A Change Of Venue

Yeah, okay - maybe I’m being a wee bit hypocritical here considering what I said about them in an earlier post, but Gadling picked one of the photos from my Flickr account as their ‘Photo of the Day’ - again. Sweet!

Click the ‘Gadling’ link above to see their original post.

“I always gagged on the silver spoon.”

A mini rant here. Those of you who have wandered by this blog every once in a while to have a quick look-see, or even spend some quality time perusing the content, might recall that I incorporate some of my favourite links to other sites, just here on the right-hand sidebar. They include a couple of friends’ blogs and a handful of others that I find especially noteworthy.

Well, as of today one of those links has changed.

Gadling is (or rather, was) an excellent source of travel-based material: pointers, tidbits and recommendations from real-world travellers, just like me and many of the people I know. It was well-written, informative, frequently funny and often a source of solid travel data that simply couldn’t be found anywhere else, certainly not in this format.

Sadly, that began to deteriorate about six months ago. It has recently devolved into a poorly-written, badly-edited screed that looks and reads as if it were being managed by a twelve-year old bully with Bill O’Reilly syndrome (”WE’LL DO IT LIVE!”). It has become nothing more than a hobbled shadow of its former self. But there’s more (or less, depending on how you see it).

In the past few weeks there have been many posts to Gadling that were not only severely off-topic, but xenophobic and in at least two instances hurtful - all written by the same person (who shall remain nameless). I weighed-in on these posts and posted my comments along with a number of friends who agreed and did the same, plus many others from all over the world. The response from Gadling (parent: AOL) was not only to ban one of the commenters from the site (and possibly others), but to eradicate their comments as well. It’s as if they and their comments never existed - they were ‘disappeared’.

Just this morning Gadling sent an e-mail to this person suggesting that the ‘Comments’ section was not the place to comment on the content of a blog entry or the way in which it’s written. BULLSHIT! That’s why it’s called a ‘Comments’ section - it is the very reason for it. The point of the exercise was to be as public about the comments (and the outrage) as possible, not to have it lie in some weak editor’s virtual in-box.

And lest anyone think that this was the reaction of one, maybe two responders (myself included), one particular post that clearly struck a nerve garnered over 400 responses, dozens of which took this writer to task for the very same poorly considered and badly written content.

There’s a sadness at losing a great travel website to amateurish hacks. There’s precious little really good travel writing online or even through newspapers and periodicals these days, and Gadling was a breath of fresh air. Finding new and engaging material posted several times a day (often MANY times), was great - you never knew where the next ‘adventure’ was coming from. Yes, there are good writers submitting to Gadling, quite a few actually. But they seem few and far between when compared to the prolific output of the others. The only upside to this deterioration is that all those terrific articles that USED to populate the site are searchable in their database.

But this is more than just ‘loss.’ The one particular Gadling writer is not alone - there are others. The level of quality writing — never mind the horrid grammar, spelling and geographical errors — is quite astonishing when compared to what it was six months ago, even four. The meanspiritedness, and even outright callousness of some of the posts (like this one) often alternates between being jingoistic and misanthropic. The hackneyed editorial guidelines that allow these kinds of jaw-dropping and often off-topic posts to be submitted for vetting is one thing, but the editorial direction that allows them to be published is quite another. Add to that the squelching and censorship that parades as ‘reaction’ by those same editor(s) when people don’t agree with what’s been said, and you have a vile stew of a publishing venture that appears to operate on a “I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I…?” set of rules.

Gadling wasn’t and isn’t some basement-level grade school ‘current affairs’ project. It was and is a professional travel writing website with advertising and investors that generates revenue from the uniques, the bookmarks and the links of interested eyeballs - yours and mine. If website ventures — especially ones that are owned and operated by larger media companies — wish to be considered competitive in the grander scheme of things (and the so-called ‘blogosphere’ has certainly had a significant impact on the more traditional forms of media), then they have to be held to similar ideals and expectations. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

People are fond of saying that the Internet is in its infancy - it is not. This September marks the tenth anniversary of the launch of Google as a search engine - an event that quite literally changed the way the Internet worked, certainly how we all used it. YouTube is barely three years old and I doubt anyone would debate the impact it has had on everything during that short period of time. It’s taken a while, but most of us have come to accept the fact that there is no such thing as the next ‘killer app’. The Internet IS the next killer app - always has been, always will be.

With the worldwide decrease in newspaper and magazine circulation; the catastrophic drop in television ratings; the consolidation of media outlets across all strands; and with the impact all of this continues to have on associated staff cuts, bureau closures and advertising revenues, good or bad, like it or not, the Internet increasingly has become the ’source’ the world turns to. This is the world in which Gadling, and all other websites of its ilk, operate.

Maybe some day soon the geniuses at Gadling will wake up and realize that the billowing smoke and burning stench is emanating from their own bridges.

End of rant.

Just because I’m not writing on this blog as much as I need to be (or should be), doesn’t mean I can’t post photos.

Click on FLICKRUS above right for new pix.

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

I’m sick of television. There, I’ve said it.

Back in January I wrote a piece on this blog about where I was — where I thought I was — in my life, professionally and personally. It was entitled, The Game’s Afoot! - read it again if you like.

As the year slowly comes to a close, chronologically speaking, I continue to find myself sitting on the career fence of confusion ten months on. Maybe not confusion so much as indecision. The stop-in-for-breakfast, maybe-have-that-second-cup-of-coffee, maybe-not, kind of indecision.

Twice this year I’ve cancelled my cablevision, the most recent time just last month. I don’t miss it. I used to have every channel under the sun, now it’s just basic plus a few HiDef channels to keep my interest and tease me every so slightly. On the odd occasion when I actually attempt to watch TV, I still find myself using the remote like a robot with Parkinsons - click, click, click, click, click. Nuthin’ on.

But here’s the really interesting part… it’s not just the lack of desire in WATCHING television, I have no interest in MAKING television any more. I simply don’t care. (more…)

I know she can see me. I can see her. There are only three things in the room and the chair doesn’t count! Hello - over here.

Nice dress, by the way. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress. Not… that one, anyway. Red is definitely your colour.

Hello - I’m talking to you! Trying to get your attention over here. Remember me…? Hello….

Hmm….

I thought I knew her… from before. Like when she was running around being all efficient and shit. Things got done. She was soooo… with it. Who knew. I thought I knew.

There was that one time, when she actually listened to something I was saying, and laughed. In all the right places too. That was cool.

Then she was aloof. Still there, but not there, you know? Women - I don’t get it.

While once at sea, a Toucan did I see,
beating her outstretched wings.
She flew so fast, my hopes were dashed -
No time to hear her sing.

And then it occurred, a splash I heard,
A Penguin could she be…?
Laughing and smiling, swooping and diving
in and out of the sea.

Another look, perhaps I mistook
a Hummingbird in flight.
Over and over, she darted for cover,
Always just out of sight.

And then it was clear, she flew so near,
At last I could truly see:
Not a Hummingbird, Toucan or Penguin at all,
But a Puffin… she was all three!

What do you see when you look at me…?

Yeah, red is definitely your colour.

Watched an old movie last night… Summer Lovers.

It’s NOT a great movie. It wasn’t a great movie in 1982 when I saw it the first time with a girlfriend in a New Westminster theatre that is now an Army Navy store!

I remember the theatre and the movie experience NOT because Daryl Hannah was naked (she played ‘Pris’, the replicant, in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner the same year, by the way), but because I broke a tooth on an un-popped kernel of corn during the third reel and spent the rest of the evening in the emergency room of the Royal Columbian Hospital waiting my turn to get a mitt-full of 292s when I should have been getting laid!

But I digress…

No, the movie’s not great, but I did find it fascinating watching it this time around (without popcorn!) because of it’s stellar use of Greek locales in the storyline. The film was shot in the exact same locations that I spent much of my time this past Spring while cruising through the Greek islands - Santorini, Mykonos and Crete. And I mean EXACT! There are shots, entire scenes in this movie where I stood and took pictures, had lunch, shopped, danced (yes, I shop) and walked through the narrow, blindingly white passageways. It’s nice to know that after several thousands of years Greece hasn’t changed much in the last twenty-five. (?) You know what I mean.

So, the whole ‘Summer Lovers’ thing made me go back to my recent archive of Greek photos and make a few more pictures available on my Flickr site.

And yes, it really is that blue!

Well, the first part’s true, not sure about the second part. I’ve been pretty critical of ‘cruising’ as a means of vacation - not to be confused with sailing as a means of transport.

I’ve done the freighter thing - down the west coast, just as a test (loved it!) And I’ve done the ‘Blue Lagoon Cruise’ through bits of Fiji, as any regular reader of this blog can attest. But to actually join throngs of puffy white people (statistically, people of colour don’t ‘cruise’ much) to fight over deck chairs and melon slices has never entered my mind as an option - EVER!

Truth be told, this cruise is a bit of a ‘freebie’, so my attitude has been to allow it to take place with me in it as an ‘all-expenses-paid’ means to find out whether I like it or not. In other words, if I hate it at least it didn’t cost me anything!

Shallow, cynical, jaundiced, prejudiced, one-sided, opinionated… yup - all of the above.

Regardless, I first spend two days in Istanbul, followed by 12 days cruising through the Eastern Med with stops at Izmir, Alexandria, Mykonos, Santorini, Crete, Corfu and finally Athens for two days, then back to Vancouver. How bad can it be…?

I’ll let you know on June 3rd when I return!

Continuing the current theme of ‘Internet vs. Television’, I present the fourth installment of Content: The Once and Future King. I’m off to San Diego next week for a little R&R, plus some business mix as well.

If you’re interested in Africa, you might want to check out my buddy Doug’s blog. He’s ensconced in Ghana until the Fall and his blog and Flickr site are full of great pix and tall tales.

Day 18 - Wednesday December 26, 2001 - 2:03pm

It was Fitzgerald who said,

“Sometimes I think I’m a character in one of my novels.”

I understand exactly what he means. If old F. Scott had been a travel writer he might have uttered these words instead:

“Sometimes I feel like an expatriate in my own country.”

I certainly do. (more…)

Day 17 - Tuesday December 25, 2001 - 9:53pm

Christmas Day… in Fiji… or is it…? OK - I won’t go there again.

Christmas Day and the only thing that’s white around here are the ten — sorry, dix — French tourists who arrived yesterday. Believing they are in Tahiti (buy a fucking map!), they insist on speaking their langue maternelle apparently oblivious to the fact that no one else speaks or understands French. One of their ‘tribe’, a woman I believe (she had a little less facial hair so I’m assuming it was a female), is so disgusted with the way the drinks are being mixed that she commandeers one of the bars and insists on making drinks ‘the right way’. No wonder the Americans became so ‘buddy-buddy’ with the French during the battle for independence - they share the attitude. But who taught whom? (more…)