This is just normal loveliness and style-done-well in Paris and I really need to spend more time there. Thank you, The Sartorialist via On the Street…Rue du Renard, Paris:

In The Daily, there is an op-ed called The Cost of Tourism by Diana McCaulay about how tourism has destroyed Jamaica.  Is this anything new? Jamaica is one of seniors when it comes to having become a tourist trap.  Jamaica and Hawaii are the elder statesmen of tourist exploitation and the defilement of nature.

Can’t put the genie back in the bottle. The horse is out of the barn.  Insert your cliche of choice.

I grew up in Hawaii and this is the same thing. Truth is, tourism is the worst thing for any economy and the worst thing for any ecology. Even eco-tourism opens delicate and sensitive areas to way more traffic — and even considerate traffic is traffic.

OK, but tourism is also like organ transplant. In Hawaii, agriculture gave way to tourism; trade gave way to tourism. Pineapple and cane sugar were industries of the islands — some might say just as exploitative, if not more so.

But once the transplant occurs, not only are you committed to the new organ but there is a whole host of associated new problems.  Call them unintended consequences.  Once you get the new organ, you have to commit to taking all the anti-rejection drugs forever.  Tourism is like that. Yes, it saved your life and the life of your economy in a time of need, but at what cost?  Additionally, tourism is fickle — both in terms of where people go as well as whether they go at all. Maybe it isn’t ‘not Jamaica’, but it can always be ‘not anywhere’ as the 2007/8 crash proved: people weren’t going anywhere, even if they had the money. (It just looks bad).  And, when they were, they were going someplace super-exclusive where nobody would see them, as in ‘not Jamaica’.

Jamaica and the rest of the islands — including Hawaii — around the world have very little hope of reforming unless they pull a Cuba.

Myself? I guess I have never thought of Jamaica as anything but someplace completely ravaged already by tourism and exploitation. A lost cause, in much the same way that many people see Hawaii. In many ways, Jamaica has already been lost to addiction. I doubt the economy could survive the loss of tourism. Hasn’t it already?

Back in the 80s, Hawaii became addicted to Japanese money. When Japan coughed, Hawaii got the plague. When I was growing up, we realized that the Hawaiian islands were forever going to be a service economy — serving tourism and serving the military.

And then there’s the drugs. Hawaii and Jamaica have quite a few things in common:their own native animist cultures and a love of marijuana. But that’s another story for another time – the ravages of the war between drug-producers, drug-buyers, and state & federal law in the context of marijuana being illegal. Oh, what a terrible tale.

Oh, and Diana McCaulay: stop being so bloody nostalgic.  Are you serious?  D’you only want the travelers, and the people who engage with the culture, who engage with the people, who are interested and curious?  And if we American travelers are not up to snuff — if we only want a sunny place with warmth, booze, relaxation, entertainment, some Reggae, and the ocean — then shouldn’t we just stay within our own borders?

Not bloody likely – but guess what?  I guarantee you that that is the best idea anyone has had: spend vacation money at home, in our own economy, putting it into our own businesses!  Now, that’s what I like to hear.  Unfortunately, American travelers won’t even consider Jamaica any more.  The elite 1% that you’re so hungry for has moved on to Cambodia and deep Asia and is hot and bothered for Cuba.  What gentle 1% elite traveler is going to Jamaica any more?

In Hawaii, we called to the 99% of Americans that were left — the Americans who go to Hawaii and Jamaica on package tours, and are exactly like the 99% of Britons who go to Majorca and fight with the 99% of the Germans over sun beds at their all-inclusive package holidays.

You’re not being terribly realistic, Ms McCaulay but I forgive you — as I beg you to forgive me — because I grew up in the paradise known as Hawaii, on Oahu, and I can tell your heart is broken.  I have not been back to Hawaii since 1998, partly because I cannot bear the sort of heartbreak that comes from seeing the reefs I dove on destroyed, or the fish I swam with gone, or the paths to the waterfalls I used to walk with bare feet cursed with bottles and cans.

I can see that your naivete was just the result of the little girl remembering Negril coming out, and that I understand. I am so sorry and my heart breaks for you. The state motto of Hawaii speaks to the land, the defilement of which breaks our heart:

Ua mau ke ea o ka aina i ka pono — The Life of the Land is Perpetuated in Righteousness

I hate to admit it but when it comes to the general health and wealth of the people, one often pushes to the side the land, the other beings, the pride of the native people and culture. I have seen Hawaii nei with loads of tourists from around the world and I have seen the opposite and I prefer the tourism with a caveat that will drive you nuts, Diana. I want a contained tourism in Hawaii.  I want the tourists in Waikiki or on the Kohala Coast or safely contained in the tourist traps of Maui than have them tramping the rest of the land.

I believe that the unintended consequences of eco-tourism and the curious footprints of the 1% traveler — the sort of which you approve — is unbearable.  For it is this traveler who brings his photos and experiences back home and conveys the true beauty of the land to his friends, thereby ruining it for real.  At least in Hawaii we can hide the most beautiful bits from the 99% tourists — it is in the bold 1% that absconds with the true gems and true secrets.

I hate those people.

Mein gespräch, meine lieder,
Mein haß und mein glück,
Mein tag, meine nacht, mein vor, mein zurück,
Meine sonne und schatten, zweifel, die ich hab,
An dir und in mir bis zum letzten tag.
Deine straßen, wo ich fliehe, stolper und fall,
Deine wärme, die ich brauch, die ich spüre überall.

Verkauf dich nicht,
Berlin,
Jung bist du nicht,
Du alterst so schnell,
Buckelst zu sehr,
Trägst an den geldern der freier so schwer.
Die werden gehn,
Dich sterben sehn,
Berlin,
Geliebte berlin.

Deine ecken und winkel, deine höfe ungezählt,
Wo der dreck und die armut nach veränderung bellt,
Dein rausch am morgen
Riecht nach haschisch und bier,
Und rotz fällt gelassen auf gassen von dir.
Deine märkte, die weiber, ihre ruhe, ihre list
Und manchmal ein witz, der mich in den magen trifft.
Verkauf dich nicht,
Berlin,
Jung bist du nicht,
Du alterst so schnell,
Buckelst zu sehr,
Trägst an den geldern der freier so schwer.
Die werden gehn,
Dich sterben sehn,
Berlin,
Geliebte berlin.

Deine häuser mit fluren,
Wo man prügelt, wo man lacht,
Wo man, wenns dunkel wird,
Neue mitbewohner macht.

Deine räume, in denen der schlaf ungern kommt,
Weil die luft zum atmen fehlt,
Wo der sensemann wohnt,
Doch wo du freisein erfährst in dieser großen stadt,
Obwohl sie einengt und preßt und viele mauern hat.

Verkauf dich nicht,
Berlin,
Jung bist du nicht,
Du alterst so schnell,
Buckelst zu sehr,
Trägst an den geldern der freier so schwer.
Die werden gehn,
Dich sterben sehn,
Berlin,
Geliebte berlin.

Mein gespräch, meine lieder,
Mein haß und mein glück,
Mein tag, meine nacht, mein vor, mein zurück.
Dein halbtotet bahnhof, wo ich unter denen steh,
Die morgen, schon morgen in bessre städte gehn.
Wo ich dich verlassen will,
Immer wieder, immer noch,
Ich schaff den sprung auch,
Ich schaff den sprung doch.

The day after Returning to My Second Life in Berlin, there was a lot of amazing snow and Berlin was under a cozy white blanket. Little did I know that Berlin was completely caught unawares and while I was walking gently hither and thither while taking this video, my colleagues from around the world, en route to a conference, were stuck out.  Well, let’s not go there, let us just enjoy a walk in the snow in Berlin and then a massive number of black ravens in the white snow (and everywhere else): A Snowing Snowy Day in Berlin on 9 December 2010 and A Murder of Crows on the Snowy Snow of Berlin in December:

Took a walk from my Berlin apartment to Berlin-Hauptbahnhof across lots and lots of snow and beneath a snowy snowfall. It is quite beautiful even in the middle of the city. Even the snow couldn’t muffle the ubiquitous sound of city construction and pile-drivers. From snow to crows to the Berlin Hauptbahnhof to one stalled Porsche 944 getting ready to tow another broken 944 through the snow. A very cool little Berlin snow-covered vignette.

When I was walking back from grocery shopping at the Berlin-Hauptbahnhof Kaiser’s and Rossmann, I came upon this murderous land war of Berlin ravens or crows or whatever they are — very ominous and very foreboding and also maybe a terrible omen. Is this a good omen or is it an open at all?

I have mentioned the lovely Sarah Obraitis a number of times on this blog: All’s Well at M. Wells Diner in Long Island City,  Sarah Obraitis is Thinking About Meat, Love Me Some Heritage Meat Pies for the Holidays, and Slow Food Radio Network from Heritage Foods — I think I have a crush.  Now, she, her hubby, and their foodie Long Island City diner, M. Wells, is up to win the 2010 Eater Awards!   Please vote for M. Wells early and often over at the New York Eater website!

The national dish of Brazil: Feijoada!  From Zebu Grill. A delicious Brazilian food dinner with digital marketing and marketing visionary B.L. Ochman.

I can see this building from my hotel room and up-close it is enormous! This is one heck of a General Electric factory building in downtown Fort Wayne, Indiana — I need to look it up when I get back to my room and update you.

I actually am preferring my  new Amazon Kindle a lot these days for a) small thin form factor b) singleness of purpose c) Whispernet 3g d) simple ordering from Amazon e) cheapness of Kindle titles f) extreme battery life g) linear nature of reading papers (from front page to last) h) text-focused I) new issues of my Times’ subscription pushed to my device automatically!

Breakfast of almond croissant, raisin swirl, bowls of coffee and a fresh Financial Times shared on a foggy San Francisco Friday morning before David goes to work and I go to cafe to work. In California, I always feel 3-hours behind when I wake up instead of 6-hours behind like I always do in Berlin.

Thanks to the gang from Marketing LIVE 2010 who sponsored me over to speak at their conference.

I met some amazing people and connected with a canny Brit by the name of Mark Brill (is that a stage name, Mark?) and endured perfect weather and some excellent times for such a brief visit.

I think I have the bug now which is good because there is expected to be a lot of travel for me this year! Also, I think I have gotten over my almost debilitating travel anxiety — not of flying but rather just of the prep: packing, having everything, getting there in time, etc…

I am as cool as a cucumber now; however, not I have to just work on my debilitating public speaking anxiety! I can’t wait to tell my therapist! Ha ha!

Well, in short, I had such a great time with the amazing ladies of In Form Slovakia, who took Mark and I to a traditional Slovakian dinner of, amongst other things, bryndzové halušky! Delicious.  Sort of like gnocchi with sheep cheese, small pieces of bacon.

Here’s the gorgeous-and-restored Bratislava castle — Bratislavský hrad — as Bratislava is a very historically-important and ancient city!

Last night, the men of the conference took Mark and I out to a restaurant that sat right next to Strkovec Lake, the closest and most popular lake, near an airport, but where all the super-amazingly-beautiful people go during the summer to bask in the sun and play in the water.

Besides, it is worth returning to Bratislava because the women are phenomenally beautiful, sexy, confident, smart, powerful and are strangely obsessed with high-heeled white stilettos