Unbelievable, Untranslatable Words

Here is a short list of non-english words which carry such specific meanings that they cannot be translated into English. Very interesting read.

Bakku-shan

Language: Japanese

Here is another great Japanese word with no English equivalent (though I am sure someone can come up with one in the comments). Bakku-shan is the word for a girl who looks pretty from behind but ugly in front. I can’t find out whether they have a word for the reverse situation, or for that other frighteningly common problem these days, where you think a girl looks good from behind only to discover that she is a he! Modern fashion has a lot to answer for!

 

Biritululo

Language: Kiriwani (Papa New Guinea)

It is the act of comparing yams (potato-like vegetable) to settle a dispute.

 

Cafuné

Language: Portuguese

The act of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair. (Altalang.com)

Dépaysement

Language: French

The feeling that comes from not being in one’s home country.

 

Duende

Language: Spanish

While originally used to describe a mythical, sprite-like entity that possesses humans and creates the feeling of awe of one’s surroundings in nature, its meaning has transitioned into referring to the mysterious power that a work of art has to deeply move a person. (Altalang.com)

 

Esprit d’Escalier

Language: French

That witty comeback that you think of moments after leaving the situation in which you might have been able to use it. The staircase is a reference to your departure from the scene. This is a dreadful thing to experience, and most of the time we don’t get a chance to say the clever thing we come up with. Now, someone just needs to coin a term for the person who is so clever that he always says the right thing, without fail.

 

Forelsket

Language: Norwegian

The euphoria you experience when you’re first falling in love.

This is a wonderful term for that blissful state, when all your senses are acute for the beloved, the pins and needles thrill of the novelty. There’s a phrase in English for this, but it’s clunky. It’s New Relationship Energy, or NRE.

 

Hyggelig

Language: Danish

The complete absence of anything annoying, irritating or emotionally overwhelming, and the presence of and pleasure from comforting, gentle and soothing things. It is especially associated with Christmas time, grilling Danish sausage on long summer evenings and sitting around lit candles on a rainy night.

 

Ilunga

Language: Tshiluba / Bantu (Southwest Congo)

A word famous for its untranslatability, most professional translators pinpoint it as the stature of a person who is ready to forgive and forget any first abuse, tolerate it the second time, but never forgive nor tolerate on the third offense. (Altalang.com) It’s the “three strikes and you’re out” policy. In 2004, it had the sole distinction of being chosen as the world’s most difficult word to translate.

 

Iktsuarpok

Language: Inuit

To go outside to check if anyone is coming. (Altalang.com)

 

Jayus

Language: Indonesian

A joke so poorly told and so unfunny that one cannot help but laugh. (Altalang.com)

 

Koi No Yokan

Language: Japanese

The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall into love. This is different than love at first sight, since it implies that you might have a sense of imminent love, somewhere down the road, without yet feeling it. The term captures the intimation of inevitable love in the future, rather than the instant attraction implied by love at first sight.

 

Kyoikumama

Language: Japanese

A mother who relentlessly pushes her children toward academic achievement. (Altalang.com) No doubt we are all familiar with the stereotype of Japanese mothers who push their children far too hard when it comes to schoolwork. Literally translated this means “education mother”.

 

La Douleur Exquise

Language: French

The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have.

When I came across this word I thought of unrequited love. It’s not quite the same, though. Unrequited love describes a relationship state, but not a state of mind. Unrequited love encompasses the lover who isn’t reciprocating, as well as the lover who desires. This phrase gets at the emotional heartache, specifically, of being the one whose love is unreciprocated.

 

L’appel du vide

Language: French

‘The call of the void’ is this French expression’s literal translation, but more significantly it’s used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places.

 

Litost

Language: Czech

Milan Kundera, author of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, remarked that As for the meaning of this word, I have looked in vain in other languages for an equivalent, though I find it difficult to imagine how anyone can understand the human soul without it.The closest definition is a state of agony and torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.

 

Mamihlapinatapai

Language: Yagan (Tierra del Fuego)

The wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start. (Altalang.com) Oh yes, this is an exquisite word, compressing a thrilling and scary relationship moment. It’s that delicious, “on the edge” moment of imminent seduction. Neither of you has mustered the courage to make a move, yet. Hands haven’t been placed on knees; you’ve not kissed. But you’ve both conveyed enough to know that it will happen soon very soon.

 

Prozvonit

Language: Czech

This word means to call a mobile phone and let it ring once so that the other person will call back, saving the first caller money. (Altalang.com)

 

Qualunquismo

Language: Italian

Are you one of those people who really don’t care all that much about politics and issues in society? Then this word applies to you. The term came from a political party in Italy, in 1944, which promoted anti-political feelings and a mistrust of public organizations. The party was called the “Fronte dell’Uomo Qualunque” or the front of the ordinary man. Rather appropriate considering how many people obviously feel this way about politics as is evidenced by the low voter turnouts that we often see in elections.

 

Retrouvailles

Language: French

The happiness of meeting someone again after a long time. This is such a basic concept, and so familiar to the growing ranks of commuter relationships, or to a relationship of lovers, who see each other only periodically for intense bursts of pleasure. I’m surprised we don’t have any equivalent word for this subset of relationship bliss. It’s a handy one for modern life.

 

Saudade

Language: Portuguese

One of the most beautiful of all words, translatable or not, this word refers to the feeling of painful longing for something or someone that you love and which is lost. Fado music, a type of mournful singing, relates to this word. (Altalang.com) Another linguist describes it as a “vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist.”

 

Schadenfreude

Language: German

Quite famous for its meaning that somehow other languages neglected to recognize, this refers to the feeling of pleasure derived by seeing another’s misfortune.

 

Tartle

Language: Scottish

The act of hesitating while introducing someone because you’ve forgotten his or her name. (Altalang.com)

 

Tingo

Language: Pascuense (Easter Island)

Hopefully this isn’t a word you’d need often: the act of taking objects one desires from the house of a friend by gradually borrowing all of them. (Altalang.com)

 

Torschlusspanik

Language: German

Translated literally, this word means gate-closing panic, but its contextual meaning refers to the fear of diminishing opportunities as one ages. (Altalang.com)

 

Toska

Language: Russian

Vladmir Nabokov describes it best: No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.

 

Uitwaaien

Language: Dutch

It means to walk in the wind, but in the more figurative (and commonly used) sense, it means to take a brief break in the countryside to clear one’s head. It is amazing that one word needs so many in English to make the same sense.

 

Wabi-Sabi

Language: Japanese

Much has been written on this Japanese concept, but in a sentence, one might be able to understand it as a way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay.(Altalang.com)

 

Ya ‘aburnee

Language: Arabic

Both morbid and beautiful at once, this incantatory word means ‘You bury me’. It is a declaration of one’s hope that they’ll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them. It’s the sickly sincere “How Could I Live Without You?” in Arabic.

 

Yuanfen

Language: Chinese

A relationship by fate or destiny. This is a complex concept. It draws on principles of predetermination in Chinese culture, which dictate relationships, encounters and affinities, mostly among lovers and friends. From what I glean, in common usage this word means the “binding force” that links two people together in any relationship. But interestingly, fate isn’t the same thing as destiny. Even if lovers are fated to find each other they may not end up together. The proverb, have fate without destiny, describes couples who meet, but who don’t stay together, for whatever reason. It’s interesting, to distinguish in love between the fated and the destined. Romantic comedies, of course, confound the two.

 

Zalatwic

Language: Polish

It is the use of friends, bribes, personal charm or connections to get something done. This was particularly useful in the days of communism, as it was easier to get something you wanted through guile as opposed to official means.

–

Sources:

The source for all of this post comes from these great sources.

 

 

 

Filed Under: Dynamic Content Gallery, Personal Growth, World Travel


Tools For Travel

I travel and work, full-time. Not everyone does. I am a software developer and am very comfortable with technology. Not everyone is. As you plan for travels, the tools you use may be far different than mine.

Many things help me save time and be comfortable as a Location Independent Professional (LIP). Below is a list of the ‘tools’ I love.

Assumptions

I have no home and carry 100% of my annual needs in 2 bags. One is 20kg and one is 12 kg, give or take a few kg.  When I fly budget airlines, with baggage weight restrictions) I ‘wear’ some of the weight during the flight. Once I’m settle in a location, I stow my big bag and use my small bag as a day pack (water, snacks, computer, reading material, whatever…)

Philosophy

Long term travel generally ends for 2 reasons rather than when you want it to end; It ends because of time or because of money money.  Those on a limited budget will often take the long and cheap solution to solve a travel problem. Others will take the quick and more expensive solution. If you have no responsibilities which require you to return ‘back home’ and you work while you travel, then the trip ends for a 3rd reason – when you want it to end.

  • Consume little, spend little. Lower your overhead and your negative affect on your surrounding. Two big advices; use cheaper dormitory hostels, avoid taxis, and watch your alcohol budget.
  • Be generous, earn a lot. Increase your output. Put your ‘all’ into everything. If working, work smarter not harder.
  • Be curious and patient.

Baggage (Tips & Tips)

  • 65 Liter Night-pack – Wear it on your back. You carry it to your next hotel/hostal/apt and then it becomes your ‘closet’.  Use TSA-approved combination padlocks for all openings.
  • Day Pack – Wear it on your front or back. Comfortable, school-sized pack large enough for your computer.  Use combination padlocks for one (often hidden) passport compartment.
  • Clothes – Flip-flops, hiking boots w/ 3 socks, 7 underwear, 2 short button-down with chest pockets, 2 t-shirts, 1 cargo shorts (convertible to pants), 1 jeans, 1 swimsuit.
  • Toiletries - Shampoo, body wash, toothpaste, toothbrush, skin lotion, sun lotion, deodorant, good electric razor, hair gel.

Software / Services

  • Electronic Calendar – Set a reminder 1 time per month to check all your banking/finances. Set other reminders too.
  • 2 Credit Cards & 2 Debit Cards – with online banking. Use credit cards for purchases, connect all possible bills to be deducted from CREDIT cards. Pay monthly via checking accounts. Use debit cards for all ATM transactions. Having 2 of each is good for backup. Plan to call them before reaching new countries to authorize use.
  • Mint.com (Free) –  Check your balances online easily.
  • Paytrust.com (or Similar) – Accept and pay credit card bills here. Pay other bills, mail paper checks to people who need it.
  • Xoom.com – Great for international direct deposit (bank to bank) payments. This service may only be needed by entrepreneurs paying subcontractors.
  • 1 Work, 1 Personal, 1 Junk Email Address – Connect all to ONE email client (Mac Mail or similar) – When you must give an email to sign up to a website, use the junk address.
  • Facebook.com – One location to mass-communicate and post photos.
  • AwayFind.com – This freemium service allows incoming URGENT messages (email) which you deem most important (family, friends, partners, keywords, etc…) to be sent to your iPhone/Home phone/Email/Twitter/Etc… so you can resist checking your inbox incessantly.

Gadgets

  • 15″ MacBook Pro – I like that screen size. MAC or PC is cool. Whatever you like. Buy insurance for all your gadgets.
  • iTouch 32GB – For the MANY when you want to check email, watch videos, and listen to music without carrying your computer or for after your computer’s battery dies. I do not recommend an iPad. Its either an oversized iTouch or an underpowered computer depending on how you think about it.
  • Amazon Kindle with Global, Free 3G (Black and White Screen) – Paper books draw less attention, but otherwise the kindle is far far better. Don’t read ebooks with an eye-tiring color screen.
  • Cords – You will need at least an iTouch USB cable, Kindle USB cable, computer power cable, good earbud headphones, and a power adapter.

Staff

  • Tax Accountant – Unless you enjoy filing taxes, find one person who is email accessible to file for you and handle any issues.
  • Book Keeper – Unless you enjoy sending invoices and following clients, have someone do it for you. This service may only be needed by entrepreneurs paying subcontractors and being paid by clients.

 

 

Filed Under: World Travel


India’s Highs and Hip Massages

While on an 8 week consulting project in Copenhagen, Denmark, I had the opportunity to extend the contract and deliver my software architecture to the offices of my client’s outsource vendor in India. This team would be doing the bulk of the work on the project. I jumped at the opportunity.

I flew to India for the final week of my contract. I was there to train-up a small team and get them started. After the gig, then take a little time to see India before returning to Denmark to explore Scandinavia for a week or two then return to the States.

When signing onto projects I try to keep enough personal time in the plan to enjoy new countries and new cities.  Here was no exception.  When offered to work in Denmark I planned for 8 weeks work and 3 weeks play.  That flexibility paid off as I could now play a little in India too.

After a successful week of work in Ahmadabad, my clients delighted “I wish we could invite you back in a month to check in, but we can’t afford to fly you from the States”.

“If you are serious”, I instinctively replied, “I’ll check my schedule and just stay in the country longer”.  I did just that.  Returning 5 weeks later, I worked another intense 6 day week.  Adjusting my flights for the 3rd time, I stayed a second full month. My stay in India went from 1 week to about 8 or 9 weeks.

During the first furlough I traveled from Ahmadabad by plane to Mumbai.  There I got on a train for 14 hours to Goa.  I beached along with packs of wild cows, and took a slow boat down lazy mangrove-lined rivers.  I saw the whole coast in small chunks – all the way down to Kanyakumari, the bottom of the v-shape of India outline.

During my second furlough, I explored to the north.  The state of Rajastan contained most of the marvels of the typical westerners’ trip to India.  The famous ‘Golden Triangle’ of tourism covers three captivating cities of the country; ­Delhi (the capital of India), Agra (the city of Taj Mahal) and Jaipur (the land of Rajput kings).  I sped through overcrowded and extra shady Delhi, skipped the one-trick-pony Agra (home of the Taj Mahal and not much else), and went west to Jaipur.  In Jaipur and the surrounding cities, I explored desert temples, golden fortresses, and camel safaris.

While in Jaipur settling into my hostel, I chanced upon some new adventure.  Hostels are social hubs for travel, essential to adventure.  I’d done quite a bit of travel in my life before ever staying in hostels.  In my experience ‘hostel’ were ‘bad hotels’ in Europe – meant for struggling young travelers.  A substitute when budget can’t include a hotel room.  However with more time, I saw that hostel-stays offer a decidedly different way to travel.

The First Encounter

Hostels in India ranged around $USD 8 to $USD 20 per-person per-bed per-nite.  Beds are in shared rooms, with a locking locker for your bed.  If you are lucky, there is an old slow computer with internet and a long line of travelers waiting to use it.  I paid the front desk at [I FORGET THE HOSTEL NAME], locked my bag in my room and went to the internet room.  Sitting down on a antique-looking daybed, I smiled a hello to the girl using one of the 3 computers.  In hostels, luckily, English is the language of choice. Not just in India but worldwide. (This would later prove frustrating when trying to study new, local languages.)  However there is an awkwardness where you don’t know for sure what language a given hosteler knows, so you just nod and say the universal ‘hey’ rather than start a longer conversation.  At least that’s often my M.O.  A guy walked in with a more gregarious disposition and proceeded to evangelize his previous evening’s dining experience to all who would hear it.

“Choki Dhani is a cultural center and a restaurant.  Its quite cheap and worth a look”.  Me and internet girl exchanged glances and nods.  The departing travelers advice helped spark a conversation.  Three hours later she and I were off via ‘Tuktuk’ taxi on a ride to dinner.  Sascha was British and returning home after a year or so working in Australia.  She worked in music and much later gave me a copy of her huge collection of 16000 MP3′s, which still entertain me today.  We traded stories about travel, after an hour we were well beyond the compulsory “What country are you from?”,  “Where have you been on this trip?”, and  “How long are you traveling?”.  We explored this cultural center.

Chokri Dani is a walled dinner theater with 10 stages of various levels of pomp from magicians with 3 viewers, to musicians, jugglers, and snake charmers.  We put our name in for dinner and walked around.  There are times when I am filled with excitement and expectation after meeting a new friend.  Here I was happy to meet Sascha, but wasn’t “trying anything” and neither was she.  We were both rather standoffish I guess.  Weeks later she told me a comment or two in particular really intrigued her like my “Life is really amazing and I’m lucky to live it”.  She was cute and smart and funny (in the classically dry sense).

Meeting Again

Sascha and I traded a few emails. We would be in Udaipur at the same time so we arranged to meet again. I arrived at [I FORGET THE HOSTEL NAME] first and booked us a room. We met on the rooftop for drinks later.

The view from the rooftop of the hostel was gorgeous. A restaurant served food and drinks, music played to a few dozen travelers seated in sofas, large lounge-beds, and traditional dining tables. The second night we’d met a group of Swiss who played music and told great stories. We made a habit of meeting each night that week on the rooftop to discuss our days adventures – whether spent together or apart. That week I was writing an article for a client’s magazine, so I saw a bit more of the rooftop (and my computer that week). I sent my new friends out on adventures during the day while I was ‘at the office’. On the 3rd night, we met a new friend as well.

Gabor, a 20-something from Hungary, approached our lounge area. He introduced himself bending left and right, stretching to show his new-found flexibility. “I have not been able to move like this for 15 years”. He continued, “My doctors told me my back condition was fragile, and any masseuse would likely hurt the situation.” I forget the particulars of his condition, but at that moment he seems perfectly normal and especially happy about it. He explained that Udaipur had a master masseuse who he’d learned of and sought out. Finishing just two sessions, this man had cured him.

Sascha and I immediately became interested, and the next day we went for a session.

The ‘Miracle’ Worker

After some meandering we found the masseuses office on [I FORGET THE STREET NAME]. The master, was in his 50′s and dressed in western clothes. He had dirty denim on denim fashion sense and a long grey pony tail. “Yes, I was able to help your fiend Gabor, and today I can help you. There is only one of me, so who will be first.” We agreed I’d hit the internet cafe and return within the hour.

I walked back in with a few fresh print-outs of my return flight to Europe and looked up as Sascha and the master descending the stairs. She was flushed. White and reddish patches on her face and neck, and she had a seeming calmness (or exhaustion) in her expression.

He continued to sell “So if you want to return tomorrow for that second session…”, she interrupted politely “No I think I will be leaving the city, thanks again.” She signed his guest book, paid, and took-off with little explanation. The master and I walked up the stairs to begin my session.

On the second flight of the stairs, we looked out a bay window in his simple, yet large office building. Regulars on the street looked up as we passed the window. “Every time I go up these stairs, they know I make $40. These people give me bad stairs. Indians don’t want to see Indians make success.” Sad. Another one of the endless examples in India of this ‘spiritual people’ disappointing me and my maligned expectations.

We walked into the massage room. I was struck by how stark it was. Four walls. White. Windowless. No decorations, no furniture, not a single thing, except a mattress in the center of the small room. A bare mattress. No sheets, towels, pillows, nothing.

Should I be “naked’ or “naked-naked” (the latter meaning no underwear). “Naked-naked”, the master replied. This was not uncommon. In my previous massages in the country this was quasi-normal. However the normality ended there.

As I disrobed, peeling my pants out from under my heels, I saw from the corner of my eye – something new. Never before had I seen – while I was taking off my clothes, the masseur was taking of his. I had a brief moment of concern that was mentally-masked by the possibility of a good story to tell (if I would live to tell it).

“Back or stomach,” I asked.

“On stomach”. Face-down on an un-sheeted mattress, he climbed on top. I could ‘tell’ he was naked. He began to whisper to himself (a very common part of Indian massages. He touched my spine three times with two-fingers pressed to together.

“Vertebrae 5, 7, and 11 are out of alignment..” he diagnosed. I thought great, let’s get started, with hasty disbelief. The following hour was “Indian Massage”. An application of oils in fast movements up and down each limb. The oils smelled good and felt warm on the skin. At times he performed acupressure, pinches of muscle, joints, and bone. The motions were ho-hum worthlessly not enjoyable at times and painful at others. Three times I was at the threshold of asking for lighter pressure, but didn’t say anything. After quite some time, I felt like I was there humoring him as compared to all my previous massages this was less than rewarding.

During the massage he talked only a small bit. He mentioned continued diagnoses and a few things here and there. From back to stomach I was completely oiled up. Upon the completion he instructed, “Stand Up, we are finished”. Or something to that affect.

The moment I stood up, I felt like never before. Spine in perfect alignment. I felt ‘taller’ by an inch or 2. This feeling would last all day. I could not help but have awkwardly perfect posture, like I was putting it on for show. Nothing strange or inappropriate happened (to me). The pleasure-during vs. after-effect was flipped on its head compared to the normal massage.

That Night on the Rooftop

That night I reconvened with my friends atop the hostel. We were quested about the massage the first moment Sascha and I had sat down by the curious group. We hadn’t discussed it together yet. We both politely nodded “It was good.” I leaned to Sascha to ask “Wasn’t it weird when he took his clothes off?”

“He didn’t take his clothes off for me”, she giggled. My embarrassment was curtailed by her continuing… “But when he first laid me down, he began to whisper and touched by back just 3 times.”

“Yes, me too.”

“He immediately knew that I had pelvic problems, I hadn’t explained a thing and he told me all about it. Its because one of my legs is just a touch longer than the other. Been an issue in sports all my life.”

“Oh…”

“During the massage he said he could fix it, but only with a second session.” Seeing the masseuses attempt at bilking a bit more money, she negated. “Couldn’t we do it today, I may not be in town after tonight”, she lied. He refused.

When descending the stairs – the exact moment I had entered to see her flushed and red in the face, he’d asked. “Look, I can fix the problems with your hips. I didn’t want to mention it during the massage as it makes some people uncomfortable.”

“What?” She’d asked.

“Well I can fix that problem, but I want you to know I’ll have to put my fingers in your ass.” She refused, and fled before saying a word to me.

For another week of traveling together we had an inside joke. Crossing the room, one of us would ask the other, “Are your hips alright? Do you need a little help?”

Filed Under: Dynamic Content Gallery, India, World Travel


64.5 Ways Location Independent People Earn a Living

By Corbett, originally published on FreePursuits.com

Have you ever wondered how you could earn a living that would allow you to live and work anywhere in the world? Many people already living that dream shared the details of how they make a living in the recent Location Independent and Digital Nomad Survey.

64 of their answers are below. The results might surprise you if you thought location independent people were all bloggers or online business owners.

The truth is that these people earn a living in many different ways. Sure, there are plenty of freelance writers, consultants and web developers, but there are also professional musicians, lobbyists and land developers on the list.

Check out these 64.5 real ways people earn a location independent living:

  1. Database consulting for MySQL
  2. Sales (other peoples’ products)
  3. Public affairs and public relations working in digital engagement
  4. Updating blogs and ghostwriting
  5. Through coaching and consulting, by helping expats and diplomats cope with homesickness and culture shock, staying focused on their goals and overcoming the emotional and motivational challenges of expat life
  6. As a music composer and sound designer along with running an audio production company
  7. Website design and audio engineering
  8. Through a business that produces ready-made newsletters, sold online to people cross North America
  9. Graphic design for a Fortune 500 company
  10. As a freelance writer, involving blogging, copywriting, ghost writing and article and e-book writing
  11. Affiliate marketing
  12. Software development, end user support, training, documentation, database management, project management, technical marketing & strategy and producing travel content
  13. As a self-employed webmaster, blogger and travel writer
  14. Communications strategy consulting and content development
  15. Running a yacht charter company
  16. Professional poker player
  17. Freelance script writer and script doctor
  18. Online community manager, community consultant and entrepreneur
  19. Translation and related language services
  20. Instructional designer and consultant for large businesses
  21. Reporting, copywriting, and marketing consultation
  22. Project Manager for an electronic medical records software company
  23. Geographical information analysis for research institutions
  24. Consulting services for organizational development
  25. Selling information products and coaching
  26. IT project management and regulatory compliance
  27. Web development
  28. Senior consultant for a large data services/hardware company
  29. Customer service manager for online software company
  30. Website design and management with 2 major contracts
  31. Sales (conducting phone sales with Skype to contacts in the US)
  32. Market research
  33. Writing for other people, recording conferences and audio programs and selling “stuff” on-line
  34. Web developer
  35. IT systems design and software implementation
  36. Creating websites to sell online niche products
  37. Freelance translation of technical documents
  38. Working as a full time employee at home for a major IT company
  39. Through three websites and some freelance design work
  40. Building blogs and websites for small companies and social media consulting
  41. International airline/aviation consultant and lobbyist
  42. Land development and consulting
  43. Affiliate marketing manager and digital marketing consulting
  44. Through recurring income from web hosting and support contracts
  45. Adjunct professor specializing in online learning (teaching and designing online courses)
  46. Consulting, training and coaching in the fields of new ways of working and information worker performance
  47. Professional musician
  48. Public relations for creative (advertising, marketing, PR, design) firms
  49. Working for a publisher (writing, illustration, photography)
  50. College instructor
  51. Health and wellness coaching
  52. Running a web application with a monthly subscription model
  53. Consulting in software development
  54. Selling an extension to a popular content management system
  55. Working for Matador Network and Where There Be Dragons
  56. Arts consulting
  57. Business advisor
  58. Manage operations of online business
  59. Senior IT consultant
  60. Marketing coach and copywriter
  61. Trading forex (foreign exchange)
  62. Owning an internet business
  63. Selling online eBooks
  64. Running a technology sales website

and… 64.5.  Start a sole-proprietorship (A self-employed status in USA), pay 300$ for a website, and start traveling.  Worked for me (Samuel Asher Rivello of Rivello Multimedia Consulting)

Filed Under: World Travel


Learning to Cook in Rio

By Felicity Clarke, Senior Contributing Reporter,

Originally Printed in the Rio Times Online, on Mar 30th, 2010

RIO DE JANEIRO – Like all food cultures, Brazilian cuisine is at its best when its cooked with love and served at home. For those looking for an insight into Brazilian food and culture, what it’s about, how it developed and most importantly, how it’s done, Cook in Rio’s cooking classes provide an afternoon of tasty Brazilian flavor.

Students enjoying the fruits of their labor after class, photo by Verônica Mirian.

Since September of last year, Carioca restaurateur Simone de Almeida has led the Cook in Rio classes. “It started with teaching Brazilian cooking to friends from other countries who visited and grew from there,” says Simone. “Cuisine is a way for people to get together and if you want to know about a culture go to the kitchen. Different cultures have different approaches to cooking and from that you can better understand the thinking.”

Cook in Rio’s classes are held in Simone’s Portuguese tapas bar restaurant Tasco Do Lido on Rua Ronald de Carvalho in Copacabana. The cozy colorful space with a mural ceiling and open kitchen bar has a instantly warm and welcoming atmosphere making it a great venue for a lesson in Brazilian home-cooking.

Simone starts with the first vital step of a good cooking endeavor: the cook’s drink. Although there’s a generally relaxed attitude to measures when it comes to Caipirinhas (what else?), Simone gives guidelines of one lime per person and two dessert spoons of sugar muddled with ice and a generous dose of quality cachaça and makes sure all the students get involved in the making.

Sipping on classic Caipirinhas, Simone goes on to get the class making rice, banana farofa and deep fried aipim chips. While everyone makes the side dishes together, Simone explains a little of the history of the national cuisine. “Brazilian food is essentially a big melting pot mix of Portuguese, African and Indian flavors. It has its roots in slave food because it was them who cooked for the rich Portuguese colonials and influenced the cuisine with African flavors and techniques.”

Lively and animated, Simone is typically Carioca in her assertive friendly manner and is skilled at ensuring everyone is at ease and involved. In contrast to other cooking classes where each participant has a station and cooks individually according to a series of strict demonstrated steps, Cook in Rio classes are an informal communal effort.

Cook in Rio class starts with a Caipirinha, photo by Verônica Mirian.

The main dish of this particular class was the Bahian fish stew moqueca, although other class menus include feijoada. As the sliced green peppers and onion fry in the nutty African palm oil, Simone answers questions and continues to dispense tips and insights into Brazilian food.

Advice such as always buy the cheap palm oil (“look for the ugly bottles”) because the small producers are the best, and be polite with the chili sauce and leave it for people to add themselves (“Bahians like their food spicy but Cariocas don’t”).

Everyone sits down together to eat the deliciously rich coconut fish stew washed down with a pineapple Caipirinha. With gentle teasing and a light social ambiance, the home-cooking is matched by a relaxed homely atmosphere.

Conversation turns to cooking classes and Sam Rivello, a traveling computer software consultant from California explains that he loves to take a class in every country he visits: “It’s a cool way to learn about a culture. I don’t care so much about remembering exactly how to do the cooking but it’s having the opportunity to ask questions about the culture, food and language,” he says. “It’s social as much as it is fun and educational”

Filed Under: Food, Rio De Janeiro, World Travel


Humming birds, boa constrictors, ex-cons and other St. Lucia attractions

by Alex Harling, originally printed for The Observer.

You know how people say that when you travel alone, you aren’t really alone, because strangers become companions or some such lame nonsense?. Well in St. Lucia, adventure and the Grim Reaper were my travelling companions.

Well on one fine morning, I hired a rental car to explore as much of the island as the 200 mileage limit and an 800cc engine would allow. The island is beautiful and I was boldly going where no man, with my exact name, had gone before.

Hell, this was going so well, I even calculated how many extra miles I could afford at the penalty rate of 40 cents per mile. About three miles on my wages.

I had the loose aim to hunt down hummingbird birds in the wild and gawk at the twin Pitons, St. Lucia’s well-known rocky hummocks.

Things were proceeding normally in a way which would not scare an American from the Bible Belt, although they scare me, when all of a sudden, I found myself at a fork in the road not sure which way to go. So I pulled over to read the map.

humming-birds2

The spectacular view from a luxury resort.

A spectacularly worrisome-looking gangster limped over to the car idling in neutral, just like my brain, beacuse suddenly I found myself agreeing this man’s proposal that I give him a lift to Castries, where the Pitons are. As my brain slipped the clutch so did my brain. Both my car and I moved into first gear and I realised that it had just heard the worst-disguised request ever to act as unofficial tour guide for the day. Too late – the right to rescind this contract could only be exercised upon pain of pain.

He introduced himself as Robert. But with his deadly serious, bloodshot eyes and ripped-scruffy clothes, surely he was known as Killer or Mad Dog to his friends.

His overall appearance was of a drug-dealer with low will power and a need to avoid reality. As my panicking brain fought to grasp the last twig at the end of the Branch of Reason on the Tree of Impending Danger, it convinced itself that everything would turn out alright. Because Robert was well-spoken and seemed knowledgeable on St. Lucia’s touristy wonders.

Over the next half hour, he directed me to stop at the bay where Dr. Doolittle was filmed and two little trinket-selling huts sat on the side of the road, strategically placed at tourist trap-pretty viewpoints.

I had mentioned that I was hunting humming birds and Robert was adamant that he knew a place where they would be. I was sceptical because everyone else I had spoken to that morning told me I wouldn’t see any on account of not having got up at half past five in the morning when they are most active.

Then we pulled over at a garden where I assumed he was simply breaking into. But he said it was owned by his friend. Immediately, there were about six or seven humming birds zooming around. I got some shots I was happy with. If you squint, little blurred smudges can be seen in the corners of shots.

Whilst we were lying in wait for the hummers, I asked him what he did for a living. Without hesitating he said, “I grow and sell drugs”.

“Oh right,” I said.

I comforted myself that after I had been de-armed and de-legged by a machete, my body would at least be laid to rest in the picturesque hills above Castries, overlooking the Petons.

He then waited patiently like a coiled cobra, I told myself, for about an hour. He insisted on carrying my rucksack and camera bag, presumably to leave no signs of me and no evidence, whist I mooned around flowers, photographing fast blurry birds. He suggested I walk in front of him, camera at the ready, so he wouldn’t scare the birds away and also so as to distract me and clobber me on the back of the head with his machete. All went disquietingly well.

Anyway, I made it out of the trespassed garden with the drug dealer in tow, who at the next stop informed me, yet again, to ensure that the car was totally locked and that nothing was left on display. Hmm. Thoughtful for a murderer, I pondered.

Like in all films, the condemned man, knowing he was going to die, decided to ask more about the drug thing.

Robert apparently grows marijuana plants, which take some nurturing you know, if they are not to produce a bitter taste. Then harvests them and sells the stuff locally for which there is apparently high demand, and also runs a boat to St. Vincent and Martinique semi-regularly.

I still thought that maybe he was just talking big, although he looked the part, until he told me that the second time he had been caught in Martinique, he was spent four years in Martinique jail.

That was it. I didn’t care anymore. The air tasted sweeter. The light played a little dance on the gently undulating ocean and life had never seemed better or shorter.

Next in his bag of ‘scare the crap out of unwitting, gullible tourists’ was to tell me that there were snakes in the hills we were driving through. To stop me simply running away into the bush with my wallet, I reasoned.

“Maybe we’ll see a boa constrictor or a cobra round here,” he said.

“Yeah right, big-talker, you’re just full of crap,” I thought.

A minute later, I was taking a photograph of a man with a boa constrictor in his hands. It seemed that Robert was a straight-talking man of his word, which was worrying.

The locals
Robert’s next trick was to take me to see the locals.

We drove around Castries, where he informed me on five occasions, not only should I not take photos of the locals, but do not even look like I might be doing it. Otherwise, they will get angry, smash the camera, and possibly me too.

He really had a thing about not wandering too far away, photographing the “ignorant” locals, as he called them and not straying too far. I was quite glad to get back to the car.

Until he directed me along the shoreline, past a more evil looking load of people than any Pirates of the Caribbean film. One man walked purposefully straight down the middle of the road towards the car with an angry ‘I’m going to mess you up white boy’ expression until he saw Robert and immediately smiled.

“Did you see how his expression changed,” said my mass murdering chaperone.

“No, even my eyes were frozen in terror,” I thought.

“Yes,” I squeaked.

In order to keep my heartbeat below 150 beats per minute, we avoided the new main road and proceeded up a very steep, very rutted gully to the chosen burial ground. It turned out we were going via an old un-used road to the luxury resort between the Petons, but he had to lie to get us in.

We parked at the top of the hill and he instructed me to say I was going for a drink. So we talked our way in, headed down the long steep hill in the resort grounds, took some more photos, were repeatedly harassed by security guards and left.

To give you an idea of how scary looking Robert was, we hitched a ride back up the steep hill out of the grounds. A man who mistakenly stopped was so overcome that he said, “Err, I’m not going to the top of the hill.”

There were no turn offs and the road only led to the top of the hill. His lie was awful. We got in and his wife assumed a look like she had just been kidnapped. Presumably, because she thought she had actually just been kidnapped. She tensed up and said not one word. Her husband will have got in some serious trouble with her after me and my killer had got out.

Breaking and Entering
The breaking and entering trick was performed at the next luxury resort on the top of the next hill.

I had to buy Robert a drink at that one, because the security clouds were gathering. I have to say though, he got me to some breathtaking places, which I wouldn’t have dared to try and get into on my own. At this second luxury spa-style resort he talked to the staff in Creole patois, which seemed to calm them down a bit.

From then on, it was all smooth, heart-calming ocean views and no drama. Until the ‘Episode’.

We arrived at a viewpoint on the main road overlooking a small fishing village. I duly took photos next to a gathering of other tourists.

Robert directed me off the main road into the village. He performed his lock the car, hide all valuables and stay close nerve-calmer and we walked over to the beach.

It was here that I met the supplier of his drug-running boat.

Riding a wild-eyed horse, the supplier galloped through the beach-front stalls, kicking up sand, like the deranged stable boy for the Four Horseman in the Apocalypse.

We were all being monitored shiftily by a number of other worrying-looking locals, who were obviously trying to work out why a sheep would willingly wander, in a carefree manner, into the centre of their pack of wolves. When, after ten minutes photographing fishing/drug smuggling boats and a gaggle of machete waving traders haggling over snapper, I wandered 20 feet up the beach away from Robert, he shambled quickly over to me and nervously asked me “How much further down the beach are you planning on going?” before telling me that the correct answer to that question was “back to the car, now”. There were apparently some young guys in the group, who would do very bad things to me, mainly to get my camera, but also just to brag to their mates about how they killed me for no particular reason. He was worried, which had the effect on me of seeing visions of the grim reaper, politely asking me to duck-rapid compliance.

Robert took the only sensible option, leaving via another vertigo-inducing steep, rutted back-alley gulley, ensuring a maximum escape speed of four miles per hour. The spotty teenage beach gangsters wouldn’t even have had to break into a run to catch the car. This turned out to be the ‘hood’ he grew up in. It was during this slow speed getaway that he appraised me of the total number of murders in St. Lucia, a whole lot per week, and lamented the loss of the gallows, giving people the easy option of ten years, which many people he knew would be quite willing to serve, After giving me a piece of brain liquefying news as was his habit, he insisted on stopping and talking to a group of dodgy-looking characters, while I sat in the car with the engine running. We were apparently safe for now as we were no less than 300 metres from the trophy-seeking tourist dispatchers.

All that then remained was to knock over a cash machine so I could pay Robert. Once again, he insisted on shadowing me, like a corrupt FBI agent, skulking across the street, watching for his competing muggers.

When I emerged one minute later, having got my cash fast, he came running, asking was I was alright? Who was following me? Was everything okay?

“It was before you tuned my already high-pitched stress levels to E-sharp, you convict,” I thought, but I could not bring myself to speak the words out loud.

Wondering if he was ever going to kill me or flee, we did the deal on the money, touched knuckles.

He checked if I was “irie gwan de hotel”.

“Yes, thanks Robert,” I said.

And then I made my escape, after a day long reign of terror and loads of fun.

Filed Under: St. Lucia


Chile’s Natural Beauty

Despite weeks in the cities of South America (Chile & Argentina), I finally retreated to the wilderness of Chile’s central regions for a month…. (more to come…)

Filed Under: World Travel


On A Moroccan Pace

Marrakesh, Morocco

May, 2008

Working in North Italy for a few weeks, I had plans to head South for a little vacation.  Not quite being summer, the trip seemed premature for beaching it.  Same with the Dalmatian coast of Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina,  down towards Montenegro.  I’ve read of a overland journey along that beach line that sounds epic.  Seeking warmer weather I spent a few hours searching and landed on a a roundtrip from Venice to Casablanca, Morocco with a 9 hour layover in Rome.  Sounded perfect.  After an amazing day in Rome and ho-hum time in Casablanca, I headed to Marrakesh.  I arrived late at night and had no hotel plans.  In each modern city in Morocco there is a city and then the old-city or the medina.  In the medinas, the roads are skinny and the walls are high.  Finding your way requires a map, a map that you don’t want to have out or you’ll be hassled by shop owners more than normal.  I’ve even read that bring a compass is helpful and after experiencing getting lost and running in circles – I believe it.  I was told that the best place to stay was in the Medina so I passed the…. (more to come…)

Filed Under: World Travel