Mind Mob

Re: bonjour de Tahiti

Friends,

Firstly, I've added new pictures since I set sail from Tahiti:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindmob/sets/625529/

I'm writing to you from the turquoise waters of Opunohu Bay on the
island of Moorea. Compared to bustling Tahiti, Moorea is far more the
archetypal image of the quiet Polynesian island: stunning sharkstooth
mountains of black volcanic rock, all dressed in green rainforest and
standing high above sleepy villages, white sand beaches and coral
lagoons swimming with sea life.

In the past few week here, I hiked across and over the rim of the
ancient volcanic culdera -- now abundant in agriculture, especially
pineapple -- and I climbed 2998 ft. tall Mount Rotui (I made it about
2600 before the rain turned me back). High above the little island I
could see the North and South coasts simultaneously. It was a sight
that could give a landlubber like me chills of isolation... But there
are whole worlds to be found in the convoluted folds of a mape tree,
sweating in the jungle on the side of Mt. Rotui; and I could spend
years wandering along the blue lagoon where coconut crabs scurry, a
few steps from the undersea kingdom.

There are three principal languages spoken in French Polynesia: the
official French (I've been working hard on my poor francais), the
Tahitian language (composed of 13 letters -- 5 vowels and 8
consonants), and the language of flowers. The latter is a subtle,
ingenious and effective method of nonverbal communication between the
sexes. These islands are covered in wildflowers of all varieties and
most Polynesians you see are adorned in one way or another with
blossoms. Mainly the language of flowers is a way to broadcast your
romantic status to potential mates. For instance, a tiare blossom
behind the left ear means you're taken; behind the right ear, you're
available. I wear a white hibiscus facing forward behind my right ear
and a violet orchid in my hair which says "I'm in a semi-committed
polyamorous group marriage with license to fool around." So far, no
takers.

Au revoir. Je vous aime.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindmob/sets/625529/

+ Daniel Steinbock
+
+ www.sonic.net/~daniel

bonjour de Tahiti

Friends,

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindmob/sets/625529/

This letter begins by the light of the Tahitian moon. Though she looks
the same as yours, the sea of stars through which she sails is all new
to me. In the South Seas, the Southern Cross stands in for the North
Star as the heavenly compass -- how fitting for these islands
colonized by mean bearing the crucifix. To this day, Tahiti and her
islands are French colonies and francais is the national language,
though most polynesians also speak Tahitian.

I'm anchored a quarter mile offshore and "civilization" is painted all
across the night island landscape in sodium streetlamps, spinning
carnival colors and the sound of Harley Davidson. Out to sea, the roar
of breakers on the barrier reef is never-ending, and I watch the
tenuous white line of surf draw and erase the horizon over and over.
Onshore, I can tell what year it is by counting the lights. Out there
-- time never started.

The mountains of Tahiti are conspicuously dark above the city glow. If
I had arrived three hundred years ago, like some white guy did, I
would have likely seen fires burning up there between the peaks. Back
then, the polynesians populated and cultivated the rainforested inner
valleys. Then white guys arrived en masse with Western ideas, clothes
and junk. Centuries go by and the fires flow downhill to the ship
harbor and its obligatory city, only now the flames don't flicker, and
the jungle is concrete. Leaving the mountains to dream the old dreams
-- the ones we don't remember when we wake up.

Dan

Check out my recent pics:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindmob/sets/625529/

--
+ Daniel Steinbock
+
+ www.sonic.net/~daniel

Blogging from the boat

I just created a blog for my mom and her partner who are crossing the South Pacific. They have an email connection via single side-band radio so they can blog right from the boat. Plus there's a map at the top that tracks their current position via GPS.

Umbrella Man Has A Posse

23, originally uploaded by EN in SC.

"Umbrella Man", a former NASA electrical engineer whose real name is Robert Steffen, has been a downtown fixture in Santa Cruz for years.

What you may not know is that he used to be a different downtown fixture some years ago: Mr. "Have a nice day" hidden in a tent of black garbage bags in front of Bookshop Santa Cruz, and pictured here in a rare revelation. Robert ran for president and had his platform prominently displayed in front of the bench on which he always sat, invisibly draped in his formless black plastic.

Nowadays, after a stay in a mental clinic, he has been resurrected as the colorful, beautiful, extroverted Umbrella man. I found two recent photos of him on Flickr, here and here. (If you know of others, let me know) The latter picture was taken this past Halloween, and you can see above that he now is once again a well-known icon of the Santa Cruz community. Maybe his bid for presidency is taking a turn for the better.

References: For a recent article, see "Mary Poppins He's Not" at this link. See also Metro Santa Cruz News July 12, 2000.