Kiva, Everyone

Instead of sending this out to friends' individual Emails, i thought I'd post this to my blog for all to see. This is the letter they ask people to send after making a contribution/loan.

If it's as real as it looks, then it's a beautiful thing. And with all the exposure it got on the media, I imagine it's gotten under a lot of scrutiny... and hey, I *want* to believe it's real. :-)

Thanks to Paul for turning me on to this.

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Hi!

I just made a loan to someone in Sierra Leone using a revolutionary new website called Kiva (www.kiva.org).

You can go to Kiva's website and lend to someone across the globe who needs a loan for their business - like raising goats, selling vegetables at market or making bricks. Each loan has a picture of the entrepreneur, a description of their business and how they plan to use the loan so you know exactly how your money is being spent - and you get updates letting you know how the entrepreneur is going.

The best part is, when the entrepreneur pays back their loan you get your money back - and Kiva's loans are managed by microfinance institutions on the ground who have a lot of experience doing this, so you can trust that your money is being handled responsibly.

I just made a loan to an entrepreneur named Walekafesa I Group in Sierra Leone. They still need another $925.00 to complete their loan request of $1,325.00 (you can loan as little as $25.00!). Help me get this entrepreneur off the ground by clicking on the link below to make a loan to Walekafesa I Group too:

http://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=businesses&action=about&id=118943

It's finally easy to actually do something about poverty - using Kiva I know exactly who my money is loaned to and what they're using it for. And most of all, I know that I'm helping them build a
sustainable business that will provide income to feed, clothe, house and educate their family long after my loan is paid back.

Join me in changing the world - one loan at a time.

Thanks!

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What others are saying about www.Kiva.org:

'Revolutionising how donors and lenders in the US are connecting with small entrepreneurs in developing countries.'
-- BBC

'If you've got 25 bucks, a PC and a PayPal account, you've now got the wherewithal to be an international financier.'
-- CNN Money

'Smaller investors can make loans of as little as $25 to specific individual entrepreneurs through a service launched last fall by Kiva.org.'
-- The Wall Street Journal

'An inexpensive feel-good investment opportunity...All loaned funds go directly to the applicants, and most loans are repaid in full.'
-- Entrepreneur Magazine

Study Finds Vegans Able to Carry Own Weight

Looks like people are doing okay even without animal products. This particular meta-analysis study asked if vegans have a lower bone density. The answer was yes, but it turns out that didn't make a difference in terms of likelihood for breaking their bones, which is what matters in the end. It's sort of like saying that younger people have a smaller muscle mass, but are still able to lift just as much weight as older people. In the end, there's no disadvantage.

From the article:

The study found that on average vegans had a bone mass density 5 percent lower than non-vegans. But Nguyen said the study found vegans were no more likely to be treated for bone fractures than non-vegans.

This is probably because vegans tend to be more health conscious, he said.

"If you look at vegetarians as a whole they are certainly healthier, they tend to live longer and have lower risk of hypertension and heart disease." And there are other factors that may override the influence bone density has on fracture risk such as hormone deficiencies, smoking and lifestyle, said Nguyen.

...and the entire article is here.

Hello, Parking Karma

Every once in a while, the gods of parking smile upon me. In the last couple of days, they must've been in an extra-good mood. Let us count the miracles:

1) Lori and I went to host an outdoor milonga in Rittenhouse Square in Philadephia. A very crowded, central spot in Philadelphia. No place to park. Ever. And even if You find one, the meters are expensive and You have to come back and refuel them every 2 hours.

But we just drove into the square, and there it was: A parking spot right by the square. It seemed unlikely. But it was real. We parked, got out, discovered that in this particular spot, we'd only need to pay for the coming 2:07 hours (though it only accepted payment for two hours at a time). Miracle #1.

2) We only paid for 2 hours, and after the milonga really got going, we forgot to go back and pay for the last 7 minutes. In Philadelphia, I've learned, this is a sure way of getting a ticket. But we didn't. Miracle #2.

3) We went for dinner after the milonga, at a nice restaurant on South Street. South Street is another very busy area, and the notion of looking for parking there is total craziness. We drove around just to feel like we did our duty before getting into a parking lot, and all of a sudden, right in the middle of the (truly packed) street, there it was: A parking spot just for us, half a block from the restaurant. Miracl #3.

3.5) We later went to get ice cream. Couldn't find parking space, which made us realize we could just buy the ice cream (while I wait in the car) and eat on while driving home. Was better this way anyway. I'll put it in the miracle list. Why not? Miracle #3.5.

4) We went to Princeton (New Jersey) today for a tango crash course. After the course, we looked for a place to eat (it's about 1.5 hours from home, and we were too hungry to wait). I voted for Indian food. Lori rarely disagrees to such a notion. We drove downtown to the main street. Not a lot of parking, but not too tight. We saw a spot we liked, and pulled in. After getting out of the car, we asked a passing family where we might find an Indian restaurant. The man pointed up the street, the woman down the street, and the kids just ignored us. Then the grown-ups apologized and said that they're not really sure, and walked off. We consulted the oracle (Lori's iPhone), and it informed us that there's indeed an Indian restaurant in town, and the address was... right across the street from where we parked. Miracle #4.

The world is smiling at us right now. I will try to remember to smile back.

Playing for Change

(thank You, Dafna)

Dafna sent me a link, in a short, 3-line Email, saying she thinks I would like the concept.

I watched. At first I thought hey, this is pretty neat.

As I kept watching, I could feel the chills running up and down my spine.

This is inspiring. Amazing. Beautiful. If You have a couple of minutes, take a look: http://www.playingforchange.com/journey/introduction. Or here:



You can find more by going on YouTube and typing "Playing for Change."

There are times I want to just drop everything I'm doing, and just do music, music, music. There is magic in it, elation, and a beauty unlike anything else.

I think about all the people in the videos, singing and playing so beautifully with people they have never seen. And I feel such respect and awe for them. They have been playing for a long time, putting in hours and days and months and years into making their music so beautiful, some of them under conditions that less than ideal: Pokei Kiaas, playing his upright bass on the dusty dirt between shacks in Guguleto, South Africa; or Junior Kissangwa Mbouta, barely squeezing his full drum set into his skinny porch above the streets of the Congo...

Enjoy. And thank You, Dafna.

Ole!

I finally started taking guitar lessons in an organized way. Flamenco guitar. Yeah baby. Right now I'm still sounding like a chicken pecking at a guitar, but I have faith.

I took another class today, at the end of which my teacher asked me what sort of sports I do. We ended up talking about martial arts and Jeet Kune Do, and that's when I discovered that my teacher met Bruce Lee once, to watch him train.

Funny world.

The story of finding this guitar teacher is a nice one. I decided it's time to take lessons, and called up a nearby music store. They said yes, we can teach guitar, but not really flamenco guitar, and so they gave me the number for a teacher that used to work for them, but now opened his own business. I called him and he said yes, we could teach You some flamenco guitar here, but we wouldn't really be able to take You very far. So he gave me a number for another guy, who's a performing artist. I called up this guy, and he said oh yes, I'd be happy to teach You, but I always refer potential students to my teacher first, and only if he can't take anybody on, I will take them - out of respect, You know. So I called up the guy's teacher and he said sure, come on by.

So that's who I've been studying with. Great guy, great guitarist, lots of fun. Lori has been joining to take flamenco dance classes, and so while she stomps I peck, and there is lots of noise and merriment.

I find this story very heartwarming - that people would be willing to literally lose business, in order to provide the best learning experience possible. That's real professionalism. And real humility.

On other fronts: I feel like I'm not doing any service (as in, helping other people). Starting to think about it more seriously.

Kids and Drugs

Here's video that a father took of his son upon returning from dental treatment, which the kid underwent while drugged. The video shows the kid acting, well, drugged. It's massively popular, having received more than 12 MILLION hits so far.

The video wasn't easy for me to watch, since the kid looks confused all the time, and distressed some of the time. There's a part where he bellows out in what looks like rage, although it's totally disconnected from how he acts both before and after the roar. When I saw that, I could just imagine different parts of the brain kicking in and out of gear: Rage UP, inhibition DOWN, and voila - a kid who roars out of the blue.

Here is the URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txqiwrbYGrs

The kid, apparently, feels okay about the movie. Here's a video of him thanking all the viewers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWQSf27-P-U

The family recently started a blog, which You can find here: http://davidafterdentist.com/blog/ . I find the whole thing weird, and still wonder if the kid will pay a price for this in the future. I hope not.

Two comments from the original YouTube video that pretty much sum up how many people seem to react to the movie, and what makes me personally uncomfortable about it:

- "Yeah kids and drugs, hilarious."
- "hahahahahahahaha priceless! he's going to be a funny drunk when he is older"

(to be fair, I think this spoof is pretty hysterical: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGTAnXqn9Jc)

Beautiful Award: Action Teaching about Youth Violence

I found this very inspiring. Perhaps You will, too:

2009 Action Teaching Award Winner

Why the navy should provide tango training

I often think (and say) that the most dangerous time on the tango floor is when there are only two couples dancing. It's almost as though the two couples gravitate toward each other (or perhaps they just feel that since they're almost alone on the floor, they don't really need to pay that much attention?), and before You know it - WHAM, excuse me, ha ha, how could we bump into each other when it's just us on the floor, okay, tango on.

Anyhow, it turns out this phenomenon is not limited to tango dancers - it also happens to nuclear submarines. And I wonder - did the captains ever receive any tango training?

Your illegal drug tax money at work

This is amazing. Amazing.

I met with friends last night, and at some point one of them mentioned drug stamps. We all stared for a while, and then continued to stare when he explained that some states impose a tax on the sales of illegal drugs.

- "But how can people pay a tax on something that's not legal to sell or buy?"
- "I know, I know," he replied calmly, "but there's still a tax."

Well, out came Lori's iPhone, and there seemed to be some supporting evidence for this crazy notion. We couldn't quite figure it out, but it seemed like this drug tax actually existed.

Well, Samir is a serious guy. A few minutes ago he sent me this link to the Kansas Department of Revenue.

Notice that, when purchasing stamps to prove that You paid tax on your illegal drugs, personal checks are not an acceptable method of payment.

Cash is good, though.

Unbelievable.

Snowladelphia!

It's been snowing and cold here for a while - winter time in Philadelphia! I realized I was getting used to the temperature when, a couple of days ago, it reached freezing (that is, went UP to freezing). It was about 36 degrees Fahrenheit (about 3 degrees Celsius), and I was outside in the T-shirt, enjoying the sun. Crazy.

It also gets very icy. The ice can be hard to see, and even when I'm being careful, walking slowly and all, I slip a bit every once in a while. I had my first big crash (and hopefully the last for a while). I fell onto my side and bruised my thigh and my arm. Not to worry: The laptop is fine. :-)

Walking by Clark Park today, I passed my favorite area: The dog bowl. I'm used to seeing it filled with people and dogs playing frisbee, soccer, and what-not. Today it had a different feel, but still made me smile. Enjoy:

I was almost robbed, sort of (sigh)

Hi everybody,

I hope the new year (and new presidential administration!) is starting off well for everyone. I just wanted to let You know about a robbery attempt I experienced earlier today, while walking back from Penn. The short version has the basics. The long version has more details, and some thoughts.

* Short version:

Around 3:50pm today, on the corner of 43rd and Pine St., two 12-year-old kids (one wearing a light blue coat) tried to snatch my cell phone from my hand as I was talking on it. They failed. They ran away, and I informed the police. Please pay attention to people around You, even (and especially) when engaging in attention-absorbing activities - like talking on your cell phone.

* Long version:

The attempt took place around 3:50pm (about as broad daylight as it gets), on the corner of 43rd and Pine St. I was walking and talking on my cell phone, when I felt somebody tugging on the phone (which I was holding in my hand). I did not let go. I turned around and saw two kids, probably around 12 years old, trotting away at a casual pace and laughing. Both were around 5' tall. One of them was wearing a light blue coat.

I was a bit stunned, and couldn't decide whether I should get off the phone, keep walking (I was supposed to meet someone within a few minutes), go after the kids, call the police, or what. After a few seconds I regrouped, hung up, and started walking toward the group of kids that was gathered around (and milling into and out of) Colonial Pizza, right on the corner. The two kids who attempted the snatch were not among them, but I had a sense they all knew each other.

The kids in the group were clearly surprised that I came over, and I could hear a few "oh shit" tossed around. I asked "where did they go?" but they claimed ignorance. I said I was about to call the police, and they got nervous. One of the kids said "I had nothing to do with it."

I called the police, let them know what happened, and that I wouldn't be able to stay there (since I was late to meet some people, and did not have a way to inform them). Dispatch said they'd send someone over, and I left the location.

I'm still not sure what would've been the best thing to do. Should I have run after them immediately, grabbed hold of one, and sit on him while calling the police and waiting for them to arrive? That opens the door to physical injury - they might have a knife, or a gun, or 9 other friends. And I would've been late. Should I have tried talking with them, rather than call the police? I couldn't really get a hold of them at that point, and I was late for my meeting. Should I have gone into Colonial Pizza and asked the staff if they knows any of the parents, to make sure they know about this? Hmm. Maybe.

I'm thinking about going back to see if I can have a talk with the staff, or even get any of the kids to talk with me. I'm not sure an encounter with the police would be ultimately helpful, either to the kids or to the neighborhood at large (I don't even know what the police can do in a case like this), and I do believe that this is a cry for attention on the kids' part. Still, some forms of attention-getting are potentially harmful, and this one came pretty close.

Due to the Economic Crisis, Christmas Was Cancelled This Year

Happy Channukah! :-)

$1.99 Whole Chicken!

Walking in Philadelphia the other day, I saw a sign on the window of a Boston Market (fast food store). The sign read:

$1.99 Whole Chicken!

and as I kept walking I thought wow, that's pretty cheap.

Then it hit me, and I stopped walking. Wow. That's really cheap. Think about it. Here is a very shortened list of what needs to happen before You can sell a whole chicken for $1.99. You have to

• Incubate the egg and hatch it (or buy the little chick and transport her over)
• Feed the chick for 3-4 months
• Keep her healthy
• Kill her
• Pluck her feathers
• Clean her body
• Ship her body to wherever (refrigerated)
• Cook the body
  
• Put the body in a container

...and much, much more. And all this costs LESS than $1.99?? I realize that Boston Market may be making all of their money from, say, the Diet Coke that they sell (to people who still believe it's healthy for them), and the chicken is just a way to bait customers. But still, if they're selling the chicken at this price, it's because in the big picture, it's making them money.

Which leads us to the same conclusion: Hatching, raising, killing, shipping, and preparing a living being--an entire cycle of life--costs less than $1.99.

But wait, it gets even better. A scary thing occurred to me. Think about any pet You've ever met. Let's say a little one, about the size of a chicken. Maybe a cat. Think about the first 3 months of that cat's life. How much did the cat food cost? Would You say, hmm, more than $1.99?

If You can feed a chicken for 3-4 months, make her gain weight, and still make a profit after selling her for $1.99, I think that's pretty bad news in terms of the quality of the food that chicken was eating.

And, of course, the people eating her.

Brr.

They Sure Grow Up Fast

Nothing makes sense about this one: An 8 years-old boy shoots his 29 years-old father and 39 years-old renter, killing them both. The mother, who was visiting at the time, returned to her (far away) home after the shooting. The 8 (8!!) years-old is now in jail, and the police is pushing to have him stand trial as an adult, accused of premeditated murder.

Eight years old. What a life he must've had so far. What a life he will.

My Chinese allies in the quest for reducing trash

Lots of food around Penn, especially in the form of food trucks. Lots of vegetarian food, too, which makes me extra happy.

I was introduced to the Veggie Food truck by Carolyn when she visited here (naturally, she told me about it, even though I've been living here for 3 months by that point). Nice people selling good food in disposable aluminum containers and a plastic cover, all to go straight into the trash once I'm done eating.

Feels like a waste. So I took my handy collapsible Tupperware bowl that Paul got for me (thanks, Paul!) and on my next visit to the Veggie Food truck asked if they could put my food there.

The guy looked at me for a second, blinked a couple of times, and said "umm, no." He explained that he would love to, but he would have problems with his insurance company, since they can't guarantee that my container is clean.

Personally, I wasn't convinced. But hey, it's his business.

Today I went over to the Chinese Food truck for the very first time (it's parked right next to the Japanese Food truck, the Indian Food truck, the Mediterranean Food truck, and right across from the Penn gym where all the active-looking people can run in place and look at the food outside the window).

The Chinese girl was happy to serve me in my bowl. I'm happy to eat from it. Everybody wins. :-)

Okay, enough writing. Time to eat.

I got mugged last night, sort of

I'm okay, and no violence happened. No need to worry.

I was walking home last night, around 2am, and was about a block away from my place when a large-ish man stopped me and said "Delaware county?"

I said "what about it?" and he asked where it was, and then proceeded to explain that he needed to get there to meet his daughter etc., and soon after came the unavoidable request to help him out with some money. This happens pretty frequently in my life, but usually when there's more light and more people around, and the person asking me for money doesn't feel dangerous. I told him I wasn't carrying any cash, and he got a little irritated. By this point, I was already worried, and could definitely feel my heart pounding. I was getting ready for something bad to happen.

This kind of thing had never happened to me before.

We were talking all the while, and I was pretty intimidated. I had considered running, but was wearing my sandals (the strap on one of them often comes undone) and had my backpack on. He made it very clear that he wanted some money, and repeatedly said that he doesn't want to hurt anyone, and that he's not going to take anything by force from anyone (it was only him and me there, so it's pretty clear who "anyone" was). Despite his reassuring words, I was still pretty worried.

We ended up going to a nearby (1 block away) gas station, where I went inside a store to the ATM to take some money out. We talked on the way, and he was being proud of how well America and Philadelphia were treating me, and even let me know that "if we were in Israel and You came up to me and told me You needed some money, I'd help You out, You know?"

One of the more bizarre bits happened here. I asked him "how much would help You out?" and he said $20. I said "that's kind of a lot for me" and he responded "well, how about $15, then?" At this point I caught myself, realized how absurd this negotiation process was, and just walked in. As it turned out, the ATM could only dispense $20 bills anyway.

When we came out, I gave him the bill, and he shook my hand and offered me many blessings. "Your hands will be washed," he said, with a big smile, and I was thinking hell yes, I don't even want to know what I'm picking up from your hands right now. I watched him go before I started walking, and was hoping he wasn't going around the corner to meet me again and repeat the process.

When I got home, I was still scared and starting to be angry, trying to process the whole thing. I was wondering then, and still trying to figure out, whether I should've done anything differently.

• It's pretty clear, in hindsight, that I should not have walked home at 2am - I should probably get a bicycle so I can zip by rather than stop and chat with scary strangers.
• Possibly I should've crossed the street as soon as I saw him approach me. But he could've easily followed me.
• I could've also said "stay there! Don't come any closer" as soon as we started talking, which would've made it easier for me to run. But once we were walking past each other, it was hard to keep my distance.
• Should I have been carrying some self-defense device, like a tear spray?
• From a different side, I also wonder whether I should've talked with him more, and try to connect as a person. I did a bit of that as we were walking, and who knows what the effect was. But if there was a 24-hour diner right there, I would've considered inviting him for a meal to hear about his life.
• I probably should not have told him my real name when he asked for it (I wonder if he gave me his real name - the name he gave was about as unusual as mine, so not likely to be invented).
• I wonder if I should've called the police once I was in the store with him, and relatively safe. It's hard to imagine that the police would've been much help (especially given that, although I was intimidated, all he did was tell me how he's not into taking things by force from people). I was worried about him getting very angry and then coming for me later on.
• I also wonder if I should've called the police once I'd arrived at my place. I realized that I couldn't really give a good description of him, other than a vague sense of his height (which I probably exaggerated in my mind, since I was scared), the color of his jacket, the fact that he had something jingling in his pocket, and a fresh $20 in his hands. I could also tell them the name he gave me. But again, would that do any good? What would the police do? And would he then come after me? (since it would be pretty clear it was me who called the police on him).

I'm still going through the aftermath of this incident. I slept very well last night, thankfully, and woke up in an okay mood. As the morning progressed I noticed that my self-esteem is way down today - I'm being a little harder on myself than usual. I'm also a little apprehensive of people who remind me of that guy. I'm not really angry, and was fully engaged in the meeting I was at this morning. I wonder how I will feel once it gets dark.

Last night I received a very important lesson for just $20. The question is: What have I learned?

Both of the research assistants I work with are always online

Well, more or less. One has a Blackberry, and the other has an iPhone. I asked one of them how many of her friends also have constant online access. "Oh, almost everyone," she said. "I see them walking down the street or around campus with their heads in the phones, typing away... They're on Email."

It used to be texting. Now it's Email.

Times are changing. :-)

Back from Israel

Landed in Philadelphia a couple of days ago, and starting to get back into the swing of things.

The last 3 weeks of my time in Israel have been the fastest 3 weeks of my life. I think I did nothing but spend time with friends and family, sleep, and eat breakfast (all other meals were shared). And I still feel like I didn't get to see anyone nearly as much as I wanted.

I met a few new people during this trip: Two of my cousins and one of my best friends had babies within the last year, and that was the first time I met them. In the picture is the son of one of my cousins, along with my grandmother (his great-grandmother!), who turned 91 while I was in Israel.

Ninety one. Ho-ly moly.

And now, back in Phialdelphia, I am trying to embed myself back into this life where I don't have 10 close friends, with rich shared history, within 30 minutes or less from me. On the other hand, I do have the opportunity here to do exactly what I want to be doing. Which, I'm realizing all the time, is a rare and precious gift.

Ah, but I do miss my people in Israel. My friends, my family. I often say "my friends" when I talk about the people in Israel, because the two categories blur in my mind. They're all friends. They're all family. In the U.S., too, I have people that are close friends, who have shaped my mind, opened my heart, and held my hand in difficult times, kept me whole when I thought I would fall apart.

I owe my Self to all of them. All of You. And love You very dearly. :-)

Tango Therapy

Can tango be beneficial as a form of therapy? The BBC's "The World" thinks so. Check it out.

They describe how researchers are studying the benefits that learning and dancing tango can have for people suffering from Parkinson's Disease or depression.

Money quote (this one is about Parkinson's):

“We compared tango to American waltz and foxtrot and tai-chi and found that, while there were improvements in all of the groups, the improvements in the tango group were always equal to or superior to those in the other interventions.”

It makes perfect sense. Lots of social stimulation, using your body in a conscious way, learning new things (and trying to remember old ones)... What's NOT good about it?

(Spasibo, Tamara!)

Look right through me

A little while ago a co-worker (who is black - You'll see the relevance in a minute) volunteered to help me by letting me do a psychological assessment test on her (as part of my homework for one of the clinical psych classes, I must administer and score tests for IQ, learning disability, etc.). This was extremely nice of her, since those tests take 2-3 hours, and I'm often fumbling along, trying to find the next question or worksheet. She was being an angel.

At the end of the test, I asked her for feedback. What did she like? What did she not like? What would she recommend that I do the same, or that I do differently in the future? She mentioned a few things, and then looked at me for a couple of seconds and said "actually, ther'es one more thing and, uh, I hope You don't take this the wrong way."

I promised to let her know if I think I may be taking it the wrong way. She said "Okay. Well, You are one of the only.... um... one of the only white people that really look at me. I mean, really see me when we're interacting."

This is probably the best compliment I ever received. It's also very disturbing. We talked about this for a while. She told me about the experience of being ignored in shops, while white patrons who came after her were immediately approached by sales people; about being treated rudely in medical clinics. I told her about a story I heard a few days earlier from a white friend, who said that he often feels like black people treat him as though he's transparent - "they just look right through me" (he described how once, in a checkout line at a grocery store, the black cashier had a conversation with the man standing behind him, literally talking and looking through him).

A couple of weeks later, as I was walking from the big train station on 30th St. and Market, a young black girl was walking in front of me, in the same direction as I. A large, intimidating white man walked towards her at a good pace, and shoulder bumped her as he passed. Roughly. I was stunned, and he passed by. I felt (and still feel) absolutely horrible for not saying anything, for letting fear get the better of me, for not even protesting. Next time, I will.

What a funny place, Philadelphia. It's probably not so different from many other places, but things are closer to the surface here, easier to see. Philadelphians are very proud of the ethnic integration of the City, but the implicit and explicit inter-ethnic tension is still very real, and very raw.

For my part, I was glad to have had such an open conversation with my friends. Racial and ethnic tension is not a topic I avoid, and it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I've learned, over time, that lots of people do get uncomfortable when it's brought up explicitly, and so I became more cautious about when I discuss it, and with whom. It was nice to meet people who are willing to acknowledge that it exists, and to share their experiences. There's nothing like open air for this kind of tension.