Oman...Not What I Thought...

Ever heard of Oman? It shares a border with Yemen. Yemen is the birthplace of Osama Bin Laden, and by all accounts a fairly poor and dirty place. When I learned that this trip would include a jaunt to Yemen’s next-door neighbor, I assumed that Oman would be dirty, poor, and backwards. I was wrong. Very, very wrong!

Oman is an incredibly rich country in terms of both culture and financial acumen. Everything appears to be brand-new, built out of marble, and designed by some of the best architects the world has to offer. This was not by accident; the Sultanate of Oman decided some forty years ago that he wanted his country to take a progressive path and cater to tourism (some of the best scuba diving in the world is found here…so I hear). He ordered world-class hotels built. He ordered that the roads be paved anew. He funded education to all new levels. The only problem was that when he started ordering these changes, he wasn’t in charge of the country…his father was.

But the people were on the side of the son and wanted to move into the modern age. So, the son had the father thrown in jail. But not just any jail…this was a jail built on an island. The new Sultanate then built a palace on the mainland that faced the jail so he could keep an eye on the old man.

When his power base was secure, the son released the father and allowed him to retire to his own (heavily guarded) villa, where he died of natural causes many years later. In the meantime, Oman moved steadily forward to establishing itself as the tourist Mecca for this part of the world.

And the people LOVE him for it! I have been to countries run by dictators, kings, presidents-for-life, etc. Usually, these people are detested by the average person on the street. In Oman, things are different. They understand what this man has done for his people, and they seem to genuinely appreciate his efforts. It’s amazing the love the people have for this man.

Our host, Hunaid (who resembles Quasay Hussein a little…but lacks his evil disposition) took us around one evening to show us a few sites. We were able to see one of the 7-star hotels that has been built to cater to wealthy (very wealthy) tourists. The rooms there start at $800 per night during the relatively cool winters, and dip to $300 per night during the unbearably hot summers.

We also visited a souk, which we would call a “bazaar.” It has miles and miles of tiny shops selling everything imaginable. Of course, the shopkeepers are fairly aggressive in this part of the world and had Phil and me in their sites long before we cast a shadow on their thresholds. It didn’t help that we’re two very white men in very Western business suits. That’s OK…Phil bought a couple of souvenirs for his grandkids, and I managed to get some entertaining video shots.

The next day, I had a presentation for about 50 people. If you’ve ever wanted to know what I do for a living…watch this video. That’s me, in front of a relatively small group of people explaining how our solutions can help them accurately collect hand-printed response data from paper forms. While I’ve included a few minutes of the video for this blog, I actually talked on this day for over three hours. That’s three hours of straight talking, answering questions, and pitching our solution…we did take one 15 minute break. And yes, every single person actually returned to the presentation after the break!

After the presentation, we ate and returned to our hotel. Phil and I had to get up early the next morning to catch our flight to Dubai.

That’s all from Oman (at least for now…it looks like I’ll be going back there in a few weeks). Keep checking the blog for the next exciting tale from the Middle East!

Meet Adam and Eve (well, Eve anyway...)

Today we decided to commune with nature once again. We’d done the safari thing in Namibia where we could look at the animals but not touch. Today would offer us the chance to pet, stroke, grope, slap, rub and even ride African Elephants to our content. If there was any sense of natural justice in this world, these huge animals would stomp us into the ground as we attempted to “share an experience” with them. As it is, the lawyers have gotten involved and the elephants know that they’d be on the losing side should they decide to administer jungle justice on us.

So it was off to an elephant center for us. Yes, they have “centers” for elephants in this part of the world. It seems that a full-grown bull elephant requires some 10,000 hectares (25 acres) of land to support itself. Because of development, land is getting more and more scarce in South Africa, which is crowding the elephants together. This causes mass pachyderm starvation as they compete for the same food.

The solution to this problem isn’t particularly pretty or tourist-friendly…they “cull” the elephants. “Cull” is a euphemism for mass elephant murder. They kill them any way they can…by setting huge traps that are similar to mouse traps except they use peanuts for bait. They sneak up on them with Predator Drones borrowed from the U.S. Air Force and launch missiles into the heard as they’re having wedding parties.

The elephants at this center are waiting to be relocated. Some of them may wind up in zoos, while others will wind up on private reserves. They can’t be released back into the wild because they have been trained to not trample people (which means that they’ve unlearned an essential survival skill). Living in the center, though, beats the alternative…which is being dead.

Three elephants (two teenage males and one middle-age female) were paraded in front of us and did some tricks for our amusement. They knelt down on the knees, jumped up and down in place (yes, you read that correctly; see the video), trumpeted on command, and gave kisses with their trunks.

This whole kiss thing was disgusting (again, refer to the video). Everybody wanted me to get a kiss, but I told them that they were out of their friggin’ minds. Kirsty, to her credit, is fearless when it comes to elephant snot. She stood next to an elephant, a handler took the trunk, placed it on the side of Kirsty’s head and gave it the command to “kiss.” The elephant blew through its trunk and left a brown goo on the side of Kirsty’s head. Disgusting! The only cool thing was that it was a female elephant…and you know we guys always like two see two girls making out…

Afterward, everybody was allowed to walk with the elephants. Basically, you held on to the end of their trunk with your hands and led them around an exercise area. Again, I was asked to participate, but I declined. I was told that this might be the only chance I’d have in my lifetime to lead an elephant around by its nose. Somehow, though, many years from now when I’m on my deathbed reviewing the regrets of my life…I don’t think this event is going to be on the radar. Plus, as I reminded everybody, we had to sign legal waivers that clearly stated that these 11,000 lb animals are still wild beasts that can (and do…and likely will again) kill at any second. What’s next for these people…snorkeling with Great Whites? No thanks. I’ll just stand off at a distance and film the carnage should it happen. Perhaps I can make a video “When Elephants Go Crazzzy! Now with extra blood and broken bones!”

After our elephant encounter, it was time to head to a fascinating museum in the middle of nowhere. It’s a new attraction, and was built to honor the dead people that they found in nearby caves. These aren’t ordinary dead people, these are the original dead people. Original as in Adam and Eve. Ever heard of the fossil skeleton of “Lucy” that was found in the 1970’s? Well, this is where they found her!

I must admit that I never would have associated Lucy and other proto-humans as having lived in what is now South Africa. I always thought they’d have lived further north on the continent…rather than its southernmost extremity. This is why I never became a paleontologist.

The museum was entertaining and informative. There’s a boat ride at the beginning that seems rather pointless. Otherwise, it’s a well-conceived tribute to our earliest-known ancestors.

Dirty Dancing in Jo'Burg

OK, the blog is a little out of date because I’ve been working. I mean it! I’m not kidding! My days have been starting at 7:00 – 8:00 a.m. every day (weekends included; in fact, I had to met everybody at 5:15 a.m. in the hotel lobby so we could catch our flight from Namibia to South Africa). This has been murder on my body clock…which includes a natural “snooze” feature when I have to wake up before sunrise!

Anyway, we left Namibia VERY early in the morning so that we could get to the airport and hang around waiting for the Namibia Airways staff to arrive so they could check us in. We were there a good hour before they showed up.

Namibia Air is a tiny outfit. They have exactly four planes. This morning, three of the planes were parked on the tarmac, as the airport here doesn’t have boarding gates. We had to walk across the tarmac to the planes after clearing security. I managed to pull out my camera and take some footage as we neared our aircraft. It was pretty cool seeing such a large plane from this angle. In the U.S., passengers are never allowed to approach a plane like this without armed guards surrounding them.

Two hours later, we landed in Johannesburg. They issued me a 1-year visa, which I thought was quite generous. Our host, Mario, the crazed faux-Cuban, proudly drove us around the city and explained that the neighborhoods with the high brick walls, topped with electrical fencing wrapped around barbed-wire, broken glass, and used hospital needles are the “safe” areas where people live. The “really safe” areas have walls with machine gun nests and guards equipped with RPG’s.

So, welcome to Johannesburg; a city with two populations. The wealthy white people live in fortified mini-cities. The rest of the population live in squalor.

It is easy to judge this situation on its surface, but that would be unfair. Grossly unfair. Many of the blacks are from other African nations…like Nigeria, Botswana, and Zimbabwe. There are no controls at the borders. The people who cross them at will are illiterate, homeless, and have no skills. They arrive by the tens of thousands with no means of support. So, they turn to crime. Often violent crime.

The Johannesburg newspaper is a very depressing thing to read. On the front page is a description of the daily shootings, stabbings, and beatings that occurred the day before. Pages two and three cover the recent armed robberies, batteries, and car-jackings. Pages five and six are devoted to rapes, assaults, and petit theft. The funnies are on page seven.

Despite its problems, Johannesburg is a beautiful place. There are purple trees everywhere. Mario told me the name of these trees, but it’s impossible to pronounce or spell because an Afrikaans word (or possibly Swahili…I don’t know). Anyway, they are deep purple in color…like they came off the set of the Telly Tubbies.

There are also big piles of dirt everywhere around the city. When I say “piles,” I really mean small mountains…many of them more than 100 feet high. I was told that these are where they pile the dirt they dig from the gold mines. By the looks of it, there are scores and scores of huge gold mines all around the city.

Mario drove us straight to the international headquarters of CSX (the company he runs). It’s an impressive building in the middle of a business park. It looks like it was built in an old factory. The cubicle areas are open, the ceilings go up three stories, the air conditioning ducts are exposed. But looks can be deceiving; they told us that it was designed from the beginning to look like it had been retrofitted from an old warehouse. Seems to me like it would have been cheaper to find an old warehouse from the beginning…

My boss and I met with their sales staff, and I did a song and dance for them. I wowed them with our latest products, and they seemed genuinely excited about the new opportunities these products can generate. A few hours later, we were whisked to our hotel.

I happen to be “Diamond” status with the Hilton hotel chain…I stay with them a lot. When we were checking in, I was asked to sign a receipt for 9,900 Rand. I had no idea what this was worth in American currency. I signed it and went to my room.

My “room” turned out to be a suite…with its own swimming pool, butler room, 12-seat dining table, private movie theater, and a helicopter pad. Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but when I did the calculation, 9,900 Rand turned out to be $1,326.19! In a panic, I picked up the phone (before I touched anything else in the room), and called my boss’ cell phone. No answer! I send a text message. I called his room. Still no answer. So, I decided to settle in to the most expensive hotel room I’ve ever stayed in. I drank the complimentary bottle of Champaign—and consequently didn’t care how much the room costs. I enjoyed a massage (including the famous “Hilton Happy Ending”)! And I curled up in my luxurious covers for a quick nap.

After a while, we were picked up by our distributors and driven to an amazing restaurant on the other side of town. It’s modeled after a Brazilian churrascarias, where they bring skewers of meat to your table, carve off slabs that fall onto your plate, and have medics on standby should the cholesterol rush overwhelm your arteries.

The meal was wonderful, and the wine and beer flowed freely. We got to really know our distributors and had a great time. Somehow, the group talked me into getting on stage and dancing with a professional terpsichean (yes, that’s a word and a profession…go look it up!). Eventually, the crowd started yelling for me to “take it off,” and much to my surprise, I did! Yep…I was dancing with this hot chick (old enough to by my mom… but still hot) there on stage without a shirt. Don’t believe me? Well, you’ll have to watch the video all the way to the end…

Sundowners With Rhinoceroses

Well, our work here is done. It’s time for a bit of emotional bonding with our hosts, and we spend our morning shopping. I’m not much a shopper myself, but it’s always fun to walk around the stores in foreign countries and see that they sell a lot of useless crap…just like back home! I did buy a stack of postcards and the stamps to mail them back home.

After a light lunch at one of the downtown Windhoeck shops, it was time for the main event of the day…a real-life, honest-to-God, African wildlife safari! I was so excited about killing big, defenseless animals that I nearly wet myself. It was only later that I found out we would only be allowed to take pictures. Africa has been greatly sissified over the past century!

We drove for more than an hour outside of the city. Along the side of the highway, we saw countless baboons. There were baboons lying about the side of the road, baboons resting atop the road signs, and baboons hanging out by water troughs intended for farm animals. We even saw a momma baboon carrying her little baby baboon on her back.

We eventually arrived at the game preserve…an 11,000 hectare hilly ranch surrounded by a very strong wire fence. The centerpiece of the ranch is a spa/resort that is incredibly beautiful. The centerpiece of the centerpiece is an indoor pool that overlooks a craggy valley and the sprawling hills beyond. The pool is an oasis of water in a very barren and dry landscape. Truly beautiful!

Shortly after we arrived, we were loaded into an uber-cool Land Rover and driven around the property in search of big game to shoot…with our cameras. The first animal that we encountered was a big thing. Wayyyy in the distance. Our driver killed the engine and pointed out a couple of big, black, quadrupeds resting mid-way up a hill approximately 1.2 light years away. I’m sure he told us the name of the species, described the animal’s behavioral characteristics and preferred diet. But as 1) I couldn’t inflict harm upon it with a bolt-action rifle and 2) I wouldn’t be eating it later…I found it hard to concentrate on the lecture.

Things got a LOT more exciting when we approached a herd of giraffes. These animals are tall…I mean, REALLY TALL! I’ve seen them before at zoos, but somehow seeing them in their “natural” environment…and only a few dozen feet away…gave me a new perspective on how big these creatures are. They were eating leaves from the tops of trees that had to be 20 feet high. And there were so many of them! I guess the “family” consisted of 7 or 8 individuals.

Another thing that I found interesting was how well the giraffes’ camouflage works. When a giraffe stands behind a tall tree…he more or less disappears. I knew that there was a giraffe standing a few dozen feet away from me behind a tree…but he was truly difficult to see…his form and colors blending perfectly into the landscape. Amazing!

The Land Rover is an incredible vehicle. It is perfectly designed for this environment. Not only was it comfortable for us as we viewed the various creatures in the park, but it had no problems navigating through soft sand or up steep inclines. It’s hard to believe that this is English engineering at work!

While we saw a ton of other animals (many of whom had relatives that I enjoyed eating for dinner last night), the ones that impressed me the most were the rhinoceros (rhinoceroses? Rhinoceri?). These beasts are built like Sherman Tanks…complete with armored plating! They’re huge! They have a very large and sharp horn sticking out their head! They’re kind of like a dinosaur, elephant, and unicorn all wrapped into one.

We saw a total of four of the beasts…two mothers and two calves. We literally chased them around, let them get worn out, parked the Land Rover a safe distance away, and set up a cloth-covered table to serve our drinks and snacks.

This is a memory that will stay with me always. Standing with my new friends next to a collapsible aluminum table holding snacks, beer, soft drinks, and liquor. Drinking one of those beers while watching four rhinoceroses that were watching us only a few dozen feet apart. The sun slowly sank behind the hills in the distance, and the temperature rapidly fell. Sundowners with rhinoceroses. Cheers!


Note: I added video to the last post. Check it out if you haven't seen it!

How do You Like Your Zebra Cooked, Sir?

It has been a long, long day. I showed up at the U.S. Embassy in London at 8:00 on Monday morning. They didn't open until 8:30, so I had some time to get a cup of coffee and another fantastic English Breakfast(TM).

Unfortunately, they couldn't add pages to my existing passport because it had water damage and the cover was separating from the spine. So, they issued me a brand NEW passport! It only has 5 pages, and is only valid for 12 months (temporary passports are usually only good for 3 months, but South Africa requires 6-12 months on a passport for entry). Anyway, I had a brand-new passport in less than 2 hours. Way to go, U.S. Embassy!

After gathering my luggage from the hotel, I headed to Heathrow Airport and checked in. I found out that the plane was 1/2 empty and got my choice for seating. Then it was off to the ServiceAir business lounge for a bit of Web surfing and a couple of glasses of wine before my flight to Johannesburg.

The flight to J-burg was 10.5 hours. A damn long flight, but I've been on even longer flights. The good news is that I had a window seat, and there was nobody sitting next to me. The bad news is that we were two hours late taking off. The guy who fueled the plane didn't complete the appropriate paperwork, and we were grounded until he submitted the correct form.

When we arrived in J-burg, I had 20 minutes to get from my gate to the next flight to Windhoek, Namibia. It wouldn't have been so bad, except South Africa decided to put an immigration booth between me and my next flight! Usually, when transferring to another international flight, one just goes to his gate and gets on the plane. Not so in South Africa. They wanted to see my flashy new passport and put in a stamp. There was a long line to get that stamp...and the clock was ticking.

One thing that surprised me at first, and then started to really piss me off, was that some people thought that they could walk to the front of the queue and butt in line! After I watch this happen a couple of times, someone piped up and said to one of these jokers, "Excuse me! The line starts back there!" The guy looked at him and said, "My plane is boarding."

At this point, I had to jump in. "ALL of our planes are boarding!" to which several people started saying, "Go back to the end of the line!" There would be no more queue-jumping this morning!

I literally ran to catch my next flight. Some Chinese guy was sitting in my assigned seat. He was none too happy when I told him to move. Considering that the plane was mostly empty, and I could have sat anywhere, I can understand his frustration. But rules are rules. Just because we're in Africa doesn't mean that the rules of civilized society go out the window! "Bad China Man! No lo mein for you!" I said. That caught him off-guard!

When we landed in Windhoek, I was sweating a bit. Not only because it was hot, but because I was about to lie to immigration officials; an act that could very well trigger a process where I wind up working on a chain gang under the hot Namibia sun. You see, technically, I am here on business and that would require a business visa stamp in my passport. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to send off my passport to get this special stamp...so I had to enter the country under the guise of being a mere tourist...not the globe-trotting, high-powered, wealthy business executive that I am.

I chose my immigration queue very carefully; it needed it to be staffed by someone who appeared sympathetic and perhaps easily manipulated. When my turn came, I was standing in front of Immigration Officer Sari, a middle-aged African lady sporting a few extra pounds around her mid-section. I had memorized a few details that every tourist to Namibia should know, and asked her if the wildlife was active this time of year. I found out that it's baboon mating season. Huh. I also learned that Officer Sari has a daughter who studied in the U.S. and that she's expecting her first grandchild. She stamped my passport and handed it back to me with well-wishes for my holidays. Sometimes, it helps to be able to pour on the charm!

When I went to the baggage claim area, I was accosted by some crazy man with a horrible Spanish accent. "You American, no? You come with me!" He grabs me by the arm and starts leading me towards the door. "Come, come!" he yells as he leads me along. I'm totally confused and decide to break his grip on my arm. He's only about five and a half feet tall and looks like he weighs about 140 lbs. I can squash him like a Nigerian dung beetle if I must.

As I'm weighing my options for a quick escape, he starts to laugh and says, "Robert...it's me...Mario! hahahah! You should see the expression on your face! Hahaha!"

Mario is our distributor in South Africa who is also responsible for the accounts in Namibia. Though I had talked to him on the phone many times, we'd never met in person. My boss and Kirsty, Mario's right-hand lady, had put him up to this. They all thought it was a great deal of fun watching me being accosted in this manner after 20-some hours of straight travel.

I will have my revenge. Until then, on with the story...

My bags didn't make it from J-burg. No surprise there, as I had such little time for my connecting flight. We headed straight to our hotel where everybody was able to shower and change clothes. I was able to shower, but had to put back on the same clothes I'd been wearing for two days. Ewwww.

Then it was off to meet with our largest client in Namibia, the Ministry of Education. We spent several hours with them as they proudly showed off how they use our forms and scanning equipment. They've got quite an interesting operation and it seems to be very well-run. They have a lot of the same problems as our customers in other parts of the world (e.g., cheating, occasional power outages, etc.), but they've got their operations down to a science.

With business done, it was time for dinner. We were taken to a wonderful place called "Joe's," which is very much like something you'd expect to see in an Indiana Jones film. The restaurant is mostly open to the sky. There are dozens of tables, most covered with a thatched-roof. Narrow corridors wind between the tables to connect one area of the restaurant to the other. Thousands of empty bottles of Jaegermeister line the walls. Lights are strung about on chords that hang from the bare wooden braces that support the thatched roofs. Most tables had candles burning, which didn't seem particularly safe around all the free-flowing booze and highly flammable building materials.

Over the years, I've eaten some pretty exotic foods. Duck foot soup in China, teriyaki duck tongue (also in China), raw fish intestines (China, again), and broiled duck brains (once again, China). Tonight's menu featured a host of exotic meats including zebra, crocodile, ostrich, and kudu (a type of antelope). I decided to order a skewer that includes a chunk of each animal.

I was asked how I prefer my meat to be cooked. "Medium rare," was my response. Red in the center, and pink around the edges.

My meat was served on a skewer that was nearly 2 feet long. It had enough meat on it to make three meals. I decided that I was going to try at least a bite of each type of animal. Below is a summary of how these exotic meats taste:

Crocodile - Tastes like chicken.
Zebra - Tastes like really, really old t-bone. Dry and not juicy.
Kudu - Tastes like roast beef.
Ostrich - Tastes like chicken with a slight hint of duck brains.

The meal was excellent, our hosts were very entertaining, and I was one very, very tired "tourist" by the time I got to my room. Much to my surprise, my luggage was waiting for me in my room.

British Museum of Thefts

Well, yesterday I was a lazy bastard and decided to sleep in with no alarm clock! It has been a long, long time since I've done this (more than 2 weeks!!!), and I decided that it was time for some serious sleep and laying in bed reading and ordering room service (not something I can do from Candide).

But today was different! I needed to explore; to stretch my travel wings and see what awaited me in the city beyond the confines of the Marriott hotel.

First order of business was breakfast. Now, I don't normally eat breakfast; I prefer to wait until lunch. But, since I'm in England and all, I know that breakfast will be the only decent meal I'll have for the day. The English generally have horrible food, but their breakfast is to die for! It's absolutely loaded with fat, cholesterol, salt, carbohydrates, and possibly ground up infants. I don't know what's in the stuff, but it is awesome (see video below)!

After breakfast, I hailed a taxi to the British Museum. London taxis are the best. The entire vehicle is designed with the traveler in mind. In the U.S., taxis are just regular cars with a "taxi" light glued to the top. In London, the taxis have room in the back for both people and luggage. They're easy to enter and exit (even for big guys like me). The windows are large so you can watch the city unfold in front of you. So while England may not have invested too much effort into their culinary scene, they CERTAINLY know how to design a taxi!

The British Museum has been around since the mid-1700's, and has been free to visitors from its inception. The only issue I have with the museum is that most everything that it contains was stolen from some other civilization...from the Babylonians to the Egyptians to the Greeks to the Romans. Some of these civilizations (especially the Greeks) want their "stuff" back from the British. I mean, I've been to the Acropolis in Athens. Know what? The Parthenon is missing a few statues. Personally, I think that the Brits should give them back to Greece...after all, they were told that if they built a sufficient museum to house them, then the statues would be returned. I have personally seen the Greek museum built to hold the friggin' statues. The Brits say that this new museum isn't good enough!

Well, sirs, the friggin' Greeks carved the damn things in the first place! They should be able to store them in whatever sort of building they like. The fact is, the statues belong to the Greeks...in Greece! Give it back, you big bullies!!!

Don't tell anybody, but I managed to steal the Rosetta stone while nobody was looking. My intention is to return it to the people of Egypt when I visit there in a couple of weeks. We'll see what happens...

Damn Limeys!

Lost in London

I was able to get out of Jacksonville without any incidents...no mysteriously rescheduled flights, no sudden thunder storms. I arrived at Washington Dulles, where I had to change flights.

It's been years since I've been to Dulles, and I had forgotten about these weird transportation vehicles they have. Instead of digging a tunnel from one terminal to another, they have these buses-on-stilts things that move everybody between terminals. My guess is that somebody decided it would be too much trouble for everybody to walk from the 2nd floor of the airport to the ground floor to catch a bus...so they created these super-jacked-up monstrosities that back up into the 2nd floor loading area, get loaded with people and bags, and then drive right along to the drop-off. They look positively WEIRD! It's embarrassing to ride in them, and quite frankly a blight on our nation's capital.

Flight out of Dulles took off on time, and we made it to London 40 minutes early because of a tail wind. Because we had a 10 1/2 hour layover in the city, my boss decided to get "day rooms" at the Hilton Heathrow. These are regular hotel rooms, but rented from the hours 9:00 - 17:00. It was great to have a room to take a shower and a quick nap before the next flight to Cape Town...which will take 12 1/2 hours.

We had to check in again to the airport to catch our flight, and this is when my troubles began. It seems that my passport doesn't have any blank pages for visa stamps!!! Now, mind you, my passport has three blank pages at the end...but these apparently are for something called "endorsements," not visa stamps!!! They wouldn't let me on the plane.

I tried calling the U.S. Embassy, but they are closed until Monday morning. Now, mind you, I can get Pizza Hut to deliver, get a burger at McDonalds, or even buy a Ford here this weekend...but can I talk to good ol' Uncle Sam when I need him? No! He's out binge-drinking with the other G7 frat boys this weekend while I'm stuck here in LimeyTown waiting until Monday morning so that I can get visa pages added to my passport!

My boss made it safely to Cape Town; I talked to him yesterday evening. At best, I'll be able to meet him in Namibia on Tuesday morning. It all depends on if I can get extra pages added to my passport. Cross your fingers for me!

In the meantime, I'll be checking out London. Today, I think I'm going to the British Museum. I'm interested in seeing all that stuff they stole from countless other civilizations over the centuries.

Here's a video for you to enjoy. That's all for now...

I Finally Made It To Canada!

Well, it certainly took a while...but I finally made it to Canada! On Wednesday evening, I was greeted by Eskimo girls who put a lei of maple leafs around my neck as I got off the plane. I was given a traditional Moose Biscuit (don't ask...), passed the entrance exam (list 25 synonyms for the word "snow"), and took a taxi to my hotel.

It's been years since I've been to Toronto, and one thing really struck me on this visit. I have never seen such a diversity of ethnic groups in a single city! My taxi driver was from India. The girl who checked me in to the hotel was from Poland. The guy who served my drink at the bar was from Ireland. There was a cocktail waitress there who was from Thailand. The guy who tried to steal my wallet was from Puerto Rico. It really is a very diverse city!

Wednesday evening, I helped our team (Marvin Viegas and Brett Barnes) set up the room for Thursday's presentation. I grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed straight to my room because I had a 12:00 a.m. conference call with a customer in Abu Dhabi. By the time I went to sleep, it was 3:00 in the morning.

I woke early and had to help with our "Road Show" presentation on Thursday morning. These presentations happen all the time with our company, and I've done hundreds of them over the years. Basically, one of our salesmen will send letters to dozens of clients and potential clients inviting them to a presentation and lunch. We use the time to demonstrate our latest products and answer questions that they might have. Afterward, we feed them lunch and then everybody goes home. Hopefully, the clients didn't just come for the free food and we'll see an order from them in a month or two...

I was totally exhausted from staying up so late the night before and I returned to my room to take a nap. Brett and Marvin had better things to do than hang out with me that evening, so I had the night to myself. I wound up walking around looking for a place to eat. I settled on a Thai restaurant and ordered Pad Thai. I asked for it"medium" on the spice scale...I probably should have ordered "mild." It was a bit hot...

The next morning, Marvin picked us up and we drove to one of our major clients in the area...the Toronto Police Department. These guys were nice enough to give testimonials for us at the "Road Show," and now they wanted to show off their brand-new training campus. It was quite impressive! As you can see from the video clip, we were shown around all the various training facilities (fake urban neighborhoods, fake houses, etc...all used to simulate the environments that cops will find themselves in).

We were supposed to be able to fire Glocks at the firing range, but they were in use at the time, so we weren't able to. The cops thought it was pretty amusing that I (a Yank) own and shoot a Glock of my own.

Gord, our host, told a story that I thought was sad. He said that a few years ago, the cadets were instructed to keep the training facilities clean. So, they would fire their weapons in the simulation areas at the academy, and immediately pick up their spent shells and put them in their pockets. The habit became so ingrained that they started finding dead police officers who had been involved in real-life shoot-outs...with spent bullet casings in their pockets or even in their curled hands. They were actually picking up spent casings in the real world during actual shoot-outs. So now, during training, the casings lay on the ground and are picked up later.

Enjoy the video. Please start leaving comments! I need a bit of feedback from these posts...otherwise, I have no way of knowing if anybody is watching them!

Also, please keep checking the blog. I leave on Thursday for England, South Africa, Namibia, Oman, United Arab Emirates, and Egypt. I plan to blog during the entire trip!

Oh, and when I'm on this extensive trip, don't expect the high-production video that I made for my trip to Canada. For Toronto, I used my home machine to do all the editing and music overlays. When I'm overseas on the next trip, I will only have my corporate laptop...and it's not as capable as my home computer when it comes to editing video. So stop bitching already, OK? Jeez...