Word Up: News & Events

Valerie Pagnier had always privately booked the Christmas Faire until 9 years ago when the event had outgrown the Hall and she became frustrated due to the bickering over space. At this point, Colleen Work agreed to be responsible for organizing the faire and took over from Valerie . To address the overcrowding in the Hall, Colleen came up with a great idea... “what about the school gym?”. Susan Crowe and Colleen (who were on the H.I.E.S. executive at that time) discovered that the gym could be used for school fundraisers which then opened up the event for children vendors and others who could not fit in the Hall.

This arrangement has worked well but in recent years the bickering has begun again. Many are not satisfied with the school gym and want to know why they cannot be in the Hall. Remember that Colleen privately books the Hall for the original group from years ago and she has always allowed H.I.E.S. to serve the lunch. Unfortunately, we all don’t fit on the upper deck at the Hall BUT ANY INDIVIDUAL WHO WISHES TO BOOK THE HALL FOR THEIR OWN EVENT MAY DO SO.

Nowadays the gym event is organized by the P.A.C. and H.I.E.S. but as the executives of these groups change from year to year, Colleen has often experienced difficulty in coordinating the simultaneous events. This year, as well as others, she has graciously volunteered to help the P.A.C. until they have chosen organizers for their fundraiser. After all the time and energy that Colleen has devoted to these events it is very discouraging to hear grumbling in the community and if any of the grumblers would book, organize and advertise their own events they might have a better appreciation for the work that she has done.

This is Janette Damsma. I'm hoping to find a place to live on Hornby Island for October 1, 2005. I am currently residing in Vancouver where I've been pursuing a carreer as an artist for the last 10 years. My dream, however, is to do my artwork in a natural wilderness setting, and I have recently been pointed in the direction of your Island. I was thinking that it would be great if there were to be some lovely wooden sea-side house in need of some love and care for the winter. I grew up on a farm in Ontario, and have really been missing being close to animals, although I do come with a most sleek and charming cat, Sasha. I'm experienced with horses, I raised and trained Mr. Captain Rodney with the help of my Father, so if there is any place in need of home or animal care, this would be quite perfect for me.

I'm also very experienced in the retail and hospitality industries. I'm not sure what the availability is for work on the island over the winter, but I like to put it all out there. I have also been deeply involved in healing work in Vancouver, as well as Tarot card readings, fire spinning, writing and music, all which I will be more than happy to bring with me to Hornby Island .

I'm not sure how or if you might be able to help me out, whether it be employment, a rental home, house-sitting, I am open to any of these which might offer me an appropriate place to live, for the highest good of everyone involved. I'll be visiting the Island on Saturday, September 24 to check out the whole situation further. I also have a long list of reliable references.

I look forward to hearing from anyone who might be able to direct me to where I want to go, and I really hope that this all flows together as those things that are meant to happen do, in which case I'll be getting to know you and the Island life in the very near future. I have attached some images of my artwork, if you'd like to take a peek.

The local community paper, the First Edition, is in urgent need of collators for the paper--this month, and every month. Collating happens near the end of each month. To volunteer your services to the effort this month, or to have your name added to a rotating list of volunteers to be called every month, please call Shae or Oakley Rankin at 335-1606, or email Oakley at cholla@mars.ark.com

VICTORIA . The Islands Trust Council selected the winners of the third annual Community Stewardship Awards during its quarterly meeting on Keats and Gambier Islands September 14 – 16, 2005 .

"The award program is designed to honour dedicated individuals and groups who have donated countless hours to the stewardship of the islands in the Trust Area," said David Essig , Islands Trust Chair. "These awards acknowledge the contributions of groups and individuals towards improving the community, culture or economic sustainability of an island."

"This year, the diverse nature of the work of the nominees and the quality of the projects in which they have been involved was outstanding," he added. "In fact, while we normally select four award winners, two individuals and two organizations, this year we have also awarded two honourable mentions."

Council gave the group awards to the Hornby Water Stewardship Project, for their work on water testing and public education to protect water quality and to the Mayne Island Japanese Gardens Volunteers for creating a memorial garden to honour the Japanese families of Mayne Island .

The individual awards go to Hilary Brown of Hornby Island for her ongoing work of almost seven decades to make Hornby Island a better place to live and to Katherine Dunster of Bowen Island for her conservation work and promotion of the ‘slow islands’ movement.

In addition, two special honourable mentions were awarded – one to the Denman Conservancy Association for their annual house and garden tour fund-raising event and one to Nicholas and Naomi Wilde-Van Ginkles of Pender Island for their work to sensitize the community to the environmental impact of chemicals.

The Community Stewardship Award presentation ceremonies will occur during the fall in the individual island communities where the recipients live. The public can make nominations for next year’s awards in the spring of 2006. Information will be available next spring on the Islands Trust website at www.islandstrust.bc.ca.

A total of 17 individuals and groups were nominated by the public for the fourth annual Islands Trust Community Stewardship Awards Program. The nominees’ projects included conservation initiatives, a newspaper, economic renewal, community improvement, conservation education, water conservation and quality, a Japanese garden, the ‘slow islands’ movement and pesticide reduction. Nominees were from eight islands: Bowen , Denman, Gabriola, Hornby , Mayne, North and South Pender and Salt Spring.

Do You or Anyone You Know Have Hemophilia, Cystic Fibrosis, or Muscular Dystrophy?

The Institute for the Study of Peak States is developing a process that may be able to repair the genes that cause these disorders. We are looking for volunteers for clinical trials of our process. The procedure is non-invasive (i.e., no surgical procedures or toxic drugs), and is under the supervision of an MD. The trials/research will take about 6 to 8 days, spread over several months. A number of lab tests, some involving the taking of blood samples, will be run to track any changes in your genetic disorder and symptoms.

The procedure takes place here on beautiful Hornby Island. We provide housing, but meals would be your own responsibility. (As we don't have wheelchair facilities, you would have to be able to care for yourself, or have an attendant.)

If you are interested, know someone who is, or have further questions, please contact Dr. Chalfin at 250-335- 0470.

Last week I closed my New York production office and sent my staff down to New Orleans to set up our own relief effort. I asked all of you to help me by sending food, materials and cash to the emergency relief center we helped set up on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain with the Veterans for Peace. We did this when the government was doing nothing and the Red Cross was still trying to get it together. Every day, every minute was critical. People were dying, poor people, black people, left like so much trash in the street. I wanted to find a way to get aid in there immediately.

I hooked up with the Vietnam veterans and Iraqi war vets (Veterans for Peace) who were organizing a guerilla, grass-roots relief effort. They were the same group that had set up Cindy Sheehan's camp in Crawford and now they had moved Camp Casey to Louisiana.

I have good news and horrible news to report. First, your response to my appeal letter was overwhelming. Within a few days, a half-million dollars was sent in through my website to fund our relief effort. This money was immediately used to buy generators, food, water, a mobile medical van, tents, satellite phones, etc.

Others of you began shipping supplies to our encampment. People in communities all over the country started organizing truck caravans to us in Louisiana. Twenty-two trucks from southern California alone have already arrived. A semi-truck from Chicago delivered ten tons of food. A group of friends in New Jersey got two 24 foot trucks, got their community to load them up with goods, and arrived in Covington tonight. Fifteen iMacs are inbound from California. One man gave us his pick-up truck and another donated truck is en route from Houston.

Your response to my appeal has been nothing short of miraculous. And it has saved many, many lives.

A number of you decided to just get in your cars and drive to our camp to volunteer to help. We now have had 150 volunteers here doing the work that needs to be done. Last night they unloaded twenty tons of food from a tractor trailer in under two hours. Each day more volunteers arrive. Everyone is sleeping on the ground or in tents. It is a remarkable sight. Thank you, all of you, for responding. I will never forget this outpouring of generosity to those forgotten by our own government.

My staff and the vets spend their 18-hour days delivering food and water throughout the city of New Orleans and the surrounding areas. What they have seen is appalling. I have asked them to post their daily diaries on my website (www.michaelmoore.com) along with accompanying photos and video so you can learn what is really going on. What the media is showing you is NOT the whole story. It is much, much worse and there is still little being done to bring help to those who need it.

Our group has visited many outlying towns and villages in Mississippi and Louisiana, places the Red Cross and FEMA haven't visited in over a week. Often our volunteers are the first relief any of these people have seen. They have no food, water or electricity. People die every day. There are no TV cameras recording this. They have started to report the spin and PR put out by the White House, the happy news that often isn't true ("Everyone gets 2,000 dollars!").

The truth is that there are dead bodies everywhere and no one is picking them up. My crew reports that in most areas there is no FEMA presence, and very little Red Cross. It's been over two weeks since the hurricane and there is simply not much being done. At this point, would you call this situation incompetence or a purposeful refusal to get real help down there?

That's why we decided not to wait. And we are so grateful to all of you who have joined us. The Veterans for Peace and my staff aren't leaving (and that's why we are hoping those of you who can't get to Covington will make it to the Veterans for Peace co-sponsored anti-war demonstration in DC on September 24: www.unitedforpeace.org.)

Cleaning Supplies (glass cleaner, bleach, disinfectant, etc.)
Aspirin and other basic over the counter drugs.
Bottled Water
Canned Goods
Hygiene Supplies
Baby Supplies - Baby Food Formula, diapers #4, #5, Wipes, Pedialyte
Sterile Gloves
Batteries - All kinds, from AA to watch and hearing aid batteries.
Volunteers with trucks and cars
Self contained kitchens with generators, utensils, workers

Consider sending supplies in reusable containers. List the contents on the outside of the package so the folks in the warehouse can easily sort the items.

Clothes are not needed. If you go, keep in mind that you MUST be self-sufficient. Bring a tent and a sleeping bag. People are driving to Covington from across the country and often have extra room in their cars for you or for an extra box of supplies. For more information, go to the Veterans for Peace message board: www.vfproadtrips.org/katrina/.

Send supplies via UPS to:
Veterans for Peace
Omni Storage
74145 Hwy. 25
Covington LA

Thanks again for funding and supporting our relief efforts. It has been a bright spot in this otherwise shameful month.

"We're not counting on the government to take care of us anymore"
Following Hurricane Katrina evacuees out of New Orleans
By David Enders / MotherJones.com

COVINGTON, LA — Around 60 Hurricane Katrina refugees are staying in the cafeteria of Pine View Middle School. Covington has suffered heavy wind damage from the storm but not as much flooding as other areas. Since September 2, members of Veterans for Peace, an anti-war group that had been on its way to Washington, DC, for protests later this month, have been delivering donated relief supplies to the area.

"We left Camp Casey and Cindy Sheehan with thousands of pounds of food that was donated there and we got here and handed it out within hours. That's our mission, to open up a functional supply line to southern Louisiana," said Dennis Kyne, a veteran of the 1991 Gulf War. "We're not counting on the government to take care of us anymore, they've already proven they won't."

The Red Cross, which is officially in charge of the shelter in Covington, is supplying basic medical care and shelter, while volunteers are helping to cook and provide additional supplies.

"When we first showed up they were without power and they had some medical needs," said Douglas Soderbergh, who served in Lebanon and in Iraq in 1991. "We have power generation and we hooked them up. They have a small child here that has cystic fibrosis and requires physical therapy with a small chest bag that pounds his chest and loosens him up and he has a ventilator. We fed them a hot meal, they had until then been eating MREs or cold food."

Soderbergh said the group was invited by local police to stay at the middle school, but that initially there was some friction between Veterans for Peace and officials from the Red Cross, FEMA and Homeland Security at the regional level because of the group’s anti-war advocacy.

"They tried to get us out of here, but the volunteers from the Red Cross said 'if you kick the veterans out, we're leaving too," Soderbergh said. "That stopped it pretty quick." The regional directors have since returned to check on the site. "They've been here several times in the past few days and acknowledged our value and thanked us for our service," Soderbergh said.

Red Cross volunteers at the shelter said that the volunteers from Veterans for Peace have been invaluable because they are not bound by the same restrictions as the relief agency, and some of the volunteers have even brought supplies for the veterans to hand out.

"These people didn't have any baby diapers," said Joanne Tandler, a Red Cross volunteer from New York.

The water in the lower Ninth Ward is thickening into a glassy, fetid slick as the gasoline, oil, solvents and sewage from thousands of submerged vehicles and homes leaches out. Some rescue crews can stay out on their boats for only an hour before getting light-headed. The water's blue-black sheen casts back an almost mocking mirror image of the horrible devastation and incongruously beautiful blue sky above.

A tour from Houston to Gulfport and into New Orleans for several days revealed not only this type of weird physical destruction but also a landscape of raw and tangled emotions, ranging from open fantasies of an impending race war to inspiring, ad hoc experiments in interracial mutual aid and grassroots organizing. This mix of the best and worst in American culture suggests the widely divergent political possibilities left in Katrina's wake. The storm could become an excuse to banish the African-American poor in the interests of the private redevelopment of New Orleans, or the city could become the geographic center of a progressive program of urban revitalization.

In the lower Ninth Ward, controlled breaks by the Army Corps of Engineers have dropped the water by several feet, opening an archipelago of scum-encrusted islands that can be navigated by way of partially open streets. Late in the second week of the disaster a colleague and I made our way through this eerie and desolate maze.

Though the area is routinely designated a ghetto, the homes of the Ninth Ward are mostly beautiful, century-old capes and bungalows, some with ornate wooden detailing reminiscent of old homes in the San Francisco Bay Area. "They'll have to bulldoze it all," says a visiting New York City cop, surveying the damage from inside an NYPD van.

Is that option--the right's much-touted tabula rasa--inevitable? "They don't have to tear all these down," says Joe Peters, a Ninth Ward tier repairman. "Under that siding, that's all cypress frames and barge board." Peters seems to think that the more solid homes of the Ninth Ward can be saved. Increasingly the holdouts here see the mandatory evacuation order as part of a huge land grab.

I track down Mike Howell, a Nation reader I'd met several days before. "Yeah, this could be their dream come true," he says. "Get rid of all the poor African-Americans and turn the place into Disneyland." After camping on Howell's roof, my colleague and I leave him and his wife our extra water and gas and push on.

At Kajun's, one of only two bars open at the end of last week, a bacchanalian, slap-happy air prevails among the handful of drunk and adrenaline-pumped patrons. A big man with a ponytail is weeping--he just put down his dog because it was biting everyone. A wide-eyed young woman named Caroline is changing the bandage on a dog-bite victim and talking a mile a minute. "I am a massage therapist, but I am not licensed. I am giving garlic and herbs to everyone, even the soldiers."

Outside, a man slips two bottles of cognac in the back seat of a police vehicle. The officer isn't harassing the patrons to leave. Someone brings him a big plastic cup of something iced.

"The evacuation order is just trying to get out the criminal element," says the cop in the classic flat, nasal Yat accent common to the Irish- and Italian-Americans who make up much of the city's white population. He explains how the military is mapping the city for holdouts using helicopters with infrared, and how troops on the ground mark the suspect building with a system of Xs and checks, a code that indicates to the police how many people are inside. The cop finishes his drink, shakes a few hands and rolls off.

Facilitating the tabula rasa agenda is an increasingly militaristic attitude that borders on boyish fantasy and seems to pervade the numerous federal SWAT teams, out-of-town cops, private security forces, civilian volunteers and even journalists. There are exceptions: The young soldiers of the 82nd Airborne and First Cavalry seem much less caught up in it and are quite generous with their ice and MREs.

When an APC full of federal marshals passes deep in the Ninth Ward, a journalist in a camo floppy hat riding with them glares at me and demands, "Who are you with?" For a second I think he's a cop.

Downtown, a man on a bicycle wearing a pistol and carrying a medical bag says he's an emergency medical technician. "I had to shoot one guy in the arm," the man explains. "He was going for the bag. They think it's full of drugs."

Elsewhere, two vehicle convoys from Blackwater USA--one of the biggest mercenary firms operating in Iraq--cruise the deserted city, their guns trained on rooftops ready for snipers, who have recently shot at a cell-tower repair crew.

It seems the rescue effort is turning into an urban war game: An imaginary domestic version of the total victory that eludes America in Baghdad will be imposed here, on New Orleans. It's almost as if the Tigris--rather than the Mississippi--had flooded the city. The place feels like a sick theme park--Macho World--where cops, mercenaries, journalists and weird volunteers of all sorts are playing a out a relatively safe version of their militaristic fantasies about Armageddon and the cleansing iron fist.

In Gulfport, Mississippi, God's wrath hath smitten the evil gaming industry. All the giant floating multi-story casinos have washed away--and much of their cash is unaccounted for. So, too, have all the houses on the beach been wiped out. An area two blocks from the beach is cordoned off because the shore is strewn with tons of rotting chicken and pork from a grounded freighter. Perhaps that cordon is also protecting the casinos' cash.

At a shuttered gas station, I meet the young white night watchman, Joseph. He owns a seven-foot-long Monitor lizard and is going to great lengths to keep her warm now that the power is down. "I have my plan for evacuation," he says. "Those people in New Orleans shoulda too, but if you say that, then you're a racist."

Later it comes out that Joseph thinks New Orleans is a cesspool that should be filled with even more water, that he doesn't like Vietnamese people and that he's licensed to carry a gun at all times. "I tell you, we're on the verge of another Civil War in this country."

A white woman pulls in to buy cigarettes. "I think New Orleans is a satanic city," she says earnestly. "I mean, I am not super-religious, but it's a horrible place full of very satanic people." She thinks voodoo and Mardi Gras might have something to do with Katrina's path.

Trying to get gas north of Lake Pontchartrain, back in Louisiana, we pull in to a cops-only refueling depot and chat with a producer from Universal Studios in Florida who is now a volunteer parking attendant for the rescue effort. He's red with sunburn, fidgety and sweaty, his lingo laced with military jargon.

"My orders are to secure this area," he says. "The situation is still pretty volatile here--there are a lot of evacuees from New Orleans around." He nods to the woods as if Charlie is out there on the proverbial tree line. "I am trying to locate a truckload of NYPD ammunition that went missing." Everything about him says this is war. "You guys be careful out there." Gun shops in Baton Rouge are reporting sales of up to a thousand a day.

Outside a Red Cross shelter in Covington, there is a softer version of this siege mentality. When I interview some African-American evacuees, no less than four different white middle-class Red Cross staff intervene at various points, once even attempting to have me evicted from the area by police. In paternalistic tones, they explain to the black people I am talking with that newspapers and magazines do not give aid. "Yes, ma'am, I know," says a woman named Raven. "I want the whole world to hear my story." And the stories they tell are harrowing.

A heavy-set older woman named Rosie Lee Riford is on the verge of tears. "I am so worried. I feel like killing myself," she says. Her grown son, who uses a wheelchair due to a childhood gunshot wound, refused to leave the Saint Downs housing project. She was forced to leave without him as the storm took aim at New Orleans. Now that neighborhood is flooded. "I never hurt anybody or did any wrong. I just keep asking God, Why? Why'd you do this?"

For Latino immigrants, the situation can be even worse. A Nicaraguan house painter named Juan tells me he will have to go home to Managua because he has lost everything: car, apartment, the business where he worked. He says the Red Cross cannot register him for benefits, so he eats at Latino churches. He bravely holds back tears.

Not far from the Red Cross is a group from Veterans for Peace, who came here from Camp Casey in Crawford, Texas, and who are now coordinating a large-scale supply depot and distribution center. At the Vets' Internet tent sits Tenshenia Downs, a young, well-organized mother from East New Orleans.

She is trying to find her relatives and set up housing in Atlanta. She spent a day on her roof with her three kids and was then evacuated by a National Guard flatboat and taken to the Superdome. "It was like a prison," she says. "It was hell. They had pedophiles up in there. People living like animals." She recounts the backed-up toilets, urine-flooded halls, the elderly near death, the fistfights, panic, lack of food and limited water.

"They wouldn't let us leave," she continues. "But when I heard about the third rape, I just took my three kids and went. We waded through that water to I-10 and walked over the river to Gretna."

From Gretna she walked and hitched rides with truckers and "a real nice white couple" here to Covington. "I lost it all: everything in my house and a new car, no insurance." And the beauty spa where she worked, Bella Donna, is gone.

She says she'll try and start over in Atlanta. Bizarrely, there is no Red Cross or FEMA clearinghouse of information yet established; instead, Ms. Downs is pointed to the MoveOn.org website for housing and job postings in Atlanta.

At the Houston Astrodome, the stereotype of white America's worst nightmare has arrived: a wave of black people from some of the nation's worst ghettos. And, surprise, surprise, it's not so bad.

On the sterile manicured lawns and the sidewalks of the sprawling shopping plaza around Reliant Center, hundreds of young dudes and well-dressed ladies from the Ninth Ward, East New Orleans and other desperately poor and excluded neighborhoods stroll around peacefully.

The relief effort here is far from perfect and involves only some 11,000 people, but it is one of the most functional pieces of the response. The people of Houston have welcomed the evacuees with grace and generosity. Everyone here is getting tetanus shots and other basic healthcare, and they have debit cards (most are only good for a few hundred dollars, not the $2,000 usually cited in the press). And at some point in their stay, the evacuees in the Astrodome each get to spend a week in a hotel, to have some privacy, comfort and solid rest. Many are being successfully placed in more long-term housing and even set up with jobs. Their children will be entering schools that in many cases are far better than the disastrous system they left in New Orleans.

Looking out at the scene, I can't help but be moved by its peaceful contrast to the flood-zone militarism. Nor is the so-called "culture of poverty" much in evidence. What is so striking here is not the role of culture but the role of opportunities, services and money. When the poor are treated with some modicum of respect and given a few resources, the social benefits are immediately apparent. When offered the chance, most of them rebuild their lives.

Meanwhile, in Baton Rouge, Bush-connected firms like the Shaw Group, Bechtel and Halliburton are lining up to get big portions of the $62 billion in federal money that will soon flood the storm region.

The fact that some of these companies had been convicted of defrauding the federal government in the past, are under investigation again for corruption in Iraq and were once banned from federal contracting due to unethical practices has not stopped the process.

A Polluter's Feast
Bush has reversed more environmental progress in the past eight months than Reagan did in a full eight years

What can you say about the environmental record of an administration that seeks to test pesticides on poor children and pregnant women? That argues in court that a dam is part of a salmon's natural environment? That places a timber lobbyist in charge of the national forests and an oil lobbyist in charge of government reports on global warming? That cuts clean-air inspections at oil refineries in half, allows Superfund to go bankrupt and permits the mining industry to pump toxic waste directly into a wild Alaskan lake?

Only this: It's about to get even worse.

Since President Bush was sworn in for a second term, he has not only continued his unprecedented assault on the environment -- he's intensified it. In recent months, the administration has opened up millions of acres of pristine land to developers, allowing them to log and mine without leaving behind "viable populations" of wildlife. It allowed the import of methyl bromide, a cancer-causing pesticide that was due to be banned this year under an international accord signed by Ronald Reagan, and it scrapped plans to regulate lead paint in home-renovation projects, placing millions of children at risk for brain damage. And on August 8th, taking advantage of solid Republican majorities in both houses of Congress, Bush signed into law his long-stalled energy bill, a grab bag of industry favors that provides $10 billion in oil, gas and coal subsidies while exempting Halliburton and other polluters from environmental laws. The measure approves oil exploration in marine sanctuaries, greenlights drilling on millions of acres of public land in the Rocky Mountains and Alaska, fast-tracks sixteen new coal-fired power plants and provides cradle-to-grave subsidies for new nuclear reactors. In a grotesque fit of petro-nuclear synergy, the bill even funds research into refining oil -- using atomic radiation.

The administration's aim is to roll back four decades of environmental progress -- to an era before the Endangered Species Act of 1973, the Clean Water Act of 1972, the Clean Air Act of 1970 and the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969. "These laws were all started under President Nixon," notes Sen. Lincoln Chafee, a Republican from Rhode Island. "The environment has always been something that Republicans have been proud of -- but this administration sees it differently." Others put it even more bluntly. "In the eyes of this administration," says Marty Hayden, legislative director of Earthjustice, the legal arm of the Sierra Club, "Ronald Reagan was an environmental extremist."

Indeed, Bush has undone more environmental progress in the last eight months than Reagan dreamed of in his full eight years in office. "Their goal is to take us back to where we were in the Eisenhower administration," says Buck Parker, Earthjustice's executive director. "Back to a time when the energy industry had free rein, citizens had no input and there were no environmental laws to be enforced."

A review of the damage already done in the second term reveals that the Bush administration has gutted environmental protections across the country, from Alaskan rain forests to the Gulf of Mexico:

Fouling The Air Nowhere is the administration's contempt for the environment more evident than in its about-face on mercury, a potent neurotoxin that causes brain damage in as many as 600,000 children a year. The Clinton administration, declaring the pollution a "threat to public health," ordered coal plants to slash their mercury emissions by ninety percent by 2008. But in March, the EPA implemented a new rule -- entire sections of which were drafted by industry lobbyists -- that allows three times the emission of the Clinton rule and delays implementation of the cleanup until 2030. "I don't think what the EPA is doing is pro-business," says Attorney General Peter Harvey of New Jersey, one of thirteen states suing to overturn the rule. "I think it's anti-humanity."

Drilling The West The administration is approving so many new permits for oil and gas drilling -- more than 6,000 last year alone -- that it can hardly keep pace with the paperwork. In February, the Bureau of Land Management brought aboard five "volunteer" consultants -- whose salaries are paid in full by industry -- to help with the rubber stamping. "What's next?" asks Johanna Wald, director of land programs for the National Resources Defense Council. "Hiring poachers as park rangers?" The energy bill goes even further, allowing federal authorities to open public lands to drilling without even considering alternative uses such as hunting and ecotourism. "You are supposed to find the best use of the land," says Kevin Curtis, vice president of the National Environmental Trust. "But the energy bill basically says, by statute, that oil and gas drilling is the best use of that land." As a result, millions of acres are sure to follow the fate of Jonah Field in Wyoming, where energy companies have turned the once-untouched desert into a Mad Max subdivision of drilling platforms, polluted ponds and pipelines. "The Bush policy is drill, drill, drill at all costs," says Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico. "Those of us who want to protect sensitive ecosystems have no voice in this debate."

Polluting The Water Even as oil and gas interests get permission to drill on wild lands, the energy bill exempts most of the industry's 30,000 annual projects from the Clean Water Act -- allowing petrochemical runoff from well pads to bleed into creeks, rivers and aquifers. The bill also exempts one of Halliburton's most profitable practices from the Safe Drinking Water Act. Called hydraulic fracturing, the technique boosts the yield of oil and natural gas by injecting a toxic stew of benzene, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, sodium hydroxide and MTBE into the ground. "Fracing" earns Halliburton $1.5 billion a year -- twenty percent of its total energy revenues -- but also contaminates groundwater. "The exemption is just a piece of pork for Halliburton," says Eric Schaeffer, former director of the EPA's Office of Regulatory Enforcement, who quit in 2002 to protest the administration's pandering to industry. "It's astonishing to think that that kind of thing can go unchallenged."

Logging The Forests Mark Rey -- the former timber lobbyist now in charge of the Forest Service -- bragged to a gathering of timber executives last December that the administration would double the amount of logging on public lands in its second term. By May, it had scrapped the Clinton-era regulation known as the "roadless rule," which placed nearly a third of all national forests off-limits to industry. The Forest Service has already mapped roads into 34 million acres. The logging won't come cheap: Last year alone, taxpayers spent nearly $49 million to carve roads into the Tongass National Forest in Alaska, the world's largest intact temperate rain forest. In return, the federal treasury collected less than $800,000 in royalties from industry.

Killing The Fish The energy bill lifts a twenty-five-year moratorium on oil exploration off the East Coast, allowing industry to conduct a new "inventory" of oil and gas reserves -- a maritime version of shock and awe that will pummel the ocean floor with massive acoustic waves and disrupt marine sanctuaries. Bush has also proposed turning 3,500 idle oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico into offshore fish farms to offset losses in traditional fishing -- a move that will actually increase the agricultural pollution that's responsible for the decline in fishing in the first place.

Nuking The Future In June, Bush became the first president to visit a nuclear plant since 1979, when Jimmy Carter toured Three Mile Island after America's worst atomic accident. "It is time for this country to start building nuclear power plants again," Bush declared, lauding nuclear power as "environmentally friendly" and "one of America's safest sources of energy." To spur construction, the energy bill grants up to $6 billion in tax credits to new nuclear plants -- subsidies traditionally reserved for windmills and other green energy sources. The bill will also reimburse power companies up to $2 billion if their nuclear projects are delayed by citizen opposition and force taxpayers to foot the bill for any American Chernobyls. "We're going back to the 1950s -- nuclear power is good for you," says Curtis of the National Environmental Trust. "But if it's such a great source of energy, then why do they have to do so much to remove all the risks for industry?"

One thing's for certain: there are more rollbacks to come. The energy bill cleared the Senate only after the administration dropped its most controversial provision: opening up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to drilling. But even before Bush had signed the measure, Sen. Pete Domenici, chair of the Senate Energy Committee, vowed to resurrect the drilling plan in September by tacking it onto the budget bill, which is immune to filibuster. That would effectively lower the number of votes required for Senate passage from sixty to fifty. "We're going to fight it like hell," says Curtis, "but there just aren't fifty-one votes."

The legislature isn't the only branch going along with Bush's environmental assault. Because most of the administration's rollbacks take place behind the scenes, in a series of bureaucratic nips and tucks to existing rules, they are subject to challenge in federal court. But thanks to Bush's effort to stack the bench with anti-regulatory ideologues, the judiciary isn't proving to be much of an obstacle. In July, the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the EPA's decision not to regulate carbon-dioxide emissions. And in August, Judge Janice Rogers Brown, one of the reactionary justices confirmed as part of the Senate deal that defused the "nuclear option," refused to block implementation of Bush's mercury rule.

Public outrage has forced the administration to give up a few of its wildest schemes: "blending" raw sewage into drinking water, for example, or exempting 20 million acres of wetlands from the Clean Water Act. But most of Bush's efforts to gut the nation's environmental protections are so incremental, they go unnoticed by the public -- even when they have far-reaching consequences. In August, the Forest Service quietly adjusted the numbers it uses to weigh the benefits of logging vs. tourism, slashing the "recreational value" of the forests by $100 billion. The EPA went a step further: Under its old cost-benefit formula, the agency valued each human life saved from toxic pollution at $6.1 million. But thanks to a new rule, the cost of polluting people to death has plummeted: Under Bush, your life has officially been devalued by $2.4 million.

Last fall, when HICEEC was approached with the idea of purchasing the Thatch, we felt that it would be a great idea but impossible to finance. The idea was then broached that some form of low impact, weekly leased vacation housing could provide sufficient funds to pay for the enterprise over a reasonably short period. And when the local investors came forward to offer a mortgage covering well over 50% of the cost we felt that dream had become an opportunity. The rest of the financing was put in place quickly; it consisted of a second mortgage taken locally again plus the sale of shares and loans. The amount raised covered the purchase cost, expenses and a small bit over. We had hoped to raise more through share sales as our financing plan consisted of three main aspects:

What HICEEC actually bought was John Ross' company Roscro Investments Ltd., the sole owner of the land and assets at the Thatch. Roscro became a wholly owned, for-profit subsidiary of HICEEC, a non-profit corporation. With a “made on Hornby” purchase deal completed the Board turned its efforts towards management, share sales and cabin development.

With share sales our goal was to raise $500,000. Because of the quick response of many community members to take shares up to the value of $250,000 we felt confident that the summer would see us gaining the remaining $250,000. But it was not to be; share sales stalled, largely around the lack of audited financial statements, and the commercial operations at the Thatch were forced to pick up our mortgage payments.

Management of the Thatch turned out to involve much more of the Board members time than any of us had realized; even with an on site manager in place the relationship between that manager and Board underwent several changes and Board members found themselves taking on a larger and larger part of the commercial management of the Thatch. Some of our Board members were also heavily involved in their own businesses and employment and found that the double load was unsupportable. Their loss threw more work on fewer Board members.

By the end of August it had become clear that our ability to meet debt commitments was seriously compromised. The principal mortgage agreement included, as it rightly should, clauses which protected the mortgage holder's investment by giving them some options in case of default: mainly to take over management or to foreclose. Our local investors however, demonstrated again and again their commitment to the idea of community enterprise and were very supportive and understanding of the Board's problems.

Various options were explored for re-structuing the operations in order to meet our debt requirements. Several people came forward with proposals, but at this point, Peter Elkins and Judith Wilson seem to have the best option to turn the business into a successful private enterprise, with many of the original "community economic development" goals that HICEEC supported still intact.

The transfer of ownership is not yet complete, and we encourage you to get in touch with Peter and Judith to ask them more about their plans and decide for yourselves if this is a good option. Their email is elkins@gutz.com

HICEEC is open to considering other options, so there is still room for others to step forward with money and energy to create a different vision.

Rule #1 Expect the unexpected. Be prepared for anything. Organized chaos rules. Tonight's evening cultural event was supposed to be a movie (possibly in Japanese with Chinese captions) but yesterday the Chinese teachers had a meeting with the boss and they decided that the Chinese teachers would lead the school in a chorus of well known English songs, including Auld Lang Syne, no one mentioned to us the change of plans. I heard about it when an English teacher came to Boss's office to choose a movie while I was using her computer to write my own certificate and reference letter from the school, so, the Chinese teachers are going to lead English songs? Great, its our night off-sort of, yes of course, we still needed to be there to participate, and show off our pretty white (mostly) faces.

So we arrive and wait in seats in the lecture hall while the teachers run around trying to get the squawky sound system to work. An older student came running in breathless with a handful of copied sheets and ran around talking to the Chinese teachers who set off to 'fix' the copier, (I'm not really sure what was wrong with it, maybe out of ink), another teacher arrives with a speaker, a crowd of teachers is poking at the stereo which occasionally squawks, 15 minutes has gone by with all the kids sitting not so patiently in their seats, the gym teacher is marching around yelling at the restless natives like a drill sergeant trying to keep the peace, the breathless student returns with enough copies of Auld Lang Syne for everyone, the stereo starts half way through Auld Lang Syne and is turned off.

All the English teachers are called to the front and all the Chinese teachers melt in with the students, the vice principal says a bunch of stuff and all the English teachers who are hanging around the front of the room who don't have chairs wander off leaving Ewa and me sitting at the dais. The vice hands Ewa the mike (thank god) and she starts very slowly and carefully speaking the words to teach the kids the song, after two lines she pauses and the room erupts into perfect joyous singing. Ewa shrugs, oh I guess they already know it and we continue singing, meanwhile the stereo keeps coming on with loud bits of other songs as the 'techies' cue up, good thing the kids are loud, 280 voices drown out scratchy 'twinkle twinkle little star' et al, finally the stereo is ready, and we all begin.

After the first bit we realize that the words on our sheets vary a bit from the recording which is okay because it is so scratchy the kids wont even notice but they got a little confused about the fact that there were about 10 lines in the recorded version but only 8 in the printed sheet (including an accidental repeat which they knew to ignore anyways) but we hobbled along, for several rounds, over and over until it was all a blur. Ewa was singing at the mike the whole time, my voice in a little hoarse from teaching so I could do a great Bob Dylan but I was not going to take a turn with this song, just when it was finally over and we were ready for the next song the vice said something to someone and ALS was cued up again (my guess is that they couldn't wait for photocopies of the other songs), class one stood up and sang the song (accompanied by Ewa), followed by classes 2-10, one at a time, then the whole school again, several times, good god I thought we'd never escape.

Finally, finally they released us after an hour of ALS. With relief we flooded outside into the crisp(ish) night air to regroup our students and take them off to bed, I found my class off to the side of the courtyard with my assistant gleefully leading them in a chorus of...drumroll please.....................ALS. This went on for another long and painful 20 minutes, wouldn't be so bad if we weren’t standing around on concrete (should be part of the job description "must spend an average of 2 hours a day standing around on concrete or marble, doing big fat nothing") finally, finally off to bed for real and I started to get weepy at the leaving because I know my days are almost over with these kids, I hugged them like crazy and sent them off with their den mother.

Hiked up the 100 steps to my room, hot sweaty, smelly ready for a hot shower and a little Tetris game on my TV, turned on the fluorescent light, waited through the long drawn out, eyeball shattering process of my light flickering on/off/on/off/on/off/and finally on, kick off my shoes, light goes off, crap the bulb is burned out, flick the switch for the other light, double crap, the power is out, look in the hallway, teachers everywhere in the dark preparing to hit the pub, look out the window, see blackness over the whole campus for the first time ever, actually quite beautiful. I get up just now to admire it again, triple crap the powers BACK on, just as I was appreciating it! Oh well, I do NEED a shower.

I have heard of acid rain before, I understand the basics, and I had read that it was a great problem in China and affected the neighbouring countries, but today I experienced it. I walked through the pouring rain for only a few minutes and when I came in, my skin tingled, in that tight sort of way that sometimes happens when it gets wet and then dries - kind of like coming out from a swim in the ocean. The tingling quickly became itching and then while nowhere near painful like the 'chemical?' burn I suffered previously, it was very, very irritating. The sensation reminded me of getting a tattoo, but not nearly so. If a tattoo is 10 on the very irritating scale, this was a mere 3 or so, but the feeling was the same. I had many little red blotches appear on my bare arms as I tried in vain to wipe my arms dry with my hands. At the time, I was standing on stage with a million watts of bright lights on me and hundreds of pairs of little eyes watching while we practiced for the next days closing ceremony. It was only a rehearsal, there were no parents in the audience, but still, I didn't feel like making a big deal of it and I felt weird trying to act normal while swatting at my skin like a junkie going through withdrawal.

The title says it all. Since about my third day here I have been coughing up a lung. In the morning my hacking echoes down the hall making the dorm sound like a ward for patients in the terminal stages of TB.

Again, caused by the pollution. Hasn't been as bad as in Bangkok . I only need to use eye medication once every two days rather than everyday in order to keep clear.

Have seen the sun (at least the shadows caused by it. I know better than to look directly at it) three days of the last five - amazing. Have had some really nice wind come through and bring a bit of oxygen with it. Ahhh... it also swept some layers of coal dust away leaving us with a lovely sky of grayish blue rather than just blueish gray.

On Monday we went to a mountain with the school. The road was narrow with hairpin turns so tight the bus sometimes had only a foot or two on either side. We drove up the mountain and then drove up and down along the ridge with sheer dropoff on either side, and no guard rails, for about an hour. The view was absolutely spectacular. I was absolutely terrified. I couldn't believe they would bring the kids up there. I tried to remember my 'once I surrender to certain death the ride is fun' philosophy, but I wasn't buying it this time. I tried to convince myself that because these were rich kids they couldn't let anything happen to them, but I wasn't buying it. I tried to convince myself that the driver was a highly skilled professional, but I wasn't buying it. My only consolation was that being a rich school, they could afford good busses. They were pretty new and nice so I wasn't worried about the brakes failing or anything, just deathly afraid of a bee stinging the driver or something. I am not a paranoid person and I don't get carsick per se but I was deathly white (or green according to some) by the time we got there. One kid did barf in the aisle and all over the box with our lunch so we were left with cucumbers, tomatoes and gross little wieners for lunch, which I couldn't eat anyways.

They let us off the buses at the top of some stone steps and then drove around to meet us a little way down. The hike down was amazing. There were temples carved into the mountain face with old statues and things in them. All pretty touristy now but totally awesome nonetheless. It amazes me how old some aspects of China and its cultures are. I saw just one old, old, old monk with the wispy beard and peaceful look in his eyes and I wondered how it must be for him. What did he think of all the hordes of screaming tourists tromping through? He looked as though he had been on the mountain forever. Did he even know about things like email and nightclubs? Maybe he actually lived in a retirement home in town with cable TV and they just brought him up there during the day to be their token old monk. Anything is possible here and I will never really know what the truth is behind the illusions. Still, there are some pretty fabulous illusions.

Just like city kids everywhere my students are pretty out of contact with nature (other than the dirt which accumulates on their faces, hands and clothing and which no-one bothers to wash). There are some wonderful gardens on campus but they all play in the marble and concrete courtyard. Today as I left the cafeteria after dinner I lay down on my back on the grass and enjoyed the feeling of mother earth under me and father sky above me and the wind blowing over me. Within minutes a crowd of curious kids had formed around me. They had never seen someone lying on the grass before. I told them I was okay, just resting. Very nice. They were worried for me because grasshoppers were jumping on me and they tried to kill them to save me but I said 'no, no, my little friend, my little friend' in such a sugar sweet voice it made them laugh. They still couldn't believe it so they started catching grasshoppers and asking to put them on me. I would have been just as happy if they left 'my little friends' alone but I couldn't explain without seeming to not like the grasshoppers so I feigned joy with every hopper brought to me. They realized that it was okay, that really I loved the hoppers and I didn't want them killed. They started calling them 'little friend, little friend' and I knew that was the most valuable lesson I had given all day. Then they started collecting my 'little friends' and holding them by the back, one in each hand, and then putting them face to face to watch them fight each other. Oh well, I have learned that I cannot change people and I cannot change the world but I can live my life, everyday, with my own sense of what is right and my own sense of love for life, and if just a little of that rubs off on another person, then I can rest happy.

Well, Bevis and I have arrived at our new school. It is pretty huge and chaotic. I have walked around a little, from our apartment to the cafeteria, back to the apartment and then to an office but I really can't figure out what is what. I know I can find breakfast in the morning at the rest will come. My other school was huge too, but more orderly. This is full of weird angled streets and lanes and walls close together. I have an 'artists painting' of the school, such as would be presented to potential parents in the planning stages but I don't recognize anything that I've actually seen. The picture has about half as many buildings and is surrounded by perfect little shrub lined lanes and then all trees. The truth is that it looks like it has just barely survived the blitz, there is a coal burning power plant on one side, a factory on one side, a prison on one side and its all so irregular I don't know if there are 3 sides or 5.

I have just discovered why I have not heard from the school about their expectations, it’s because they don't have a clue. There are four of us English Teachers, and we had a hard time not laughing straight in the face of the administration today. We at least contained it until we left. The director met us and took us to meet Barbara , the Chinese lady in charge of our classes. When we got there, she was pretty much useless. She started the meeting with "I don't really have anything to say". She seemed at a total loss so I suggested she start with giving us a timetable and schedule. She had both of these things but only one copy of each. The director went out to make copies and so we introduced ourselves just to put her at ease. I couldn't figure out if she was shy about speaking English, unprepared for us or just plain stupid, in the end I decided on all three. She gave us the schedules and rather than explaining anything just left us to ask questions. Step by step we figured out what was expected of us. She didn't even know which periods we should be there for, and asked us, is this okay? is this okay? we were all like "yeah, yeah, sure". Then one teacher asked "so, what do we do first thing tomorrow? and the director replied "oh, I think maybe we should have the opening ceremony then, (we had already discussed planning for a closing ceremony, which we had just done today at the other school, Bevis and I were giving some ideas and I think she was inspired but a little competitively jealous). Barbara then said, "no, we can't have it tomorrow, we need to prepare a program for the students to perform". He said "no, its okay, not a big deal, only 20 minutes to say hi and introduce the teachers is okay". We all agreed but she insisted on making a big do out of it. they then spent a long ten minutes discussing it in Chinese while we sat there. Finally they said, "okay, we will have our opening ceremony some day this week, we will let you know.” And we thought Shanxi Experimental was chaos!!! I had the feeling that by the time they figured out what day to have the opening ceremony, and did the necessary preparation, it would be time for the closing ceremony! In the end we discovered that tomorrow was moving day "because one building is maybe old I think we will move to another". I'm not really sure what that means but I will find out. I am learning not too ask too many questions, just go with the flow and know what? it will all work out one way or another.

It doesn't really matter actually, they are very nice people and the less organized they are, the better we look, and without a stupid curriculum to pretend to follow we have more time to have fun. We also work less than at Shanxi Experimental, even though I don't know what I will do with my half days off, write letters to you all?

Our apartments are decent, with two per suite; we each have our own bedroom. We have a laundry machine, TV with DVD, leather sofa, a bunch of crap and books and Canadian flags left behind by other teachers, air-con, hot water and we actually have a computer with internet (sort of) in each suite. At least if it takes an hour to send one brief email, we don't have to miss lunch to do so. My roomie is from London and she is really cool even though I told Bevis that I thought she was a bit of a wet blanket because she was just like me when I first arrived, uptight about the concept of going to the disco our first night here! She doesn't even seem to care about beer. Shame! She was a real professional journalist with like a real degree, and then she finished her teaching degree, so now she is a real live teacher and she has been teaching French and German, AND she is a couple of years younger than me. What have I been doing??? Oh yeah, surviving.

Well, turns out that this school is a little less organized about fuss and fooferah but is much better about focusing on learning. My students here are much better at English and much better behaved - yahoo! The people are absolutely wonderful and very kind. The food is great. We only work four hours a day. Two hours of lessons plus one activity from 8-11 am and then one hour of activity from 5-6 pm. I know I thought it was silly that the brass didn't give us any expectations but really its better that way. Went out for dinner last night, great of course but quite different from Xinxing only because they weren't trying to get us all plastered. They didn’t even offer beer to us 'ladies' and there certainly wasn't any hard stuff, never mind the 'double gumby'. gumby is the Chinese word for bottoms up, the other headmaster would pour a glass of beer or spirits or one of each (double gumby) for anyone they could get to go along. Here we were given cola and the headmaster wanted to discuss politics. More like having dinner with your grandparents than a night on the town with the most hard core of your friends. Both are great, just different.

Oh I am so rich and so spoiled here for everything except health and family and at home I am so poor and struggle for everything except for health and family. I know I will choose to come back, but it will be hard. If I stayed here I would die of loneliness and/or lung cancer but have an easy life, while it lasted.

I have really been dependent on my fellow teachers anytime we left the school, there was always someone who knew much better than me where to go out, how to get there and how to pay for it. Sad to say but I hardly know any Chinese. I have been working on my numbers and while I can say them I can’t understand them, but somehow I got by shopping. I went out yesterday with Miriam , my roomie, I really like her. We hopped on a bus, counted stops so we'd know when to get off on the way back and went to a street market. It was so awesome. I have been doing a fair bit of window shopping to get an idea of prices so that I could bargain for a fair price but they all offered up a fair price to begin with. I only once asked for a discount when I bought ten of something (strands of fresh water pearls anyone?). So different from my other travels. I haven't even seen any whites here other than us. I think they haven't yet learned how easy it would be to charge extra from foreigners. One little boy about 6 did have an idea that it might be easy to get a little extra from me but when I caught him trying to pick my purse I just laughed at him and said nice try, which got a good laugh from all those around. Really it didn’t bother me nearly as much as the little monsters who would steal from my desk at school.

I got some great stuff. Some pants for you girls, they don't have very many jeans or flares here, let me know how you feel about cargo pants. That's what they all wear, not U.S. army style, they come in many colours and styles. Cayenne , finally I found you TWO white dresses! One is cotton and simple and one is a very lacey and girly party dress. I have been told about a shop that sells expensive brand name (not fakes) outdoor and camping gear, like Mountain Equipment Co-op but much cheaper. Anyone, let me know what you want and I'll check out prices, and then get back to you before I buy. I could get you a great deal but I'm not shopping there on spec.

Dreaming, someone please tell Kristen Sonstebo that I dreamed of her last night and she was just reminding me about love. She has been so kind to me but I was always so busy and didn't go to visit her as she asked me to. So someone on the rock, everyone on the rock, tell her I dreamed of her and I love her too.

And of course my love is with all of you, even though I know I don't see any of you enough. Maybe when I come back to Canada , I can become a career couch surfer and share my bounteous love and my children's bounteous appetites with you and your pantries, until you are all begging me "get a job and your own house!!! just go away!!!” ha ha ha

Last week I finally discovered the real nightclub scene. I have been to all sorts of parties in my life but I have only seen real nightclubs/discos in movies. The first time it was a bit overwhelming because I was not prepared for the attention. It is just not possible for a foreign woman to blend in with the crowd at a Taiyuen disco any more than Brittney Spears would blend in at a dance at the Hornby community hall. Most of the men wanted to dance with me but only a few dared, I could see their friends offering words of encouragement in their ear. I'm generally happy to dance with almost anyone but not for the whole night. They are so young and so gawking at me and copying my every move they reminded me of my students and I was laughing to myself and loosing my own flow and having a hard time dancing. After a little bit of dancing with (actually in front of) one guy, and practicing my slippery 'get your hands off my arm/hand/waist’ maneuvers, I ran away but was found by another guy, I danced for a bit and ran away, and so on... until I found Ewa to dance with. She was in the same boat so we danced together. Instantly a circle of men surrounded us all holding hands (I often see male friends, or female friends, holding hands, homosexuality is so not talked about so homophobia isn't really an issue for men or women when they want to show their love for their friends) and cheering us on. We just got so self-conscious and left the club for real. Most of the men here really are perfect gentlemen compared to the boys in Canada . It was not at all scary or threatening and the attention was sort of fun but there is such a fine line between "good honest fun dancing" and "does he think he's going to boink a white girl tonight?" and because I don't know them or their culture I can't know what they are thinking. Still, I had fun.

Last night I went out with the three British teachers from here at Shanxi Modern but they just wanted to sit around at a pub and drink and listen to music so loud we couldn't talk, they call it "chillin" but I call it "so boring" and I wanted to dance. One of the male teachers walked me to the disco, and then went back. It just isn't possible for me to dance alone and it’s sad but the girls just gave me dirty looks no matter how I tried to smile ever so nicely at them they sure as hell weren't going to dance with me, so this time I scoped out to find the Alpha male in the crowd; the ahem...buffest man, and let him dance with me. Luckily he kept his hands to himself and the kept others away. I knew I had a good thing going so I stuck with him and it was fun. We went outside to get some fresher air and talked a little. His English was okay for small talk which is not very common here. We had such a grand old time that time slipped by very quickly and I realized it was five minutes to midnight and I was supposed to meet my friends outside at midnight so I told him I had to run before I turned into a pumpkin, which was over his head, but he walked me out and I explained. I really did feel like Cinderella.

Tonight we went out for a real night on the town. We invited our Chinese assistant teachers which was funny. The one male teacher, Roy , has seemed quite uptight since we got here. Nice but uptight and very reserved. We thought he really needed to get out and shake it up but we weren't even sure if he would come. When we invited him he said "you are not Christians?" We said no, we are not. He said "Oh, I thought you were. All of our foreign teacher have been Christians, they don't drink and don't smoke and go to church on Sunday." He was so happy!!! He did a little dance with two thumbs up and said sure he'd like to come out with us. I could feel him relax his guard and I realized why he was so tense around us, he was just trying not to offend '"the Christians." It may also explain why the brass seems so conservative as well.

So we went out with our assistants and they invited along the music and PE teachers and the dance teacher who is a graceful and willowy young woman who took us to her favourite club. I knew it was someplace special when I saw the pole dancers; men in baggy clothing with clown wigs on. Yahoo!!! There was an infinite variety of performers including some more traditional sexy ladies but also a man in drag and a soldier with a real gun, hopefully not loaded. I think Miriam got some pics of the latter two. We all danced hard. I even danced with a Chinese girl who was very nice and not at all catty, I guess she was confident in herself enough. She was kind, sweet, gorgeous and great dancer, I got her email so we can go out again sometime. It'll be nice to have a 'local' girl friend other than the teachers here. I only hope Tom and Bevis who we left behind at 2am were as lucky!!! Today is Tom 's 20th birthday, he is so young and innocent. I'm sure he appreciated all the beautiful girls’ attention but he was squirming because he had no idea what to do with it (I understand). Hopefully Bevis will help him a little so he can really enjoy his b-day.

Yes, it offended my sensibilities and I didn't want to go. Yes, I was curious and went anyways. The trip was scheduled for the weekend which is technically outside of my contract but they wanted me to go. I tried to explain to " Roy ", the barely fluent in English, 25 year old Chinese head of the English department, why I didn't want to go. I told him that I don't like the fact that a very rich American family is getting even richer from selling junk to poor people...blank stare...went way over his head. I tried to explain that the company didn't take good care of their workers. His reply was, "you should see, maybe it's better in China, you know it is a very new store, only here seven months". Yeah sure buddy, like China is renowned for it's fair and just treatment of workers...no, I didn't actually say it! But, he made me realize that I did want to go and see for myself.

I have a favourite hobby of scoping out employees and gauging their sense of job satisfaction, in Canada as well as abroad. So much is left unknown but I can generally tell a lot by the looks on their faces. In China , I have seen two distinct categories of workers: The underworked and overbored such as those found in seriously overstaffed shops; and the overworked and overbored such as those who spend all day sweeping the dust to the side of the highway. It was interesting, Walmart only had about twice the number of employees possibly needed at maximum need rather than 4-10 times more as I reported earlier about other shops. There were still the underworked and overbored, some almost sleeping at their stations, but just less of them (that still left half the employees who were actually kept busy). I really want to know how they are treated compared to other jobs in China . Maybe better, how can I tell? How does it work? According to Papa, the Chinese government won't sell out their country to foreign transnationals but instead sells out its people...sorry... "contracts out its labour" to these companies. At least they have full time jobs, I assume the Chinese government wouldn't allow Walmart to only offer part time jobs, which is better than Walmart employees in Canada , but on the other hand do they receive any of the benefits which full time employees in Canada are entitled to? And what if they only want to work part time, are they allowed? The Chinese normally put in long long days of either working or standing around. What if they want to spend time with their children? Personally, I don't consider a forty hour work week an overwhelming joy!

Good god, the whole trip brought up more questions than answers. I tried to talk to the store employees but no luck with English. I did meet a young woman working in a shop today who is learning English and wants to spend time with me; she offered to take me shopping so I'll bring her to walmart as my translator. I just have to come up with some tricky questions which make me sound like an eager university student reporting on the good things brought to China along with modernization and Walmart. I don't want to get kicked out! Miriam got into a bit of trouble photographing fruit. That’s another story.

On Sunday we went for on field trip to Southern Shanxi . First we drove for five hours, including a couple of pee stops. It's a photo that wouldn't be right to take with a camera but I have a very vivid mental picture of fifty boys lined up alongside the road, peeing in the ditch - cute! After about two hours on the highway we turned onto a narrow mountain road. It was very newly paved and well built but narrow, only just enough room for us to pass the big trucks carrying coal, red dirt and boulders that came along every minute or two.

As we slowed down to pass, especially on the corners, the kids would stick their hands out the windows to touch whatever was in the backs of the trucks. The adults didn't seem to think this was a problem but it scared me. I am sometimes very brave but sometimes a little chicken s***. With kids I am even more cautious. I always try to balance the degree of risk with the degree of fun and/or benefit. I think that grabbing at trucks may be fun but not worth loosing a hand, but in the end, they all had fun and no one got as much as a scratch!

After we passed the factories and gravel pits and so on there were no more trucks. The new asphalt continued on through some very remote areas and through tiny little villages until we got to the work crew. We had to wait for a bit while a backhoe scraped the dirt pile flat(ish) and then they moved all the equipment so we could pass. The dirt was pretty soft so the bus driver backed up and took a good run at it to get by. We slipped and skidded and continued on on a well packed and rutted dirt road.

Finally we stopped but then we just sat in the bus. I didn't even know if we were at our destination or what. I asked my assistant if we were getting off the bus, she said no because it was raining, but then we didn't go anywhere. I was tired of sitting so I grabbed my umbrella and hopped off. We were way in the boonies of a mountain forest. It was so clean, especially with the rain. I breathed in long deep breaths of clean fresh air the entire time.

As it turned out, this was our destination and they were just waiting for the rain to slow down a bit to take the kids for a walk, which we did. As we started up the trail we met the cutest little bandit (AKA monkey). The children oohed and awed him and as soon as we turned our backs on him he pounced on a kid and stole his lunch! As I glanced over my shoulder to keep tabs on my flock I saw the whole thing, very fast, he was definitely a pro. Apparently he got a lunch from each of a few other groups of students. It was a beautiful trail, we passed by a creek a few times and saw some little waterfalls. Nothing grand, just nice to be back in nature.

We walked about 20 minutes and then came to a little bridge crossing the creek. It was just two logs about fifteen feet long laid across six inches of water. Unfortunately, H.R.H. Barbara decided it wasn't safe and we all had to turn back. Considering their general "attention to safety", I think the truth was she couldn't manage it in her high heels. So, we headed back down the trail and back onto the bus for the five hour drive home.

We did stop twice. The first time was so the kids could play in a river, which was great. They all got soaking wet, the boys were throwing rocks just in front of the girls to splash them and they were catching frogs and holding them up by the legs, waving them in the girls faces to make them scream. Some things just don't change no matter how far you travel!

The second time we stopped was because the rear axle broke on the other bus. No problem, no fuss, they just squeezed all the soaking wet kids onto our already over loaded bus. I didn't have a lot of faith in our even clunkier, older bus’s brakes handling the mountain roads with such a heavy load. I just prayed the driver would not be shy to gear down, I have noticed that sometimes the bus drivers don't like to use their gears, maybe to save the clutch from wearing out? But, once again we arrived home safe. I know that many more accidents of all kinds do happen in this country compared to safety conscious Canada , but I feel like everytime we leave the campus we are flirting with impending doom only to be carried home safe by guardian angels. Without taking any risks, I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be having so much fun, but I am still amazed sometimes that there aren't more accidents.

All four of us went out last night with the intention of checking out the local street scene downtown. Sit outside, have a bit of food, bit of beer, watch the world go by. I was more interested in the food, the boys were more interested in the beer and watching. We cruised along a main walking drag and found a few cool little sidestreets with sidewalk eateries. The boys were disappointed by the lack of crowds along these lanes and by the lack of beer tables along the busy street, so we just kept walking on. We paused out front of one place while they hemmed and hawed on the 'busy-ness factor'.

Soon we heard "Hello. Hello." so we went to say hi. There were two couples sitting, drinking and eating. Their table was covered in bowls of food and empty bottles. They offered us to sit and drink with them. There was something a little weird, we couldn't put our finger on it and my mates were unsure about accepting their offer but I figured they were just drunk and harmless so I said to the boys "hey, you've been looking for a party, and now the party’s found you". I was actually pretty hungry by then and wanted to sit and eat.

We sat and chatted through the one woman's very limited English and lots of gestures, but hey, it was something. We each had one or two small glasses of beer. I went in to get a bowl of soup which I paid 50 cents for but it wasn't ready yet, so I went back outside. They were all laughing and invited us to go to the disco with them. Miriam was looking very uncomfortable, I was cautious and vague about our plans, but really, I was having a good time trying to communicate and practicing a little Chinese.

Then out of the blue, one couple said "We go home, go to bed, have sex, ha ha" okay bye bye, nice to meet you, whatever. Five minutes later the other couple got up to leave and then I got it. I said "Hey guys, we gotta go with them now, or they are going to stiff us for all their drinks", so we got up and walked away with them. Two minutes later, without a word they went back to finish their drinks still on the table. We had a good laugh about it and chalked it up to a lesson learned. It didn't actually cost us anything, and we got 50 cents worth of free beer - which balanced out the 50 cents for the soup I had to leave before it came. I've certainly had more expensive lessons in my life. I consider paying for life's lessons as fair and valuable as paying tuition for college lessons. So far, life's lessons have been much cheaper!

So far everyone we have met has been so good to us, and so many random people want to chat, find out where we are from and practice their English, that maybe we were getting a little lax. It is easy to forget that not everyone is so kind. Don't any of you worry, I still keep my wits about me even though I've been drinking beer here. I've yet to get much of a buzz (never mind a drunk) off of this beer, the strongest stuff is >4%. The pineapple beer is good, like a light bubbly cider but >1%. Is that really even beer?

In the end we ate at a not so busy but very yummy and cheap street vendor on the next lane. So good.

Did I mention that we are really, really really spoiled here? I hardly work, and even when I do, its easy as pie. I am using my lesson plans from the last camp so I don't even need to do that! I teach for 2 hours a day and play for two hours a day. I am fed three meals a day and pretty much catered to. It is sometimes embarrassing but hey, I'm sure getting used to it! (which is embarrassing in itself)

Good news! I have decided to use the air con which I refused to do before because I think it makes the heat worse when you step outside. Really, when I sleep the heat is okay but it is the stuffyness which bugs me and I need to keep a window open. My lungs were just so bad that I realized I had to use the air con and keep the window closed and it has really helped. Overall, I have been healthy as a horse, that is, a healthy horse, of course!

Between the heat, general laziness, free food and beer that’s cheaper than water, I am putting on a bit of a belly. But that’s okay, its nothing serious.

I am forwarding this at Sunshines request. If you pick up a note of frustration about the international communications kerfuffle with China it is a result of her continuing battle with the censorship cartel of the Chicom Government and our fellow travellers in democracy, Microsoft. If you write her and mention any of the Forbidden Three, religion, sex and politics, Bill Gates software shuts the door. My research indicates that it can catch phonetics, pig latin and most simple substitution code. Use phonetics but keep it VERY obscure.

Thank you to all who have helped me in many ways to get here. From those who have given me work to those who have/are taken good care of my girls to those who have picked me up hitchiking so I didn't have to own (and pay for) a car, and to those who supported me with love and encouragement.

Sorry about my bitchin emails. Just when I thought I had it, boom, no go. The computers in the computer lab don't really work for email. I think they have extra security for the students, this is on top of the sensrship by the gummint (hence my occasional funetic spelling). Today I kidd-naapped the copy room girl and convinced her to let me use her computer. She was hesitant and tried to send me upstairs but I insisted and soon won out. (a bonus to the celebrity status we have here?) It worked great for the first bit which was very necessary, I needed to get in touch with my next school. I spent an hour or so writing a long, letter to you all. I tried to foil the system by saving my draft before sending but it all disappeared (even with no references to exsay, oliticspay or eligionray). Hence the short 'shattered' letter you all recieved shortly after (which DID send). So, now onto plan D. I am writing in my room, on my laptop, I will save this to disk and then (try) to send as an attachment.

I have not found postcards or post office yet, mostly stuck here at school but I will email some photos as soon as possible.

I am in the city of Yuci in the province of Shanxi China . I arrived on the 15th of July. I am teaching for 2 weeks here at one school and then 2 weeks at another school. Both are summer English immersion camps. Then I will travel for a few days with my second school and then go to Beijing to buy some clothing and stones to import. I fly back Aug 27.

My school is a huge boarding school. It has a full sized running track, a smaller track, god only knows how many basketball and volleyball courts, a huge gym, a pool, an arts centre with a stage and movie theatre which seats 2000, and at least 10520 apartments (4 students or 1 teacher per), a three story cafeteria, and numerous other buildings I've not yet seen inside of. I just can't get over the size of it. There are only 260 students at the summer camp so it seems empty around here. The entire campus is probably 3x the size of North Island College - including the daycare and pool. With all this money they still don't give us supplies. I have had to buy my own scissors and tape and crayons for the class. Oh well, stuff like that is pretty freakin' cheap here.

I don't really know how this connunism thing works but I recall it has something to do with making sure everyone has a job. Well everywhere we go seems to be ovrstaffed by 4 to 10 times the number of people needed. At the department store there are about 4 people standing around chatting at each section: 4 at the irons, 4 at the T.V.'s, 4 at the swimsuits, 4 at the coffee aisle, 4 at the whatever. Then there is the cleaning staff, 4 for each section, one to mop, one to watch the mopping, one to fan the wet floor with a piece of cardboard, one to watch the fanning. Then there are the special employees whose job it is to horc great gobs on the floor in order to keep the cleaners employed. It is the same at the school. We have a game called 'spot the useless job'. Probably at least 100 people who just hang out, guards who wander around or watch TV, 10 secretaries just at the main office (one to answer the phone and 9 to do their hair and watch TV). Ironically the teachers are terribly overworked. I have read that teaching as a profession has "not yet recovered from the devistation of the culcherul revulooshon". Can't they find enough teachers, I know they hire barely qualified or unqualified teachers. Whatever, I can't figure it out. Any of you know about this?

The kids are awesome. I have one little ADHD guy but I accept him and we are working things out. I call him my little monkey and put him to work whenever possible. Other than that, they are so good and kind and affectionate. When we swim I have 5 of them hanging off my neck screaming 'monkey monkey'. Its great fun but when it gets too much I just dip under the water and mermaid swim to the deep end to escape. They are so generous, when I am curious about something like a toy or treat, they just give it to me. There are a couple of little girls who are teaching me Chineeese. They are very good teachers, they point at something and say the word, I repeat, they will say it over and over until I get it right, just like I do with them. When I get it right they yell "yes, yes, good job teacher!"

Tonight we had a birthday party with the entire school. Each English teacher brought one activity to one each of 5 rooms for 10 minutes, then we rotated. I did face painting, it was the most manic face painting session ever. The kids had never had their faces painted before, even the biggest boy with a hint of moustach was screaming with sheer joy as I painted a yellow flower on his cheek. Mostly I just did hearts, flowers... assembly line style and they didn't ask for certain things but one super fat kid wanted to be a pig and I couldn't resist! I don't know if he thought of himself as a pig and was proud of it or what.

No-one lines up in this country, they crowd and push. I had to paint 25-30 faces in ten minutes while kids were grabbing my arms yelling at me. For the first time I was not shy about using the Chinese method of saying 'you are in my space', namely a quick, hard elbow jab in the ribs. I had been told before this was normal but I wasn't comfortable doing it until I tried it and no-one seemed to mind, they just moved back-slightly. With such a huge population they have a very different idea of personal space than we Canadians do.

Talking to some of the other English teachers, I realize that I am very lucky with both my kids (all good even Mr. ADHD), and my assistant teacher. Some barely speak/understand English but mine can speak and understand anything, only I may need to rephrase it. She is also kind to the students (doesn't beat them like some others do), can control them well and has a sense of humour (unlike some of the others). She is still a little harsh to the kids by Canadian standards, but not unkind. Sometimes she cringes at my very physical lessons when the kids are jumping around and yelling but she doesn't complain and I try to be reasonable.

I had heard it was pulooted here but I couldn't believe it till I saw it. Doing some reading, seems that pulootion and overpopulation have been problems since the 17th century. They've had a pretty good head start over Nurth Amurica . Because of the coal dust in the air I have not seen the sun since I arrived. Today was the only day since I arrived that I had to shield my eyes from the sun, even though I still couldn't see it. On the best day so far, I could see the sun, it looked like a full moon, and later one of my students said 'wow beautiful' and when I looked up I could actually see a faint parting of the dust revealing the sun reflecting off of a real cloud, and a hint of blue sky, it was still a hazy blue sky and hazy covered cloud - but I saw them.

The first morning here I went for a run on the track for about 15 minutes. My lungs were dying so I had to stop. I came home, showered and then felt painful burning on the top of my back and shoulders. I looked in the mirror and saw what looked like a bad burn from lying on the beach all day - sans sunscreen. I had a very distinct 'burnline' along the edges of my tank, it was different from an all over runners flush. It peaked about half an hour and dissappeared by an hour. I wonder if it was some kind of chemical burn. Any of you know about this?

It's ironic that I have many questions about this country that I will never learn here because of the suppreshon of infurmashon but I could probably research online at home easily enough.

Please write to me, just watch your spelling, I really want to hear from you all.