ICMA in Milwaukee

Well, here's the crew - the local government management students from Indiana University.  Aren't we a good-looking bunch?

A light rain was coming down when we met in the parking lot outside my apartment to start our trip to Milwaukee to attend the 97th Annual City/County Management Association Conference.  Professor Powell, our program director, had reserved a university van for us, so the seven of us piled in and we began the five-hour trip.

When we arrived in Milwaukee we checked in and attended a reception.  The real show wouldn't begin until Monday.  I went back to the hotel a little early to get some personal time in by reading the scriptures and trying to observe what I could of Sunday as the Lord's Day.  Its tough when your schedule is dictated by conferences and others' preferences to find that alone time with God and your own thoughts but its always worth it.


Monday morning dawned gray but we were excited for the day's activities.  After the keynote speaker's inspirational remarks, we split up to go to different sessions and to sell ourselves to head-hunters and to the plethora of municipal managers.  I went to a session regarding management in the "new norm".  Essentially, it focused on the fact that cities can't expect to keep raking in the sales and property tax revenue like they have for so long and are going to have to learn how to do more with less.  I went to a presentation by ArcGIS with regards to the Government 2.0 movement next.  The Government 2.0 movement is an effort to bring government up to speed with new technical innovations in mobile and internet technology.  The presentation focused on new web applications.

Without boring you with the details of every presentation I attended, let me simply say that they were interesting, but a very disturbing theme started to emerge - pessimism.

That's right.  The Baby-Boomers and Gen-Xers have given up it seems.  I heard the same losing strategy when I attended a conference in Berlin, Germany earlier in May.  That losing strategy is the following: "We've broken our system and are leaving a legacy of failure to the next generation.  Our programs in the federal government are unsustainable at present.  Our cities are indebted and crumbing.  We're passing on the torch whether you want it or not.  Oh, and by the way, if you could keep my Social Security payments coming that'd be great."

I'm meeting this pessimism head-on and plan on showing these past few generations what the American Spirit really is.  We of the new generation that are coming of age are going to clean up your mess, but it's not going to be pretty or quick.

Enough ranting.  It was tough to stomach at the time, but its served to strengthen my resolve.

By far the most important and beneficial part of the conference was breaking out of my comfort zone and speaking with city managers, assistant city managers, and other civil servants.  I got a few business cards and was asked to send in a resume or two.  I'd call that a success.

Monday night we had dinner with the members of the Indiana Municipal Managers Association that were at the conference. (See photo above.)

Tuesday night were went to the sponsored dinner at the Discovery Museum and later to the Harley-Davidson Museum.  We snapped some photos.  We ate.  Good times.

Outside Harley-Davidson Museum

I think its a good fit, don't you?

Backpacking and Such

Warning, this post may induce you to leave your day job/cozy retirement/ridiculously expensive university studies.

But you're going to keep reading anyway.

Enjoy.

I began this past summer touring Italy and participating in a study abroad in Berlin. It was a blast. It was my own "Grand Tour". I gained a lot of self confidence and appreciated the wealth of experience and knowledge. However, my heart really isn't in travel. Its not in cool clothes or listening to new music. As with most red-blooded Americans, I have a deep love for the West, for mountains, for getting dirty, and, to keep the list short, adventure.

Luckily for me I was headed to northern Colorado for a three-month internship.

When I got there my little heart was broken to realize that many of the famous Colorado 14ers would be impassible until August. (The 14ers are mountains that are over 14,000 feet in altitude.) I had to sate my appetite for hiking and adventure with mountain biking, hikes and runs around Devil's Backbone and Coyote Ridge (open recreation wilderness areas near town), and 200-mile relay over the Continental Divide from Colorado Springs to Crested Butte.

I suppose I had a little fun here and there...

But I was waiting for some serious hiking and backpacking. I decided that I couldn't sit around and do next to nothing at my summer job for another week and made plans to go backpacking with a friend - one of my best decisions ever.

Too much else happened for me to really do it justice here and keep your interest. Suffice it to say that I hiked nearly to the peak of a 14er on Monday, 15 August and then backpacked in Rocky Mountain National Park that Thursday through Saturday.

Long's Peak from the Boulderfield at 13,500 ft.

















Lost Lake Trail (valley) and Stormy Peaks (to the right).

Only a Dad

I grew up visiting my Grandparents' houses fairly often. I enjoyed those times. I can remember most of the pictures on the walls, the knick-knacks, and the personal touches.

As I've grown older I've taken more notice to what all those things mean. When I moved in with my Grandfather about eight years ago I read this poem on the wall and it left an impression on me.

It turns out that its only the last stanza of a longer poem. Its entitled "Only a Dad":

Only a dad, with a tired face,

Coming home from the daily race,

Bringing little of gold or fame,

To show how well he has played the game,

But glad in his heart that his own rejoice

To see him come, and to hear his voice.

Only a dad, with a brood of four,

One of ten million men or more.

Plodding along in the daily strife,

Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,

With never a whimper of pain or hate,

For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,

Merely one of the surging crowd

Toiling, striving from day to day,

Facing whatever may come his way,

Silent, whenever the harsh condemn,

And bearing it all for the love of them.

Only a dad, but he gives his all

To smooth the way for his children small,

Doing, with courage stern and grim,

The deeds that his father did for him.

This is the line that for him I pen,

Only a dad, but the best of men.

- Edgar Albert Guest

A Code and a Race

It was sometime in the early hours of Saturday morning and the sun hadn't even begun to hint at a new day.

"You go get it, hero!"

"Hero? Me? Why do yo say that?"

"We know what you can do.  There's no getting out of it now."

I couldn't help but smile a little at that.  Rob was about ten years older than I, in good shape, and had  pushed hard through his first leg of the race earlier during the heat of the day.  The truth was that I admired him for the sheer grit and determination it had taken to finish that leg.

The first annual Epic Rocky Mountain Relay, traversing the distance from Colorado Springs to Mt. Crested Butte, began Friday morning the 22nd of July.  I awoke at an hour whose existence I usually ignore to meet with the members of our relay team and carpool to the starting location.  In my mind it was something of a coincidence that I had joined the team and found myself headed towards this adventure.  I had offered to be a substitute for the team a month and a half before when I met a girl that mentioned that her family would be participating in it.  Two weeks before the race, the improbable became reality.

The relay consisted of approximately 200 miles of roads, trails, and paths through desert, along rivers, and up and over the Rocky Mountains.  There were twelve members, with each running three legs of the race, for a total of about seventeen miles per person.  We were divided up into two large vans to facilitate dropping runners off at the right time and providing water and encouragement during the race.

I was runner number six.  I waited my turn and cheered on numbers one through five.  Excitedly, adrenaline pumping, I neared the exchange point at high noon as I watched our teammate speed towards me.  I fastened the fluorescent Velcro band that served as the baton around my ankle and kicked it into high gear, racing down the main road into Cañon City - the wrong way!  Half a mile down the road, the team van came to a halt in front of me and I needed no further explanation.  They dumped me off on the right road but I had lost valuable time and I still had 6.3 miles to go.


I was nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit and farmland and the Arkansas River's close proximity only made it worse by adding humidity to the mix.  By the time the exchange point came into view, I was near my breaking point.  I've done a lot of running and I know when I've given it everything and I had.  Still, I poured it all out with 200 meters to go, racing into the finish and handing off the bright band to the next eager runner.

I stumbled around, realizing that heat exhaustion had set in, but elated beyond words because I had reached a transcendental point.  I had given it my all.

In that moment there was a connection, a communication - the most honest I can give.  The excitement from my teammates and bystanders verified that the message had arrived.

The story now comes full circle.  Rob and the others in the other van went to catch a few hours of sleep as the other half - including myself - began our final legs of the relay Saturday morning.  I had earned respect.  There is no greater prize for a man who deals in the currency of respect than to suddenly find that he has become rich.

Determined and now lifted up by the faith of my team, their sacrifices, and hopes, I raced down the Western Slope from 10,500 to 9,500 feet for 8.4 miles during my final leg.  I passed ten teams, coming from behind from a mile or more away.  I was on a mission of no mercy.  I struggled up the last slopes to make it to the exchange point.  I raced with gusto down the last 50 meters to the finish, passing one last runner.  There was no way I would disappoint any of the expectations that my team had built for me based on my past performances.

Now, some reading this might say, "Joel, you are full of yourself.  You've got a mean case of hubris".  I don't tell this story to "toot my own horn", as Gramps says.  Rather, this is an analogy.

Its a simply lesson.  You've most likely already guessed what it is since I haven't tried to hide it.  You cannot expect trust from others until you give - not just an "honest" effort - but a full effort.  You can't expect to be a hero unless you give it your all.  You can't communicate greatness unless you do something great.

When you do, the excitement is infectious.  The realization that great things are possible expands minds and hearts, and there is nothing people so motivated cannot do.

At the top of Crested Butte Ski Resort, Team Kan'dōō sprinted across the plaza and across the finish line.

End of an American Dream

A veteran grade school teacher began the school year like many that had gone before: assigning desks, student numbers, and passing out the obligatory ream of informational papers for the children's parents.  Finally done with organizing the class, she looks over the class and asks the simple, all-important question - the question she knows is the most important for her young students.  It will dictate their direction in life for a time as they pass from one interest and curiosity to another.  What's most important is that they begin the journey of dreaming, hoping.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" she asks.

Budding doctors; firemen; policemen; baseball, football, and basketball players; a few ice cream men; a president or two, and some astronauts are all present.

Their teacher can't help but smile.  She'll do her part to help these young dreamers.

But now at least one of those dreams is impossible.  At least one of those hopes is gone.  The great irony is that it is a direct result and comes under the presidency of a man whose winning slogan was "HOPE".


The exploration of space, the "Space Race", pulled not only the United States economy but its future through the times of despair during the Cold War.  Its been a matter of national pride for generations.


My father brought me the stickers modeled after the different Space Shuttle Missions he worked on, like these:

He brought home posters of the International Space Station, telescopes, and constellations.  We spent time looking for satellites, the space station, and dreaming.  Dreaming like humankind has dreamt for thousands of years about exploration and the greatness of the cosmos.  I was always a pretty timid kid, so I never thought about actually go up in a shuttle, but I loved them and I was proud of my Dad.

It was the era of Star Trek and Star Wars, the time of patriotic innovation, and to prove the principles that our government was founded upon.  It was an era defined by the firm resolve that life, liberty, property, and the pursuit of liberty was better than the farcical communist world regime bent of the violent overthrow of peace everywhere.                      
Even after the Cold War, as the world began again to define itself and settle into a new order of democracy, the beacon of accomplishment shone bright, a hope and reassurance that success is indeed possible.

Is that now over? The democrat party encourages domestic manufacturing production, ends the Space Shuttle program, and enslaves ethnic minorities through billions of dollars of welfare programs that serve only to make them ever more dependent on the Federal Government.

The era of hope, innovation, and success will continue only if and when the will of free men and women remains strong (Ronald Reagan).

Independence Day and a Weekend Getaway

I arrived in Colorado about a month ago and began my summer work as a budget analyst for the City of Loveland.  Its not glamorous work, but its been a good experience so far.

Let's face it though, you don't want to hear about budgets, interdepartmental politicking, or even the latest gossip from the office.  You want to know what I've been doing for fun.

I decided to take the Independence Day weekend and visit friends in Utah.  At first, I didn't know exactly why but it didn't matter.  I was hitting the road!

I flew out of work Friday the 1st of July and soon the miles became a blur.  North central Colorado and southern Wyoming were beautiful and green still because of the extra snow and rain.  I wouldn't mind putting all my cares behind me and settling down on a ranch out there.  Wide-open spaces, blue skies, and tall mountains - it calls to you.  Maybe this is what so many Americans felt and drove them to settle the West.

I'll spare you all the details of my trip.  Suffice it to say that there was a lot of closure for me.  I had felt remiss that I hadn't opened up more to roommates and friends, hadn't been as friendly as I could have been, and maybe left an impression I would be ashamed of.  I suppose some folks don't worry what others think of them, and to a degree you shouldn't, but I valued these people's respect.  I deal in the currency of respect, you see.  That's all a man really has in reality.  Money comes and goes.  Family can be near, far, live, or dead.  But a man's legacy, his pride, the respect he has earned from good, honest people - men, women, children - this is the most fulfilling thing he can achieve.

I had the opportunity to chat with friends and former roommates between swimming and other things, and came to the conclusion that I didn't fail, that I'm actually at least a decent guy.  Well, imagine that...

I tried to get a group to go down to the Freedom Festival's hot air balloon exhibition on the 4th but it ended up being just Dave Horan and I.  It was cloudy and windy, and, as a result, they only inflated the dozen-or-so balloons.  A strong gust of wind managed to blow most of the balloons over and they all decided that Mother Nature's hint was a good one.  The Darth Vader balloon was by far the most enjoyable.

Dave and I had the IHOP "Red, White, and Blue" special at IHOP and then I hit the road again.

About 100 miles into the trip back to Loveland and a mile or so southwest of Evanston, Wyoming, my engine heat went through the roof and I pulled the car off the the shoulder.  I got it towed into Evanston and, through my vast knowledge and experience with cars, deduced that it was the alternator belt.  What tipped me off, you ask?  Well, it was gone.  I figured that meant I should got buy one and put it one.  I walked through town to the Auto Zone, bought the belt, read the manual they had at the shop, and figured I'd take a crack at it.

I have a decent tool kit in my trunk and started working on it, but lacked the confidence to just follow the instructions.  A guy named Kurt came on over from the bar that was within eyesight and said he had a mechanic friend that could help me out.  Sure enough, his friend came on over and we/he worked on it for about an hour.  Maybe it was one of those blessings in disguise - because I learned how to change my belts.  Also, I learned a secret mechanic's technique - if you swear at the part, bolts, nuts, etc. it works out a lot better.

My mechanic friend wouldn't take any cash and he was just a decent guy that loved the small town.  It was a great lesson on the goodness of Americans.  We're not shmucks, lazy and fat freeloaders, or welfare-sucking or shameless hillbilly ignoramuses.  We're honest, hard-working, God-fearing good people.

I got in around 9:30 that night just as all the fireworks starting going off.

At Journey's End (for now)

Last week I arrived late at night in the sweltering city I've called home for nearly a year - Bloomington. As I trudged back to my apartment sometime past midnight, towing my luggage the two miles home, I had lots of time to think. In a few days I would start my drive out to Colorado and begin an internship with the City of Loveland. I didn't know what to expect. As I'm writing this now, the night before I begin work, I still don't, yet I'm optimistic and excited for the new challenge.

Frustrated with the humidity and heat (even at 1am!) I cut my hair short, showered and called it a night.

The next few days I spent recovering from traveling and preparing for the long drive. Luckily for me, I had thought ahead, made arrangements to rent a room from a member of the LDS church that the local Bishop referred me to, and just needed to throw my gear in the car and go.

I started Thursday and made it to Council Bluffs/Omaha that evening. In the morning I visited the Mormon Cemetery in the north of town near the old Winter Quarters that served as the point of departure for emigrating Mormon Pioneers to the Salt Lake Valley. There is a visitor's center there staffed by full-time sister missionaries. I decided to take a tour of the center and was impressed by the overwhelming feeling of optimism that these pioneers expressed while driven from their homes by violent mobs, while dying in log huts during the winter, and while burying children along the trail. You cannot keep a dry eye as you hear about the struggles those people had. I placed myself in their shoes and wondered, "Would not my faith be shaken to lose a wife, son, or daughter along the trail?" Truly, the LDS culture - and by extension American culture - is based on great sacrifice, perseverance, and faith

About midday, I hit the trail myself, stopping only for a bite to eat in Lincoln, Nebraska and to get gas. I arrived about a quarter to 8pm in Loveland, Colorado.

As you ascend the hills in eastern Colorado, the Rocky Mountains slowly emerge from the haze of early June and a beautiful scene opens to you: a green rolling landscape of small streams and rivers and the majestic silhouettes of mountain peaks. Its good to be back in the West!

I spent Saturday doing yard work. Yes, you heard correctly. Yard work. And I even enjoyed it! It had been eight years since I had mowed a lawn and trimmed the yard, and I just felt like doing it. Later in the afternoon, I attended a party at a church member's house in neighboring Berthoud and enjoyed getting to know some new people. It takes a little effort at first to meet people and remember names, but its always worth it.

Today was a good Sunday. I didn't know what to expect at church, but was nonetheless surprised to see the chapel completely filled and the accordion doors being pushed open to set up chairs in the overflow seating area. There are tons of LDS young single adults here, and the ward (what we call our congregations) has a lot of activities planned. River rafting is the first up next week! Looks like I'm in for an exciting summer!

I don't have any photos yet, but I should soon. Stay tuned!

Days 16-19: Potsdam and so much more...

Apparently Potsdam:Berlin :: Versailles:Paris

I can now vouch for that. The lavish palace city overwhelmed me while simultaneously delivering magnificent sunburns to most of the students in my group.

In the past few days I have also gone on a boat tour of Berlin and heard multiple lectures, but nothing has been as impressive as the sights and history of Potsdam. (Click the link for a brief history)

To save myself considerable effort, I'm going to give you the Cliff Notes version of the tour, i.e., what I thought was really impressive and thought provoking.

The first was an impressive rococo-style palace in the old garden that had a terraced vineyard and greenhouse sections. Atop the palace are the words "Sans Souci", meaning "without a care". In other words, this was the Prussian King's getaway palace.

Not only was this ostentatious structure framed by several hundred steps, but also trees and foliage from all over the world were planted nearby. Perhaps the most interesting is the Japanese cake tree. Sadly, this large deciduous tree does not produce slices of cake. Rather, it smells like cake (or cotton candy).
I also enjoyed our walk through a quiet neighborhood on our way to the Neue Gardinen, but I was transfixed by a miracle along the way. Imagine the scene: about 20 American tourists are following a man of average height and build along a shady sidewalk when they stop in front of an attractive brick structure. An iron gate separates the group from the building but they can clearly see benches, bicycle racks, and and the tell-tale signs of a children play area. Then, the guide simply explains that this was the former KGB headquarters in Eastern Germany and that that whole section of town was sectioned off for their private use. It was here that prisoners were brought, vile plans devised, and murders realized. Yet, now it is a peaceful place. Your mind quickly thinks, "How can this be? Can it be that the taint of evil is vanished from this place?" In fact, it has! It is a miracle! Just as the dead zone, or no-man's land of the Berlin Wall, has disappeared in the city and become forested in the peripheral areas, so too has this place been healed of the blight that once festered in its halls.

The last great stop of our tour was the site of the 1945 Potsdam Talks between the Big Three Powers of World War II: the U.S., Great Britain, and the U.S.S.R.. It took place in a beautiful palace built for the crown prince of Prussia. This was the place where the West, the Allies, we failed the world and abandoned Eastern Europe to 45 years of Soviet oppression, murder, and worse. Stalin pulled a fast one on his allies - he was the only individual to attend all three of the conferences (in Tehran, Yalta, Potsdam). In the middle of the Potsdam conference, Churchill lost his office due to elections and Roosevelt had passed away. The damage that had begun in Yalta continued in Potsdam. If only we had been more cautious, more doubting of the Soviets. Yet, what's done is done.

There is simply too much to explain here. I'm considering making an Adobe Presenter Presentation for family (and maybe friends) with all of my photos. That way, I can record my voice (and/or video) explaining everything and it would be like I'm right there with them! That's assuming, of course, that they want to have the pleasure of my virtual presence.

By the way, today was fantastic. The Church services were wonderful and I had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon at dinner and on a walk with a family from the local ward (congregation). I've been spoiled rotten for the past three weeks now. I suppose this goes to show that the Lord looks after those who stop everything - even their vacations - to worship on His holy day.

Day 15: Has it realy been that long?

Today didn't include the usual breathtaking vistas or world-class museum tours. It was just a normal day of class. We gathered at the Hertie School in the morning for a lecture and again in the afternoon at the BDI (Bundesverband der Deuschen Industrie or, in English, The Department for International Trade and Development.

Essentially, the BDI is an institutionalized lobby organization for German businesses. I thought the idea was very clever: bring in all the businesses and business interest groups, form committees and policy that must be approved by the BDI bureaucrats, and only that can be passed on as official recommendations to policymakers (members of parliament). It cuts down on individual businesses lobbying on an individual basis. It made the U.S. Dept. of Commerce or the National Chamber of Commerce look silly and unorganized.

Day 14: A Glimpse of the Horrid Past

Today was a serious, somber day for me. My peers and I were given a walking tour of Berlin and information regarding the Nazi past and the occupation by the Soviets. Seeing with my own eyes the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe and the Berlin Wall caused me to contemplate, to wonder at the evil that existed not so long ago.

Our tour guide was a charismatic young woman originally from Canada who has been living in Berlin for the last six years. I was impressed with her wealth of knowledge and appreciative of her blunt accounts of the Nazi and Soviet atrocities.

The Berlin Wall was, in reality, more complex than a single wall and a bit of barbed wire. It consisted of a wall enclosing all of West Berlin so that the East Germans could no longer go to West Berlin and receive asylum and air transport to West Germany. The wall itself consisted of two walls: the first wall if successfully scaled was followed by a strip of nails and an area not known as "no man's land" but "the dead zone" because this is where you would die if you tried to cross the wall barrier. Trip wires, land mines, soldier patrols, and barbed wire were used in this dead zone. If somehow one managed to cross this area, there was a second cement and steel reinforced wall to overcome.

Now, all that remains are scattered ruins of this wall. Where the "dead zone" once was are thoroughfares and buildings of a thriving, unified city. A line of bricks or cobbles is all that marks where the wall of separation once stood. The fall of communism and the Berlin Wall I attribute largely to the unwavering faith and determination of one man: President Ronald Reagan. On 12 June 1987 he said,

"General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization, come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" (watch the video here)

And it came down.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jew of Europe was stark and somber. The grid of rectangles sits atop a museum of facts and biographical information of victims. The rows of the columns you see demonstrate being engulfed in hopelessness, but that we, unlike the Jews, can see hope, a way out, at the end of every path.

Without going into more details about the Holocaust, I provide this photo and ask the reader to not shun his responsibilty to face the gruesome facts of history.

Day 13: First Day of the Berlin Study Abroad

I suppose that before I begin to describe today's adventures I should give an overview of what happened yesterday. It was pretty great after all.

I left my bags at the Ravenna Hotel where I'd be spending the next two weeks a little before 8 o'clock in the morning. Then I enjoyed a leisurely walk to the LDS chapel that was a little over a mile away. It was perhaps one of the more enjoyable walks I have ever had. It was a perfect, cool temperature. Birds were singing, the staße (streets) were lined with trees, and I was, without the slightest hesitation, going into yet another adventure. To my great surprise, when I arrived at the beautiful brick church house I learned that it was the official international ward in the Berlin Stake.

There were at least three brothers there that worked in the U.S. Embassy and a number of others that spoke English. I really lucked-out again! Of course, it only got better. One of the councilors in the ward and a senior official with the Embassy, offered to give me a ride back to my hotel. The offer evolved into an offer for lunch with him and his wife, and then for a walk around Grunewald lake nearby. It was really fantastic. I very much appreciated their hospitality and friendship.

Today's activities were three: 1) a lecture at the Hertie School of Governance int he morning, 2) a visit to the Pergamon Museum in the early aftenoon, and 3) a visit to the Riechstag in the late afternoon/early evening.

I was really impressed with the Pergamon Museum. I had no clue that there would be a museum of classical antiquity and Mideast artifacts in Berlin. I suppose that just shows my ignorance. Named after Pergamon, the city-state in Asia Minor, the museum boast exhibits from Pergamon, Miletus, Ancient Babylon, Assiria, Persia, and the Caliphates.

I was more interested about the Ishtar Gates than anything else. I recalled having heard about them somewhere before, but was unprepared for the vivid display of color and craftsmanship.

Around 600 B.C. these gates were constructed of glazed brick and raised motifs of mythological creatures. Even after 2,600-plus years the blues and golds are striking.

I got a good look at a lot of Cuneiform and early Aramaic writing on clay tablets and the process of stamping used to make copies of important documents.

Today was rainy and cold - a clear contrast to yesterday's pleasant weather. We walked to the Riechstag to tour the dome. I thought it would be a typical dome like the ones I've seen recently, but it was completely different. It was an amazing glass and steel structure. I really can't do it justice. You just have to see it for yourself. (click here)

More to come. Stay tuned!

Day 11: Travel to Berlin

I felt no resentment, nothing tugging at me to stay, when I departed Venice - and Italy - this morning. It was an experience, but I felt no attachment. I will take with me what I learned and felt, and, over time, I hope it will coalesce, contributing to greater personal insights about this world we live in.

I will miss being able to communicate to a moderate degree, however. As I sit here in my hotel room in Berlin, I realize that I am very much at the mercy of whoever happens to understand English. I have had the thought repeatedly over the course of the past week and a half: "What am I doing here?" I am spreading my wings, trying to get my arms around this world and understand it. As it turns out, it is amazingly complex. Who would have thought it? (joke)

Day 10: Laundry!

Seriously, I did laundry. Were you waiting for me to cleverly invent some anecdote? and tie it in to some epiphany about an epic work of art? Basically, I ran out of clean clothes and I have another two weeks abroad in Berlin, so I figured I better do my laundry.

Then, because I was tired of walking everywhere, I got a public boat ferry ticket and rode it around for a long time and took photos of Venice and Giudecca (another island by Venice, see photo to the right). I also bought a boat ticket to Marco Polo Airport for the next day.

I napped on a bench after reading my book for a long time. I napped in my hotel. I got another flavored ice slurpee-thing, some waters, and a can of pineapple. I then opened the tall windows in my hotel room, kicked up my feet, and with relish ate my canned pineapple and drank my water. I was sick of paying oodles of cash for meals. I guess you can take the bachelor out of the city, but, well, he's still a bachelor - its what we do! I've spend too many years eating crummy food out of cans. I don't think I'll ever kick the habit.

Content that I had everything ready for the next day's travels, I drifted off to sleep.

Day 9: San Marcos and Stuff

Thank you, Blogger, for picking yourself up out of that funk and getting back online. Seriously,the world needs to hear about my life. It will end if not everyone on the face of the planet can hear about what I do every day. (That, in case you couldn't tell, was sarcasm.)

Day 9! Oh, glorious day 9! I have no idea what I did on day 9. Luckily for you - and for me - I took photos.

That was the day that I waited in line next to some very noisy and impolite Chinese tourists to go into Basilica San Marcos. That is, until I let some Germans cut in line and they created a buffer zone between me and the Chinese.

No photography is permitted inside the basilica due to it being held as sacred. However, I do have a fairly good memory and I decided to take extra time to methodically study the inside. My purpose: look for vestiges of sacred symbolism.

Unfortunately, the oldest parts of the basilica are nearly indecipherable because of very poor lighting, soot from incense, and age. One does notice immediately why it is called the la Chiesa d'Oro. Its for one very obvious reason - the entirety of the complex of vaulted ceilings is covered in gold! Ostentatious is not quite the right word - it is pure opulence. One can image San Marcos several hundred years ago, its multicolored marble columns, golden fascade, the bronze horse statues of Apollo dating from Byzantium and antiquity, the interior with the meticulously laid mozaic floors, the golden domes rising to enormous heights, and the words "Gloria in Excelsis" coming into full view even as you near the representation of Christ and the Evangelists (writers of the four Gospels).

All of these features are now dimmed by age, but it by no means diminishes the message it is designed to give - authority. St. Peter's was even more so. Unequivocal authority is the message I heard with every step. The experience is so beyond the normal and there is so much symbolism and artwork, mostly referencing Biblical accounts, that the layman must confess, "surely, this is the fount of truth and authority". Such was the world once upon a time. Now, we have the blessing to read the Bible for ourselves. Now, we have the treasured ability to discern and determine where the truth really lies. I invite you to read the Gospels, the New Testament, and to determine whether you live according to that truth, or are simply letting the imposition of authority determine your worship.

I now descend from my soapbox.

Then I went on a long walk. Now, when I say long I mean that I walked around the entire rest of the city on a meandering course for the rest of the day. I estimated with Google maps that I walked about 8-9 kilometers, or about 5 and a half miles. I enjoyed a long walk down to the public park (photo to your left), over the Rialto bridge, to the train station, the Jewish Old and New Ghetto/Sectors, and back to the hotel for some much-deserved r&r.

Somehow, along the way I found myself next to an old church that had violin music coming from it. Curious, I peered inside, only to find the whole of the interior dedicated to classic string instruments and the composer Vivaldi, a native of Venice. I read about some of these amazing instruments and took some interesting photos as well.

I'm pretty sure that after getting a nap, I went out to have some dinner because, true to form, I hadn't eaten yet that day and was famished. I asked the cameriere for an apple for dessert, and it was amazing.

Fin.

Day 8: Venezia

I exited the train station this morning to a bright sun, a not unpleasant amount of humidity, and no idea where my hotel was. Adding to the problem was my realization that, even if I knew where it was, I had no idea how to get there. How is this, you ask? Well, faithful reader, its
because Venice has no cars and is a labyrinth of the highest quality. (follow the link to a Google map)

Luckily for me, I had the bright idea to purchase a map. After jockeying for space with some German high school kids for space on a boat, I arrived at the section of town I thought my hotel to be in. As luck would have it, I was wrong, so I got back on the boat and went down to the next stop. At least I snapped some cool photos as I was getting lost.

Once I found my hotel, I struck out and used my superior sense of direction to make my way to Piazza San Marco and the Basilica. Of course, I ended up on the wrong island, but I did have a tasty lunch at water's edge. I was wondering if my meal was overpriced, realizing that its difficult to factor in the value of the amazing ambience because it has a different value for each individual. Still, cool clean water and ragu di cinghiale con cicoria rossa made it pretty amazing.

I finally made it to the world-famous Piazza San Marco. It was stunning!
An arcade of columns lines the square, leading you to the 941 year-old San Marcos Basilica. What immediately strikes the observers, whether artist buff or not, is that this is not a normal Roman-Catholic cathedral. Its so old that the style that most people think of when they think "cathedral" wasn't invented yet. It is clearly Byzantine in style and origin and borrows from classical motifs such as the horses atop the portico reminding one of Apollo and the zodiac on the tower adjacent. I'll be able to comment more tomorrow once I tour the inside.

At this point I started to wear down, the hot Venetian taking its toll. I read The Gulag Archipelago in a nearby park. Interestingly, some Russian kids came by and started smoking, drinking beer, and talking loudly immediately next to me. I could hardly ignore the irony of the situation - I was reading the account of how millions of their countrymen had suffered and died, enduring pains beyond comprehension and they were abusing their liberty, living a sloppy and embarrassing lifestyle. We all have a debt to pay to the generations that have gone before us that have sacrificed for our well being, institutions, and families.

I bought a slushy-thing on the way back to my hotel and decided to call it a day. I've got two more days to experience the City of Water.

Day 7: I Musei de Firenze (The Museums of Florence)

It turns out that my opportunity cost of time is quite high. (For the unenlightened, non-economists out there, opportunity cost is the value of the activity that you would be doing if you weren't doing what you actually are. In other words, its the value of the next best alternative.)

I meandered over to the Uffizi Gallery this morning at about 8:30am thinking I'd beat some of the traffic. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

After waiting in that hellish line at St. Peter's in Rome and numerous nights of bad sleep, the value I place on comfort and time (because I wear out fast, being sick) far exceeds the 11 Euros I would save by paying the normal entry fee.

How did I manage to do that, you ask? I bought a ticket for about double the price from some girls touting the museum's association. I skipped the 2-hour line and went straight in.

I can't begin to describe my experience once inside. It was sensory overload. I, with most people, congregated to the big works of art. You know - Boticelli's Birth of Venus and the like. The famous works that they show us in our undergraduate art history classes.

I waded through room after room of altarpieces. It became drudgery after the Vatican Museum in Rome. Its not that I don't recognize the painstaking, minute, and intricate workmanship. I just can't look at them anymore. (This is the queue for someone who loves altarpieces to lash out at me.)

I wish I wasn't so mentally drained from all the touring I've done because I went to the House of Dante Museum next and it was phenomenal. In addition to information about Dante's works and life, the included detailed political and cultural background information, painting an exceptional and holistic picture of the time in which the great writer and scholar lived. I sympathize with Dante - both the man and the pilgrim in the Commedia. This was written on one of the information boards:

"...his love took on a different significance, far away from earthly reality, stimulating him to profound human and moral introspection. Beatrice's death opened a deep wound in Dante's heart and soul. His regret at not having been able to love this perfect creature properly and at having let himself be led to other futile loves makes the poet fall into a profound crisis".

Then I went to my hotel room and took a siesta. (I earned it.)

By 4:30pm I was at the Galleria dell'Academia. Oh? You don't know where/what that is? That, my friend, is where the David is. You know the one - Michelangelo's giant, 17-foot tall, immaculate statue. That David. I'm beginning to run low on brain juice again now, so the reader will have to excuse me if I don't elaborate any further. Suffice it to say for now that it rocked (pun!).

I tried to get to some famous gardens but they were closing. Then I got lost, got dinner, my train ticket for Venice for tomorrow, and patted myself on the back. Self, great day.

I took a photo or two as well along the way.

Day 6: Florence

In my blog "Day 1: Rome" I mentioned that during the week leading up to my trip to Italy I hadn't slept or eaten well because of a persistent fever. Nor did I sleep on the 9-hour plane ride. Nor has jet-lag been kind. Do you know what that all adds up to? Yes, I am indeed sick.

The fact is I have been from the get-go, but I developed an inner-ear/lower sinus/throat infection that has made life really uncomfortable. I mention all this to excuse myself, dear reader, for the brevity of today's entry.

The train ride from Pisa to Florence was packed and I was forced to occupy one of the areas in between cars where passengers enter and exit. I think that irritated me more because of the shady characters I was sharing space with mixed with a growing headache.

I found my hotel easily enough after asking a local man where I could find Via Scala. I surprised myself by stuttering very little and using correct grammar. Now, if only I could do that in English all the time.

The receptionist at the hotel was very friendly and gave me several great tips on when and how to go about seeing the sights, mainly about the Uffizi Gallery.

I reasoned that I would feel better once I got out in the fresh air, and this was true to some extent. The museums are closed on Mondays as a general rule, so I decided to locate Dante's house, the Uffizi Gallery, and Brunelleschi's dome atop San Lorenzo Cathedral (the likes of which had not been replicated since Roman times).

I found all these things, got a bite to eat, some Listerine in the hopes that would clear up my infection, and came back to my hotel room to sleep in fits and read about the pillage and conquest of the Inca Empire.

Tomorrow, I sincerely hope to be in shape to go enjoy the city. What I've seen has me excited already.

A domani!

Sculpture replica Orsanmichele

Orsanmichele

Day 5: Relaxing in Pisa

I think some people just pass through Pisa, hastily snap a few photos of the leaning tower, and go on to Florence or another city. They don't know what they're missing.

Yesterday, I described the other great things there are to see, including: the Duomo, Baptistery, museums, and town itself. Today, I got to experience something even better - the people.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints there is always one thing I can count on - a congregation of friendly, like-minded people anywhere I am in the world (just about). So it is in Pisa, Italy. I enjoyed the early morning walk from my hotel near the River Arno to the chapel, arriving early enough to chat in my broken Italian with a few members.

I was able to understand about 80-90% of what was being said in the various meetings, and I even contributed a little bit in Sunday School when I got my courage up. In Sacrament Meeting, I was asked to help administer the Sacrament which took me by surprise but also was an answer to a silent prayer that I be able to do God's will, do some good, today.

I knew that Pisa was close to a U.S. military base and expected to meet some U.S. personnel stationed there at church. True enough, there were a few families, and it was interesting to see the young American and Italian families side by side in unity.

After the meetings, a brother named Mike Trexler chatted with me and invited me to have dinner and spend the afternoon with him; his wife, Maria; and his daughter, Pamela. He informed me that they lived about 25 minutes away from the city and that he wouldn't be offended if I turned down the invitation. Turn down the invitation? to go spend a beautiful day in Tuscany outside the city? and eat real home-cooked Italian food? I would have to be pazzo.

Once we arrived at their house in the hills of Monte Serra, I was invited to sit out on the porch and wait for dinner. Pamela soon joined me, and we spoke about traveling - which she has done a lot of - and missions - her brother is currently serving in the Salt Lake City Mission. It was pleasantly warm and a cool breeze made everything perfect. (At this point, you should be rolling your eyes. Seriously, I did nothing to deserve such beautiful weather.)

Dinner was spectacular. I cannot compliment it enough. Fresh basilico from their herb garden definitely was a great touch. Even the conversation was excellent. We talked about Italy, languages, travel, family, etc. etc. I simply can't say enough to describe how fun it was.

Grazie, famiglia Trexler. Era un piacere conocer tutti loro. Spero poter andare a visita loro di nuovo alcun giorno.

Thanking Mike and his family for their hospitality, Pamela drove me back to my hotel in Pisa. I'm going to call that a great day.

This experience today highlights some thoughts I've been having lately.

Ruins and art are great, fascinating. Travel is enriching and liberating. Relationships, people, buona volontá, these are things that are without price and truly beautiful. To those (mostly my family and friends) that are reading, I simply want to say that if you never travel, if you never do anything extravagant in your life, if you never can one-up someone at the dinner table telling stories ("I went to the moon", start from 3:05 or 5:15), just know that the most important, most rewarding, most valuable things are the people around us. They are infinitely more complex than the Sistine Chapel and more valuable than the gold of so many altar pieces, even if they appear to be more obtuse than the leaning Tower of Pisa (pun definitely intended).

Day 4: Pisa

Its been a fairly relaxing day - if for no other reason that Pisa is substantially smaller than Rome and I didn't have to walk around as much.

The train ride up here passed through some really picturesque Tuscan scenery. I also almost didn't make that train this morning. As an American, I've grown used to long lines, intrusive searches of my person, and minute instructions (the result of generations of abusive litigation in our industries). None of this was present this morning when I frantically searched for my train at 6am. Sweating, embarrassed, I found the right train, tried to collect myself, and was fortunate enough to sit my an American family that indicated that they too had the same difficulty.

But you don't really want to hear about that, do you? What you want are cool pictures of the leaning tower. Done. (See right)

What some of my readers (look at me, assuming I have readers), might not realize is that the famous leaning tower of Pisa was actually begun in 1173 AD and took over a hundred years to finally complete. It is actually the bell tower for the enormous cathedral, the Pisa Duomo, which you see to the right in the photograph. Behind the Duomo is the largest baptistery of its kind.

This baptistery has to be experienced, not just seen. The acoustics are such that one voice can produce an amazing sound by contrasting pitches over one another as they are held for a prolonged period by the round, domed structure. An attendant demonstrated this to the tourists, but I didn't think to try to record it until too late, so all you get is this photo (to the left) and this link to a YouTube video that I think approximates my experience decently (although the woman that performed for us was much better). The photo below is the inside of the baptistery.














The remainder of my day consisted of examining the really old frescos that had been damaged by Allied bombing, reading/sleeping in the grass, and eating some really good gnocchi in a pesto sauce.

I scoped out the church building here in Pisa a while ago, and I'll be going to the first LDS chapel built in Italy tomorrow and taking the day off for some much-needed physical and spiritual rest and rejuvenation.

Ci vediamo domani!

Day 3: Rome

550 stairs and a little bit of claustrophobia later, I stood on top of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican. How did I end up there? Let me tell you a story...

Using every ounce of willpower I had, I woke up and dressed at at 8am (Don't judge, ok? I have jet lag issues!). I put on some new pin-strip wool dress pants, my favorite dress shirt, and a tie. Today, I was going to Roman Catholicism's most revered sites and I wanted to make sure I didn't offend anyone.

Finding the metro closed for repairs, I walked to Vatican City - its only a mile or two away. I hopped into the line that said "St. Peter's Basilica" with oodles of other people and thought I'd be in in no time. Ha!

Remember that I said that I dressed up? Imagine my (moderate) surprise to find that most people were dressed very casually, the women were being constantly reminded to cover their shoulders and other exposed areas, and that the idea of what "sacred" implies was completely lost. And these were by and large not Americans! I will spare the reader of many further social or moral critique.

It took about two hours to finally reach the hidden ticket window. Then, you travel up the hundreds of stairs to the inside rim of the dome overlooking the interior of the basilica. Finally, many more stairs later up hallways diminishing at strange angles, you arrive at the pinnacle, the cupola. It was pretty cool. It was hard to stop thinking about how much my feet hurt though.

I made it to the interior of the basilica and looked around for a little while. I was on a tight time budget because I wanted to hit the Vatican Museums - which includes the Sistine Chapel - and an art exhibit on the life and works of Caravaggio and the Caravaggisti.

I hurried over to the Vatican Museums, got lost (of course) trying to find the Sistine Chapel. There is no photography allowed in the Sistine Chapel, which is fine by me. Any photo I could have taken would not have done it justice, nor would it have been nearly as good as what I can find online in 0.17 seconds (thanks, Google).

The rest of the Vatican Museums were really interesting as well. Here are a few favs:

To the right you can see an angel taking shape. This was the model used by Bernini to cast bronze statues: terra cotta, wood, and wire.

Directly below you will see a (rather poor) photo of a master Caravaggio work, The Entombment:













Last, but certainly not least, I stumbled upon the Frabergé egg. Yes, that one...from Ocean's 12. It was very cool. All I have to say after seeing the dozen or so jewelled eggs the Romanovs commissioned is that Czars really knew how to do Easter eggs.





My legs felt like they were cramping up ever since I arrived at St. Peter's earlier in the day, so mozzied on over to the gellateria with the soy-based gellato, read my book on the steps to the fountain in front of the Pantheon, had a pizza for dinner, and came back to the hotel a little early.

That's okay though because tomorrow I'm up early for a new adventure in a new place. That's right, I'm up bright and early to catch a train to Pisa for the weekend.

Ciao!

Rome: Day 2

I was still asleep when someone came to clean my room this morning. Good thing then woke me up or I might have slept all day. That would have been one waste of a day.

I had initially thought to tour St. Peter's Basilica, the Sistine chapel, and the Vatican Museum today. Sleeping through half of it forced me to rearrange those plans. Instead, I went to the Palantino (seat of the Roman government and palaces), the Pantheon, several piazzi, and the outside of St. Peter's. One of the best surprises that I had today was that there is a special exhibit of works by Caravaggio going on. Guess what's on my list for tomorrow.

The Palantino is a crumbling reminder of the glory of Imperial Rome. Vistas like the one in the photo to the right cause the viewer to imagine what it must have been like to have been Nero or Vespastian or Caludius.

I had always thought that the glorious, Roman palaces were all stone. I felt a little deceived when I realized today that most things appear to have been made with brick and covered with stone or stucco. Hence, all of the brickwork in the photo.

Also, as an aside, I finally found a good retort of economists and there notions about sunk costs. You see, I bought a ticket for entrance to the Colosseum yesterday. The ticket also allowed me to visit the Palantino. I had not originall planned to visit it, as I was not familiar with it but thought I might as well get my money's worth. That is what economists would call irrational behavior because the price of the ticket was a sunk cost. However, I, and most ever other sane, non-economist in the world see it as a fixed cost. A fixed cost is a cost of operation that does not vary. Spreading the cost of the fixed cost over more items produced or meaningful activities drives what is referred to as economies of scale. Meaning, that people are acting rationally when they eat more when they go to buffets, or see more sights in Rome.

I'm fairly certain that most people reading this couldn't care less about sunk or fixed costs, so I'll move on to the Pantheon. Imagine my dismay as I struggle through the maze of Rome's streets, give up and have a gelatto (made from soy!), and then come upon the object of my search only to find that its been converted into the St. Mary and the Martyrs Basilica! I should have remembered, but I was hoping to see the cool statues of the Roman gods. Oh well. It wasn't a total bust - it was the Pantheon after all.

Soon after looking around the Pantheon, I came across Piazza Navona. It was immediately apparent that it was the cool place to be. There were several guitarists, caricature artists, and, of course, a giant fountain. I wandered around and watched the artists go to work giving people buck teeth and oversized features. I briefly considered getting one done of myself, but I think you would have enjoyed that too much.

By this point, I was exhausted. I was near the Tevere and decided that I would find a place to read for a while. I found a nice place next to the Bernini bridge that leads to Castel Sant'Angelo on the steps leading down to the river (the photo on the right is from my reading spot). It was pretty great.

I walked around the castle and then on over to St. Peter's. No big deal. Actually, I was thinking a lot about how we as people like to have a sense of place, an anchor. For Mormons, its Temple Square in Salt Lake; for Muslims, its Mecca; and for Catholics, its St. Peter's. However, if there's one thing I've learned in my travels to the Holy Land and now to Rome, its that either I have a gypsy soul and places can't touch my heart or that my faith and heart tell me that all the stone and artistry in the world cannot build those things that are most important: truth, trust, and friendship.

Its not that I didn't marvel at its glory, the outstretching arms of the Bernini collonades, the Maderno portico, or the dome of Michelangelo's construction because I most certainly did. It was all very impressive.

I think there are a thousand other things I could say, but I should try to keep these posts to a manageable length for the reader's benefit as well as my own (read: its getting late). Hope you enjoyed day with me!

Da Roma, ciao!

Rome: Day 1

I've decided to keep a daily blog for those of you, family and friends, that want to keep up on where I'm at. If you're going to be a frequent reader, all I ask is that you try not to be too jealous of my adventures and/or genius (yes, I know you just rolled your eyes).

I can't believe I actually made it. This past week has been one of the most challenging I may have ever had. Between final exams, fevers, not sleeping regularly, and spiritual struggles, I didn't have anything left when I finally found my hotel in Rome this morning. After perhaps the world's best power nap, I felt ready to go get lost exploring Rome.

And lost I soon became. The map the hotel provided soon proved to be the most valuable resource I had. I covered about a third of the city in about eight hours and got some great views of the Piazza Venezzia (picture to the left), the Colosseum, and other really old Roman stuff.

I didn't learn anything about the piazza - although I suppose I should have. Its gorgeous and has cool statues. 'Nuf said

I did, however, learn that the "Colosseum" is actually a misnomer. It was given that name for the giant bronze statue that stood nearby in the courtyard of an adjacent temple. It was really called the Flavius Amphitheater, Amphitheatrum Flavium, or, in modern Italian, Anfiteatro Flavio.
It would be an understatement to say that walking around the Colosseum was cool. It was epic. I couldn't help but imagine the most epic moment in known cinematic history: the Bruce Lee versus Chuck Norris battle. Go ahead, watch it.

There were oodles of people all over the place. I was having trouble understanding the fast, mumbling Italian, but the other half-dozen languages I could only guess at overloaded my tired little brain.

I ended up at the Fiume Tevere (river) and got dinner in the Jewish sector (who loves shwarma? I certainly do.)

All in all, it was an amazing day. I can definitely wait for tomorrow though. I'm beyond exhausted. That's not to say that I'm not excited to see what the Eternal City brings for me tomorrow.