Da WebSite !

It's here, it's here ! The brand new version of Caritas Keuskupan Sibolga is online, soon with translations to english, french, italian, german and Godknowswhat !

Enfin prêt, enfin dispo, la toute nouvelle version du site de Caritas Keuskupan Sibolga, bientôt traduite en anglais, français, italien, allemand et Dieusaisquoi !

A thousand words

I once talked to a guy who sought that working with NGOs was a cheap way to go for long holidays... Well I wish it was that simple. I'm not even gonna explain anything, for a picture is worth a thousand words.

J'ai une fois eu l'occasion de discuter avec une personne qui pensait que travailler avec une ONG n'était qu'un bon prétexte pour se trouver une place au soleil. Je ne prendrais pas la peinde de m'expliquer là dessus, une image vaut un millier de mots.

Machismo

Tough guise, really one interesting document. Generally speaking, it is about the image of man, male, in the media from the 50s to nowadays. I don't intend to say much more about this movie, for I am not a critic, and if its arguments have their flaws and qualities, I don't feel like forcing you to watch it in order to understand what I'm gonna discuss about.
Nonetheless this document underlines a recurrent aspect in the gender dialog initiated in the mid 70s. The matter is, when a debate about gender is engaged, its discussed aspects are often pretty narrow, reflecting only a very small scope over a much important whole.

Let's take, for instance, the movie I wrote about some lines above. It is very acute and shows undeniable qualities regarding its very own subject, but a person who doesn't know a thing about gender dialogue and discovers it through this document could develop a tendency to think that the real problem in the « gender war » is the perpetual violence of males, inducted only by some media feeling nostalgic about the white male domination.

Other people taking a different path to analysis will associate machism with a kind of racism, others will do so with homophobia, history, religion, society - Still without realizing the relation between these various factors, and THIS is a true problem.
Yes, media are since long broadcasting more and more standardized images of over-body-built males with a gooey brain and super females (why the heck not ?) silicon-implanted up to the forehead, who are probably eating plant food regarding the role they are assuming in various tv shows. And yes, our youngs engulf happily these images full of prejudices and end up using them to build themselves a character.

Yeah whatever. What about this time before TV ? If I remember correctly, tell me if I'm wrong, there was a time when women didn't have a soul. It was before TV wasn't it ? Thus in this case we could, for instance, take a look at religions. Adam was pretty happy before Eve's arrival, and everybody was at peace before Pandora's. In many myths women incarnated sin and lust, and it is very handy indeed to use it as a mean of pressure to the repenting gender.

Yeah whatever. All this religious prejudices are over, almost everywhere, the blast with religion, and talking about domination, if males are or try to be dominant in their social behaviour, it's because they are naturally violent, women don't go to war. Well that is an opinion that tends to pure biology or even zoology. Let me explain what I mean. Postulate on the fact that man is naturally violent is to base your aguments on averate facts, from History, or stories, in one hand and from nothing but biology in another hand. From History because it is clear that mainly men go to battle, to quench a thirst of vengeance or to protect their tribes (sorry, their countries); from biology because it is proved that some hormons as testosteron or oeustrogens can dramatically alter women or men's behaviour, mainly their agressivity, irritability or their depressive tendencies. Notice that I'm not aiming at anyone.

Yeah whatever. It's one thing to play mister scientist, but we've been living in society since ages and we've had some time to learn how to control our instinct. Social factors are nowadays much more influental than hormons. That's also true. We are living in a mostly capitalist and competitist society, our kids are forced earlier and earlier to fit the standards, through schooling and para-schooling systems that are said to teach them how to live within a group. There they are learning to be a real man, a real woman, according to centuries-old prejudices, in order to get themselves accepted. It means violence for men and submission for women (or rebellion, I'm trying to be objective here, tell me that you don't think it's normal for a boy to play with a firemen truck replica and a for girl to play with a doll, and I'll treat you for a cup of whatever you want).


Yeah whatever. It doesn't explain why our boys always end up being violent. Have I told you about hormons, History, Media ? Yes ? Well the circle is complete now. We are living in an era where things are dissecated and swallowed tiny mouthfull after tiny mouthfull, where effects are taken into account without aknowledging that there can be more than one cause, and we always want to get rid of the evil cutting its roots, never trying to cure the plant.

We are sometimes reaching dangerous extremes, where magazines for liberated women, and I name Cosmopolitan for the occasion, publish things like sexual tourism guides (Bangkok proxenetes send you their regards), and some others like Elle, are talking about übersexual, the new men after the metrosexuals whom are definetely out to date. Men's magazines are of course far ahead, the pubic hairs on a cover in the showcase of my bookstore a couple of months ago proved it to me again.

We stare at each other, we are undressing our respective brain, accusing the other, we are analysing our respective psyches wondering why, but why is the opposite gender so strange ? Can't we stop the engine for five minutes ? We've been trying to analyse gender behaviour for ages, extinguishing the whole Amasonia publishing books and books about it, wondering in circles.

What is the result ? The only improvements in inter-gender understanding have been made by the force of courage, action, and dialog. Open dialog, about finding solutions, not problems. Maybe that's where we should start. Media's prejudices are stupid ? Let's step out of the line and teach our kids, and our little brothers and sisters, that a g-string has nothing to do with feminity, no more than a gun has to do with virility. And talking about it, even if it's not gonna please everybody, let's also refuse these cliché in the others. Let us guys stop with these blonde bimbos full of silicon, and let's boycott saturday night's porn-beer time, and accept that your colleagues can also be caring, tender, sensible, it's not a crime. And let us girls stop seeing machism everywhere and the hell with the dominated woman complex. And let all of us stop with this « so brave political woman », and this « so brave astronaut woman » and whatnot, as if women were uncapable of doing anything. No matter why, we are what we are, and too many pretexts are bad for health. Now it is time to stop looking at our own reflection in the mirror and start understanding each other, ladies and gents, let's speak now.


PS : I know it has nothing to do with travelling, neither with computers, but this is my blog and I do what I want :P

Tough Guise, un documentaire interessant s'il en est. Pour généraliser, on peut dire qu'il traîte de l'image des hommes, et je veux dire par là des mâles, dans les médias depuis les années 50 jusqu'à nos jours. Je ne m'étendrais pas d'avantage sur le film en lui même, je ne suis pas critique, et si l'argumentaire a ses défauts et ses qualités, il serait mal avenu de vous forcer à le regarder pour comprendre plus en profondeur ce sur quoi j'eu pu gloser.
Cependant, ce film soulève un aspect récurrent dans le dialogue homme/femme qui s'est démocratisé dans les années 70. Le problème en question est le fait que lorsqu'une discussion sur le thème du genre est engagée, les points soulevés sont pour la plupart extrèmement réducteurs et ne font qu'éffleurer une part minime d'un tout bien plus important .

Prenons, par exemple, le documentaire dont je vous parle plus haut. Il est très précis et montre de grandes qualités dans le sujet qu'il traîte, cependant une personne ne s'étant pas penché sur le débat plus en avant et l'abordant en découvrant ce film aura tendance à croire que le problème dans le «conflit des sexes » est la perptuelle violence des hommes et que celle ci est induite par des médias nostalgique de domination masculine et blanche.

D'autres, partant sur un cheminement different, assimileront le machisme à une certaine forme de racisme. D'autres encore l'associeront à l'homophobie, à l'histoire, à la religion, à la société...
Sans pour autant faire la relation entre ces differents aspects, et c'est là que le bât blesse.

Oui, les médias véhiculent depuis longtemps des images de plus en plus standardisées de super mâles bâtis comme des châteaux gonflables et munis de cerveaux gonflable, et de super femelles (bien, oui, je ne vois pas pourquoi) siliconnée jusqu'au sourcils, devant probablement se nourrir d'engrais si on en crois le rôle qu'elles tiennent dans nombre d'emissions. Et, oui, nos jeunes se gavent de ces images bourrées de clichés et finissent par les utiliser pour forger leur caractère.

Oui mais. Quid d'avant la télévision ? Si je me souviens bien, dites moi si je me trompe, il fut un temps où les femmes n'avaient pas d'âme. Cela datait bien d'avant la télévision n'est il pas ? Dans ce cas on peut donc se pencher sur la religion, celle de l'ère pré-télévisuelle. Adam vivait tranquillement avant l'arrivée d'Eve, et tout le monde était content avant celle de Pandore. Dans bien des mythes, les femmes ont représenté le péché et la chair avant tout, et c'est tout de même bien pratique de pouvoir s'en servir pour exercer sa domination sur la gent repentante.

Oui mais. Nous n'en somme plus là, tout du moins pas partout, fi de la religion, et tant qu'à faire si les hommes sont dominants ou cherchent à l'être dans leurs relations, c'est qu'ils sont violents de nature, les femmes ne vont pas à la guerre. Voilà un explication qui tend vers la biologie pure et simple, ou peut être la zoologie. Je m'explique : postuler sur le fait que l'homme est violent de nature c'est se baser sur des faits avérés qui tiennent autant de l'Histoire et d'histoires d'une part, que de la biologie pure d'autre part. De l'Histoire parce qu'ils est reconnu que ce sont en grande majorité les hommes qui se battent, pour assouvir un désir de vangeance ou pour proteger leurs tribus (pardon, leurs pays); de la biologie parce qu'il est aussi prouvé que certaines hormones, dont la testostérone ou les oeustrogènes, ont une grande influence sur le comportement des hommes comme sur celui des femmes, surtout en ce qui concerne l'agressivité, l'irritabilité ou la dépression, notez que je vise tout le monde.

Oui mais. C'est bien beau de jouer au pseudo scientifique, mais depuis le temps que nous vivons en société, nous avons tout de même appris à nous contrôler un minimum, les facteurs sociaux sont désormais plus influents que les hormones. C'est aussi vrai. Nous vivons dans une société majoritairement capitaliste et concurrentielle, nos gamins sont forcés de plus en plus tôt au travers de systêmes scolaires et parascolaires dit socialisants à se couler dans le moule, être un vrai homme, ou une vraie femme, correspondant aux standards du genre avec leurs clichés séculaires, pour finallement se faire accepter. Cela inclut la violence chez les homme et la soummission chez les femmes (ou la rebellion, j'essaie d'être objectif, dites moi que vous trouvez anormal qu'une petite fille joue avec une dinette et un petit gar avec un camion de pompier et je vous offre le café).

Oui mais. Ca ne nous dis pas pourquoi ce sont forcemment le hommes qui finissent par être violents. Je vous ai parlé d'hormones, d'Histoire, de Médias ? Oui ? La boucle est bouclée.
Nous vivons dans une ère ou les choses sont disséquées et avalées petite bouchée par petite bouchée, ou les effets sont pris en compte sans qu'on veuille se pencher sur toutes les causes et où on cherche toujours à se débarasser du mal par la racine au lieu de soigner la plante.
Nous en arrivons à des extrêmes dangereux où des magasines pour public féminin libéré, je cite Cosmopolitan pour l'occasion, publient des guides du tourisme sexuel (un grand merci de la part des proxénètes de Bangkok), et d'autres comme Elle, nous parlent des übersexuels, les nouveaux hommes après les métrosexuels qui décidemment sont passés de mode. Les magasines pour hommes ne sont pas en reste et même bien en avance, les poils pubiens en couverture dans la vitrine de mon libraire il y à quelques semaines me l'ont encore rappelé
.
On se lorgne, on se désabille le cerveau, on s'accuse, on s'analyse et on se demande pourquoi, mais pourquoi, le sexe opposé est il aussi étrange ?
Peut être pourrions nous arrêter la machine cinq minutes. Cela fait des années que nous nous entr'analysons, que nous sortons des livre à en épuiser l'Amazonie et que nous nous posons des questions. Quel résultat ? Les seules avancées dans la compréhension entre les genres se sont faites à force de courage, d'action, de dialogue ouvert et tourné vers les solutions et non vers les problèmes.

C'est peut être par là qu'il faudrait commencer. Les clichés servis par les médias sont stupides ? Démarquons nous donc, apprenons à nos enfant, et nos petits frères, et nos petites soeurs, que non, ce string n'a rien à voir avec la féminité, pas plus que ce fusil à pompe n'a à voir avec la virilité. Et tant qu'à faire, quitte à ce que ça fasse jaser, de toute façon il y à toujours de la casse, refusons aussi le cliché chez l'autre : nous les hommes arrètons un peu avec les blondes siliconnées, boycottons le porno-bière du samedi soir et acceptons de nous voir nous et nos collègues pqrfois tendre, attentionnés et sensibles, ce n'est pas un crime. Et nous les femmes, cessons de voir du machisme partout et faisons table rase du complexe de domination qui nous écrase depuis si longtemps, et stop avec la « femme politique si courageuse » de la « femme cosmonaute si courageuse » et je ne sais quoi encore, comme si les femmes étaient incapable de faire quoi que ce soit. Peu importe pourquoi, nous sommes commes nous sommes, trop de pretextes est mauvais pour la santé. Il est temps de cesser de se regarder le nombril et d'apprendre à se connaître, messieurs dames.

PS: Je sais que tout ça n'a rien à voir avec les voyages, ni l'informatique, mais c'est mon blog et je fais ce que je veux :p

Script Script Script

This blog is also about geekitude isn't it ? I said it myself. So as I worked my eyeballs out to program something which could fit in the blog to add an auto translation method, and it gave me a serious headache. I want to thanks all these fellow geeks blogging and discussing theirs issues over the net, I learnt a lot from you guys and I still am.
I would also like to give my little contribution to the big scripting family by publishing the code I made.

Basically the code is made to modify the propriety of an element's css style, and I use it to hide the layer containing the alternate content, but there are other uses.
I began with this :

cnt = "1";
lg1 = "en";
lg2 = "fr";


function translate(id)
{
if (cnt == "1")
{
lg1 = "en"+id;
lg2 = "fr"+id;
cnt = "2";
}
else
{
lg1 = "fr"+id;
lg2 = "en"+id;
cnt = "1";
}
el = document.getElementById(lg1);
attrib = "display:none;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
el = document.getElementById(lg2);
attrib = "display:inline;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
}

As you still don't have any getElementByClassName() function in the current version of javascript, I was oblige to increment the ID's manually, in the html as well as in the script, via the argument.
It suited me so far, I wanted to add a post by post translation, so I was happy with it.
But, but, BUT.... ie does NOT recognise the STYLE css element as a proper argument to the setAttribute function (by the way be carefull with it, it erases all the attribute you haven't set in the function)and in this case you have to use, for exemple :

myElement.style.setAttribute('cssText', myAttribute);

Then here is the final code :

cnt = "1";
lg1 = "en";
lg2 = "fr";


function translate(id)
{
if (cnt == "1")
{
lg1 = "en"+id;
lg2 = "fr"+id;
cnt = "2";
}
else
{
lg1 = "fr"+id;
lg2 = "en"+id;
cnt = "1";
}

if (document.all)
{
el = document.getElementById(lg1);
attrib = "display:none;"
el.style.setAttribute('cssText', attrib);
el = document.getElementById(lg2);
attrib = "display:inline;"
el.style.setAttribute('cssText', attrib);
}
else
{
el = document.getElementById(lg1);
attrib = "display:none;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
el = document.getElementById(lg2);
attrib = "display:inline;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
}
}

The if (document.all) {} is used to check if the browser is IE.
The code as it is now is heavy, I could have just defined the setAttribule in a if() and affect it to a variable, but well, it works well now, so let us all enjoy !

Ce blog est aussi sensé traiter de la geekitude n'est il pas ? C'est même moi qui l'ai dit. Donc, j'ai travaillé d'arrache pied pour programmer un bout de code qui soit compatible avec le blog pour incorporer une fonction de traduction instantanée, et j'en ai encore mal au crâne. Je tiens tout de même à remercier les collègues geeks qui blogguent et discutent de leurs problèmes un peu partout sur la toile, j'ai beaucoup apris grâce à vous les gens, et j'en apprend encore.
Suite logique de l'histoire, je publie moi aussi mon bout de script, question d'apporter une contribution.

A la base, le code est fait pour modifier les propriétés du style css d'un élément html, et je l'utilise pour cacher un calque contenant un contenu alternatif, mais on peut en faire d'autres utilisation.
J'ai commencé avec ça :

cnt = "1";
lg1 = "en";
lg2 = "fr";


function translate(id)
{
if (cnt == "1")
{
lg1 = "en"+id;
lg2 = "fr"+id;
cnt = "2";
}
else
{
lg1 = "fr"+id;
lg2 = "en"+id;
cnt = "1";
}
el = document.getElementById(lg1);
attrib = "display:none;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
el = document.getElementById(lg2);
attrib = "display:inline;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
}

Comme la fonction getElementByClassName n'est pas encore implémentée dans javascript, cela m'a obligé à incrémenter les ID à la main, dans les DIV et dans l'argument de la fonction. Jusqu'ici tout allait bien, j'avais ma traduction comme je voulais, post par post.
Mais, mais, MAIS... ie ne reconnaît PAS l'element css STYLE comme un argument valable pour la fonction setAttribute (faites d'ailleurs attention avec ce jouet, il efface tous les attributs qui ne sont pas définis par le script) et donc dans ce cas il à fallu que j'utilise par exemple :

monElement.style.setAttribute('cssText', monAttribut);

Et voilà ce que ça donne au final :

cnt = "1";
lg1 = "en";
lg2 = "fr";


function translate(id)
{
if (cnt == "1")
{
lg1 = "en"+id;
lg2 = "fr"+id;
cnt = "2";
}
else
{
lg1 = "fr"+id;
lg2 = "en"+id;
cnt = "1";
}

if (document.all)
{
el = document.getElementById(lg1);
attrib = "display:none;"
el.style.setAttribute('cssText', attrib);
el = document.getElementById(lg2);
attrib = "display:inline;"
el.style.setAttribute('cssText', attrib);
}
else
{
el = document.getElementById(lg1);
attrib = "display:none;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
el = document.getElementById(lg2);
attrib = "display:inline;"
el.setAttribute("style", attrib);
}
}

Le if (document.all) {} est utilisé pour vérifier que le brozser est bien IE.
Le code est encore bien lourd, j'aurais pu définir le setAttribute dans un if() et le rentrer dans une variable, mais bon, tout marche bien on en demande pas plus.
Bonne lecture à tous !

At last !!

I finally found a solution for an automatic translation tool, it is far from being perfect, for the code and the use, but that's the best I can get untill now. Just click the button to switch to French.

Edit : I just found out that the script only works for Firefox right now, I'm gonna try to find a solution...

Edit 2 : It works ! At last it works and it is compatible with both IE and mozilla. I will be able to resume usual posting, and our french mates will have it smooth and easy. Fresh air fresh air !

J'ai finallement trouvé une solution pour une traduction automatique, c'est encore loin d'être parfait, pour le code ou l'utilisation, mais c'est le mieux que je puisse faire pour l'instant. Cliquez sur le bouton pour traduire en anglais.

Edit : Je viens juste de m'appercevoir que le script ne fonctionne que sous Firefox, je vais tacher de trouver une solution.

Edit 2 : Ca marche ! Enfin ça marche, et le script est compatible à la fois avec IE et Mozilla. Je vais pouvoir recommencer à poster de façon régulière, et vous amis Français n'aurez plus de problèmes avec ce satané englishe. De l'air de l'air !

Some pics

Thanks to imageshack I've been able to open a photoblog :

There you go !





Hope you enjoy them ;)

Round trip to the Dog's Island

I didn't want to talk about my very personal adventures here, but I think there are interesting bits in this one. I'm seriously beginning to wonder if I'm not gonna ask people to call me Dundee.

Let me explain.

It was, basically, a nice little trip to go on holidays. Yes it included the nearly desert Asu Island (the Dog's Island) , yes it included a boat trip, and yes we had to bring our own snack just in case. But there were some missing parts in the briefing.
Remember the “road of 55 bridges” ? I am most happy to announce you that I have found a worse one. It's heading to a place called Sirombu. If this name had a meaning, it would be “so damn isolated that you'd better go there by foot”. The first part of the road is nothing but a succession of turns on a very nasty road going up and down, and you'd better have a strong stomach if you don't want to get sick in the car. The second part of the road is nothing but a giant hole sometime topped by some mud in case you'd like like to get stranded. Overall, when you ultimately arrive to Sirombu, you are lucky if you haven't already broken your tail bone and distorted your diaphragm. But this is the nice way, the normal way, the “ok well it makes sense anyway” way. Certainly not the “being driven by an ex rally driver” way. Most unfortunately I and my colleagues had to cope with the second option, I insist to reassure you, we are all still alive.
Sirombu base camp is beautiful, next to one of the most wonderful beach I've ever seen, and everything is quiet, calm, ideal to have a rest. Fortunately. We arrived there after three hours of road snaking and bottom mashing, and directly went to bed, taking the occasion to count our remaining limbs.
The day after, we woke up early and had a breakfast made of fried fish (I'll never get myself used to it) and a talk with the other guys going with us, a pack of jungley-sealy-merry-lads, strong fellows and beverage amateurs. Just time enough to get fully conscious, and it was time to load the boat in the truck.
To load the boat in the truck. Right. What kind of boat can fit in the back of a dump truck ?
You should have been there dear readers, for my face was worth seeing when it discovered that the boat was actually a nutshell lying somewhere between two buildings and two flowerpots (don't ask me for the flowerpots I still wonder myself). It wouldn't have bothered me to use a five meters long boat to have a nice floating moment crossing a lake, even a big lake. But the length of sea that separates Sirombu from the Asu Island... The kind of place where you suddenly realize that you are facing a five meters hight wave when you are gently swimming next to the shore (at least until the wave crashes on your spine)...
Ok, let's load the boat now. Lesson number one, a boat's weight is equal to its total passenger's weight. A boat is heavy. Especially when you are alone lifting one end while the other end is still in the truck, and the seven other guys with you all decided to let go. Lesson number 2, the trapdoor at the back of a dump truck is heavy too. Especially when the seven other guys have decided to think for a couple of minutes about the way to load the boat, when yourself and a torture mate are lifting the door at arm length.
Finally, on the beach, whe came to a point where everything was ready, and we departed. I won't tell much about the sunburns, the sea reflects the sun, I'm not a sea guy, but you can call me crab man by now, and, oh, I'm peeling. In the boat I slowly saw the shape of the island appearing through its misty veil. Small place, you can walk around it in half a day. There may be 20 persons leaving there, sometime not talking Indonesian but only their dialect, living from fishing, farming, and lodging occasional tourists. They define themselves as simple people living a simple life, and they are welcoming and respectful, they don't grin at you as some people do when they see a foreigner, but their smile is honest, as well as their speech.

We finally arrived there at noon, safe and sound, and we moved our bags in the little losmen waiting for us. And it was good. The water was good, the sky was good, the lobsters were good, the reefs with many colorful fishes were good, the magnificent seashells were good, it was a rush.
What was not good was the bathroom it the losmen's kitchen, and for my lady friends, having to pull the water out a well to have a shower. I mean, basic Indonesian sanitary facilities are often resumed to a basin and a hole in the ground, and it's no trouble once you get accustomed to cold water. But in a kitchen, I have to confess that I can't see the interest of it.
Something else was not good. The storm. I was half asleep, on my mattress, laid on the floor of the wooden house's first story, well aligned with my other male friends, and after having launched a searching party to retrieve one of us lost on the beach (I didn't even attended it, personal raisons, the heavy rain maybe) I began to feel a bit more relaxed. That when I felt cold water dripping on my cheek. The ceiling was leaking. No problem, I've seen worse, just pull out the bedsheets and cover your face. And then nothing can happen anymore, except, maybe, if a lightning falls on the house and set it on fire because right now the rain is horizontal and the thunder is breaking my eardrums.

It was a good thing that the storm happened at night. The day after, I had slept 3 hours but I was sure that we could go back to Sirombu avoiding any weather problem. The way back was without difficulties, and once back at the base camp, we had some free time before heading back to our place. I used it playing table tennis. And it was certainly not wise of me, because after two hours twisting madly my legs and arms to get the tiny white ball, I realized that the boat was still waiting on the beach. Loading time again. Well, not exactly loading time, “pushing stranded truck knee-deep in the mud of the jungle and putting stones in the rails hoping it doesn't happen again but anyway it happens again on the way back” time would be more appropriated. And the boat's weight didn't drop in the while, to my great disappointment. The jungle macho men moving stones, it was a nice picture.
So, shower time again, not only red as a cooked lobster but also covered in mud, nice mix of colors. At least after another three hours rodeo, we'd get some rest. I shouldn't hope for things to be right so easily. The driver is sick. We will go back tomorrow morning (ok, well, still there is a nice night of sleep ahead) at 4 am (what was that sleeping part again ?) and head straight to the office to begin our working day (it could be worse I guess... it can always be worse) to install a samba server on a Linux platform (see, I told you).

What shall I think about all that ? After having ridden 400 kilometers of evil road and silver see, witnessed the second worst storm in my life, slept 8 hours in two nights and moved more weight per hour than a mad body builder ?
I liked it. Ok, I complain a lot, but still. All these adventures we shared, the merry men and I, made me live teamwork and cooperation in a way that I had never experienced before, to a point where we didn't even need to talk to know what we were to do next. More, I've discovered a wonderful place, a place everybody dream about one day in their life, leaving a salty blue taste on my lips. It's insane what you can do in two days. In two days you can learn.

PS: Special hail to the surfer mates I met back there, you guys rock.

Free, at last.

Yes, yes, I am using big words here, but regarding the situation I guess they deserve to be used.

Indonesia is getting rid of the IMF. You know, this huge money fund that doesn't understand that small poor countries cannot afford to pay nation-level mortgages interests at the same rates as the US.

This is important enough to be written all over the place. Argentina, Brazil, South Korea, Viet-Nham... They are all "emerging countries" as we use to say when we think "poorer than us". These countries all have a common point : they are all done with their debt to the IMF. Indonesia is now in the list. For a while I used to wonder why a country with so much natural resources and full of people willing to learn and work would stay in a dangerous state of economic stagnation, if not to say regression, when I realized that if the IMF is not responsible for everything (at least not for the tsunamis and the earthquakes), it has maintained the country in an artificial poverty since long. What I also wondered about was that if even I myself could understand that, why no decisions was taken, why no polemics were running around the topic ? The answer, once again, is clear, but you have to dig few inches to get to the heart of the matter, you have to be on the field and see it from inside. Why should France (for instance) care about Indonesia ? Why should the national news show us the immense distress some people are in back there, when we can't get the eyes off the political mistakes we are permanently committing (stupid mistakes I must say, but mistakes in politic are always stupid, follow my gaze) ? Because it's comfortable. Whose for ? Not for us people, regular joes and joettes, we are deep enough in our own problems to consider the economic entanglement of the planet, but for some people who have a deep interest in us knowing as less as possible about our neighborhood, lest we shall begin to think. Imagine what would happen if we were taught in school that it is very handy indeed to flood a potentially very resourceful country in debts, so the big cats can keep on talking big things amongst themselves without being bothered, and still being able to profit from this country's resources (Total I am looking at you) ?

So now, if only this news is as good as it appears to be(politics being the very incarnation of Murphy's Law, everything can happen) , Indonesia can celebrate it's second decolonization, the economic one.

The Road of 55 Bridges

Amanraya.

I couldn't even think about it as a destination. I didn’t know where it was except "somewhere in the south". But after half an hour in the car I understood that we were going far. Where I come from, France, people tend to have a wrong idea about disdtances. A city is not that far if it is 200 km afar, but you hardly can take anybody for a 5km walk.
Here in Indonesia, even more in this island , you can realize that your legs can be far more useful than you think; And when you are on for a 150km trip around the island, you also understand that everything is far when it's above 10km away.

If we’d have been carrying nitroglycerine along the way, we'd be all dead by now. Bumpy is the most accurate adjective I can find to describe the situation of the roads here, and even if you are tempted by a look at the see and the mountains, you definitely come to keeping your head as straight as possible, regretting that your neck's vertebrae are not wielded together. The soil is muddy, partially made of clay over the hard mountain rock, and this is a nightmare when you want to maintain a road in an acceptable state. Add to this the earthquakes and floods and you quickly understand why you end up shaking like a beaten apple tree.

I'm working for an NGO, I have to make myself useful and cooperative as often as possible. So I sought to myself, "You could report what's wrong about theses roads".
Bridges.
A broken road, if not by a major landslide, can be fixed, even temporarily. But what about a bridge ?
Take, for example, this one: one end collapsed and got several tenth of centimeter down in the ground, making it steep sloped and impossible to access for any heavy equipment. The kind that could be used, say, to repair a road.
And this other one, wood over concrete : some of the beams are rotting, some other are not screwed anymore, and some are just missing, it's hardly wide enough for a four wheeler to pass over it, and a truck fell from if some weeks ago. When we ran over it with our vehicle, actually a four wheeler, I heard the wood crack underneath, and I saw the beams moving... Disturbing isn't it ?

Well I'm not gonna repair it myself, but I shall report it, along with the 54 other bridges spread over the 150km between Gunung Sitoli and Amanraya.

Let me tell you about all this.

Hi people.

Welcome in here, may you enjoy the ride, 'cause I probably am to carry you quite far, if you wish to follow me. What you're reading is not a diary, and so much for your curiosity you are not going to be revealed all the aspects of my private life, such as my very own way to wash socks, or my personal opinion on Paris Hilton's new monokini.

But here is something I would like to share with you, since my situation could be defined as quite unusual. What you need to know is that I'm French, and that Jolly Froggy is wandering half way round the world to look for wossnames and whatnot, and experience too.

So here I am, in Indonesia, on a small island that has been almost completely destroyed by the late tsunami and earthquakes, working for an NGO. And I'm neither an architect nor a logistic engineer, but a system administrator. I didn't intend to end up this way, mind me, I speak Indonesian well enough to be a translator, and that's what I wanted to be. A translator... languages, words, people, dictionaries. Well, I'm not to be picky on that, and as for suicide-bombing one's brain, sysoping is quite as effective as linguistic. Of course instead of the magical dance of phonemes and concepts, I get to cope with the wonderful mill of ip conflicts and algorithms, and it's not even as if I was an endowed certified operator of the top notch class. You live and learn I guess, and currently I'm learning PHP. Life is beautiful.

Here, now you know almost everything I can tell you about me, myself, I , and my ego. We shall keep in touch, friend (or foes) of all horizons, soon the plane will take off and there will come a handful of , indeed, very useful informations and point of view from far far away.