SECTOR 64: Coup de Main

Posted on April 30, 2011 by deanmcole

BREAKING NEWS
SECTOR 64: Coup de Main made Amazon’s Top Rated list! It is now the 4th Highest Rated High Tech Science Fiction novel in the United States. Additionally, it broke into the ‘Top 20′ highest rated in the broader over all category of Science Fiction. It is now 19th out of roughly 16,000 Kindle Science Fiction eBooks.

If aliens visit us, the outcome would be much as when Columbus landed in America, which didn’t turn out well for the Native Americans.

—Stephen Hawking

I sincerely hope this is only the first in a long list of successful endeavors by Dean Cole. I rank him up there with Clancy, Brown and Cussler.

—Snoopy 4 (Amazon Verified Customer Review)

You can also buy it as an ebook below or as a paperback or ebook at Amazon, Google eBooks, Apple iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Diesel eBooks, and Smashwords.com.

Read 20% of the book in an embedded reader at the bottom of this post.

A disastrous UFO encounter thrust Air Force fighter pilot Captain Jake Giard into a global conspiracy with a galactic scope. This apocalyptic thriller takes Jake from Area 51 to the Moon and back. Tied to Roswell and the fall of the Soviet Union, the conspiracy renders Earth a pawn in a Galactic civil war with apocalyptic consequences. In the final battle, our very survival hangs on Jake’s success.

Back Cover:
In this action-packed apocalyptic thriller a chance encounter with a UFO turns disastrous for Afghan War veteran and US Air Force fighter pilot Captain Jake Giard and his wingman. When Jake tries to discover what it was and why it led to the death of his wingman, he is thrust into a global conspiracy with Galactic roots. The revelations sweep Jake from Las Vegas to Washington DC and from Area 51 to the Moon and back.

Originating in the mid-1940s, and tied to everything from Roswell to the fall of the Soviet Union and more, the conspiracy inadvertently renders the planet a pawn in an ongoing Galactic Civil War. Earth is attacked by a vicious reptilian race, wiping half of humanity from the planet. With the fate of the world in the balance, Jake must take the battle to the enemy—humanity’s very survival hanging on his success or failure.

Here are the sample pages for your review:

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011-2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Publishing Blog, Science Fiction Blog | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Day in the Life – Africa Part 4

Posted on May 9, 2012 by deanmcole

This episode of the Day in the Life – Africa series starts where Part 3 ended. Having finished our excursion to the island’s northeast corner for spear fishing and a visit to the Sofitel Resort, we are on our way back to the compound. Short on supplies, we stop at the island’s largest grocery store.

Grocery shopping in the developing world comes with its own set of challenges. Stocked levels of various goods vary radically from week to week. Often basic necessities are missing in action. Breakfast cereals occupy half an aisle, however, there’s no milk in sight. Eggs are a rare commodity. When you do find them, it looks like they rolled around the henhouse floor prior to finding their way to the store. Bread is a hit or miss proposal. If they have sliced bread, it may be too small to accommodate a slice of cheese. On the bright side, it makes sticking to a reduced carb diet a bit easier.

There are plenty of toiletries, i.e.: soap and deodorant, however, they are in a locked glass cabinet. Judging by the odoriferous scents assaulting my olfactory system, many of my fellow customers found that an insurmountable obstacle.

Due to shelf life concerns, all meats are frozen either uncut, or cut and thrown into a plastic bag. In our freezer, I have a several selections of meat. Typically, they’re frozen together by type. Want a pork chop? Break out your hammer and chisel (or the nearest kitchen utensils suitable to the task) and break one off the frozen block of pork chops.

I’m not complaining. The meats are good. It’s just a small example of the differences we face every day. Today I scored an incredible cut. Unfamiliar with the procedures for procuring the uncut meats, I show up at the cashier with a huge, frozen, ten-pound beef back-strap (a slab of meat big enough to produce ten filets). Apparently, I was supposed to take it to the meat counter for weighing and pricing. A helper runs it back while I continue to checkout. Shortly, he returns, the cashier rings it up, and I pay.

Here's a picture of my butchering efforts on said beef.

Back at the compound, I notice it was only marked at 5000 CFA ($10.00). I’m pretty sure that was a mistake. Had I noticed it at the store I would have pointed out the mistake. However, I won’t lose any sleep over it. A three-quarters full grocery cart that would cost you $75 in the states cost 100,000 CFA ($200) here.

Groceries put away, it’s time for Hin’s cookout. As you may recall from Part 3, tonight Hin, our Thai helicopter mechanic is cooking dinner.

With team members from Thailand, South Africa, Canada, Sri Lanka, Trinidad, Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Germany, the United States, and parts of Louisiana, our base is a multi-cultural, international collection of aviation professionals. With the industry, our current assignment, and a working knowledge of the English language (excepting our Cajun friends … kidding) as common ground, we’ve formed close ties. An eclectic collection of individuals (some more eccentric then eclectic) from radically differing backgrounds, we work in harmony (for the most part).

Speaking of eccentric, here’s our beloved, senior-most pilot, Jack, keeping the bushes trimmed. (We have people for that, but this is Jack’s Zen escape.)

While Hin works on dinner under our covered, outdoor dining area, Jack decides it’s time to burn a stump. Standing around the fire, we fluctuate between animated conversations and silently gazing into the flames. Staccato laughter pierces the hushed interludes. Watching the Harmattan-obscured sunset, we talk, laugh, and reflect.

“Dinner is ready!” shouts Hin.

Taking our places, we dine on Hin’s excellent cuisine. Feasting in relative silence, we proffer compliments through full mouths.

After dinner, we drink, laugh, and swap war stories. As dark envelopes the compound, the evening settles down. Chased inside by swarming tropical insects, a few of us decide to head to the Malabo’s Irish Pub (yep, there’s an Irish Pub in Equatorial Guinea). Armed with a designated driver, and firm in the knowledge that we’re not on tomorrow’s work schedule, it’s time to immerse ourselves in Malabo’s nightlife.

Who knows? We might not limit ourselves to the Irish Pub. But, that’s a tale I’ll save for Part 5.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

A Day in the Life – Africa Part 3

Posted on May 3, 2012 by deanmcole

Sofitel Beach: Islet and footbridge on left, tip of jetty on far right.

This installment of the Day in the Life – Africa series picks up where Part 2 ended. Come along as my colleagues and I immerse ourselves in Malabo’s culture. As I did in the previous parts, this story combines several African experiences into one day.

Having finished spear fishing outside the Sofitel Resort’s beach perimeter jetty, we decide to visit the resort. When crashing a resort you’re not paying to stay at, one must act as if one belongs. Don’t ask stupid questions. Walk around as if you own the place. Additionally, patronizing the resort’s various businesses tends to dissuade nosey busybodies from challenging the validity of your presence.

Cascading Fountains and Pool Leading to the Beach.

Employing this knowledge, we walked straight through the lobby into the resort’s inner sanctum. Knowing nothing screams ‘I don’t belong’ louder than a lost and confused face, I scanned my peripheral vision for the appropriate ocean-side exit. Not turning my head, (and with Mission Impossible’s iconic theme song driving me inexorably onward) I spot my quarry, and make a casual course correction. Passing through the exit, we find ourselves in a beautifully landscaped series of fountains and falls that lead to the pool and beach beyond.

On the left, or west side, of the resort’s quarter-mile section of the mile long beach, a modern foot bridge spans a few hundred feet of clear blue water to a small tropical island centered in the lagoon. A dense native jungle covers the rocky islet. Told it features a short nature trail we decide to do some exploring.

Crossing the footbridge, we step onto the rocky island. Greeted by a microcosm of the local (and hopefully tame) flora and fauna, we explore the trails, finding giant trees and colorful wildlife that would look at home on James Cameron’s fictional planet Pandora in the movie Avatar.

Feet sore, and tired of fighting off malarial mosquitos, we cross back to the beach. After a ‘cooling’ dip in the warm water we spread towels on the coral sand and try to relax and enjoy the thermonuclear equatorial sun.

Exploring Sofitel's Islet with Rob and Tomo.

While my colleagues seem content to cycle in and out of the water, I feel a more energetic activity tugging at my conscience. Half a mile beyond the bridge, farther west on the same beach on which we’re slowly baking, I’ve spied a Jet Ski or personal watercraft (PWC), sitting idle on a floating dock.

Standing facing west, and employing my best Arnold impersonation, I say, “I’ll be back.”

Walking west, I cross several ice-cold springs bubbling up through the sand. Stepping through their ocean-bound streams, I find the day’s first cool respite.

Finally reaching the floating dock, I inquire about renting the PWC. After a bit of negotiating we settle on a fair price. Since I’m restricted to the relatively small patch of lagoon bracketed by the beach, the footbridge to the east, and the western jetty, I decide to limit the rental to fifteen minutes. Pointing at a military gunboat visible in the open ocean and framed by the gap formed by the islet on the right and the western jetty on the left, the proprietor informs me I’ll have to deal with them if I go beyond the gap.

My wish to retreat into a mirage of western civility evaporates into the ether.

F#%k it.

I Got This!

Mounting the Yamaha Waverunner, I spend the next quarter-hour putting the PWC through its paces, doing my utmost to extract every penny from my investment. Fifteen minutes of flat spins, tail stands, and nose tucks later, I see the proprietor beckoning. After a high-speed pass, which may or may not have spayed him, I pull it onto the PWC’s specially formed section on the plastic floating dock, in spite of his telling me he has to do that. “I Got This!” Not my first rodeo.

Deciding to call it a day, we pile into the Toyota Hilux and begin working our way through town. Here are a couple of pics taken along the way.

Malabo Mall

Hin, our Thai helicopter mechanic, is cooking tonight. We should arrive with enough time to cleanup before its dinnertime. In the meantime, we need to stop for groceries.

Hmmm, third world grocery shopping … sounds like the next part of the series.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

A Day in the Life – Africa Part 2

Posted on May 1, 2012 by deanmcole

Sofitel's Beach (Back Left), Eastern Jetty and Tropical Islet (Far Back Left)

In Part 1 I took you through a somewhat typical (albeit short) workday. Part 2 of this multi-part series brings you along as my colleagues and I immerse ourselves in Malabo’s culture (or lack thereof, depending on your perspective). As I did in the first part, this telling of the tale is an amalgamation of events spread across my time in West Central Africa.

Having finished our workday at the unusually early time of 7:30AM, four of us pile into our Toyota Hilux, (a virtually indestructible pickup truck according to the boys over at Top Gear) and head to Bioko Island’s northeast corner. Our destination is the beautiful and opulent Sofitel Resort. Their manmade beach, spear fishing-tastic perimeter jetties, and boat/personal watercraft rentals, coupled with a Caribbean style resort, make it the perfect getaway for Africa-weary world travelers.

Completing the thirty-minute trek, we arrive too early for beachside sunbathing, instead opting for the eastern perimeter jetty. It’s spear fishing time. While I’ve done it in the Caribbean, this is my first foray into West Central Africa’s shark-infested waters, with the intention to spill fish blood. (Hey, we’re helicopter pilots; we fear hard work more than death.)

Having donned our masks, snorkels, and fins, we slide into the warm water. Now we have entered the food chain … and not at the top. Harassing my wetsuit wearing compadres, I taunt, ”Pussies.” (Ten jellyfish stings later, I decided next time I’ll join the estrogen-embracing ranks.)

Our prized catch is the large red snappers that live in the jetty’s numerous hidey-holes. Unlike many fish that will swim directly in front of you—begging to be shot—red snappers are as skittish as a long-tailed cat trapped in a square dancing convention. One must employ guile and cunning tactics to even see one, let alone fire on it.

Most of the quarter-mile long jetty sits in thirty feet of water. One effective tactic employed free-diving 30′ down to the sandy bottom at the jetty’s edge. You had to take a good gulp of air, because once there, you needed to lay motionless for the better part of a minute before a red snapper would decide the coast is clear, and venture into your sights.

William, a French engineer from our compound, had great success hovering in a three-foot thick layer of muddy water that occupied the ocean’s surface for the first thirty yards of the leeward side of the jetty. Opposite the beach, the water on that side dropped to thirty feet deep within a few feet of the shore. The fish in the perfectly clear water under William’s murky observation point never spotted his mask and speargun jutting from the muddy water overhead.

Niko, one of our South African helicopter mechanics, spots a couple of large fish near the tip of the jetty. Diving down, stalking his prey, he chases them into the rocks where they affect their escape. Looking up to begin his ascent, he finds a large barracuda overhead. Drawing a bead, he shoots it, catching the huge fish center-of-mass. In an instant, his $200 speargun explodes from his hand and disappears toward the horizon. Chasing the bubbles left in its wake, Niko searches in vain for the fish and gun. After foraying a couple of hundred meters into the open ocean, he begins to feel exposed, (here there be monsters) and dejected, returns to the relative safety of the jetty.

Working my way along the jetty, I spot an area teaming with marine activity. Applying my newly acquired tactics, I hyperventilate for a few seconds, take a Texas-sized gulp of air, and dive thirty feet to the rocky sand at the jetty’s edge. Lying motionless at the foot of a mountain of four to six foot thick boulders, I try not to think about how distant the surface looks. Thousands of small tropical fish slide in and out of the gaps in the rocks. The sound of my heartbeat mixes with the ever-present clicks and ticks of coral-based life. Just as my oxygen begins to wane, I see a big red snapper venturing from a nearby hidey-hole. For a second, it swims right at me. Slowly, I point the spear at him. At two meters, it sees me, or the movement, and darts sideways just as I pull the trigger. Catching the snapper dead center, I begin my ascent.

The surface never looked so far. My chest heaves involuntarily, my body’s self-defense mechanism working to draw in air. Mouth clamped shut against my insistent lungs I continue to rise. Breaching the surface, I shout in victory (between huge breaths).

Searching the jetty’s edge, I spot a speargun-less Niko next to the dive buoy and fish line. He’s hundreds of yards farther up the jetty … go figure. After ten or fifteen minutes of swimming with a large bleeding fish in tow, and having acquired a following of four circling barracudas, I finally reach Niko. Handing him my speargun, I tell him to try to hold on this time.

Speargun-less, I grab my iPhone in its Lifeproof waterproof cover and shoot a fifteen-minute underwater HD video. The results are spectacular. Here’s a short clip:  iPhone Underwater Video Clip (If the video doesn’t play in your browser, right-click the link and save it to your computer. Then play it with your favorite video software.)

After three hours, and with a plentiful bounty, (and minus one speargun) we call it a day (the fishing part of it anyway). William, who needs to pick up his wife at the French embassy, takes the fish and gear while the rest of us head into the resort for a little exploration.

However, that’s a tale I’ll save for the next part of the series.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog, Travel Tech | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Third World Traveler’s Survival Guide

Posted on April 25, 2012 by deanmcole

Before delving into the next part of my Day in the Life – Africa series, I thought it would be useful to paint a picture of the daily trials we face simply traveling the roads. In the writing of this blog, I unintentionally created a how-to manual, a survival guide for navigating the dusty and often dangerous roads of the third world. I hope you enjoy.

As a general (read: universal) rule, driving in any third world country is an experience for which no amount of Western driving can prepare. In the states, if you honk at someone, you may literally be taking your life in your own hands (in the very least, you’ll be told you’re #1 with a middle finger). In the third world, horns are merely another form of communication.

It seems any vehicle you see through your front windshield has the right-of-way. This includes cars merging from intersecting roads and parking lots. If you fail to notify them of your presence through the liberal application of your horn, they will pull out in front of you. Why not? You’re not visible through their front windshield; therefore, you don’t exist.

Traffic signs, stoplights, and lane markings are more suggestion than hard fast rule. In many areas, paved roads (and the stripes that adorn them) are a relatively new addition. So, third world drivers feel no compunction to pick a lane. On highways and two-lane one-way roads, it is normal to see drivers straddling the dashed lane marker. If you approach from their rear, it is incumbent upon the driver wishing to pass to honk his horn (once again, liberally, you’re not in his front windshield). At this time, the stripe-straddler will SLOWLY give way, typically just enough to allow passage. Most times, his left wheels are still riding the stripe.

Another rule, one you’ve no doubt heard in your homeland: He who hesitates is lost. It’s true everywhere, however, third world drivers take it to another level. Not unlike Chevy Chase’s roundabout scene in National Lampoon’s European Vacation, one must stick one’s nose in aggressively if one wishes to get anywhere, lest they find themselves making multiple patterns around a closed loop.

A colleague once described third world traffic as flowing water. I’ll add to the analogy. If you hesitate, i.e.: fail to flow, you become an eddy; the river parts, flowing around your idling whirlpool. You must proactively pull in front of oncoming traffic. This puts you in their windshield, and, as stated previously, grants you right-of-way.

Walking amongst this maelstrom is a challenge of a different sort. The same co-worker who coined the flowing water analogy related his experiences from a recent assignment in Vietnam. The primary mode of transportation is via scooter or moped. Their numbers far outstrip those of cars. Roundabouts offer relatively smooth merging of multiple roads, eliminating the need for the wasteful starts and stops generated by normal intersections. If a pedestrian wishes to cross a road leading into a roundabout, he or she must un-haltingly step into the flow of traffic. The scooter riders will aim for where you are, with the assumption you won’t still be there when they get there. Walk steadily and the traffic will flow like a stream around a moving rock. Hesitate and you’re liable to be run over.

Using taxis in the third world comes with its own set of rules. Looking like demolition derby finalist, they’re typically covered with dented panels and broken windows. Employing vehicular Darwinism, I try to pick a cab with minimum damage; steadfastly refusing to enter ones with partially caved-in windshields.

Always negotiate your rate upfront. There’s typically no meter in these cabs. Over a decade ago, my friend Richard Hernandez and I were traveling across Europe. While I wouldn’t classify the Czech Republic as a third world country, at the time it was less than ten years since it emerged from behind the iron curtain, and things were still a bit dicey. After a few days of partying in Prague, Richard and I made our way to the train station to catch the EuroRail to Berlin. Prague has two main train stations. Unfortunately, we picked the wrong one. Upon realizing our mistake, we dashed from the station, jumped into the nearest taxi, shouted for him to take us to the other station and, “Step on it!”

We knew the rule to negotiate in advance, but knowing we were about to miss our train we didn’t. Upon arriving at the other train station, the driver demanded Czech korunas in an amount equivalent to $40US. Had we negotiated in advance, it would’ve been in the $7 range. We handed him the equivalent of $10 and turned to walk in the station. The cabbie then started yelling for the police. With no time to spare—and no desire to take our chances with a soviet style prison—we capitulated, throwing the demanded korunas at the thieving bastard’s feet.

Finally, most countries have a standard paint scheme for their cabs. In the third world, never get in a non-conforming vehicle offering transportation for hire. While in the West unlicensed cabs are usually entrepreneurs operating on the fringe, in the third world, it’s often a path to a mugging or kidnapping.

I hope these hard-learned pearls of wisdom have amused as much as informed. Travel safe my friends.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Day in the Life – Africa Part 1

Posted on April 24, 2012 by deanmcole

The Author at Work in the Gulf of Guinea.

I’m often asked what it’s like to work, fly, and live in Africa. This telling of the story is an amalgamation of some of my African aviation and cultural experiences. Part 1 portrays the working part of our day, while Part 2 and beyond depicts our off time and the cultural experience that is sub-Saharan West Africa.

So, without further ado:

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The beautiful blonde’s smile falters, Wait don’t go.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

Reaching for her hand, I grasp only air, You’re fading away…

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

Ah crap, it was just a dream. A smile crosses my sleepy face. But what a beauty … it was a nice dream.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

Groping in the dark, I find the source of the cacophony: my iPhone. Bleary eyed and squinting, I study its face.

4:20am … Ugggh.

Thus starts a typical African day.

Resolved to begin another of my forty-two straight work days, yet not quite ready to leave the warm cocoon of my bed, I check in on a couple of my social media sites. (Love my iPhone; it’s like a miniature laptop without all the fuss.)

4:20am here equates to 10:40pm in the Central Time Zone. Various friends are wishing each other good night. I throw out a few goodnights/mornings.

Fully awake I slide from under the covers into the air-conditioned room’s chilly air. Proud of my manhood, yet concerned the effects of cold-induced shrinkage might become permanent, I quickly wrap a towel around myself, grab my shaving kit, and head for the warmer climes of my bathroom.

Thirty minutes later—showered, shaved, and dressed—we head to work. On this contract, we fly our helicopters out of Malabo’s Santa Isabel Airport.

It’s Saturday, we only have one flight today. Scheduled for a six AM departure, the total round trip should take less than an hour. One of us handles the flight planning while the other does all the day’s flying. We share the load and take turns, either flying or doing the radio/paperwork thing on an every other day basis.

Today it’s my turn to fly. (Beats working for a living.)

Flightplan filed, passengers loaded, and engines started, we receive our movement clearance. As I taxi to the active runway, the non-flying pilot reads off the checklist. I confirm the items and reply in the affirmative.

Centered on the runway, checklists complete, and in position, we receive our takeoff clearance. Announcing ‘Lifting,’ I bring the fourteen-seat helicopter to a low, stationary hover, and after a final check of the instruments and flight controls, tilt the helicopter forward, increase power, and accelerate down the runway. In seconds, we accelerate through 100mph as we climb at 800 feet per minute. Crossing three hundred feet AGL (Above Ground Level), we retract the gear, turn on course, and continue our climb to 2000 feet.

Early Morning in the Gulf of Guinea Oil Patch.

Completing all required radio calls, we navigate to the rigs, land, unload arriving passengers, and load the returning passengers. Departure checks and procedures complete, we begin our return trip to planet earth (or at least the small chunk of it known as Equatorial Guinea’s Bioko Island). En route we spot something vaguely reminiscent of a life raft—low in the water, its white edges surround central dark protrusions.

Dropping to a lower altitude, we turn to intercept and identify the object. At closer range, it hasn’t resolved. Then we spot an identifiable feature. A huge, surreal tailfin is dangling from one end of the mass. Bleached white by the sun and salt, the whale’s bloated skin and blubber are bobbing like a Styrofoam cork. The dark shapes protruding from its center are ribs and decaying entrails. A huge shark dines on the fetid feast. We see pods of whales all the time; however, this is the first dead one for us. Firm in the knowledge that, save a Joana-want-to-be, there are no sailors waiting for rescue, we turn toward the airport.

Onboard radar shows a significant line of showers approaching the airport from the opposite direction. Ordered to hold for landing traffic we orbit two miles north of the airport. This affords us the opportunity to watch as a lifting ship floats a GIANT drilling rig on its cargo deck.

USS Cole Aboard Lifting Ship.

For scale, it’s the same class and size of the pictured vessel that brought back the USS Cole after it was bombed in Yemen.

Finally cleared, and with the impressive monsoon bearing down on us, we land mid-field, abeam our hangar, and taxi the short distance to our refueling point. As we complete our shutdown, the plane that delayed our arrival taxis past. It’s an Antonov AN-124, the world’s second biggest airplane.

World's Second Largest Airplane in Malabo.

For Scale, Here's a NASA File Photo of an AN-125.

Our passengers and cargo are unloaded, and the aircraft is refueled.

With the storm bearing down on us, the maintenance crew moves the helicopter into the hangar. The black clouds are ready to make their contribution to Bioko Island’s annual 300+ inches of rain.

Taking shelter from the downpour, we complete the paperwork, (the work is not complete until the paperwork is). Loading into the company bus, we head back to the compound.

7:30am and the day’s work is complete. This doesn’t happen often, but I’ll take it when it does. I regularly joke that I don’t work for a living. And if it wasn’t for the ever-present danger of malaria, military coups, internment in a third world prison for taking pictures (it has happened), and the(remote) potential to contract a parasite that takes six years of treatment to rid … this would be a cake job.

But I digress.

Where was I? Oh, on the way to the compound we spot a small Isuzu pickup with twelve Chinese laborers in its bed. Equatorial Guinea’s oil production has led to rapid growth and significant improvements in infrastructure. Chinese contractors do Ninety-five percent of the related construction. Ex-Soviet Ukrainian troops and Air Forces in Russian equipment provide military security. Thus I am surrounded by Chinese workers while sharing airspace and ramp-space with ex-Soviet troops and airmen in uniforms and equipment that, two short decades ago, I’d only seen in grainy black & white photos (presumably snuck out of the USSR by Cold War era spies) … who’d a thunk it.

Back at the compound, a few of us decide to head to the Sofitel Resort on the island’s northeast corner. It’s time for some spearfishing and jet skiing.

However, I’ll save that for Part 2.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Aviation Blog, Travel Blog | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Leaving Amsterdam

Posted on December 12, 2011 by deanmcole

‘You have four minutes!’ proclaimed the short middle-aged blonde woman behind the train station’s ticket counter.

Not thinking I had cut it quite that close I stare back with wide-eyed incredulity. ‘Four minutes? There should be more time than that.’

Shaking her head she tells me they recommend international departures arrive one hour prior to departure. ‘But that’s obviously not possible in this case…’ she concludes curtly in her Dutch accent.

Two minutes into my remaining ‘four minutes’ we conclude the transaction. I give a rushed hug and farewell to Naomi, my traveling companion these past four days, and break into an all-out sprint for track 10B.

Roughly two minutes later (according to the clock in my head) I crest the stairs to track 10B. Sure enough there’s a train there.

Approaching I notice the conductors are stepping onto the train. Of course none of them are close enough to speak to. Breaking into a sprint (again) I dart through the nearest open train door.

Knowing I hadn’t had time to verify the train number and sure that Murphy’s Law is still firmly in place, I run through the train in search of a conductor; finally finding one just as the doors slide closed.

Breathless I hand her the ticket. Between wheezes I manage, ‘Right train?’

The train starts moving.

I already know the answer. With timing like this how can it be anything other than no?

Looking up from the ticket, she shakes her head, my intuition proves correct.

Damn!

After reviewing the train schedule for a minute she tells me the train I was supposed to board was pulling into the station when we left. Turns out I had ‘four minutes’ before boarding was to start, not before boarding was to complete.

Uggg!

(Wait, it gets better … or worse.)

She advises me to get off at the next station and catch the next train back to the starting point, stating, ‘There’s one every ten minutes.’ She goes on to tell me that once I’m back at Amsterdam Central I can try again.

Five minutes later I step from the train onto the platform. Crossing to the opposite side I take refuge behind a schedule board. It’s cold as hell (why do we say that? It’s supposed to be hot there, right?), and I didn’t dress for extended exposure to Amsterdam’s December weather.

Studying the board behind which I’m sheltering I see the train should be here in ten minutes. I thought to myself: Self, there’s a train every ten minutes and you get here just after one departs … thanks Murphy!

Five minutes later I wave as my originally assigned HiSpeed train to Berlin whizzes past.

Five minutes after that the station’s public address system crackles to life. I figure it must be announcing the next arrival so emerging from my hidey-hole I walk up to the tracks, craning my neck to glimpse the approaching transport. All I see is my fellow passenger-wanna-be’s heading for the exit.

WTF!?!

Chasing one down I ask what happened. He says the announcement stated a jumper has thrown himself in front of the HiSpeed train and all trains in the area will be delayed at least an hour.

HiSpeed Train … that name sounds familiar.

(Told you it gets better … or worse.)

Working my way to the surface streets I search for a cab or bus. No cabs in sight. The first bus stop I check doesn’t go to Central, neither does the second, or third. Finally I find a busy bus stop. There’s even a bus at it. I ask the driver if he goes to Central.

‘No,’ he says. Then points at the back of a bus two blocks ahead and getting farther. It has the number ten displayed on its rear.

“You need bus number ten.”

Shaking my head I say, “Let me guess, there will be another one in ten minutes.”

Looking impressed he nods, “Ya.”

I step out of his bus onto the curb. It starts to rain. It’s almost cold enough to snow … but not quite.

I refer you back to the middle of this blog, that part where I said I wasn’t dressed properly for December in Amsterdam.

Yeah, thanks again Murphy.

On the bright side, I’ve spoken with Naomi. Having a hunch that things might not work out as planned she is still at Amsterdam Central.

God bless her.

Ten minutes later, icicles hanging from my nose, I board the ’10′ bus and head back to Central (along the way snapping a photo of one of Holland’s iconic windmills).

Lost in Translation.

There are two stops labeled ‘Amsterdam Central’ along the ’10′ bus’ route. As he pulls up to the first I ask the bus driver which one is closer to the ticket counter. He says the first one. So I exit.

This doesn’t feel like the closest side. After walking along the station’s very long front I reach the far end (you know, the one closest to the ticket counter) just in time to see the ’10′ bus pulling away from the second ‘Amsterdam Central’ stop.

Murphy rears his ugly head yet again.

Side Note: I’m not a negative person and while this was a frustrating chain of events, the whole time I kept thinking, ‘Well, at least you’ll get a helluva blog out of this,’ and ‘You’ll get to give Naomi a proper farewell.’

Speaking of … arriving at the correct end of the station I see Naomi waiting for me.

‘Am I glad to see you!’

After rebooking my trip we have thirty minutes to kill (my arrival in Berlin has only been delayed by two hours). Naomi and I search for a Parisian style train station pub. Finding none we settle for a place selling rabbit food and wine.

Sitting down I ask, ‘So how’s your day going?’

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011-2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Will We Find ET in the Next 20 Years?

Posted on November 26, 2011 by deanmcole

If ET phoned over the summer he would have received the embarrassing I-didn’t-pay-my-phone-bill message stating ‘The planet you are calling has been temporarily disconnected.’ In April the SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) Institute shuttered the Allen Telescope Array due to budgetary woes. Thanks to the SETIStars initiative and generous donations we’re back to listening for that call.

In a recent Popular Science article SETI director, Seth Shostak, said he believes we’ll detect alien life in the next twenty years. He lists a few ways he thinks this may come about. Last but not least he mentions SETI’s improving technology and its anticipated ability to search a million star systems over the next twenty years.

He touched on the idea that an alien race might detect the radio signals we’ve been emitting for decades and send a reply. Minimizing the possibility he pointed out that only a few tens of thousands of stars have been exposed to our transmissions.

If one employs conservative/pessimistic numbers in the Drake Equation then life is probably too rare and scattered about to expect a reply anytime in the next several thousand years. However, if you plug slightly more optimistic values into the equation you see a galaxy teaming with life.

This later scenario presents exciting possibilities, and is an area I think warrants more consideration.

Given the relatively slow speed of light (relative to the size of the galaxy anyway) only a tiny fraction of the galaxy may know we exist. Arguably the most powerful unnatural radio signals mankind ever sent out were our aboveground nuclear detonations. Considering the speed limit of 186,000 miles per second, that energy has blazed across the galaxy and covered a whopping 66 light-year radius in the intervening 66 years. That’s a bubble of information roughly 122 light-years across.

Big huh?

Not really, it’s only 3/100,000 of 1 % (0.000003%) of the galaxy.

Hard to visualize? Imagine you shrunk the galaxy down to the volume of the Superdome. Now imagine you’re up in the nosebleed section. At that scale picture a four-foot-wide beach ball at mid-field. That sphere, a few centimeters over a meter, would represent the 122 light-year bubble of stars exposed to the energy waves emitted from the planet in 1945. It’s unlikely anything outside of that beach ball even knows we exist.

Our galaxy is not as boxy. The Superdome’s interior volume is roughly as tall as it is wide, or 1:1. With a 100:1 width-to-height ratio our galaxy is 100,000 light-years across and only 1,000 light-years thick. Now imagine trying to see that four-foot sphere from a mile away instead of the upper-deck. And remember, if you’re not in that bubble all you hear from its center point is cosmic white noise.

Knowing how small the portion of the galaxy is that may know of our existence, consider this: every day that sphere’s radius grows, its surface grows exponentially. In other words the potential pool of star systems learning of our existence is growing daily, and at an ever-increasing rate.

Complicating the issue is the time a reply takes to reach us. If a civilization decides to beam an instant reply it will take just as long for us to receive it as our signal took to get to them.

What if 33 years ago, back when that bubble was the size of a basketball, a relatively advanced civilization in our galactic backyard received the signal and blasted a return message our way? We’ll receive it thirty-three years later (today). Therefore, any instant replies beamed in the last 32+ years are still en route.

That’s all if they decide to reply immediately. Considering the signal they received was a nuclear detonation they may want to listen for a while. After a few decades of I Love Lucy, Gilligan’s Island, Cheers, Seinfeld, and Lost they decide ‘what-the-hell let’s say hello to our wacky neighbors.’

Side note: I often muse over the idea that somewhere there’s an alien race agonizing over who shot JR as they painfully wait for the next season of Dallas to reach their planet. Who knows, there may even be a cultural niche of Elvis Presley fans on some remote rock (there’s some bad news heading their way circa 1976).

People and politicians often ask, ‘Why should we spend money listening for aliens? It’s not like they’ll balance the federal budget for us.’ That’s tantamount to a five year old asking, ‘Why should I go to school? There’s nothing they can teach me.’ Setting aside man’s innate curiosity and our desire to answer the burning questions: ‘Are we alone?’ and ‘Is there anybody out there?’ there are more practical reasons to search.

In regards to social and scientific development we are likely babes in the Galactic woods. Any data gathered from alien contact would probably be more enlightening than Pythagoras’ Theorem. Spanning decades, it would be an inefficient discussion, but we most certainly would be the prime beneficiary of that interaction. Thus a tiny-tiny-tiny-miniscule investment (relative to GDP) lands us invaluable knowledge.

In Carl Sagan’s Contact aliens send us blueprints for a wormhole generator. But saving that, what if they merely said ‘Hello, here’s the perfect mouse trap,’ or ‘free energy and the cure to world hunger,’ or whatever.

I for one am glad we’re paying our phone bill again.

Click here for more information about, or to donate to SETIStars.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011-2012 Dean Cole
Posted in News Blog, Physics Blog, Publishing Blog, Science Fiction Blog | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Traveling with Kindle Fire vs. iPad 2

Posted on November 20, 2011 by deanmcole

The Kindle Fire is out and everyone wants to know if it’s as good as they say. Is it as good as the benchmark: the iPad 2? I’d have to say yes on the former, and it depends on what’s important to you and where you’re traveling on the later.

All things considered, the Fire may be better if you want a tablet that covers the important bases while leaving out a couple of less important (subjective) functions found on other tablets. This focus on the most important functions of a tablet allowed Amazon to offer the Fire at an incredible price-point of $199. At 40% the cost of an iPad 2 you save $300. If you always wanted a tablet but couldn’t afford an iPad 2, this is for you.

Are you a domestic road warrior or, like me, a globetrotting fool? Is weight and size a limiting factor; is your backpack already bursting at the seam? (As my friend Naomi’s is.) These considerations and others are reviewed below. Already know you want a Fire? They’re available at Amazon here .

 

 

 

 

 

  Kindle Fire iPad 2
Cost $199 $499-829
App Store Amazon App Store & Android Apps iOS App Store
Apps Available 15,000+ 90,000+ for iPad
Screen Size (inches) 7 9.7
Aspect Ratio 16:9 (widescreen) 4:3
Screen Resolution 1,024×600 1,024×768
Screen Pixels Per Inch 169 (more than iPad 2!) 132
Size (inches) 7.5 x 4.7 x .45 9.5 x 7.31 x .34
Weight 14.6 ounces 21.28 ounces
OS Custom Android iOS
Capacity 8GB 16-64GB
Expandable Storage No No
3G No Optional
Wi-Fi 802.11 b/g/n 802.11 b/g/n
Processor Dual-core TI OMAP 4 Dual-core A5
Camera No Front and Rear
GPS No On 3G Models
Browser Amazon Silk Mobile Safari
Flash Video Yes No
Battery Life 8 hours 7.5 hours

Kindle Fire Review

First let’s look at the Fire by itself. Then below I do a feature by feature comparison of the Fire and iPad 2.

The Fire is well constructed and while lighter than the iPad 2 still retains a solid feel. The Gorilla Glass display is very resistant to damage, cracks, and scratches. The back’s rubberized texture keeps it from slipping in your grip or off the desktop.

The crisp, clear screen resolution is on par with the iPad (more below) .

Connections & Storage

The Fire’s headphone/speaker jack is on the bottom along with its power button and micro USB slot for charging and file transfer from a computer. This location can be a problem, i.e.: accidental power button activation or cord conflicts, but the display automatically rotates. Turn it 180 degrees and voila! now the power button is at the top.

Probably the biggest detractor is the storage. It includes 8GB (enough for roughly 800 songs, 8 movies, or 6,000 books). This limitation is somewhat offset by Amazon’s Cloud storage. However, if you envision long periods in remote areas without Wi-Fi/Internet connectivity this could be a deal-breaker.

Amazon Cloud Storage

Offsetting the limited onboard storage, the Amazon Cloud allows you to store your files on Amazon’s servers and access them via the Internet. The first 5GB (this may increase soon) is free and each additional 1GB is only $1 per year. Also the storage of songs or videos purchased from Amazon’s store doesn’t count against your storage limit. You can store anything you want. This is a powerful feature. Anything you store on Amazon’s Cloud can be accessed from your Fire, your laptop, your desktop, your work computer, or anywhere else you want to listen to them. Try doing that with your old iPod.

As mentioned above, if you know you’ll be without internet for a while you can transfer files from the Cloud to your device with a tap of a download button. Just keep in mind its 8GB limit.

Music

Amazon did it right. Unlike Apple iTunes, the mp3s you download from Amazon are unrestricted and DRM-free. Not linked to a specific technology or hardware they’re virtually future-proof. No matter what device you may be using, you’ll always have your favorite songs available in the future.

*Important* The Fire doesn’t include the micro-usb cable (another thing they left out to keep the price-point below $200). The Micro-B size one you need can be bought here on Amazon for $5.

Video

The crisp, seamless video rendering looks great. With built in Apps for Netflix, Hulu Plus, and others along with Amazon’s Prime membership you’ll be able to stream thousands of movies and TV shows with native support. In most tests, videos started within 5 seconds of clicking Play. On the downside there is no video-out jack. While I’m sure an App will come along it will no doubt require additional hardware be connected to your TV.

Magazines & Newspaper

Viewing magazines on the 7″ screen requires a great deal of zooming. Some of magazines (like Golf Digest) are Fire optimized Apps, making magazine reading easier and less zoom intensive.

Newspapers are simple to navigate and easy to read. The displayed Table of Contents has clickable headlines that open the article with the added benefit of scalable fonts. For quicker navigation the upper left corner has a “Sections” drop-down menu that lets you jump to your desired topic.

Books

The screen is crisp enough and the contrast set so that you can read for a few hours without eyestrain. For extended reading sessions some have said it isn’t as good as its dedicated e-reader Kindle cousins. At least you won’t need a night light.

Web Browser

The post release web browser is faster than the pre-release demos. It loads pages quickly, without the annoying waits seen in pre-release demo videos. The Amazon Cloud caching predicts surfing behavior and stores caches of webpages, so as more people use their Fires in the weeks to come the browser should get even better and faster. Unlike the iPad, the Fire supports Flash video. Much of my work’s computer-based training is flash-based. This is why I haven’t bought an iPad.

E-Mail

There is a built-in email client with adequate to marginal functionality. Enhanced email clients with Exchange functionality are available through Amazon’s App Store. Additionally, your Fire has its own email address. If you want to view a PDF document that isn’t on your device, simply email it to that address and it shows up on your virtual library shelf.

Summary – Overall Rating: 8.5/10

This is a great device for domestic traveling. It’s cheap, useful, and fun to use. With the exception of camera and onboard storage it does most things you’d would want a tablet to do. It includes features for the price and a large and growing base of Apps. If you’d like more detailed information on the Fire, click here to visit Amazon’s official Kindle Fire page.

 

Kindle Fire vs iPad 2

  Kindle Fire iPad 2
Pros Lower Price Larger App Store
  Free Cloud Storage More built-in storage
  Light weight Large screen
  Small, easily portable Camera
  Supports Flash Video Video Out
     
Cons Only 8BG Storage High Cost
  No camera for skype/chat Almost 2x heavier than Fire
  No Video Out No Flash Video

 

Let’s compare the Kindle Fire and the Ipad 2 with an eye towards travel:

The Kindle Fire doesn’t have all the features of the iPad 2, but the question the traveler has to ask his or herself is if the extra features of the iPad 2 are worth $300 or more. As I’ve already intimated the answer to that question depends on the type of travel you do. I personally travel abroad extensively, usually in areas with spotty to no Internet coverage. So its limited storage means I’ll hold off till more storage is available. If you’re strictly a domestic road warrior, or when abroad only travel in large metropolitan areas, then this might be just the ticket.

Content Source and App Stores Compared

Amazon has as much if not more content than iTunes and it’s priced at or below their level. On the other hand Apple has a huge selection of Apps, however, the available number of Amazon Apps should grow significantly in 2012. In the meantime, there are already thousands available.

Screen Size and Resolution

While the iPad 2 has the bigger screen it has less dots per inch (DPI) than the Fire. So the Fire actually has a bit more clarity when viewed from the same distance. The number of DPI has a great effect on the clarity of text and graphics, especially text.

Size and Weight

Two key concerns for many travelers is: How big is it? and How much does it weigh? Advantage Kindle Fire. At half the weight and overall size you’ll have no problem finding a place to stash this in your backpack.

Capacity and Storage

Advantage iPad 2. If you want a lot of video on your tablet the iPad is the hands down winner. Amazon offsets this is with unlimited Cloud storage (buy all you want, they’ll make more). To be fair, while it’s not as integral to the product offering as it is to the Kindle Fire, Apple has the iCloud which does the virtually the same thing.

Camera

Considering our love of everything Skype, the lack of a camera or a powered USB port for an external camera may dissuade many travelers from the Fire. If you already have a device for Skype-ing this may not be a deal breaker.

Summary

The Kindle Fire offers a lot of bang for the buck. If the limited storage and lack of camera is not of concern to you the Kindle Fire is a better value. Conversely, if price and lack of flash integration is not an issue and/or you need more onboard storage then iPad 2 is the way to go. If you’d like more information on the Fire, click here to visit Amazon’s Kindle Fire page.

Where to Buy

Kindle Fire

iPad 2

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011-2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Tech Blog, Travel Blog, Travel Tech | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A SoHo Grand Experience

Posted on November 12, 2011 by deanmcole

Recent travels found me in Morristown, New Jersey, for a week of flight simulator training. While there I always make a point to visit ‘The City.’ With my return flight not scheduled to depart until Saturday afternoon I had a night to burn and the money to light it with. So when I finished my training on Friday I caught a New Jersey Transit train to New York’s Penn Station (for the uninitiated it’s under Madison Square Garden).

Not being the biggest proponent of pre-travel planning I whipped out my iPhone somewhere between Morristown and Manhattan. Using the map feature I searched my favorite little town in America (SoHo) for a good hotel. Finding the SoHo Grand I booked a room.

If you’ve never been to SoHo you’re probably wondering why I’d call a Lower Manhattan neighborhood a ‘little town.’ SoHo is named after Houston Street (pronounced house-ton). SOuth of HOuston, it encompasses a chunk of Manhattan from Houston Street south to Tribeca’s Canal Street (a title generated from the same naming convention: TriBeCa – TRIangle BElow CAnal). While there are plenty of Manhattan skyscrapers they’re best known for their artists’ lofts and galleries, pocket restaurants and basement clubs.

The gentrified community’s 150-year-old cast iron decorative facades render an old-town-square feel that coupled with its culture gives it a surreal small town air and character.

At Penn Station I work my way to the surface and take the obligatory self-portrait under Madison Square Garden’s marquee. Back underground I board the A-Train, the express that takes me straight to SoHo without all the stops (the damn thing bites me later in the story).

Emerging from Canal station into the light of day I walk north. Passing Maserati of Manhattan (I want one) and the Tribeca Film Festival headquarters/theater (and now you know how it got its name), I step across Canal into SoHo and start looking for my hotel. After ten seconds I figure out I’m standing right in front of it.

What a cool place! An iconic hotel whose recently redesigned interior pays homage to SoHo’s cast iron lineage. The mix of old and new, iron and glass, dark and light is an eye pleasing work of art.

After checking in I work my way up to my room on the fourteenth floor. Opening the door I freeze, Holy shit! What a view! Dropping my bag I walk to the window, unable to believe my luck. Having booked late I never expected to get  … this.

Facing south my room affords me a view of the new World Trade Center! Not off to the side at an oblique angel. Front and center! After studying the view for a few moments I silently considered what horrors these windows must have witnessed that fateful day in September…

After a power nap (give me a break, I’m not old, I’ve been up since 5:30am and I want to stay up till … almost that late) I clean up and head to the outdoor bar on the Hotel’s south side. It’s a cool late summer afternoon. The sky is blue, there’s a cool breeze that has everyone smiling. The after-work crowd is rolling in to kick off the weekend.

Birds are chirping, leaves are rustling, and the sun chases the cool air deposits from your skin, leaving only goose bumps in its wake. It’s a sensation I’ve always associated with spring’s first warm day and fall’s first cool one. It’s early this year, but then again I’m in New York not Texas … go figure.

I chat with the bartenders. When I’m alone I almost always sit at the bar, it’s a social thing. They’re a wealth of local info and usually don’t mind the company. Plus, not being one that enjoys looking pitiful (even when I might be) I try not to sit solo in a busy social environment. The bartenders come through and suggest a couple of live music venues.

The sun has set. En route to Allen Street I find a little hole-in-the-wall Mom & Pop restaurant; the atmosphere uniquely SoHo, the food excellent. Afterwards I continue north and east. Softly chatting arm-in-arm couples, dashing cabs with flashing blinkers, and residential windows open to let in the breeze and let out the sounds of life dot my path.

At the north end of SoHo I hit Houston Street and proceed east. Ahead I see crowds on a busy, bar and restaurant lined cross street.

I’ve reached my destination.

Stepping into Rockwood Music Hall I’m immersed in incredible sound and a warm atmosphere. There’s a live local band on stage. Playing folksy-bluesy rock the whole place is swaying to their rhythm.

Over the hours a parade of talent crossed the stage, each as good as or better than the last. In the dark, would be smoky (in another era) atmosphere I chat with other patrons, swap stories, laugh, and drink.

2:00am … that nap didn’t help as much as I’d hoped; I’m running out of gas. It might be the culmination of an evening and night’s worth of cocktails (either that or I am getting old … nah). Bidding farewell I head for the exit. I’m at SoHo’s northeast corner and need to get to its southwest corner.

It’s subway time!

Along the way to the station I grab a slice of pizza. Culinary crack, it always taste great after a night of drinking.

2:30am I take a subway west to intercept the A-Train south. At the intersecting station I discover the subways are on a construction schedule. The A-Train either isn’t running or it’s moved to a different track. Paper signs are taped up all over the place. (Paper signs? Can’t New York afford a proper passenger notification system?) I read the one at the A-Train’s normal track. It sends me to another level. I go to that level. Another piece of paper tells me to go back to where I started. After a few more diversions (and firmly aware I look like a lost drunk tourist … screw it) I jump on a train I’m relatively certain is going south to Canal.

It’s not…

I end up completely lost. When I finally realize the train isn’t going the right way I get off in an unknown area of the city. Climbing the stairs it occurs to me I have no idea what kind of neighborhood I might be walking into. Stepping from the stairwell onto the sidewalk I did my best impression of someone who knows where the hell he’s going (show no weakness grasshopper). Turning right I stumbled (figuratively) into a busy bar.

I reasoned, ‘How lost can I be if I can find a place like this?’ Thus temporarily un-lost I settled in for a cocktail to collect myself.

4:00am One or three self-collecting cocktails later I said to myself, ‘Self, let’s give it a go again.’ In search of a cab I wander back into the night. It seems there is only one to be had in the entire city. Unfortunately its occupants (drunken coeds) are busy arguing with the cabbie over a five-dollar overage on their bill.

I gallantly whip out a five spot and offer it … if they will just get out of the cab … please.

They decline on a matter of principle, steadfastly refusing to vacate said cab, and suggesting I find another. Through a drunken lisp, one declares, ‘We’re going to sit in this cab until the cabbie (who spoke virtually no English) refunds our five dollars!’

I commented that there wasn’t exactly a plethora of f#*king cabs.

They remained unrepentantly drunk.

4:20am New York births another cab. I jump in. With the still-cackling drunken coeds fading to rear the cab rushs away. Ten minutes later I finally make it back to the SoHo Grand.

4:40am Collapsing into my bed, the Big Apple’s lights staring in on me, I think…

‘What an adventure!’

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011-2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Road to Africa

Posted on November 6, 2011 by deanmcole

Following my three-week biker pilgrimage to Daytona Beach’s Biketoberfest via Panama City’s Thunder Beach Motorcycle Rally I broke camp and along with my new friend Naomi (Nene) hit the road. As you read in my last blog Nene, my new fellow world-traveling friend, was planning to hit New Orleans as the next stop in her great American backpack tour. Having previously decided to hit NOLA for a night or two en route to Houston it was a good fit for both of our schedules.

The trip was incredible. The interpersonal chemistry and easy conversations survived the ten plus hours of road time. We made it to the quarter and spent the next two days exploring the city. Wonderful memories and lots of fuel for my next blog to be sure. (Here’s her blog about it). Had a great time but after two days reality set in and I packed up, bid a sad farewell to Nene and headed to Houston with only two days to spare before my next African work hitch.

Back in Houston I spent the next 48 hours visiting family and friends, packing for a six-week work trip and two-week European vacation, and prepping the truck and trailer for long-term storage. I rented a covered space for the winter. It was big enough to accommodate them both with room to spare.

With all my affairs in order (sounds serious, huh?) I boarded a flight to Paris, France. I do enjoy flying Air France. What’s not to love about an airliner that brings you all the Champagne, beer, wine, and gourmet-ish food you want at no charge? The first time I flew Air France the person in front of me ordered Champagne and a Heineken … at the same time! Amazed, I followed suit, asking if I could have the same. To my delight the flight attendant smiled and said, ‘Oui.’

Nirvana!

Anyway, I digress. Upon arrival I set upon the torturous transit to my connecting flight’s terminal. Where the French excel in the form of culture and dining they more than make up for in their horrible airport layout and transit system. While most airports have trams linking widely separated terminals Charles de Gaul Airport relies upon a bus system whose pickup point takes twenty minutes to get to, then runs every twenty minutes, and whose circuitous routing takes twenty minutes to get to your desired terminal. Thus what takes as little as ten minutes in Atlanta takes an hour in Paris.

Suitably down trodden (by French ground transportation standards) I finally made it to the gate. I hopped on the Air France flight to Malabo, sat back and ordered my now traditional glass (disguised as a plastic cup) of Champagne and frosty mug (disguised as a can) of Heineken.

Nine hours later I stepped from the plane’s cool and comparatively fragrant air into Malabo’s dank, rank atmosphere. While I try to enjoy my time in Africa, I’m quickly reminded of one of the reasons I didn’t want to come back. Regular bathing hasn’t quite caught on. For the most part it’s not a matter of logistics. Many times I’ve picked up local oil workers who have spent days to weeks on well stocked, billion dollar offshore oil facilities with excellent accommodations, private showers, and all the soap you can use. Dressed in their best ‘going-home-to-mama’ clothes they smell like a July to August vintage hobo.

Once again, I digress. On the positive side I’ve arrived on the night the Marathon Oil facility throws their biweekly ‘Quiz Night.’ Knowing I was returning that evening my Norwegian friend Heidi has thoughtfully included me in the invitations she attains from her contacts at Marathon.

Unwilling to surrender to the jetlag nipping at the edge of consciousness I unpack and freshen up. We head to Marathon, crossing from the dirt filmed roads and purely African roadside scenery into the surreally disconnected facility. We drive between homes whose style and landscaping would look perfectly at home in Suburbia, USA. I feel like I’ve received a temporary reprieve from the governor. As much as I love travel and experiencing different cultures and ways of life I do love the comforts of home. So with my true immersion into African culture put off a day we arrive at the quiz’s location.

It’s a fun event that takes place at the facility’s recreation center. Two-for-one cocktails and free food capped off with several rounds of trivia quizzes. After some delicious dinner and cold beers we divide into company-based teams and move to the quiz area. After lots of laughter, and several quiz rounds on various subject matters from inane to insane we end up scoring in the middle. Not that anyone cares what place you come in (although there is a steep punishment for winning – you must generate and host the next biweekly trivia quizzes). Since your neighboring team grades your answers there’s light-hearted scuttlebutt that some teams elevate scores of their rivals to ensure the other team gets to host the next event.

Happy we haven’t pissed anyone off enough to receive that punishment, and pleased with our middle of the road placing, we stroll back to our cars. Subdued, riding in silence, African scenery supplants Suburbia as we pass through the gates … back to reality (smells and all).

I look at my watch’s date window…

Only 41 days to go.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011-2012 Dean Cole
Posted in Travel Blog | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments