Year in Review and the future (thanks Kim!)

First and foremost, I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas, or simply Happy Holidays. Whichever suits you best. And with a New Year upon us, I wish everyone a reflective and prosperous New Year! As for me, what did 2009 mean to me? And what is 2010 going to bring? A surprise awaits everyone at the end (don't scroll down).

So 2009... I suppose I'll start from the beginning.

Due to my good friend Paul Rosolie, I was able to spend the transition from 2008 to 2009 in the Peruvian Amazon. Here's a small story from that very night:

"It was a two day, up-river trip from Puerto Maldonado to a small station in the middle of the jungle. In fact, if you look on Google Maps there is no civilization around the station for miles and miles. Night one on the river happened to fall on New Years Eve (I believe, it might have been the day before). As night began to fall, we saw a steep bank with a small roof on top, peering over the grasses. We tied the boat to the shore and began to unload the boat. Our accommodations for the night were a 2-person tent under a small roof. Jungle all around us, and a steady moving river behind us, life was just as vibrant at night as it was during the day.
Going back down the boat, night had fully fallen and we all needed our head lamps to navigate. Paul was standing on the bow of the boat and called me over. Leaning forward, he was looking along the bank of the river at something. A small mist began to fall from the sky. “What is it?” I said to him. “There, you see those two red dots off in the distance?” he responded. I switched the setting on my headlamp to give myself a little more light and peered off into the distance. And there I saw it. About 20-30 feet in front of the boat, under some branches and leaves, two little red dots floated among the murky water. “Yeah, I see that, what is it?” He turned to me and smiled, “Croc eyes. No more than a couple feet long. C'mon lets go.”
'Let's go?' I thought to myself. But before I could finish the thought, Paul was in his boxers sitting on the side of the boat explaining that I have to get into the water slowly so as not to scare the crocodile. The mist turned into a heavy drizzle as I stood there dumbfounded. I was half startled at how quickly he got into the water. The other half was startled because of how quickly he expected me to get into the water. Just his head above the water, he looked up at me. “The water is fine! Imagine your first chance to catch a croc!” Now excited by the prospect of what I was getting myself into on the first day in the Amazon jungle, my pants and shirt were off before I knew what was happening. But I guess my body made the decision and acted before my head caught up.
The brown murky water surrounded my body. It didn't smell bad, and it was surprisingly warm. But with a cold rain beginning to turn heavy, the water seemed much warmer. My boxers waved around my thighs as I used my feet to navigate the root-covered clay floor. Moving my hands and feet slowly, I carefully navigated from one bunch of roots and plants to another. We stopped often and peered along the surface of the water, making eye contact with the two glowing embers that awaited me at the end of the long light-tunnel.
At one point we lost track of it, it sensed we were there. When we thought we lost it, Paul and I were floating in the water. Each using a hand on a branch to keep somewhat buoyant, we simply floated. The rain grew heavy and now a flash of lightning lit the area around me. As the thunder cracked, I saw Paul's head lamp turn towards me. He looked at me and said, “This is pretty damn cool, huh? You are chasing crocs, in an amazon river, in the middle of a thunder storm. At night.” I smiled at his statement and looked around, appreciating how alive I felt where I was. The red eyes appeared and I was mesmerized. Lightning flashed and the rain fell. We floated off towards the glowing red embers."

After Peru, the school year started again, and I finished off my last semesters of college. Ever. In May 2009, I walked across a stage, thanked P-Money (President Mercer, President of Ramapo College) for the fond memories, and put college behind me. Four years of fun, stress, school work, and numerous, numerous lessons, were over. Onto more lessons and more experiences worth writing about.

By June, I completed one year of work experience at Apple Retail. While retail is not my job of choice, and I doubt I will try and get a job in that sector, Apple was one of the best experiences of my life. I met a ton of great people, learned a lot from bosses and co-workers and overall had a very positive experience working there. Heck, I enjoyed it so much that I ended up writing a song for the store that I performed during one of our small events.

By the time I left Apple, I went on vacation with my family and that was it. My life (for the time being) in America was over. After coming home from vacation, I had less than a week to say good-bye to all my friends, pack my stuff, and catch a 14 hour plane ride to Delhi. And from there, well it's all been documented in this blog. From traveling in the mountains, to biking through Kerala, to going to Sri Lanka. The first leg of my adventure has been a blast.

Now we're in the present. The past 2 weeks or so have been hectic and crazy. Let's see. I got home from Sri Lanka and quit my job. Then there was Christmas. On the 26th I officially moved out of my apartment. And I am now living at Fireflies until January 7th when I hit the road again.

So what does 2010 bring for me? Well for starters, Nepal. That's right, in the last months (I'm planning on coming home between May and June), I might as well see more mountains, tick another country off the list, and enjoy traveling to the fullest.

Looking through the lonely planet for Nepal and seeing what tickles my fancy, there are tons of things to do. From trekking, to kayaking, to elephant rides and many more. As long as I see mountains, I will be happy. And it will be chilly, so at least I will get a small taste of winter this season.

I will keep you updated, but I hope you still pay attention to the blog – it's looking like things are going to get a lot more exciting. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Guest Post: Jodi Weinberger

Hello readers of Norm Rasmussen!

I figured since Norm is struggling with blogging about his day-to-day life, I would throw him a bone and write a guest post. That, and I have a pretty good story to tell…

Before I start, introductions are in order. My name is Jodi and I am working at Fireflies Ashram, about 40 km outside Bangalore, and about 2 hours from RT Nagar where Norm lives. I too completed the South India Study Abroad program in 2008 and fell in love with India. My passion for cows, curry, and the smell of burnt garbage combined with the crashing economy brought me back for a second round. My tasks here have been simple thus far: re-do the Fireflies website (I have little to no prior knowledge of web design) and hang out/make friends with the other staff (this includes a lot of me sitting and smiling while I am almost certain they are making fun of me in Kannada).

My story starts on Thursday. Norm came to Fireflies and I introduced him to all the new staff that had come to work here after we left. Included in these introductions was one woman I knew he would instantly love. Her name is Lakshmama. My guess at her age is somewhere between 40 and 60 but the special part about her is that she speaks almost every language in India: Kannada (the local language in Karnataka), Tamil, Malayalum, Urdu, Hindi and English. Norm and her bonded right away and soon she was explaining to us that she had American dollars she wanted exchanged for rupees. I was eager to help and told her that of course I could take her money into the city and exchange it. Where the money was and how she acquired it was not fully disclosed at that time.

Fast forward to Sunday. I wake up, eat some breakfast, talk to my parents on skype. I told them I had a boring day planned; attempting to do some bucket laundry and reading outside. My day turned out to be anything but boring…

Purnabas (a staff member who speaks broken English) asked me if I wanted to walk with him to a function in the next village. Where I live is considered Dinnepalya. Utthari, where we were going, is about a kilometer away. One of the drivers for Fireflies, Muniraj (Moon-ee-raj) and another staff member, Rajesh, both live in that village. Muniraj is the president of the branch of the caste that both him and Rajesh belong to in Utthari. I’m not actually sure what the function was about, and if that explanation seems hazy it’s because it was explained to me while I was riding on the back of a motorcycle that Rajesh was driving from Utthari to Dinnepalya.

Purnabas and I walk to Utthari and along the way I slowly acquire a parade of children who follow me and ask me what my name is, they then repeat my name (CHO-TI) all the way to the village. About half way there we also run into the man who is giving Purnabas harmonium lessons. He demands Purnabas leave and go back to Fireflies with him to practice the harmonium. So now it is just myself attending a function where no English is spoken. I show up to a colorful tent and see Muniraj speaking enthusiastically into a microphone. Although all the villagers attention is on him, it still spreads quickly that there is a foreigner in the audience and all eyes turn to look at me as I am ushered into a seat.

Many women give me evil looks until I fold my hands together and say “Namaskara”. They look relieved and smile broadly back. Children cautiously peer at me and I smile back at their intense stares. About a half hour into watching the events of the function unfold I feel a tap on my shoulder. I think nothing of it as the whole time I am sitting I know the little Indian children are poking at my white skin. But another harder jab comes and I turn around to see Lakshmama. She whispers in my ear, “my sister is waiting for us around the corner.”

It’s important to note that every time Lakshmama has talked to me about exchanging money it is always in private and she reminds me that no one should know about this. She told Norm and I she had about $60 to exchange, we thought maybe a tip from someone who had come to Fireflies.

Lakshmama and I walk to meet her sister and once there she pulls out a piece of computer paper, on it are photocopies of the back and front of a bill. A 1,000,000-dollar bill. My immediate response was to laugh, but as I look at Lakshmama and her sister’s face I know they are serious about getting this exchanged into rupees. I calmly explained that what she handed me is fake. She replied yes, it is a Xerox. I tried to tell her that this amount of money is not printed, but her sister had to catch a bus and a lot was lost in translation, so we decided meet with Purnabas later that night where he could translate between Hindi and English.

I call Norm and explain this ridiculous situation I am now in on my way back to the function. I barely make it to a seat when a man taps me and says “Madam, please” and motions for me to move forward in the audience. I am reluctant, but he is persistent and leads me to the front row. The men who are on stage all smile and whisper to one another while gesturing to me. As the function goes on it is clear they are celebrating certain leaders in the community. I notice they are talking about me more and more and without notice a man leaps down from the stage and makes me stand up while he places flowers around my neck and has the photographer take pictures of me. I was very embarrassed that the only qualification it seemed that I had for receiving this honor was being white. No one else seemed to question the flowers or the plaque that gets handed to me a few minutes later. Although I was worried that the Indians wouldn’t want me invading their function, I wasn’t too happy with the opposite reaction either: an overwhelming welcoming. I am not sure how to react in those situations, or how to thank them. After the function appeared to be over, big buckets of rice were brought out and I was forced to sit and eat. A little girl who had befriended me quickly reprimanded me for using the wrong hand to eat with (it’s the right hand if you ever find yourself in a similar situation) and all the other kids surrounded me to watch the odd way I shoveled rice in my mouth and inquire about my mother, father, sister and brother’s names. Finally Rajesh rescued me and took me back to Fireflies on his motorcycle.

My day was not over… I still had to meat with Lakshmama to explain to her about the fake money. On my way up to the computer lab I hear her call my name and I see her in the kitchen talking with Purnabas. She tells me she has explained to Purnabas about the money. When I ask her how she got her hands on such a bill, she told me she took it out of a donation jar. Why someone would put a fake million-dollar bill in a donation jar and why she would take it out is still a mystery. I also think that when she told Norm and I $60, maybe she meant 6 zeros? I did my best to explain to her that on the photocopy of the bill she gave me, it said it was not actual money, and also that they don’t print that much money. However, she wasn’t convinced and said that she would bring it to my room in 2 days.

So for now the situation is not resolved. Hopefully Lakshmama will not be too disappointed when she realizes that they money she thinks she has is fake.

Anyway, that was my supposed-to-be-lazy-Sunday turned into quite an exciting day with situations that would only happen in India.

Jodi



If you, or anyone you know would like to contribute a guest post (it can be about anything you want, it's not reserved for India only), send me an e-mail and I'll post: norman.rasmussen@gmail.com

Other than that stay tuned for the next in the series, The Apartment (parts I AND II), and Your Weekly Fridge!

The Trip pt. 2: The Mines

Originally, the plan was to leave at 8am for the mines. But, I am in India after all, so that didn't happen. Let's back track. I woke up around 7:30am. The power had gone out sometime before, and since I had the wonderful fortune of sleeping next to the water cooler, at 7am, the sweat began to run. Once you are hot, once you are sweating, sleep doesn't come easy.

After freshening up, I felt refreshed, and was served a nice cup of tea. You would think, in one of the hottest countries in the world, why they drink so much tea? On top of that, why just hot, boiling milk tea... you would think that the hot milk doesn't cool you down at all. There's a divide in India with this subject. In the hotter, lower lying states, most people drink tea. The claim? That tea in fact, despite it's hot temperature, brings coolness to your body. In the higher altitude, more hilly or mountainous regions of India, instead, they drink coffee. The claim? That coffee brings heat to your body. Personally, I can attest that it's true. Once I had gotten off at a train station to stretch my legs and grab a cup of coffee. I felt comfortable in the climate at the time, but after drinking the coffee, I began to sweat. Maybe an isolated incident, but I never experienced this with tea before.

After some sipping of tea, breakfast was served. And for the first time, I was served the Indian version of scrambled eggs and toast. Toast was, of course, chapatti, thin dough cooked on a flat griddle with a little bit of oil. The scrambled eggs on the other hand, were extremely interesting.

Wanting to learn how to cook Indian food, or just be able to cook better food in general, I decided to spend that morning in the kitchen, watching Auntie cook. At first they described it as egg curry - and she had to begun to cook in that manner. Heated oil, some onions, some turmeric powder, salt. Then some cloves, and cinnamon, a splash of chili powder, chopped tomatoes, ginger/garlic paste. All the essentials to a good curry.

Usually, in a traditional egg curry, hard boiled eggs are the last thing to be added into the sauce. The eggs were sitting in a small bowl in front of her as she began to pick one up. As I watched, I wondered if they were still shelled or not. It seemed kind of odd if they were still shelled only minutes before adding them to the curry. Then, she did something unexpected, and seemingly genius. She cracked the shell, and opened 4-5 eggs into the curry. She began to mix and beat the spices, oil, eggs, tomatoes, onions etc.

And voila! Indian scrambled eggs. Pure genius, and pure deliciousness.

I was full within minutes, I wolfed them down. And Uncle quickly returned, with a new plan. In a couple hours we would first visit his work place - the open-cast mine. At 3:30 in the afternoon, something new, we would make our way down into the damp, dark, closed-cast mine.

We jumped on his bike, and zoomed away to the mine. We went from city landscape, to country landscape, to a landscape more like that of Mordor. To those of you unaware of Mordor, it is from Lord of the Rings and is that black, dark landscape located in Middle Earth. But enough of crazy references, as we got closer to the open-cast mine the vehicles got bigger and the goround got darker. Leaves went from green to gray. Soil from red to black. Everything was covered in a black soot from all the trucks transporting coal back and forth.

This was ground for some good time joking. Obviously, me being the butt-end of the joke. Since everyones skin is brown, they kept joking that staying and working you couldn't tell if they were dirty or not. Instead, they would look at my fingers and arms, and you could see the dirt getting stuck in between my pores. By the end of the day there was soot on my face, under my fingernails, my white skin quickly absorbed, and made visible how dirty the coal mines were.

After some time of sitting in the office of the Head Principal of the Shasti Open-Cast mine, we all got into a jeep and away we went. And to think you could go any deeper into this blackened land....

There was not much to see besides a big hole in the ground. It had to be a kilometer or so across, maybe 1/4 or half a kilometer in width. As you can see in the pictures water has gathered in some spots at the bottom, and they were only excavating a small portion of the land where there was access to coal. The pictures show what I could see, and that's as close as I could get. Exciting to see, but I was waiting for the real bang - the under ground mine.

We went after this to go see Uncle's truck. About three of me tall and 12 of me long, this "Motor Grater" was enormous. Our English was communicable, but not perfect, and that being said I'm not sure if I fully understood what his job is and what his truck does.

However, that's why we have wikipedia:

A grader, also commonly referred to as a road grader, a blade, a maintainer, or a motor grader, is anengineering vehicle with a long blade used to create a flat surface. Typical models have three axles, with the engineand cab situated above the rear axles at one end of the vehicle and a third axle at the front end of the vehicle, with the blade in between. On certain countries, for example in Finland, almost every grader is equipped with second blade that is placed on front of the front axle. Some hard hats refer to this machine as "the blade".

And there you have it.

We went home after this, relaxed, for there were only a couple hours left until the underground mine.

Screw it, I can't wait to explain it, I can't build it up... the underground mine!!!!!!!!!!!

Where to begin....

As with most things that are exciting, we spent the first two hours waiting. Since Uncle and many people in the mine don't speak English very well, we brought along a pastor. Father Sayum from a local church who is good friends with Uncle. Now you'll have to forgive me - I'm sure at this point you are scratching your head saying 'Why does Norm keep saying Uncle? Isn't his name Prakash? C'mon.. at least Uncle Prakash'. You're right, that would usually be the case... in western places. Here, younger people usually call older people Uncle. So I'm going with that for a bit. Funny side story, I walked up to the roof the other day (at home) and two kids were flying kites. One wanted to ask me something and he goes "uncle?" and then says something in Kannada. It was cute at least.

So after much waiting we were ready. We had our hard hats, our giant flash lights, and shoes. The flash lights were like this. A light about 3-4 inches in diameter on one side connected with a long cable. This cable connected to an almost unbearably heavy box which contains the power for the light. And this box has to sit on your waist supported by a small plastic belt. One of the most uncomfortable things I've ever worn. If you look in the pictures, you can see my holding the box... you can just imagine how quickly I took it off after getting out of the mines.

Equipped, we head over to the check in station, where they saw me taking some pictures. Not surprisingly, someone ran out and told me no pictures. Fair enough, it is a mine and heres some white dude taking pictures... he could be anyone. But now, they knew I had a camera. Before walking over to the elevator they frisk you to make sure everything is out of your pocket. I told them I already deposited my camera (lying) and tried to walk by. But... they caught me.

And with good reason! You can't even carry a cell phone down there. Apparently, with the gases, the change in pressure, Lithium Ion batteries, or any recharagable battery has the chance of exploding. So let's see. One explosion from a battery, in a mine where the biggest gas expelled is CH3 (Methane).. while oxygen is being supplied through ventilation shafts. Its a recipe for the ground to hiccup and crash in on itself. So I (for reals) deposited my camera and walked through the first door. Then the second. And the third, fourth, and fifth. I believe there were six doors in total just to reach the elevator. They said because of air pressure, the mine and things I'm not really sure I understood, they had to make sure the first door was closed before opening the next.

Then a sound grew as we walked through each consecutive door. Louder. A buzzing. As we reached the elevator I saw what the issuing this sound. A giant, and I mean giant, fan at the end of a long tunnel. It was like this:

A hole going 170 meters down into the ground with an elevator. On one platform of this hole was where we stood, to enter and exit the elevator. To the left of us, a long tunnel with tons upon tons of steam being pulled through the fan. The tunnel had to have been 20-30 feet long. Everything was wet at this point. The elevator, the railings... all wet. The answer came to me later as to WHY it was wet.

So six of us packed into this tiny elevator, all metal, no more than 7 feet long by 3 feet wide. Clunk, clang, gghrrrrrrr the elevator began to descent. I pointed my flash light at the wall and it was like being in a really cool, watery cave. The walls were slimy with different colors, from red to orange, brown to green, the constant water, gases and minerals constantly changed the walls. Looking down over the edge of the elevator there was no seeing the bottom.

The elevator ride was more or less smooth. Some of the guys were joking and laughing. Others just sitting there. My mind was not calm though - why? They decided to explain some history as we were descending. They said that this mine was originally built by the British. It was then shut down when they left, only to be opened again in 1972. So it still has all the ORIGINAL EQUIPMENT. Which means..... we were riding in an elevator that was built here before Independence of India. Before 1947. Over 60 years old.

"Don't worry, there have only been 15 deaths here total" they told me to try and calm my mind. Well, I am typing this, which means we got down safely. And back up. 170 meters is a long way down though... it took at least 6 minutes to ride. And 6 minutes in that cramped space is a LONG 6 minutes.

We began walking into the mines. Some of the workers pointed me towards the shrine of various Gods saying it might be a good idea to receive a blessing before going further. I wondered what the Christians were thinking.

I swear, what I saw in the begging could be in a movie. Monsters in the dark. Men twice the size of me, covered in coal, with a giant, cyclops like eye on their forehead. Many of the main passage ways were lit, but the smaller corners, the places where real work was taking place, undeveloped mine so to speak, was black as coal. No pun intended.

Turning one corner, there was a lamp that they had shown me earlier - but now it was being put to use. Here's a safety measure: they have a small oil lamp with a little flame going. If the flame dies, or even begins to get smaller, what does this mean to the workers? RUN. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE. This flame is the life signal that the gases in the mine aren't dangerous. But if it gets smaller or goes out, that's it... too much of a certain gas could mean death. Our lives and the flame's life were intertwined.

Going down longer corridors we would lift our heads only to see lights staring back at us. We walked back engineers, miners, cart pushers, cart operators... the whole team was down there. And upon probing further, this mine ran all day, every day. Heck, with no sunlight down there, a clock might not matter as much. There were three shifts in the day: 7am-3pm, 3pm-11pm, and 11pm-7am. I feel sorry for those working the graveyard shift. And I'm sure, to support their families, many workers are working overtime.

As we got closer to the end of the mine, things grew darker and hotter. To keep this Christian thing going, we were descending into the depths of hell. I was just waiting for the fire and brimstone.

And finally, we reached. The end of the mine. A tunnel pushing deeper and deeper into the earth. Man "conquering" in the sake of energy. I don't want to say emotional, but that word best describes the experience. I was standing in front of a black wall, maybe 10 feet high, and 12 feet across. They just stripped away a layer of coal and debris, and I was staring at the naked earth, the newly excavated earth. I told the Pastor, "I would say this is looking into the face of God. We're staring at millions of years of work done by the earth. Millions of years of heat, compression, organic material being pressed into a new, usable material." He looked at me and sort of smirked, but issued no response. I wonder what was going through his head. Yet, still, I stared on in awe. I picked up some loose coal flaked and rubbed them in my palms. It was magnificent.

But enough mushy stuff! Blah! Onto the work they were doing. At the end of the tunnel, where there were no cart tracks, and only the rock supporting itself above us (there was no "human" support yet) 4 men brought over a drill. A huge drill piece about 2 inches in diameter, and 7-8 feet long. Attached into this little motor that would push it into the earth, creating a hole to fit the dynamite. Did I mention I got to see and touch the dynamite explosives? You'd think TNT is hard, but no. It was this soft, gooey material, like half-hardened Elmers glue.

So these 4 men in their underwear (it was beyond humid, beyond hot) pick up the drill, put it into the rock, and hit the on button. One is the driver, the other 3 have to push this thing into the rock. Without causing the rock to collapse. When the machine started to malfunction, one of the men put his hand ON the drill bit to gain some leverage. His hands must have been like leather... without a peep he grabbed the drill bit and kept pushing.

First hole successful, then they had to do the roof to place in the steel supports. This was a little nerve racking but successful and exciting the watch. After they blow out a mine (I believe its one kilo of explosives for 1.5 meters of rock blown away) they need to discard it. Doing it by hand would take way too long. So they do this:

The tracks extend as far as is feasible into the unfinished tunnel. Anywhere from 10-30 carts are pushed all the way down the track. Now each cart is about 5-6 feet high, and 4 feet long by 4 feet wide. It's a big cart. At the end, is a bulldozer of sorts. A miniaturized version, this thing looks like a giant in the small mine. It scoops up the debris, as it would above the ground. However, since its so small, and theres not a lot of space in the mine, it has a cool trick where the sides of the bucket open and it pushes the coal and debris into the carts that way. Cool to watch, but I quickly realized that if that worker hits one wrong lever, one wrong switch, you could very easily be pinned against the wall, dying a slow death. Also, this little machines bucket and everything ran on hydrolics, but the machine itself ran on electricity. That was kind of cool. And made sense being the gas with all those inflammable gases might be a bad combination.

When we emerged from the mine, night had already fallen. That gave me a strange sense of time passing and what was going on.

Oh! I nearly forgot... the wetness in the main tunnel going up and down. When we were about to go back up the elevator I asked if it was safe to walk out into the hole. I really wanted to look up and see if I could see light. Nothin' doin'. It was like a bad rain storm under that hole (hence why I am all wet in my pictures). Why?

This is the conclusion I came to: the humidity and heat comes from the coal, all the people working, the friction of rocks, the machines etc. But this needs to escape. They have ventilation shafts within the mine, but that is just so the methane doesn't sit in one spot and people die. So the humidity rushes through the tunnels and escapes through the main tunnel. Note that before I had seen the big fan up there blowing everything away. So up and up and up it goes, until BOOM it hits the surface air. Which, relative to everything down in the mine, is a lot colder. Lets go back to 4th grade science - what happens when hot moist air hits cold air? It condenses, forming clouds. What happens when clouds get too heavy? It rains. What I was standing in was a perpetual rain storm in a mine.

It's pretty crazy if you think about it.

Work has begun!

So just this morning at 6am I arrived home from an overnight bus trip from Pondicherry on the East Coast of Tamil Nadu. I will post all about the wonderful city soon. From it's French quarters, to the beaches and rough waves, to the nearly falling apart dock that we climbed on (and got kicked off of). It was great!

But in the mean time, I am back in Bangalore, work has begun! And I'm looking for YOUR contribution (no, not money!)

At Global Citizens for Sustainable Development, we could use any and all stories that people have concerning their travel experience. The theme? The importance of Global Citizenship. What does it mean to you? We are trying to create a platform for connecting the importance of Global Citizenship and development that will be sustainable. That's one of my many current projects.

So if you are just sitting around, and have nothing to do, why not write a paragraph or two? Anything would help, from a sentence, to a whole page....

In the past, we've been quite nationalistic. And we all love our home countries, of course. But modern times calls for modern changes... and with travel and communication making it easier to connect, it's apparent that we are becoming more global citizens than national citizens. How do you feel about this? Will this way of thinking help to push people to think globally and act locally?

If you would like to contribute, please e-mail me at: norm.rasmussen@globalcitizens.org.in

I look forward to your responses... and wait for mine... more blogs soon!