most rural of villages maintained a teeming bazaar at its center. Scale. From the ground, Bangladesh appears chaotic, frenetic, and crowded. From the air, Bangladesh appears regular, sparsely populated, and serene. Which is the true Bangladesh?

Sense of Scale - Part 1

In a previous post,

http://entersection.blogspot.com/ Mitesh discussed the issue of Ship Breaking at Chittagong, Bangladesh. Today we had a chance to visit the Ship Breaking yards in Chittagong, and even managed a somewhat harrowing boat ride amidst the ships being savaged. Harrowing because, without warning, the ship section in the photo dropped unceremoniously to the sandy shore. The process was much like the calving of a glacier in Alaska - both in scale and in sound. Yet it was somehow a grotesque display of a painful end of life to a once proud piece of modern technology. You can see more photos of this yard (courtesy of Mitesh) at http://picasaweb.google.com/Rick.Turley/ShipBreakkingChittagongMiteshGala.

The video below, also courtesy of Mitesh, shows the aftermath of a substantial portion of a ship falling into the sea after being cut free.




Scale is an extremely interesting phenomenon. That which we consider big, is big only relative to those things around it. The ships beached at Chittagong are big only if we view them relative to some known object of a known size. When first coming upon these ships, what you see is more of an apparition - a shape floating on cloud of water. Only later do you realize that ships are supposed to be in water - not on it. Instead these floating carcases are more like beached whales. The surrounding sea provides little in the way of scale comparison. It is only when you see the men on board the ship that you get a sense for the overall immensity of what you see. While size is absolute, scale is relative. The interpretation is based on context. Is it big? Is it small? It depends. The ships, for me, become a metaphor for being poor in Bangladesh. If you live in a 10' x 12' corrugated steel building with a dirt floor, are you poor? If your neighbor lives in a 4' x 6' tarp covered makeshift structure, perhaps not.

Internet Search. Bangladeshi style…

A major value of Google is the ability to search a large and complex network of resources and find out almost anything. This is very easy for most of us. All we need to do is fire up a web browser, navigate to Google, enter a search term, and view the results. With only a few keystrokes we have tapped into an incredibly powerful network. It seems to me that Bangladeshis make up for limited Internet access with their own search tool. With the large population of Bangladesh, many solutions rely on the use of manpower instead of technology. In Bangladesh, the search begins with a question to a friend. Then the networking begins facilitated by the use of mobile phones. Voice and SMS replace keyboard typing. Friends and contacts replace store and forward nodes. If six degrees of separation works, it most certainly works in Bangladesh. It seems as if this amazing connection of people can uncover the most arcane of information in only a few phone calls. Who says that connectivity is low in Bangladesh?

Focus Groups – Bangladesh Style…

The light rain finally came to an end as we turned off the main highway onto a dirt road and entered the village. We were met by a farmer who had help to arrange our meeting. The road narrowed as we got farther from the highway and approached the village, until it became almost a path. As we approached a small building across from a school, we were met by the villagers. Focus groups are a staple of primary market research. The idea is to engage the potential customer in discussions concerning your product idea and to have them help you design the key features and define tradeoffs. Key to success in focus groups is appropriate participant selection, active participation by members, and forced choice among features. This is challenging enough in your native culture and language. Mitesh, Angie, and their translator Shaon, are perfecting their approach for conducting focus groups with poor farmers in Bangladesh while dealing with language barriers, cultural differences, and the constant attention of spectators (children and women) to the process. While Shaon translates the questions and answers, Mitesh and Angie try to dig deep to understand the true meaning behind the words they hear. Does 120 feet to water mean for drinking water, or irrigation water? Is it during monsoon, or during growing season? Does it mean that irrigation pumps must lift from this depth, or does it mean that, once tapped, the water rises? Does "Must be made in Japan" really mean the preference for a Japanese product, or does it mean that reliability is key? Does "We'll pay more for quality" translate into actual purchases of a higher cost, more reliable product? All of these questions are difficult to answer under the best of circumstances. Add in the challenges described above, and success seems unlikely. Yet, it must be done. The team needs to find a way. Dividing men from women gives the chance for women to respond. Dividing landless farmers from small farmers and medium farmers allows the group to reach consensus. And always, having something tangible to talk about makes the process much more productive. Focus groups are usually all about getting potential customers to talk. These farmers seem to have no restraint and gladly share their opinions on what they need.

Alphabet Soup…

BIRD, BARD, BARC, … The list of aid agencies in Bangladesh reads like some perverted dictionary. The name of each agency is always spoken as a complete word – not the individual letters of the acronym. Each has a unique mission and many overlap with others. Navigating this complex structure is difficult as you only seem to gain insight into each organization by working with them. And there are so many that this is just not possible. It is a testament to the consciences of western societies that these agencies exist at all. There is such an outpouring of sympathy for the plight of the Bangli people that NGOs are compelled to help. On the other hand, the complexity, overhead, and independence of these organizations leaves one wondering if they can possibly help at all. Is the aid actually reaching the poor of the county? Are the individual programs in conflict? Do benefits from one program offset benefits from another?

Is Social Entrepreurship substantially different? Will using the capitalist system to provide choice and allow the market to decide indeed make for the best solutions? It will indeed be interesting to see if we can have a substantial, measureable impact in the incredibly complex milieu.

The Ballet of the Traffic. Sort of…

The intermittent rain adds a new Dimension to the already complex dance which is traffic in Dhaka. Here the mass of all 14+ million residents seem to be in the streets at the same time. There is a definite hierarchy here. At the “large” end are the busses and trucks. Each carries battle scars of the many impacts with other, less fortunate vehicles. Next come the taxis, private cars and SUVs. These are driven with aggression and confidence in spite of a seemingly unlikely successful outcome. Next are the baby taxies – 3-wheeled , CNG powered overgrown motorcycles with a body - sort of. Then, the ubiquitous rickshaw. With more than 600,000 of them in Dhaka, there is always a crowd wherever you look. This “personal utility vehicle” is used to carry passengers and cargo of all types. I have seen them hauling food, wares, bricks, lumber, and a lot of things I could not identity. Finally, the pedestrians weave in and out of traffic without a hint of concern for the threat posed by the substantial speed and weight differences between them and the other vehicles. The dance is orchestrated by the ongoing cacophony of car horns, bus squeals and pedestrian shouts. Frequently policemen, and more often bystanders, direct traffic with an eye toward preventing deadlock. It is just amazing to see a mass of all these vehicles and pedestrians approach an intersection and “negotiate” their way through. Rickshaws pull immediately in front of cars, and never seem to get hit. Baby taxies dart between busses and trucks without being crushed. Pedestrians jump into the line of traffic without warning. I have come to realize that the blaring horns are meant to be a polite yet insistent notice to other road users that you are there and do not want to hit or be hit, (As I type this, my bus driver is honking his horn and passing an ambulance whose light is flashing.) And the dance continues.

Armenians in Bangladesh?

Given Joyce's Armenian heritage, I felt I had no choice but to visit the Armenian Church of the Holy Resurrection. As you can see, this church was built in 1781. It is a quiet refuge in an otherwise bustling Old Dhaka. I did not learn how this church came to be in a predominately Muslim region. But it was interesting to see how the city grew around this structure. It only took us about 3 hours to find this church - and this with a hired car, driver, and a Dhaka resident to help. I hesitate to think what would have happened without this help! Old Dhaka is laid out with windy, narrow roads which seem to lead nowhere. Each street is lined with shops of every possible variety. There is no shortage of entrepreneurial spirit in Bangladesh! See the Bangladesh slide show for more pictures of this church.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore...

Sights, sounds, smells. It is through all of our senses that we know where we are and what is familiar. Landing at Kuwait City Airport with ½ mile visibility due to sandstorms, I got my first taste of the new. Arabic music, men’s and women’s prayer rooms, turbans, burkas, squat toilets, …. This certainly isn’t Kansas anymore. Of course, it’s offset a bit by the Starbucks and McDonalds in the terminal. So, for now at least, it’s foreign – but not that foreign.

Runtime Errors…

When I teach computer programming to my students, I am quick to point out that it's all about the details. A misspelled variable name or a missing semicolon means the program will never work. In these simple cases you are often helped by compiler errors which prevent the program from ever executing. These often cryptic messages give the initiated a chance to determine what went wrong and fix if fairly easily. The more insidious errors are called runtime errors. These are generally logical failures and occur only after the compiler tells you that you have a perfectly valid program. The problem with runtime errors is that the computer does very little to help you track them down. Your only hope is to try as many cases as possible, observe the results, and hope you can create a fix. Oftentimes runtime errors are "cured" with a workaround – a kludge which mitigates the problem in the program. Well, I've managed to trip across a few runtime errors in my travel already. These are unanticipated problems which could not be easily detected before the trip began – at least before the first trip of this kind. Live and learn! I now know that you cannot withdraw money from an ATM using a card which expired 5 days earlier! So much for the concept of ready cash in any country! But there's always the workaround of using (expensive) cash advances from a credit card. I also know that in order to insert a new SIMM chip into your cell phone to get local service, you need to have a SIM slot! And, in order to import liquor into a country which allows it, you cannot pass through a country which does not – especially if all of your bags are carry-on! Runtime errors are the bane of software developers. They are difficult to observe, problematic to find, and oftentimes impossible to fix within the current design. This makes workarounds a necessity. It seems that in travel, it is much the same. Even with extremely diligent planning, the unforeseen will occur. Just have those workarounds ready.

The familiar and the new...

It is the new in life that drives us to grow. It is the new that stimulates us and excites us. Is this the new that we spend our lives preparing for. It is the new that we choose to pursue. However, it is the familiar that makes us sane. The familiar keeps us grounded. The familiar is that safe place we go when life gets too hectic for us. I took a trip to the familiar today. Joyce and I hiked to an area we have hiked for 30+ years in Horsetooth Mountain Park. We took our picture at the very place we have so many time before. We have 30 years of pictures and memories from this spot. Memories with the two of us. Memories with our children. This hike reminded us of the rattlesnakes found along the trail. It reminded us of the infamous Father's Day hike in a hailstorm. It reminded us of all the conditions we have ever encountered in this place - sun, heat, rain, hail, snow, and mud. This familiar grounds me as I prepare to leave for Bangladesh tomorrow morning. I am always tense just before a big trip - anticipating the new, but dreading the loss of the familiar. I know that as I board my plan tomorrow I will surrender my control to others until I arrive at my destination. Then I will enter the new. I am so excited!

Patience, Reward, and Customer Service...

The last few weeks have been a significant trial for an impatient person like me. The biggest issue has been my ongoing battle with the Embassy of Kazakhstan to get my passport returned in time to start my travels. Of the three visa trips my passport made to DC, this was the only one I elected to send by Express Mail figuring that although I had 3 full weeks ("usual processing time up to 5 days") I might be a bit tight. The striking characteristic of my 3 times per day phone calls to the embassy to move the process forward was the overall pleasantness of the people involved. While the people were not really doing anything to help me, they were very nice and "sounded helpful." The urgency on my part never translated into action on their part. During the same weeks I struggled to get a jacket repaired under warranty. In a similar manner, the people were uniformly nice and always acted concerned about my problem. They sometimes even called back when they said they would. Yet nothing ever happened - it seems that "Nate" was on vacation, and he was the only one who knew anything. Then, the company was acquired and not allowed to order any new jackets until mid June when the ordering systems were merged. In both cases, caring and concerned employees were thwarted by business systems which prevented them from helping the customer. My final example was a "quick stop" to replace a custom made battery pack. Here I got the "it should take a day - we'll call you." Since they didn't call, I did! And somehow they seemed frustrated that I didn't just wait for them to call me. The key was expectations - had they told me it would take "up to a week," I would not have even thought about it. All of these reminded my of the adage to "under promise and over deliver" to ensure customer satisfaction. Setting realistic expectations, and then meeting or beating them is the best way to ensure customer loyalty. And the message for me for my upcoming trip? Be patient - it'll work out in the end!

Hello CSU...

As a two-time graduate of Colorado State University (CSU,) I am excited to return to my alma matter as an Instructor in the College of Business teaching Computer Information Systems. I taught my first class in the Global Social and Sustainable Enterprises (GSSE) program in the Spring Semester of 2008. I felt lucky to be able to teach the first cohort of this innovative program. The GSSE program is described in more depth at http://www.biz.colostate.edu/ms/gsse/. The most unique portion of this program are the summer experiential learning opportunities. This summer I have the pleasure of joining two teams who have already begun their in-country experiences. First I will travel to Bangladesh with the Small Engines team to explore the opportunities for a low cost, 1-HP, biodiesel engine being developed at CSU's Engines and Energy Conversion Laboratory (http://www.eecl.colostate.edu/) used for farm irrigation. For updates on this program read the excellent blog by student Mitesh Gala at http://entersection.blogspot.com/. After a week in Bangladesh, I will travel on to India to explore the market potential for hydraulic hybrid retrofit kits to be used on buses and trucks to reduce fuel consumption and hence lower pollution. You can learn more about this project by visiting http://www.czero-solutions.com/. Finally, I will be teaching in the Executive MBA program at the Kazakhstan Institute of Management (KIMEP http://www.kimep.kz/.) My wife will join me for this leg of the trip starting in early July. This should prove to be an exciting summer for us - please join me for the journey.