Tuesday 5 October 2010
Monday 6 September 2010
Sunday 13 June 2010
Inside the deeper web: Darknets revealed
in Relevant BCN #23 (3rd anniversary edition) published in print in Barcelona...
In countries where speech remains free enough, it is easy to disregard the real meaning of censorship online when such a wide array of information lies at our fingertips already offering a spectrum of beliefs and viewpoints.
Stepping into the deeper world of the internet is like taking a walk through a matrix of uncensored ideas in a realm of apparent anonymity and data security where it is impossible for those connected via conventional means to tell who lurks yonder in the shadows.
Strange things be occurring in those shadows, for this is nerd turf now and no normal human mind could possibly comprehend the ingenuitive complexities and systems operating in this web that connects the planet, a nightmare land for technophobes.
Our actions online leave digital trails easily traced by surveillance systems programmed to mine through data in search of terrorists or capitalising opportunities.
Unless you have questionable surfing habits, or you live in a country where censorship reigns supreme limiting the type of information available, you need not fear extensive government internet surveillance but your data will never be truly safe. Your bank details are out there, those love notes too, and the tools and methods to access them are easily employed by those that know.
Millions of dollars are invested into data mining technologies aimed at tracking consumer trends and online activities for the greater purpose of that battle between good and evil, the so-called ongoing War on Terror. But few savvy terrorists would communicate their intent via the surface web for precisely these reasons. Certain email and social networking tools are not as secure as we like to think.
Osama bin Laden still seems to be a popular man these days but you won’t find him on Facebook updating his status; “Still in the mountains, not sure where anymore. Waziristan, maybe. Waiting for CIA so I can finally use a toilet.”
The likes of Osama would prefer networks that still hold privacy and data security as a virtue, understanding that even private messages sent between friends on Facebook or Hotmail are easily intercepted, the data never deleted. Don’t believe? This is no conspiracy, the truth is out there, on the internet (funnily enough.)
Echelon is the codename for “a signals intelligence collection and analysis network” with listening posts across the world that can eavesdrop on every telephone call, fax, or email made in any country. Despite US and UK government denial, the Australian government confirmed its existence to the BBC in 1999.
A top secret US military base in North Yorkshire, England, is said to hold facilities capable of two million intercepts per hour.
We can potentially be surveyed around the clock for this is technology and, unlike us, it doesn’t sleep. Traffic analysis is a constant. Canada and New Zealand are also involved in its operation.
People, innocent and criminally-inclined alike, the world over are finding ways to retain internet privacy using various forms of cryptography that are constantly evolving so as to keep one step ahead of the game.
Darknets provide shelter within the online world. A darknet is a decentralised network of inter-communication and information sharing distributed within routed IP addresses usually within areas of the internet rarely used, if at all.
A darknet is tough to destroy for the servers making up its fabric are distributed across the network. If one client is taken down then the server moves on, effectively untraceable. Data within a darknet is encrypted, fragmented and distributed across the network making it equally difficult to find the source.
According to the Computer Emergency Response Team (Cert), “in order to create a Darknet and invite someone to participate in it, one just has to send an encrypted mail containing a connection URL. Once the recipient gets the email, he just has to connect to the provided URL so that the browser downloads a peer-to-peer application. Users can then communicate together through encrypted channels.”
To join a well-established darknet like Freenet or Tor all you needs to do is download the appropriate software and you no longer need to connect via a conventional browser.
Not all darknets provide the relevant software so willingly, but the likes of Freenet and Tor exist to protect against surveillance that threatens freedom and privacy, keeping internet analysis safe from analysis.
Tor says it protects users by “bouncing your communications around a distributed network of relays run by volunteers all around the world: it prevents somebody watching your Internet connection from learning what sites you visit, and it prevents the sites you visit from learning your physical location. Tor works with many of your existing applications, including web browsers, instant messaging clients, remote login, and other applications based on the TCP protocol.”
Other darknets operate in a more isolated manner. Osama bin Laden, if he obtained a derelict URL, could set up a more covert darknet wherein an elite group of members could share information amongst each other without the fear of an outsider entering.
Theoretically, I could do the same only allowing certain people into this circle so that we might share whatever the fuck we wanted… movies, music, stories, you get the point.
The existence of these types of darknets renders government investments tracking our online activities useless.
Darknet users are cloaked in anonymity. Although this is not absolute, using a darknet provides enough camouflage online to conceal most activities, moreso than using anonymous proxy servers. For criminals or those who want to access information their government frowns upon this is all very appealing.
Take China, for example. Although someone in China would not be able to download Freenet software vie the surface web due to censorship and paranoia of the type of information available, it is still possible to obtain that software via more covert means such as downloading from CD or a USB stick.
Once the software is downloaded, a user can access all manner of sites and information (some available conventionally) and their government could never know.
After downloading the Freenet software, just a few clicks and I had the index before me listing guides to anarchy, Mein Kampf, and poison handbooks. Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself reading the Mujahideen Poison Handbook, also available on the surface web but without the protection of anonymity. I would never be in any mood to explain to the authorities why I had been reading such material.
Written in English, raising questions about its authenticity as a Jihad document, there it is nonetheless informing me that 0.06mg of pure nicotine kills in 12 - 24 hours. The tobacco of ten cigarettes, heated in easily available iso-propyl alcohol will produce enough poison to kill three people. I cannot verify if this is true, nor do I intend to, but this erases any doubts on the dangers of Pueblo.
Although it is true that most darknets are by no means foolproof and are still open to external attacks and surveillance tracking, the chances are slight.
The development of quantum cryptography heralds a new era of online security.
In the context of darknets, using a quantum key to encrypt data and messages makes it just that little bit harder to decrypt, if at all, because essentially only users will ever hold the key needed to unlock relayed information, but this type of technology is not readily available to you or me, and can take years of studying to grasp the concept as its fundamentals are based on quantum mechanics.
Darknets are not new, but they are becoming increasingly popular. As with many things in life they can be used for both good and bad, for sharing information freely that is otherwise kept secret or for more sinister purposes such as coordinating a terrorist attack.
In countries where speech remains free enough, it is easy to disregard the real meaning of censorship online when such a wide array of information lies at our fingertips already offering a spectrum of beliefs and viewpoints.
Stepping into the deeper world of the internet is like taking a walk through a matrix of uncensored ideas in a realm of apparent anonymity and data security where it is impossible for those connected via conventional means to tell who lurks yonder in the shadows.
Strange things be occurring in those shadows, for this is nerd turf now and no normal human mind could possibly comprehend the ingenuitive complexities and systems operating in this web that connects the planet, a nightmare land for technophobes.
Our actions online leave digital trails easily traced by surveillance systems programmed to mine through data in search of terrorists or capitalising opportunities.
Unless you have questionable surfing habits, or you live in a country where censorship reigns supreme limiting the type of information available, you need not fear extensive government internet surveillance but your data will never be truly safe. Your bank details are out there, those love notes too, and the tools and methods to access them are easily employed by those that know.
Millions of dollars are invested into data mining technologies aimed at tracking consumer trends and online activities for the greater purpose of that battle between good and evil, the so-called ongoing War on Terror. But few savvy terrorists would communicate their intent via the surface web for precisely these reasons. Certain email and social networking tools are not as secure as we like to think.
Osama bin Laden still seems to be a popular man these days but you won’t find him on Facebook updating his status; “Still in the mountains, not sure where anymore. Waziristan, maybe. Waiting for CIA so I can finally use a toilet.”
The likes of Osama would prefer networks that still hold privacy and data security as a virtue, understanding that even private messages sent between friends on Facebook or Hotmail are easily intercepted, the data never deleted. Don’t believe? This is no conspiracy, the truth is out there, on the internet (funnily enough.)
Echelon is the codename for “a signals intelligence collection and analysis network” with listening posts across the world that can eavesdrop on every telephone call, fax, or email made in any country. Despite US and UK government denial, the Australian government confirmed its existence to the BBC in 1999.
A top secret US military base in North Yorkshire, England, is said to hold facilities capable of two million intercepts per hour.
We can potentially be surveyed around the clock for this is technology and, unlike us, it doesn’t sleep. Traffic analysis is a constant. Canada and New Zealand are also involved in its operation.
People, innocent and criminally-inclined alike, the world over are finding ways to retain internet privacy using various forms of cryptography that are constantly evolving so as to keep one step ahead of the game.
Darknets provide shelter within the online world. A darknet is a decentralised network of inter-communication and information sharing distributed within routed IP addresses usually within areas of the internet rarely used, if at all.
A darknet is tough to destroy for the servers making up its fabric are distributed across the network. If one client is taken down then the server moves on, effectively untraceable. Data within a darknet is encrypted, fragmented and distributed across the network making it equally difficult to find the source.
According to the Computer Emergency Response Team (Cert), “in order to create a Darknet and invite someone to participate in it, one just has to send an encrypted mail containing a connection URL. Once the recipient gets the email, he just has to connect to the provided URL so that the browser downloads a peer-to-peer application. Users can then communicate together through encrypted channels.”
To join a well-established darknet like Freenet or Tor all you needs to do is download the appropriate software and you no longer need to connect via a conventional browser.
Not all darknets provide the relevant software so willingly, but the likes of Freenet and Tor exist to protect against surveillance that threatens freedom and privacy, keeping internet analysis safe from analysis.
Tor says it protects users by “bouncing your communications around a distributed network of relays run by volunteers all around the world: it prevents somebody watching your Internet connection from learning what sites you visit, and it prevents the sites you visit from learning your physical location. Tor works with many of your existing applications, including web browsers, instant messaging clients, remote login, and other applications based on the TCP protocol.”
Other darknets operate in a more isolated manner. Osama bin Laden, if he obtained a derelict URL, could set up a more covert darknet wherein an elite group of members could share information amongst each other without the fear of an outsider entering.
Theoretically, I could do the same only allowing certain people into this circle so that we might share whatever the fuck we wanted… movies, music, stories, you get the point.
The existence of these types of darknets renders government investments tracking our online activities useless.
Darknet users are cloaked in anonymity. Although this is not absolute, using a darknet provides enough camouflage online to conceal most activities, moreso than using anonymous proxy servers. For criminals or those who want to access information their government frowns upon this is all very appealing.
Take China, for example. Although someone in China would not be able to download Freenet software vie the surface web due to censorship and paranoia of the type of information available, it is still possible to obtain that software via more covert means such as downloading from CD or a USB stick.
Once the software is downloaded, a user can access all manner of sites and information (some available conventionally) and their government could never know.
After downloading the Freenet software, just a few clicks and I had the index before me listing guides to anarchy, Mein Kampf, and poison handbooks. Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself reading the Mujahideen Poison Handbook, also available on the surface web but without the protection of anonymity. I would never be in any mood to explain to the authorities why I had been reading such material.
Written in English, raising questions about its authenticity as a Jihad document, there it is nonetheless informing me that 0.06mg of pure nicotine kills in 12 - 24 hours. The tobacco of ten cigarettes, heated in easily available iso-propyl alcohol will produce enough poison to kill three people. I cannot verify if this is true, nor do I intend to, but this erases any doubts on the dangers of Pueblo.
Although it is true that most darknets are by no means foolproof and are still open to external attacks and surveillance tracking, the chances are slight.
The development of quantum cryptography heralds a new era of online security.
In the context of darknets, using a quantum key to encrypt data and messages makes it just that little bit harder to decrypt, if at all, because essentially only users will ever hold the key needed to unlock relayed information, but this type of technology is not readily available to you or me, and can take years of studying to grasp the concept as its fundamentals are based on quantum mechanics.
Darknets are not new, but they are becoming increasingly popular. As with many things in life they can be used for both good and bad, for sharing information freely that is otherwise kept secret or for more sinister purposes such as coordinating a terrorist attack.
Sunday 18 April 2010
Split to Ancona overnight, bathed in starshine
There was a group of us who had bought deck tickets, and we had all assumed the same thing. For a while we were all in denial as we traipsed back down a maze of stairs, getting lost on all levels, in search of some magical deck that was inside, sheltered, eluding us. But we followed the signs and were led each time through corridor after corridor passing cabin after cabin, open plan lounges, a restaurant, always arriving back where we started.
You get what you pay for, and we paid for the cheapest ticket, but as the ferry was not full a stewardess took pity on us stragglers and allowed us to mingle with the rest of the ship, below deck, in the warmth. Briefly the peaceful ambience of inside was disturbed as our diminutive horde of windswept travellers began to mark off territory with luggage, commandeering rows of seats so that when it was time to get some sleep on this 12 hour trip we could sprawl out in luxury.
Once settled into seats or cabins, a majority of passengers congregated in the main bar and ordered whatever drink took their fancy; beers, whiskeys, wines, brandies, cocktails, and soft drinks for the children. Clinking glasses, classical music, and high-spirited conversations in a crimson carpeted bar evoked a sense of bygone times of elegant travel. Slowly the room filled with a haze of tobacco smoke, it was as though we had checked in through a time warp.
After a 2 hour delay that perturbed no-one, we set sail towards a setting sun. Behind us, the marble buildings of Split and Diocletian’s Palace radiated in the dying light until the city eventually disappeared over the horizon and into the darkness. From that point on, the only light outside in our little corner of the world was the light of a million twinkling stars. The only sound was that of the sea moving for the moon.
A serene tranquillity was shared by all who ventured outside from the electrical miasma within, (sheltered from the stars, the moon, and the sea). The lulling of the waves was our eternal lullaby, the stars; our eternal dreams. The lights were out in the Captain’s Bridge; him and his crew were sharing this same experience, you could sense it. The ship’s controls glowed faintly casting blue-tinted silhouettes reflecting the peace of the sea. These seafarers were home again. The stars, and gps, were guiding us all to safety.
Mila and I drank a bottle of cheap Croatian wine, keeping warm in the cold Adriatic night. After a while we slept, shivering in the draught of the air-conditioning.
Dawn broke, and the shapes of oil rigs looking old, industrial, rusty and haggard, appeared in the distance. Italy’s East coast spread out vast before us.
The great bombed port of Ancona began to loom, the signs of Industry - a countryside scarred by the wealth that oil brought. The crude stench. The crashing waves calmed by boulders 100 metres out from the coast so that holidaymakers could swim in calm waters. It’s all the same: sun, sand, and sea, and oil and gasworks. The water was green with pollution, the air was toxic, but this is the cost for our human achievement, this is our means of getting from A to B conveniently.
Under the pure night sky we felt timeless, a diesel-powered ship riding the waves of eternity. As we neared land our eyes reaped the destruction of bombs and technological advancement.
Most of medieval Ancona was levelled during the second world war. The largest port of the Adriatic, it was strategically bombarded by the allies for the sake of military advancement and, of course, freedom from the Axis of Evil. But does that freedom still hold strong in these fledgling years of the twenty-first century?
Laden with baggage we strolled a good few kilometres to Ancona train station, catching the train onward to Florence, via Bologna through countryside that welcomed my heart as if it were my home, in the heart of the Tuscan hills where it is all Chianti, Chianti, Chianti, where good wine comes cheap and flavoursome. Where I drink content, full bellied, wishing I could speak the language of my grandfather.
Thursday 15 April 2010
An Eye on the Surveillance Society
Part On in Relevant BCN #22 now.... (http://www.relevantbcn.com/)
and here
Photo courtesy of Big Brother Watch
CASH REWARDS FOR VOLUNTEER cctv OPERATORS WHO SPOT THE MOST CRIMES...:...
http://www.no-cctv.org.uk/blog/internet_eyes_and_the_privitisation_of_the_surveillance_society.htm
"A UK surveillance company is planning to launch an online CCTV watching website that could herald the privatisation of the surveillance state. 'Internet Eyes' will ask volunteers to watch random CCTV feeds of UK businesses subscribed to the service with the promise of cash rewards for viewers that spot the most crimes. This is a private company asking private individuals to spy on each other using private CCTV cameras..."
Internet Eyes: "Detecting crime as it happens..."
Internet Eyes on ITV
and here
Photo courtesy of Big Brother Watch
CASH REWARDS FOR VOLUNTEER cctv OPERATORS WHO SPOT THE MOST CRIMES...:...
http://www.no-cctv.org.uk/blog/internet_eyes_and_the_privitisation_of_the_surveillance_society.htm
"A UK surveillance company is planning to launch an online CCTV watching website that could herald the privatisation of the surveillance state. 'Internet Eyes' will ask volunteers to watch random CCTV feeds of UK businesses subscribed to the service with the promise of cash rewards for viewers that spot the most crimes. This is a private company asking private individuals to spy on each other using private CCTV cameras..."
Internet Eyes: "Detecting crime as it happens..."
Internet Eyes on ITV
Monday 5 April 2010
Tuesday 23 March 2010
Monday 22 March 2010
Searching for respite from soap opera lives
Wouldn’t it be better to know that you have Lived, and dared to do what you believe is Right in order to change what is and what could be, rather than passing by, drifting through life, just another Pig in the sty making bacon but knowing that you have never tried.
But Who Am I ?
And surely, seeing as We Are All Different, individual pigs who all know our own minds, all with our own opinions of what is Right whilst we indulge ourselves in beliefs that, in all honesty, have no real foundations; as certain and solid as this World on which we have evolved over such a brief period of time, on which we now continue to survive, hunting money in this Great Modern Wilderness, Thriving and Dreaming of a Time when decisions affecting our day to day existence were not made by Government - ignorant men seeking the same thing, whom we are not yet wholly acquainted with. But we accept them. And with Our votes they set out to achieve their tasks set, fulfilling their position (their wildest dreams?) - Leaders of the Country, here to save us, our Souls, our bank balances, our homes, our Youth, but as long as they are quite comfortable first. And if they fail the burden is passed on to the next safest bet (who just might have been favourites a short while back) as decided by a majority.
It’s hard work fighting for popularity; all that time spent convincing us that they are right, ensuring us that they won’t just take our money for nothing or for wars we won‘t stand for, but Who Am I to Judge who is worthy of Ruling, if we are all born equal, as I search for truth amidst the lies of false idols who believe they have our best interests in mind - with such great responsibility I am sure they find it difficult to sleep at night. Perhaps they rely on prescription drugs, perhaps that is why what they say becomes hazy; they stutter, smug faces concealing an inner turmoil of ideas (and private addictions) as they think of what words sound best in this situation - offering solutions better than what we have seen before, offering answers to it all (while knowing there may be none at all.) Ina harmonious world they would soon be out of a job.
In their eyes we cannot look after ourselves. They are our light, our guidance - but even with them in control our human problems continue to evolve (how can a handful of men keep a million in order), as instincts are mostly just as natural as they ever were, and some still have that primeval thirst for the blood of another; a demonstration of who is Alpha… ‘He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pains of being a man.’ Others see the fight abroad as necessary without paying real attention to the human cost, no blood on their hands.
If the Government had it their way we would be robots, no thoughts outside that so-called box - designed to work with no grumble, job done, repeating monotonous tasks to weekly monotonous rhythms before our previously well oiled joints become too rusty to function. A combination of time and bad atmosphere takes its toll in these twilight years, and we are left withering with our robot memories; we are decommissioned. But this does not make a difference for there are always replacements.
2008 wit 2010 addits
from the vault.
But Who Am I ?
And surely, seeing as We Are All Different, individual pigs who all know our own minds, all with our own opinions of what is Right whilst we indulge ourselves in beliefs that, in all honesty, have no real foundations; as certain and solid as this World on which we have evolved over such a brief period of time, on which we now continue to survive, hunting money in this Great Modern Wilderness, Thriving and Dreaming of a Time when decisions affecting our day to day existence were not made by Government - ignorant men seeking the same thing, whom we are not yet wholly acquainted with. But we accept them. And with Our votes they set out to achieve their tasks set, fulfilling their position (their wildest dreams?) - Leaders of the Country, here to save us, our Souls, our bank balances, our homes, our Youth, but as long as they are quite comfortable first. And if they fail the burden is passed on to the next safest bet (who just might have been favourites a short while back) as decided by a majority.
It’s hard work fighting for popularity; all that time spent convincing us that they are right, ensuring us that they won’t just take our money for nothing or for wars we won‘t stand for, but Who Am I to Judge who is worthy of Ruling, if we are all born equal, as I search for truth amidst the lies of false idols who believe they have our best interests in mind - with such great responsibility I am sure they find it difficult to sleep at night. Perhaps they rely on prescription drugs, perhaps that is why what they say becomes hazy; they stutter, smug faces concealing an inner turmoil of ideas (and private addictions) as they think of what words sound best in this situation - offering solutions better than what we have seen before, offering answers to it all (while knowing there may be none at all.) Ina harmonious world they would soon be out of a job.
In their eyes we cannot look after ourselves. They are our light, our guidance - but even with them in control our human problems continue to evolve (how can a handful of men keep a million in order), as instincts are mostly just as natural as they ever were, and some still have that primeval thirst for the blood of another; a demonstration of who is Alpha… ‘He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pains of being a man.’ Others see the fight abroad as necessary without paying real attention to the human cost, no blood on their hands.
If the Government had it their way we would be robots, no thoughts outside that so-called box - designed to work with no grumble, job done, repeating monotonous tasks to weekly monotonous rhythms before our previously well oiled joints become too rusty to function. A combination of time and bad atmosphere takes its toll in these twilight years, and we are left withering with our robot memories; we are decommissioned. But this does not make a difference for there are always replacements.
2008 wit 2010 addits
from the vault.
Monday 22 February 2010
Underground Lebanon...
You should've seen it. Israeli bombs were falling just down there, Ali pointed toward the port of Beirut, but we were still up here partying man, music blaring out. A sense of peace was found between those who saw through the lines of political divides, but the threat of stray bombs carried on.
Coming soon in Music.....
Coming soon in Music.....
Tuesday 2 February 2010
Sunny situations
Appearing in print and online in:
(27 may 2009)
Summer begins to set in and already it is scorching. The concrete of Abu Dhabi retains the heat like a greenhouse. The sun beats down relentlessly, the air is almost suffocating, and we’re still two months from August. Sometimes when I’m walking I swear the city smells like a sauna, but that could be dehydration deceiving my senses. Is that an oasis up ahead, or merely tarmac melting?
It is times like these that make or break a deodorant and I have always remained relatively loyal to my brand. It guarantees 24-hour protection. It claims to be an antiperspirant. I am told a heat-activated formula will not let me down. For the last several years it has served me well – especially after I gave up sport in pursuit of less healthy habits.
But that was in England, where the temperature rarely breaches the 20s. When it does, it is considered a heatwave and a health hazard. The government, like a loving nanny, issues warnings with the public’s best interest in mind: drink plenty of water, avoid the midday sun, look after the elderly. Families flock to beaches, swarms surround ice cream vans. Children caked in sun cream run riot, driven temporarily insane in this strange season that comes after spring.
As soon as the sun starts to shine, nearly everybody dons their summer gear, making the most of the weather because it will no doubt rain tomorrow. But here, the heat is guaranteed. I have been warned to expect a long summer spent indoors, moving from air-conditioned office to air-conditioned taxi to air-conditioned home. I have been told that many people leave the country.
But the English are used to entertaining themselves indoors because it rains through much of the year. When it rains people generally complain, but come the heatwave (the mercury soaring beyond 20°C), bitter mutters are heard over fish and chips beside a shingle beach: it’s too damn hot.
For a while after I moved to Abu Dhabi, the heat was bearable. Then the sweat began to show. In this climate there is little we can do to prepare for the inevitable except, maybe, drink lots of water and make sure the air-conditioning – and your deodorant – is working. Mine, however, no longer seems resistant to perspiration. In fact, it makes little difference. Puddles form as I wait for a taxi to go to work. I was initially disheartened but have now decided to search for a new and better brand. I have heard of another one that promises not to let me down, tested at 58°C, so they say. I wonder if it is being sold in the UAE.
(27 may 2009)
Summer begins to set in and already it is scorching. The concrete of Abu Dhabi retains the heat like a greenhouse. The sun beats down relentlessly, the air is almost suffocating, and we’re still two months from August. Sometimes when I’m walking I swear the city smells like a sauna, but that could be dehydration deceiving my senses. Is that an oasis up ahead, or merely tarmac melting?
It is times like these that make or break a deodorant and I have always remained relatively loyal to my brand. It guarantees 24-hour protection. It claims to be an antiperspirant. I am told a heat-activated formula will not let me down. For the last several years it has served me well – especially after I gave up sport in pursuit of less healthy habits.
But that was in England, where the temperature rarely breaches the 20s. When it does, it is considered a heatwave and a health hazard. The government, like a loving nanny, issues warnings with the public’s best interest in mind: drink plenty of water, avoid the midday sun, look after the elderly. Families flock to beaches, swarms surround ice cream vans. Children caked in sun cream run riot, driven temporarily insane in this strange season that comes after spring.
As soon as the sun starts to shine, nearly everybody dons their summer gear, making the most of the weather because it will no doubt rain tomorrow. But here, the heat is guaranteed. I have been warned to expect a long summer spent indoors, moving from air-conditioned office to air-conditioned taxi to air-conditioned home. I have been told that many people leave the country.
But the English are used to entertaining themselves indoors because it rains through much of the year. When it rains people generally complain, but come the heatwave (the mercury soaring beyond 20°C), bitter mutters are heard over fish and chips beside a shingle beach: it’s too damn hot.
For a while after I moved to Abu Dhabi, the heat was bearable. Then the sweat began to show. In this climate there is little we can do to prepare for the inevitable except, maybe, drink lots of water and make sure the air-conditioning – and your deodorant – is working. Mine, however, no longer seems resistant to perspiration. In fact, it makes little difference. Puddles form as I wait for a taxi to go to work. I was initially disheartened but have now decided to search for a new and better brand. I have heard of another one that promises not to let me down, tested at 58°C, so they say. I wonder if it is being sold in the UAE.
Village living in Lebanon
Appearing in print and online in:
The bus exits the highway, passing a checkpoint manned by one lethargic soldier, before beginning the winding ascent into the lush mountains of Shouf. The air cools as the road snakes its way up and around a banana plantation, palms sway in the breeze and shimmer under the sun.
Every volunteer who comes to work at the EcoVillage in Lebanon is told to expect hard work. If they do not muck in enthusiastically they may be asked to move on or remain as paying guests. But in return for six hours’ labour per day, volunteers are provided with food and accommodation, usually in shared tents of two or three. Once work is complete we are free to do as we please.
Tarek el Tayaro, operations manager, tells me that “it is the spirit of the volunteers we need, because the EcoVillage is a vision”. The EcoVillage was set up in 2005 by a small group of friends who all share the same passion for nature. It is a rural community attempting to live with nature, causing as little impact as possible on the environment by using alternative energy, ecological building and design, organic farming and more.
The vision is to create a sustainable future, living in a way that preserves our planet, as well as educating and inspiring others to do so. “We want to get everybody involved,” Tarek says, as long as they are tough and ready.
Jobs vary from anything as menial as wiping the linoleum covered tables clean of dead moths and other debris, to helping out on the organic farm. The idea is that, no matter what you do, you are taking part in a sustainable project that could last for generations to come.
On my second day I help to fill empty coffee bean bags with silt deposited by the river. This is done to reinforce existing dams and create new ones by diverting a larger volume of water down the canal that leads to the hydro-turbine.
Temperatures are high in the day, and working under the baking Mediterranean sun can become a personal test of endurance. However, working in the cool waters of the river, doing my best to avoid slippery rocks covered with algae, is both refreshing and cleansing. The water is so pure, I am told, it is used for drinking.
“The river here is the vein of the village. Without the river there is no village,” Tarek says. “We benefit from it in so many ways. It generates electricity for the village, it irrigates our crops and you can swim in it.”
Because of the river and the hydro-turbine, the village is immune to the daily power cuts that are part of the everyday routine in much of Lebanon.
“Any chemicals we use here are organic chemicals that have come from flowers and extracts from other plants. Sunflowers, for example, contain a natural chemical that drives away flies. The fertiliser comes from our compost box and the manure comes from our goats and chickens,” Tarek says.
For lunch we eat rice and Sri Lankan vegetarian curry, with vegetables harvested from the farm. It couldn’t be any fresher, and it tastes delicious. Meals vary from day to day. I enjoyed vegetable stews, curries and pies, and each day my stomach and taste buds were satisfied. No volunteer to date has complained about the cooking, Tarek informs me with a confident grin, and many volunteers have passed through, he says, unsure of the exact number.
When Jean-Paul, a Frenchman, returns to work at the village for a second time, we drive the Toyota pickup truck up the only dirt road leading out of the village to collect large logs that will be used as timber for a forthcoming project. We nearly take out a fledgling tree on the way down but it survives and we unload the wood near the kitchen, testing our physical strength.
“The EcoVillage is a chance to live and work in a sustainable way, one that could help preserve the future of the earth,” says Jean-Paul. “I have volunteered at other villages before. This one still has a few things to learn, but I find I can teach them a few things, and they can teach me a few things.” Ecovillages adapt as they develop, he says.
Volunteers who pass through the village come from different countries and backgrounds; it is a place where unlikely friendships can be made. Paul and I joke that we are bridging the gap between France and England, thawing ancient icy relations. Generally, volunteers tend to be like-minded, but an element of luck is involved concerning who you may end up with.
Summer is usually a busy period for the village but I came when it was quiet. This did not leave me with much to do after work, however. Although it is easy to laze away an entire afternoon swinging on a hammock beside the river, the sound of the rushing water soothing the soul, the EcoVillage is in an area worth exploring while the days are light.
Guided hikes can be arranged around the valley, home to various medieval ruins and military barracks left behind after the Second World War amidst thriving vegetation.
In most cases, lifts can be arranged to Dmit, the nearest village 15 minutes away, where regular buses run to Beitedeine, a pleasant village and home to a magnificent 19th century palace that goes by the same name. In the village of Deir al Qamar, about five kilometres from Beitedeine, is the 17th-century Palace of Fakhreddine, rebuilt in an Italian renaissance style and now housing a wax museum.
Service taxis can be found in Beitedeine near the palace. Although unlikely to run after dark, there should be drivers willing to take you back to Dmit, or on to Deir al Qamar. An annual festival runs through July and August in Beitedeine, featuring various international and Arabic performers.It is possible to negotiate a taxi from Beitedeine to the Shouf Cedar reserve (www.shoufcedar.org), and marvel at the splendour of Lebanon’s famed and endangered native trees, displayed proudly on the national flag.
The EcoVillage can take up to five volunteers at a time all year round, and people can book as late as one week in advance although they cannot be guaranteed a space. In winter, the temperature drops significantly, adding a new element to any outdoor manual labour. The typical length of stay is one week but, if seriousness is shown, people are welcome “as much as possible”, Tarek says.
The EcoVillage in Shouf, alongside hundreds of others around the globe, is a part of the Global Ecovillage Network, which proclaims on its website (http://gen.ecovillage.org) that “ecovillages are one solution to the major problems of our time ... According to increasing numbers of scientists, we have to learn to live sustainably if we are to survive as a species.”
“In the EcoVillage you can really feel that giving is beautiful. You feel that you have achieved with the people something that is good for the future of Mother Earth,” Fatina Khatib, the owner of the village, says. “It is a dream but we ask all our volunteers if they are tough and prepared for hard work.”
If you go:
(20 August 2009)
The bus exits the highway, passing a checkpoint manned by one lethargic soldier, before beginning the winding ascent into the lush mountains of Shouf. The air cools as the road snakes its way up and around a banana plantation, palms sway in the breeze and shimmer under the sun.Every volunteer who comes to work at the EcoVillage in Lebanon is told to expect hard work. If they do not muck in enthusiastically they may be asked to move on or remain as paying guests. But in return for six hours’ labour per day, volunteers are provided with food and accommodation, usually in shared tents of two or three. Once work is complete we are free to do as we please.
Tarek el Tayaro, operations manager, tells me that “it is the spirit of the volunteers we need, because the EcoVillage is a vision”. The EcoVillage was set up in 2005 by a small group of friends who all share the same passion for nature. It is a rural community attempting to live with nature, causing as little impact as possible on the environment by using alternative energy, ecological building and design, organic farming and more.
The vision is to create a sustainable future, living in a way that preserves our planet, as well as educating and inspiring others to do so. “We want to get everybody involved,” Tarek says, as long as they are tough and ready.
Jobs vary from anything as menial as wiping the linoleum covered tables clean of dead moths and other debris, to helping out on the organic farm. The idea is that, no matter what you do, you are taking part in a sustainable project that could last for generations to come.
On my second day I help to fill empty coffee bean bags with silt deposited by the river. This is done to reinforce existing dams and create new ones by diverting a larger volume of water down the canal that leads to the hydro-turbine.
Temperatures are high in the day, and working under the baking Mediterranean sun can become a personal test of endurance. However, working in the cool waters of the river, doing my best to avoid slippery rocks covered with algae, is both refreshing and cleansing. The water is so pure, I am told, it is used for drinking.
“The river here is the vein of the village. Without the river there is no village,” Tarek says. “We benefit from it in so many ways. It generates electricity for the village, it irrigates our crops and you can swim in it.”
Because of the river and the hydro-turbine, the village is immune to the daily power cuts that are part of the everyday routine in much of Lebanon.
“Any chemicals we use here are organic chemicals that have come from flowers and extracts from other plants. Sunflowers, for example, contain a natural chemical that drives away flies. The fertiliser comes from our compost box and the manure comes from our goats and chickens,” Tarek says.
For lunch we eat rice and Sri Lankan vegetarian curry, with vegetables harvested from the farm. It couldn’t be any fresher, and it tastes delicious. Meals vary from day to day. I enjoyed vegetable stews, curries and pies, and each day my stomach and taste buds were satisfied. No volunteer to date has complained about the cooking, Tarek informs me with a confident grin, and many volunteers have passed through, he says, unsure of the exact number.
When Jean-Paul, a Frenchman, returns to work at the village for a second time, we drive the Toyota pickup truck up the only dirt road leading out of the village to collect large logs that will be used as timber for a forthcoming project. We nearly take out a fledgling tree on the way down but it survives and we unload the wood near the kitchen, testing our physical strength.
“The EcoVillage is a chance to live and work in a sustainable way, one that could help preserve the future of the earth,” says Jean-Paul. “I have volunteered at other villages before. This one still has a few things to learn, but I find I can teach them a few things, and they can teach me a few things.” Ecovillages adapt as they develop, he says.
Volunteers who pass through the village come from different countries and backgrounds; it is a place where unlikely friendships can be made. Paul and I joke that we are bridging the gap between France and England, thawing ancient icy relations. Generally, volunteers tend to be like-minded, but an element of luck is involved concerning who you may end up with.
Summer is usually a busy period for the village but I came when it was quiet. This did not leave me with much to do after work, however. Although it is easy to laze away an entire afternoon swinging on a hammock beside the river, the sound of the rushing water soothing the soul, the EcoVillage is in an area worth exploring while the days are light.
Guided hikes can be arranged around the valley, home to various medieval ruins and military barracks left behind after the Second World War amidst thriving vegetation.
In most cases, lifts can be arranged to Dmit, the nearest village 15 minutes away, where regular buses run to Beitedeine, a pleasant village and home to a magnificent 19th century palace that goes by the same name. In the village of Deir al Qamar, about five kilometres from Beitedeine, is the 17th-century Palace of Fakhreddine, rebuilt in an Italian renaissance style and now housing a wax museum.
Service taxis can be found in Beitedeine near the palace. Although unlikely to run after dark, there should be drivers willing to take you back to Dmit, or on to Deir al Qamar. An annual festival runs through July and August in Beitedeine, featuring various international and Arabic performers.It is possible to negotiate a taxi from Beitedeine to the Shouf Cedar reserve (www.shoufcedar.org), and marvel at the splendour of Lebanon’s famed and endangered native trees, displayed proudly on the national flag.
The EcoVillage can take up to five volunteers at a time all year round, and people can book as late as one week in advance although they cannot be guaranteed a space. In winter, the temperature drops significantly, adding a new element to any outdoor manual labour. The typical length of stay is one week but, if seriousness is shown, people are welcome “as much as possible”, Tarek says.
The EcoVillage in Shouf, alongside hundreds of others around the globe, is a part of the Global Ecovillage Network, which proclaims on its website (http://gen.ecovillage.org) that “ecovillages are one solution to the major problems of our time ... According to increasing numbers of scientists, we have to learn to live sustainably if we are to survive as a species.”
“In the EcoVillage you can really feel that giving is beautiful. You feel that you have achieved with the people something that is good for the future of Mother Earth,” Fatina Khatib, the owner of the village, says. “It is a dream but we ask all our volunteers if they are tough and prepared for hard work.”
If you go:
The place: The EcoVillage (www.ecoecovillage.com) is just outside Beirut, in Shouf where regular buses run from Cola.
To book, email ecovillage1@gmail.com, or telephone 00 961 3211 463 up to one week before arrival ]
The package: Volunteers stay and eat free of charge in return for six hours’ labour per day of their stay. Otherwise, guests are asked to pay for their food ($15; Dh55 per meal) and acommodation. A bed in a tent costs US$10 (Dh36) and a bed in a cottage costs from $20 (Dh73) per night
New in News: Links to articles published in The National, an English Language newspaper based in the United Arab Emirates.
Most these stories were researched and pitched by reporter Mr Rolandi, save the collaborative articles. The national desk editors received a complaint from international security firm G4S regarding Rolandi. A spokesperson for Group 4 Securicor phoned the national newsdesk citing that Rolandi had used disrespectful and offensive language toward the CEO of G4S Middle East and North African operations in an interview, RBL was informed. This allegation is not true. Rolandi was merely inquiring into the system in place for recruiting an overseas workforce from countries such as Bangladesh, Pakistan, and India. Never did he lose his cool, nor did his mouth spout offensive words. He asked simple questions regarding the firm's lower-end employees, he told me.
Some of the G4S employees Mr Rolandi met had been working in Abu Dhabi for over two years in shared accomodation and still had not paid back their debt to various recruitment agencies that facillitated their labour emigration. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Recruitment agencies refused to comment, but Rolandi was invited to the office of the CEO for a frank discussion.
Broke as he was, Rolandi walked through the sweltering desert heat to make his appointment in time, soaked in sweat.
Over coffee and cigarettes, the CEO claimed he did not know these practices were in place, that some of his employees hardly retained a penny they earned likening them to 21st century examples of economic slaves. He said an investigation would take place, but Rolandi left the UAE shortly after and was unable to follow-up this story.
The National editors advised him to discontinue research on this particular story, encouraging him to focus on smaller fish for the time being, congratulating his efforts thus far but acknowledging that there was no way little old Rolandi could hold to account a mighty corporation with its entangled branches of business... He must've ruffled some feathers, however, for the complaint came laden with panic. An editor passed on the news with a knowing smile. One can only assume he was barking up the right tree, but for the truth of this story to come to light the reporter would have to head to the source with guide and translator, and some sort of knowledge of local laws...
(For the record, G4S's benchmark model of accomodation based in the labour camp area just outside of Dubai is top-notch, with many facillities designed to keep the workforce content.)
Rubble out.
Most these stories were researched and pitched by reporter Mr Rolandi, save the collaborative articles. The national desk editors received a complaint from international security firm G4S regarding Rolandi. A spokesperson for Group 4 Securicor phoned the national newsdesk citing that Rolandi had used disrespectful and offensive language toward the CEO of G4S Middle East and North African operations in an interview, RBL was informed. This allegation is not true. Rolandi was merely inquiring into the system in place for recruiting an overseas workforce from countries such as Bangladesh, Pakistan, and India. Never did he lose his cool, nor did his mouth spout offensive words. He asked simple questions regarding the firm's lower-end employees, he told me.
Some of the G4S employees Mr Rolandi met had been working in Abu Dhabi for over two years in shared accomodation and still had not paid back their debt to various recruitment agencies that facillitated their labour emigration. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Recruitment agencies refused to comment, but Rolandi was invited to the office of the CEO for a frank discussion.
Broke as he was, Rolandi walked through the sweltering desert heat to make his appointment in time, soaked in sweat.
Over coffee and cigarettes, the CEO claimed he did not know these practices were in place, that some of his employees hardly retained a penny they earned likening them to 21st century examples of economic slaves. He said an investigation would take place, but Rolandi left the UAE shortly after and was unable to follow-up this story.
The National editors advised him to discontinue research on this particular story, encouraging him to focus on smaller fish for the time being, congratulating his efforts thus far but acknowledging that there was no way little old Rolandi could hold to account a mighty corporation with its entangled branches of business... He must've ruffled some feathers, however, for the complaint came laden with panic. An editor passed on the news with a knowing smile. One can only assume he was barking up the right tree, but for the truth of this story to come to light the reporter would have to head to the source with guide and translator, and some sort of knowledge of local laws...
(For the record, G4S's benchmark model of accomodation based in the labour camp area just outside of Dubai is top-notch, with many facillities designed to keep the workforce content.)
Rubble out.
A Life Juxtaposition: Crowstick music flips fiction
Appearing in RELEVANTBCN.com
Crowstick could be a schizophrenic, a madman fleeing down the street while the masses scream "somebody section the rascal, quick!" Trying to lynch the fucker and lobotomise him because perhaps he struck a deep chord with his multi-faceted lyrics. Lucky for some, his voice is not that far-reaching at present unless he's been secretly communicating to the world telepathically from the safety of his west London lair. Lucky for others he can be found on the internet...His beats, courtesy of himself and the likes of blood brother The Grimm Hermit, Burning Man, and electronic label blbx (www.myspace.com/blbx), are refreshing, reminiscent of UK Hip Hop's poetical glory days but taking things forward, evolving the sound then looping it back in time so that it defies linear time laws and never loses its roots, like a conscious mind moving into the future aware of some knowledge intangibly acquired from an ancient past.
“Crowstick has evolved over the years as my exaggerated alter ego. He’s become a sick-twisted fellow who likes to travel into further dimensions,” the madman says.
“I am inspired by life experiences. I have also become very influenced by DMT and other psychedelic experiences.” He has ingested molecular structures that are not to be taken lightly. DMT, released by the human brain at both birth and death, sold to Crowstick by strange chemists in English forests, is arguably the strongest hallucinogenic around supposedly revealing to the mind a timeless spiritual world.
“Other inspirations include books such as ‘the Holographic universe’ by Michael Talbot, and thinkers/writers/lecturers such as Terence McKenna, John Harris, Carlos Castaneda and old Ickey boy (to name only a few). I felt a real awakening in my second year at Leeds after reading ‘The Divine Matrix’ by Greg Braden.”
The stories that spawn from his head to be spat out in steady rhythms come from somewhere beyond, Crowstick tells me, but he is not sure where. Perhaps there are multiple sources. Like Terence Mckenna’s vision of the artist as a shaman, Crowstick’s mind occasionally slips away from this grounded concrete path into realms of the unknown. He returns and tells us all about life as a gigolo who fell in love with a client in “Here comes the train to smash my brain” (Killer Crow EP). Or he’ll wax lyrical more universal daring to insinuate that Space is bigger than we think. Bling will only feature to be mocked.
Like a romantic he has faith in the different perceptions of an open mind, an impression reflected in his recent November production; “Open Up the Brain Shutters”(In La’kech EP) with an opening note that zips the brain into a mirror of our universe where Crowstick tokes on broccoli before travelling space and time, haunted briefly by perverted pixies and demons. He addresses what is wrong with this world; discrepancies many of us already know living our lives beneath an institution trying to prop itself up on credit invisible and weightless, valuing our freedom.
“I do not decide what to write, the subject is never predetermined. I think that maybe my body is only a vessel through which the words and rhymes are transmitted. I just put on a beat and see what comes out,” he said. “Why I write? Just for the pure need of having to create. If it weren’t music, it would be something else, like art.”
Some of his music is not for the fainthearted, perhaps it should come with a mental health warning. “Tales From A Warped Mind EP” NOT SUITABLE FOR UNSTABLE KIDDIES. Some tunes may require a pinch of salt. His ideas can be far out, man, his little ditties twisted. But you don’t need to agree, these ideas could be of another world expressed in a language that tried to take over the planet (thankfully expression is still fairly free for now in England, otherwise there’d be a whole spectrum of artists persecuted or in prison for their thinking.)
www.reverbnation.com/crowstick
The stories that spawn from his head to be spat out in steady rhythms come from somewhere beyond, Crowstick tells me, but he is not sure where. Perhaps there are multiple sources. Like Terence Mckenna’s vision of the artist as a shaman, Crowstick’s mind occasionally slips away from this grounded concrete path into realms of the unknown. He returns and tells us all about life as a gigolo who fell in love with a client in “Here comes the train to smash my brain” (Killer Crow EP). Or he’ll wax lyrical more universal daring to insinuate that Space is bigger than we think. Bling will only feature to be mocked.Like a romantic he has faith in the different perceptions of an open mind, an impression reflected in his recent November production; “Open Up the Brain Shutters”(In La’kech EP) with an opening note that zips the brain into a mirror of our universe where Crowstick tokes on broccoli before travelling space and time, haunted briefly by perverted pixies and demons. He addresses what is wrong with this world; discrepancies many of us already know living our lives beneath an institution trying to prop itself up on credit invisible and weightless, valuing our freedom.
“I do not decide what to write, the subject is never predetermined. I think that maybe my body is only a vessel through which the words and rhymes are transmitted. I just put on a beat and see what comes out,” he said. “Why I write? Just for the pure need of having to create. If it weren’t music, it would be something else, like art.”
Some of his music is not for the fainthearted, perhaps it should come with a mental health warning. “Tales From A Warped Mind EP” NOT SUITABLE FOR UNSTABLE KIDDIES. Some tunes may require a pinch of salt. His ideas can be far out, man, his little ditties twisted. But you don’t need to agree, these ideas could be of another world expressed in a language that tried to take over the planet (thankfully expression is still fairly free for now in England, otherwise there’d be a whole spectrum of artists persecuted or in prison for their thinking.)
www.reverbnation.com/crowstick
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