#even if its gentrifying the city it is public transport

[delhi-transport-corporation]

Realising that among the last few movies I have rewatched as I faintly remembered them are, Delhi Belly, and Rockstar, time to rank Movies set in Delhi by their depiction of Public Transit Rockstar (10/10) (aside from being an amazing movie itself, I will fight the few critics) starts featuring Jordan riding a bus, shifts to his past of him singing in front of a Bus Stop, good representation, unbiased from my liking of it.

Delhi Belly (1/10) Starts with Tashi getting a car, and he basically rides around in a car the rest of the amazing movie, it has some shots of the Delhi Metro rail, even if its mid, its public transit, and extra pity points because its the Red line, and the red line deserves some more representation.

I will now try to find more movies shot in Delhi and add to this, ... eventually

[catboyrightsdefender]

what do you like about Berlin (I've never been there so I'm curious)

oh there are so many things i love about that city......i know ive only been there as a tourist so i probably have a idealized/romanticized/biased vision but i just like the general vibe so much? the only other big cities ive been to several times are paris and london, and i feel like berlin makes you feel less like a tourist. the city is also really beautiful and interesting in my opinion, you can just walk and see so many interesting, beautiful places (im a big fan of the fernsehturm..she's so pretty) and sick buildings, even when you arent in the center. there are also cool museums. i also really like the public transportation system djdjjd esp the s-bahn (my beloved) cause its elevated.....and there are some very cool train stations. from what ive experienced food was a bit cheaper than here in brussels too. all the cool memories i made in this city also play a big role in my affection haha.....idk to me berlin feels like a city where you wanna live (and im usually not v fond of big cities), or stay. id love to live there someday even tho from what ive read its becoming more and more expensive and gentrified 😔

[mosylufanfic]

It Goes Both Ways

Y’all I am So Proud I managed to write at least one thing for this week. I’ll try to hit at least one of the other themes, but no promises.

I shamelessly borrowed Quantagram and Gravity from @skitzofreak because I love love love the idea of the Rebellion using and abusing social media as they undermine the evil Empire.

Rebelcaptain Week Day One: Trust

It Goes Both Ways

Jyn scrambled around a corner into an alley and fetched up against the wall behind some piled crates, panting for breath.  "Oh, no," she mocked herself in a savage undertone.  "No problem with me gathering extra intel, Cassian. It's been years, Cassian. Nobody remembers me, Cassian. Kriff!"

This was what happened when the owner of your one-time favorite seedy dive bar got married and popped out a couple of kids. She went and got respectable.

In this case, respectable meaning an utter fucking coward who'd look at you apologetically when the troopers' boots thudded rhythmically outside and say, "Sorry, Tanith. I've got a family."

"Right, yeah, a family," she sneered at the rat that poked its nose out of the pile of crates. "Like the Empire's going to care about your family."

The rat had nothing to contribute. It skittered off on its ratly business instead.

She let out her breath. It wasn't doing her any good, sitting here grousing about Lorazi's perfidy. It had been her own fault, going in there thinking all would be hunky-dory, and then staying there even when she'd realized that things had gotten gussied up a bit in the Tooka's Tail. She knew what happened when people didn't think they had any choice but to shelter under the Empire's fickle goodwill.

She rested her head back against the brick and listened. No thwat-thwat-thwat of marching trooper boots. She was all right for now. But her face would have gone out over the airwaves. Let the wrong person see her and she’d be in Wobani again, or worse.

She pulled her scarf forward, wishing that it looked like rain so she'd have an excuse to be all wrapped up. Damn.

She checked her chrono and moaned.

“The spaceport locks down for an hour at sunset,” she’d told Cassian. “Inspections.”

Cassian had said, “We’ll be gone by then.”

They would, but she’d still be here. The spaceport was on the southern edge of the city and the sun was already sliding sullenly toward the horizon. It would be a karking miracle if she got there in time.

They’d wait until they couldn’t anymore, and then they’d go. And they should.

Her secure comm had gotten cracked in two in the fight at the Tooka’s Tail, and it had spit sparks and static until she’d yanked it out and crushed it underfoot, then kicked the two pieces into the river so it couldn’t somehow be repaired and the signal traced back to Cassian and Kay.

So no way to get ahold of them, or vice versa.

She chewed her lip.

Right. Where was she?

She risked standing up and peering out the end of the alleyway. She wasn’t too far from the Dong, a local architectural oddity big enough to be a landmark anywhere in town. The river was a couple of blocks behind her.

If the area hadn’t gotten gentrified - and her nose told her it hadn’t - there should be a no-tell motel about one block north. A few credits would get her a room for the night, and a good amount more should induce convenient amnesia in the desk clerk.

Right. Okay. That was a workable plan, even with the risk of getting sold out again. She’d hole up, slice a secure connection to the holonet, drop a line on Quantagram or Gravity that would let Cassian know she was all right and she’d find her own way back to the Rebellion.

A far more workable plan than trying to get to the spaceport in the next half an hour, through a city full of troopers who were looking for her face, to a landing pad that might very well be empty by the time she got there.

It should be empty by the time she got there. If they knew what was good for them.

She breathed.

Thought of Cassian’s face when he’d said, “See you later,” as he set off on his own way through the city.

Breathed again.

Thought of Kay grumbling, “I will be right here” as he slouched in the cockpit.

Breathed.

Thought of Bodhi’s face when Cassian and Kay got back without her.

Said, “Kriff,” one more time, savagely.

She wrapped the scarf around the lower part of her face and cut the rest of the way down the alley, running south as hard as she could.

She couldn't risk public transport, not with the ident scanners everywhere. She could, and did, risk a couple of piratas. But the unlicensed taxi drivers were just as vulnerable as the owner of the Tooka's Tail to Imperial bullyboys, so she only took the first into the business district and then hopped out, fingers pressed to her ear and saying, "Yes, sir, right away sir," to her nonexistent comm as she strode off down the sidewalk.

When she heard the bleedle-blurp of a trooper’s comm around a corner, she turned on her heel and leapt onto a tour bus. She endured ten minutes of yammering about the Dong - "an architectural marvel with, heh-heh, a rather cheeky nickname amongst the simple locals" - before hopping off again, walking a block, and hailing the second pirata.

That one took her most of the way to the spaceport. She tried not to nervously tug at her scarf every time she saw an Imperial speeder zip past, or a white cluster of troopers on the sidewalk.

In between those tense moments, she watched the sun sag toward the horizon and the last ships of the day taking off toward space. She told herself that Cassian and Kay were one of those black specks against the brilliant colors of sunset and this was a fool's errand she was on.

But when she scrambled out of the second pirata, she took off for the spaceport at a run, clutching her scarf to her face, losing herself in crowds as much as possible. They were checking idents at the front gate, and she cursed into the folds of material and ducked off down a side street.

Give up, give up, she told herself, hunched over the lock on a side door. If they catch you slicing your way in through a maintenance entrance, they won't even bother arresting you, they'll just fry you.

Over the loudspeakers, a voice boomed out the ten-minute warning before the nightly closure.

She worked at the lock, expecting any moment to hear a trooper-helmeted voice yell, "You there!" or the zot-zot of weapons.

The lock beeped, turned green, and she slid through, kicking it shut behind her and bolting for landing pad E-781.

It will be empty, she told herself, and you're going to have to slice your way out again and find some seedy spaceport bar to sleep in for the night, or some seedy smuggler to haul your idiot carcass off this rock.

"Five minutes," the loudspeaker voice said in Core-accented Basic, and then again in a couple of the languages that the Empire graciously deigned to recognize.

Jyn cursed under her breath in a few languages that the Empire didn't officially recognize, although if you said that to a trooper they'd know to get pissed off, all right. She turned the corner, preparing herself to see a locked door and a VACANT sign lit up next to it -

And saw Cassian leaning in the open doorway, looking off in the other direction, chewing a toothpick as if he didn't have less than four minutes to get out of here before inspections.

Her foot scraped the plascrete, and his head snapped around. He looked her up and down, quick and all-encompassing.

His shoulders softened, and she realized in that moment that he'd been holding tension in them. Holding it Cassian style, invisibly, casually, so you barely noticed it was there until it was gone.

He said into the comm in his hand, "Kay, she's here. Let's go," and strode into the landing pad.

She followed him up the gangplank but collapsed in the passenger seating while he continued up to the cockpit. Kay's voice came over the loudspeakers. "You are very late, Jyn Erso."

"Yeah, all right," she mumbled, scooting along the bench until she could pull crash webbing over her shoulders.

"You were also out of contact for most of an hour. It was very annoying."

"I heard you," she shouted toward the cockpit and slouched as much as the crash webbing would allow.

The ship jolted, tilted, lifted. Gravity dragged at her for a moment until the artificial cut in. She rested her head back against the headrest and let her heart rate slow, her breathing even out. She was sweating and her scarf was crammed up under her ear and she was starving but -

They'd waited.

She didn't know what to feel about that.

She sat there alone, dragging her scarf free of her neck and her hair, until the final jolt of the ship jumping to hyperspeed. Then she undid the crash webbing. She hated being caged in like that.

Cassian came out of the cockpit, over to the passenger seat, and sat down next to her.

She almost said his name - you waited, why did you wait, why didn't you say anything - and then his arm came around her shoulders. He pulled her in close to his side, pressed his nose to her temple, and let out a long, slow sigh.

His grip was so tight it almost hurt. Some buckle or gadget in a pocket was trying to dig a hole in her ribs. She settled her hand on his chest and rested her chin on his shoulder.

His heart thumped once, twice, three times under her palm before he said, "An alert went out for Tanith Ponta at the - Tooka's Butt?"

She snorted into his jacket. "Tooka's Tail. Shitty place. Less shittty than before; should have been my first clue." She looked up. "How did you know?"

"Kay," he said. "Was monitoring our aliases from here."

"Right," she said. "So you caught wind."

"Mmm. Your comm was out."

"Casualty of leaving the Tooka's Tail."

"Ah."

"It's in the river."

"Quartermaster won't like that," he observed. "It was . . . unnerving."

"I suppose people spotted me on my way across the city," she said. "And Kay heard it."

A long pause. Then he said, "No."

She frowned at him. "You didn't know I was on my way?"

"Nobody reported you captured either," he said. "You were a long way away."

"Mmm."

"You should have stayed there. Sheltered in place."

"You should have left," she retorted.

"And have you find an empty landing pad?" he said.

She thought of how that would have been, and burrowed into his side a little more.

Whirs and thuds announced Kay's presence. He stood over them, somehow scowling without a mobile face. "You are late."

"I know," she said.

"Cassian was very concerned."

"I wasn't until he commed me," Cassian murmured into her ear. "Four times in the space of ten minutes."

If Kay heard him, he didn't acknowledge it. "He refused to leave. That is against protocol. I told him that the odds you would stay on this planet until the attention died down, and make your own way back, were very high. I also told him that would be a foolish thing. But you have done foolish things before. Often."

She looked up, up, up at him. "Thanks for staying."

His eyes flickered. He turned and stomped away.

Cassian smiled against her hair and said, "Thanks for coming back."

She yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. He'd stayed, she'd come back, and that was a kind of reciprocal trust she hadn't had since Saw had left her on Tamsye Prime. The feeling sat in her heart, smooth and polished, and she wanted to keep running her fingers over it like a precious gem.

"Cassian?"

"Mmm."

She tilted her head up to give him a crooked smile. "I could murder a nutrient bar."

FINIS

[berniesrevolution]

JACOBIN MAGAZINE

Australia hasn’t had an explicitly socialist member of parliament since the communist MP Fred Patterson was gerrymandered out in 1949. Since the collapse of his Communist Party following 1989, socialist groups have found themselves confined to the margins of political life.

This is beginning to change.

On Friday, August 24, close to five hundred people filled the seats and standing area in the Town Hall of Brunswick, an inner city suburb of Melbourne, to hear the candidates for the new Victorian Socialist party launch their election manifesto.

Stephen Jolly, the lead candidate, began his speech wryly, “Someone just told me a minute ago — it’s 25 percent longer than the Communist Manifesto!”

The Victorian Socialists are not modest — notwithstanding the name’s associations for those unfamiliar with Australia’s southeastern state.

Origin Story

The party came together early in 2018. It is a coalition of socialist groups, independent leftists, and trade unionists.

The Australian left has historically been fragmented. Stephen Jolly, a long-time socialist, helped to overcome this. His record goes back to his involvement in the Left of the Irish Labour Party and activism against apartheid in South Africa. Upon moving to Australia in the early 1990s, he became central to the fight to save public schools in Richmond, a suburb in Melbourne’s inner east. Jolly has built a base of support and goodwill through these and other efforts. He has served as a community activist and councilor on the Yarra Council for more than a decade, with a consistent record of defending the poor and marginalized in this rapidly gentrifying suburb. He has forged a reputation of consistency and efficiency and is popular even among Yarra’s wealthier baby boomers for his ability to get things done. He is a construction worker and has served as a delegate for Australia’s construction union, the CFMMEU. He has contested numerous state elections, polling as high as 17 percent — a significant achievement in what is, in practice, a two-party system.

Still, a candidate alone does not a party make. The Victorian Socialists’ backbone is made up of Australia’s two largest socialist organizations, Socialist Alternative and the Socialist Alliance. These established groups have given the Victorian Socialists a crucial advantage: immediate access to cadres of committed activists, a wealth of experience, and strong organizational structure.

As the name makes apparent, the party is based in only one state — Victoria. This state, and especially its capital, Melbourne, is the most progressive part of Australia. It is a multicultural city of over four million with a long history of protest, radicalism, and politics. The city is also deeply class divided. Its neoliberal transformation will be familiar to anyone who has lived through the last few decades. The 1990s and 2000s saw public housing, public transport, and public amenities sold off alongside declining funding for health and education.

If a socialist electoral campaign is going to win anywhere in Australia, it’s in Melbourne.

Having a realistic strategy was also key to the party’s formation. This is more than just an optimistic bet on Melbourne’s progressive culture. The Australian electoral system, which is based on the Westminster system, is different from that of the UK or the US and, in comparison, offers antipodean socialists a few advantages.

Unlike in the US, the barriers to forming a registered political party and standing candidates are modest. The Victorian Socialists recruited and registered the 500 members required to form as a party and stand candidates within weeks of announcing its formation. Now, membership stands at close to 1,300 and growing.

Given that Australia’s total population is close to that of Texas and given that the Victorian Socialists are based in only one state, these are not bad numbers. Indeed, Australia’s established third party — the Greens — boasts only 9,500 members nationally.

Unlike the UK, Australia is blessed with a preferential voting system. This is a big advantage for a small party.

Of course, Australia is still an essentially two-party system. But the poverty of the political options available has created a space to rebuild the socialist left.

(Continue Reading)

[theroguefeminist]

thatscottishplay replied to your post my city is also proof that liberalism is not...

also the rent there is so high like jesus one apartment is $3,000???

So it wasn’t always that expensive here in San Francisco. I moved here about seven years ago my two bedroom apartment cost $1380 which is crazy cheap compared to what places are going for now (3-4,000 for a one bedroom in some cases).

This is what changed: techies.

By techies I mean people working in tech (facebook, twitter, genetech etc).  It used to be techies lived in silicon valley; that’s south of San Francisco. But over time, they started to realize their world lacked culture and vibrancy. It was in short, bland. They noticed this beautiful, diverse city to the north of them filled with many different cultures and art and nightlife and demand grew to move here. Some of them continue to commute to Silicon Valley from the city to this day, insultingly using their own stupid buses that use OUR public transit stops instead of investing in the transit we all use--that’s essentially sapping what we’ve built for their own devices. But also, companies have been increasingly relocating or taking root here in the city, like yelp and twitter.

So anyway, these rich white ppl basically came and drove up the rent. Not only were a lot of them willing to pay a lot more than, say, Mexicans in the Mission or poor college students in Ingleside, but many of these tech companies come with ridiculous perks to attract competitive employees, and that even includes paying their employees’ rent and transportation in the city in some cases. So yeah how can the rest of us mere mortals compete? There was a point where landlords were taking advantage of this loophole in the law to evict people, many of them of color, en mass, making it even easier for them to rent to techies at crazy prices (that law’s been changed I believe, but eviction bullshit still happens--we did just pass a measure that gives any tenant facing eviction free legal representation though!). 

Another problem is the housing shortage. Because more and more people are moving here and we have all these labyrinthine laws about development in the city, there’s intense competition for housing, so that also enables landlords to price apartments high. So I guess techies aren’t 100% to blame, but they’ve also been flocking here in droves, which doesn’t help.

So honestly, anyone with remotely decent politics in the city? Fucking hates techies. And we don’t just hate them for driving up rent, we also hate them for gentrifying the culture. Go to Hayes Valley and everything is bullshit hipster stuff people stereotype millennials for (overpriced avocado toast, trendy weird dishes that make no sense, cereal milk). But it’s only these stupid rich techies who have absolutely no cultural value to add to the city. They’re driving out the San Franciscans of color and the artists and making it so anyone who isn’t well-off has about five or six roommates. And they’re draining our city of its diversity and culture. They’re contributing to a greater economic gap, housing crisis and the homelessness issue. So yeah. It wasn’t always this way. And ask anyone who’s been here a decent amount of time and they’ll tell you the same. Anyway, that was a rant.

[carryonuptheandes]

30 November – Lima

After my quick stopover in Lima a week earlier, it was time to return and explore the capital. The four hour journey was made by Cruz del Sur, widely regarded as one of the best (aka safe and secure) Peruvian coach operators. It comes with luggage check-in at the terminal, a huge display of passenger T&C's, seatbelt fastened checks, the offer of blankets, cushions and headphones, and speed displays in the passenger areas. Passengers are encouraged to complain to the company or government if the driver exceeds 90kph (56mph) but I get the impression that little take any notice, certainly the case when we overtook some HGVs and a poor car driver heading towards us was shouting abuse at the driver while almost being forced off the road. The service also came with a meal (beef, chicken or veggie were my options), which may not be such a selling point since I had my first dodgy Peruvian stomach during my days in Lima (as was the case in La Paz, but at least this time without also the altitude effect).

The journey was pretty dull along the dusty rocky coastal Panamerican Highway, intersected with ugly towns and beach resorts. We arrived into Lima during Friday evening (and monthly pay day) rush hour; the contrast with Paracas couldn’t have been much more pronounced! Two and a half hours before I’d arranged to meet a guy for dinner, I took a taxi for the 10km to where I’d left my main rucsac (where my 20USD note was rejected for not being crisp enough!) where I would spend another night. It took so long that I got the driver to wait 10 minutes and take me onto Miraflores, 13km back towards the centre, where I only just arrived on time. So an average taxi speed of 12kph (7mph), but probably not a bad thing with the not so young (and long sighted) driver, while driving in the chaos, attempting to navigate on his mobile and receive and make calls, mainly unsuccessfully!

Saturday morning saw me relocate to a shared apartment in Miraflores, a much more central area for exploring the more attractive (and safer) parts of the city. While Miraflores, with areas equivalent to Chelsea in London, wasn’t always my scene, the location and 24/7 safety made it attractive. From there I could walk to Barranco (a more down at heels but increasingly gentrified and arty neighbourhood) and the seafront, and I was near the Metropolitano express busway to the historic city centre. With the quantity of beauty clinics, dental surgeries, smart vets, delis, and Chelsea tractors, it was quite a contrast to the Peru I had seen until now.

Decent fast public transport is very valuable in this city of transport chaos, where road widening is still seen as the solution, as more and more people own cars. I was happy though to see brave cyclists in this part of the city, using the fairly recently constructed cycle lanes or tracks, and a Boris bikes type system ready to be launched in a few days. I put my transport planning ideals first when crossing the roads, raising my hand to request the drivers to stop while I braved the zebra crossings. However, at signalised junctions, drivers would stop very promptly as the lights turned to red. In addition to providing plenty of dropped kerbs and facilities for cyclists, Miraflores seems keen to challenge the norm with it’s 'Hands off the horn!' signs!

I was lucky enough to have a few contacts in Lima, with some of whom I enjoyed guided walks of areas of the city including Miraflores, Barranco and the historic city centre. I came across the statue of 'deepest darkest Peruvian' Paddington unveiled by the mayors of Miraflores and the City of London in 2015. I visited the incredible Huaca Pucllana bizarrely sandwiched between the modern Miraflores streets. Built around 500AD it was the administrative and ceremonial centre of Lima society. Built of staggered layers of clay 'bricks' it contains a pyramid and much of the site is still being uncovered.

I visited the Miraflores lighthouse (relocated from over 1,000km south in the early 70s) and the Parque de Amor with it’s saucy sculpture surrounded by Gaudí style walls. In a nearby park to where I was staying, I was to come across the old Miraflores railway station, complete with old steam engine and carriage, which used to provide a link to Barranco and Chorrillos. I also got to enjoy a night time fountain show, full of colour, music and clichés as some typical Peruvian images were projected onto the water sprays. The park had a rainbow and teapot and cups fountain waiting for me. Finally, I made a couple of wishes on the Barranco Bridge of Sighs before having to cross it without breathing!

The strolls were combined with a guided cycling tour to the more salubrious fishing neighbourhood of Chorrillos, where we climbed a hill to reach the huge cross (erected for a visit of the Pope) and enjoy the spectacular views of the city. It was good to sample some of the cycling infrastructure (always a need to check that cars will stop at cycle crossings!), including the somewhat narrow cycle track along the seafront! I was incredibly lucky with the weather since it’s normally cloudy/misty in the mornings (in fact, during much of the year Lima remains cloudy every day, however unlike in the UK, it receives virtually no rain. This was evident with the amount of watering of gardens taking place).

Since I was the only person registered I enjoyed effectively a private tour, which meant I had more opportunity to chat with my guide, one of the many Venezuelans now in the city, and get his perspective on the dire situation in his country. He has lost all hope that it will improve, other than via international intervention; actually I spotted on the news while in Lima that Maduro has been hanging out with Putin. He has three brothers or sisters back home, all desperate to escape too. I of course expressed my frustration and sadness with the B word in UK, where 'democracy' also has it’s damaging consequences.

I enjoyed a 10km ride on the Metropolitano express busway to the historic city centre, on which a constant flow of stopping and limited stop express routes sail past the queueing traffic. The city certainly could do with more of these, to supplement the single metro line. The city centre is a fascinating place, some streets very down at heel, but plenty of evidence of a grand city in the past with its eclectic mix of colonial, renaissance, art deco and brutalist, many buildings now neglected and with upper floors abandoned. I also took a wonder (with a local, thankfully) through the bustling crazy market area, where my focus was on keeping hold of my belongings as I had to keep clear of the bulky newly purchased items being carted or carried down the busy streets. The shops and street traders were bursting with Christmas items, while the huge Plaza de Armas was decorated with it’s tall (manmade) tree, Rudolph and sleigh, and other festive favourites.

I also got to see the huge and impressive Palacio de los Congresos, where the parliament takes decisions on the future of the country. Then there was the Presidential Palace, a somewhat topical building at the moment with the daily news updates on the prosecution of past presidents for corruption; unbelievably (or maybe not!) the last four consecutive presidents of Peru are either in prison or awaiting the completion of trials, with one very recently seeking asylum in Uruguay, which their government turned down.

On my last day I finally made it into the Pacific for a refreshing dip; people had warned me that it’s cold but they know little about my lido-proofing! Anyway, it was warmer than the English Riviera sea in late summer. I however wasn’t entirely convinced by the cleanliness of the water! Thanks to having a tall cliff above the beach and a fast multi-lane expressway (Circuito de Playas or Beach Circuit)) between the cliff and the sea, the beach is not easy to get to! There are, over nearly 10km, just a handful of designated points for pedestrians to access the beach. These are mainly busy congested polluted main roads. After the challenge of getting across the ten lanes of the Circuito de Playas racetrack, we made it to beach, where I launched myself down the steep beach of stones and into the water, as the waves pounded the shore and dragged the stones noisily backwards and forwards. Getting out was just as much a challenge, I seemed to succeed in timing it well between the worst of powerful waves.

[florinestanford-blog]

✅ Place Tips & Traveling & Recreation Write-up Category

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[babaleshy]

Something I May Need to Stop Doing...

I'll be venting in this post, but this is about the desire to move out of a desperate want for change right now even though such a move is not meant to be.

On occasion, I go onto zillow's website and check out houses around Pittsburgh out of curiosity just to see what houses are going for what price in what kind of condition. I've noticed something incredibly enticing: there are some houses going for under $100,000 and are technically livable. It's just got flaking/chipping paint, may need new rugs, and other general clean-ups. The only "major" thing I wanna do to any of these houses falling under this criteria is the fact that I feel more comfortable with a tin roof.

These houses that I find are within city limits, most of these houses I've shown an interest in are close to sidewalks. This means if I were to move into one of these houses, then I'd have a chance to properly commute!

Ah, but why exactly am I making this post? What is it that I'm venting about? And what did I mean earlier when I said "not meant to be?"

Back in 2014 (autumn, specifically), my husband and I had to move out of our apartment in downtown Pittsburgh to my parents' farm in Ohio. Two reasons made us do this: one was the skyrocketing rent prices when HUD sold our building, causing rent to go from $539/mo to $720/mo. My husband worked at a casino, and was making $10/hr, so when rent prices went up like mad, we really began to struggle to survive. The other thing was bedbugs. The building manager laughed at our discomfort and said, "What do you expect me to do about it? Where would everyone go for the building to be treated?" Like, you're a shit manager if you haven't come up with those contingency plans.

Paying $720/mo for a bedbug-infested apartment (bedbugs are fucking hard to get rid of) and living in a constant state of itchy breakout made us decide it was time to move in with my parents. Because we literally could not afford to live anywhere else, and our student loan debt fucked up our credit scores, so we couldn't even get a house (and we were looking for one at the time!).

We used to think living on this farm was temporary until reality set in, that there is absolutely no possible way for us to make it on our own now. My husband has ADHD and anxiety and is still struggling to practice to get his driver's license (it's hard when my dad is a major source of my husband's stress; my dad's an asshole and gets worse by the year), and I'm Autistic, so I can't hold down a regular job, and nothing else is hiring.

In terms of getting a job for me at all, either I'd have to go to school for my special interest for the job (ecology, entomology, and/or paleontology) or I'd rather work in a library.

Welp, college is far too expensive for me to pay out of pocket, and my already existing student loan debt is barring me from getting any sort of financial aid to go back to school at all. As far as the library is concerned? Remember when I said my husband is currently struggling to practice for his license? (He doesn't get much practice because my dad is a stressful asshole that makes my husband have a horrible headache and anxiety after he drives). We have 2 vehicles, one my mom uses to get to work, and the other my dad uses to take my husband to work as well as do errands in like grocery shopping and shit like that.

I can't get a ride.

Can't ride a bicycle, either. It's definitely not safe (I live in America, if you couldn't tell). My parents' farm is deep within one of the back roads with one of the properties on this road being an oil rig. The oil workers drive like assholes, not caring what animal they hit, speeding through here. There are dirtbikes and four-wheelers that speed through here, too. There's no room for 2 vehicles to pass one another, and nothing but pure fucking hill the moment you step off the side of the road. I literally cannot bike here.

But let's pretend I got onto one of the main roads on either end of our road. It's even worse! And STILL no room for bicyclists! This goes for fucking miles until you reach a residential area! Except for a nearby little village-town that has the closest library branch. It's the village my husband grew up in, but there's a lot of sketchy turns, corners, and again, no room for bicycles. This includes main roads.

With all this in mind, I actually considered the possibility of moving to that village, because the village itself is actually safe enough to bike ride in. The problem is: I'm not guaranteed to get a job at the library at all. I tried getting a job as a library clerk at the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh, got interviewed and everything, and didn't get the job for whatever reason. In fact, I'm not guaranteed a job at all at any library branch, regardless of the neighborhood. So moving to such an area depending on the chance of being hired there is not worth it.

Such a village is actually rather unfriendly, and that goes for a lot of communities here on this side of Ohio. You'd think this was one of the southern states from its people and what flags they fly.

So why not Pittsburgh? Why not move there if we could?

Well, I thought about it. It has all the perks I could expect such as public transportation, somewhat safer bicycling areas to commute to school and work, and more importantly: THINGS TO DO.

Living in the middle of nowhere blows when you want to, on your own without relying on someone to drive you, go and do something, such as buying fabric or art supplies for future projects, or going to the library, or anything, really! Yeah, I do want to garden, but I don't have the means to do that on a damn farm (long, frustrating story that made me stop believing my parents' promises).

Not to mention, I still have friends in Pittsburgh, If I wanna see them, they don't have to drive an hour and 45 minutes (and that's if they have a car) to visit. I got 2 friends here in the area, and they're busy with their work's demanding schedules. When we do hang out, Cards Against Humanity, Uno, and D&D can only do so much until it gets old and boring and you wanna do something else that isn't hanging out at a dead mall. There is truly nothing to do here. Pittsburgh has the museums, libraries, parks, and far more interesting establishments to lurk in.

So again: why not Pittsburgh?

Because that city has changed and is still changing compared to when I was last there. My regular watering hole (The Beehive) is no more. There are neighborhoods being gentrified (meaning I'm not guaranteed to keep my home even if I pay it off). Businesses are closing, meaning people will be losing their jobs, and some of the other places hiring (like libraries) are not guaranteed to hire me, especially when I haven't had a job since 2010.

There's also my cat to consider; she gets stressed at the sound of a lawn-mower (I don't blame her). She wouldn't be able to handle the sounds of the city. Unless we found a place not too close to downtown, such a move is a no-go.

I've daydreamed about living in Pittsburgh again. I'm homesick for Pittsburgh. I've realized only recently that that city was my home. Not this farm, not even the house I grew up in. I felt like a person who didn't have to rely on people for rides and such. It's the only place where I've truly lived on my own and enjoyed it.

I've actually considered moving out of this country and found that even more impossible. No matter which country you pick, no matter what language you learn, not only do you have to pay for your things to be shipped, for your plane ticket for a one-way trip, or whatever you need to become a citizen there, you still have to pay at least $2,000 to revoke your American citizenship or else you will be forced to pay American taxes despite never setting foot on American soil ever again.

Thanks to capitalism, America has made it fucking impossible for the average person to leave for good. If you are born here, you are financially enslaved here unless you're wealthy enough to leave.

So... What's the plan?

Well, for now: not much. The pandemic has set plans back a bit, but my parents have a lien on the house thanks to my private student loans my mom was bullied and forced into co-signing for. She... I guess?... is almost done paying them off? I don't know. My parents don't like communicating need-to-know info with me and then get mad when I don't absorb it through osmosis. Once the lien is taken off the house, mom wants to move north to be near her sister, and she said she'll try finding a farm for sale near Kent State so it'll be an easier commute (be it by bicycle or by car). My intention is to enroll there to be able to get a job as an ecologist (focus in entomology, specializing in arachnology) with a minor in paleontology.

Once I've gotten that all taken care of (as well as my husband going back to school for what he wants), we move to the pacific northwest, mainly just north of Seattle somewhere.

I hate Ohio. I hate running into people I've gone to school with that I try to avoid (more like I see them, but they don't recognize me? At least I hope not?). I hate this place so much. I hate this climate, being near people I don't want just randomly showing the fuck up. And what's the use of living near family when they don't want to bother visiting you? I hate hearing my mom tell me so-and-so that I obviously want nothing to do with told her to tell me they said hi. I'm tired of fearing I'll run into someone that abused me in the past because now they're back in the fucking area again apparently.

I've got my fingers crossed that something is gonna give and college to some level (community college?) will be free for residents or something. It'll give me a chance to go back to school for something close to what I wanna do so I can maybe get a job? Completing something at a community college would at least make it easier for me to get enrolled at a university.

My husband and I picked Seattle (or close to Seattle) for its climate. It's (usually) not blistering hot every goddamn year, and it's not horribly cold thanks to the mountain range (I'm quite cold-intolerant). We both enjoy overcast weather and rain. We'd rather take our chances with volcanoes than earthquakes or hurricanes in areas where these things are guaranteed to happen yet nobody ruling these areas wants to invest in infrastructure that helps stand a chance against them. Seattle also has a nice combination of city and wilderness side-by-side. Not much of that with Pittsburgh.

If I was forced to only move to Pittsburgh and no other city, I wouldn't mind, especially since I'm more familiar with Pittsburgh than I am with anything in my current local area (because I had to travel on foot instead of relying on a car to get to places!). Fuck, my mom wouldn't even let me do anything by myself out of the yard when we lived in the village I grew up in because she was a paranoid fuck and by the time I JUST STARTED gaining independence for having a bike and bicycling to the post office everyday, we moved to this farm.

Oh, this isn't a roof over my head I should be thankful for. My parents got screwed. Our water is full of iron and calcium that no filter can fix, so we constantly have plumbing problems, the post and internet connections are questionable at best, we get ant infestations from 2 species EVERY YEAR, all for a farm my mom wanted for horses she always wanted and eventually got but has little next to no energy to spend the time she wants with them and she refuses to admit her age has a lot to do with it on top of her working so she sits in the living room on THREE DIFFERENT DEVICES sucking up bandwidth to religiously watch every fucking livestream of a country singer she likes (and complains if she's missing it for any reason!), scroll through Facebook, and play a fucking shitty app game!

Our internet out here? The physical equipment is outdated (copper wires instead of fiber-optic cables) because the fucking company doesn't wanna spend the money to upgrade it.

So instead, we're stuck here, with my husband losing his sanity bit by bit by the day at his shitty retail job (every other available job offering would be worse in this area) and I sit here and hope that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I could start gardening soon.

I miss Pittsburgh. I really do. But despite all of its benefits it would give me and my husband if we moved back, I don't think it will happen.

In the off-chance that we don't move north, that my dad's assholery intensifies and he decides to remain here (he has to legally agree to sell this house in order for my mom to move north; dad's reasons keep fucking changing), Pittsburgh is a nice back-up plan. Pitt University actually has the major I'd want to go back to school for, as well as what my husband wants to go back to school for, and we'd already be familiar with the city and what to expect of it. However, we're aiming higher, and hoping to move to the pacific northwest, instead.

But I think to avoid losing my sanity, I should stop daydreaming about a future that may never be.

Fingers crossed!

[ericvick]

Mega-development a bad shift for Bayside

Steve Striffler, Special to the Reporter

Last September, the real estate developer Accordia Companions LLC submitted designs to the Boston Organizing Development Company (BPDA) to produce “Dorchester Bay City” (DBC), a mixed-use job featuring almost 6 million square toes of new building –roughly the dimensions of two Empire State Structures on land situated among the JFK/UMass prevent, Harbor Place, and Carson Beach front.

The proposal is a brash endeavor to occupy the city’s very last considerable piece of waterfront and displays the point that Boston’s city development product has lengthy favored developers at the expense of regional communities.

The proposal would be problematic below any situation, but it is inexcusable in a calendar year that saw phone calls for racial justice sharpen as a pandemic-pushed disaster worsened inequality.  If 2020 taught us anything, it is that any dialogue about racial justice in Boston have to confront a housing disaster that can make living in the town unaffordable for so numerous.  However, DBC represents enterprise as typical, promising to intensify racial and financial inequality rather of lessening it. 

It has woefully insufficient cost-effective housing, whilst paying out no notice to its possible affect on housing prices in a unusual location of the town still populated by a diverse performing class whose vast majority remains individuals of coloration.  It appears to be destined to exclude operating Bostonians from its confines, though serving to displace citizens of Dorchester as its rent-intensifying influence gentrifies the region.

It is also a transportation nightmare. With little problem to transit concerns, DBC would include more than 1,700 housing units (and substantial retail business office room) to an location that faces some of the region’s worst transit issues.  Bostonians would not only be financing transit upgrades, nonetheless they will also probable be on the hook for a considerable portion of the general public subsidies needed to safeguard the development from local climate transform connected to sea-degree increase.

In fact, at 1st look, DBC seems just like an additional instance of personal interests driving gentrification. Yet, DBC not only relies on community coffers, but it also will occupy general public land owned by the College of Massachusetts Constructing Authority.  This will make the lack of neighborhood-making institutions like colleges, daycares, senior facilities, and libraries all the extra troubling, and suggests that this “city” is for experts for whom “public” area suggests high-close espresso retailers and dining places.  Think Seaport District.

Accordia has minimal community voices by keeping hugely orchestrated meetings to ostensibly get the community enter demanded for acceptance. In fact, the developer has shared little meaningful facts with hand-picked local community organizations that have been predisposed to help the project.  All the though, the BDPA facilitated the “vetting” system while UMass Boston appears to be like to accumulate hundreds of millions of pounds though washing its palms of any duty for a venture that will reshape the area. 

Accordia has its impressive ducks in a row, which has served to mainly silence grassroots opposition.

With metropolis powerholders lining up guiding deep-pocketed builders, “community input” (at finest) permits the working persons whose houses and livelihoods are at stake the skill to get in front of the development steamroller and negotiate the best possible terms of their defeat.  

No just one is suggesting that DBC really should be stopped, or even that publicly controlled development really should serve the people of Boston rather of facilitating the upward distribution of prosperity.  That would be also substantially to anticipate from a rigged method. 

What we want from a minute defined by racial justice and financial inequality is a modicum of regulation in purchase to shape development in techniques that provide Bostonians.  We require neighborhood engagement and state intervention that will enhance very affordable housing, gradual displacement, deliver top quality work, aid local community, and create other general public merchandise that will have minimal influence on the developer’s pocketbook, but will (possibly) slow the raising level of inequality that threatens the pretty fabric of Boston. 

The author, a resident of Dorchester, teaches at UMass Boston and is the co-editor of “Organizing for Electrical power: Creating a Twenty-Initially Century Labor Movement in Boston.”

[oliveratlanta]

Atlanta’s busted sidewalks are an urban scourge. Can city leaders change that?

An Atlanta sidewalk on the mild side of problematic. | Photos: Sean Keenan, Curbed Atlanta, unless noted

A report due in March could show a billion-dollar problem, but leaders from Midtown to Vine City are motivated to see the city finally tackle it

Metro Atlanta isn’t exactly lauded for its transportation infrastructure, but perhaps the most embarrassing facet is the city’s crumbling system of sidewalks.

Cracked and broken, many of the city’s walkways have been lambasted as virtually unnavigable for people on foot, those restricted to wheelchairs, and, in many cases, city dwellers who choose to use them (illegally) on rentable dockless vehicles such as e-scooters.

Some districts, such as Midtown, are making strides with sidewalk upkeep, replacement, and improvement. But the problem is blatant elsewhere, in city neighborhoods both lower-income and not, from Inman Park to Southwest Atlanta and especially the Westside, where efforts to repair and maintain transportation infrastructure often fall by the wayside.

A handful of local leaders, including Atlanta City Councilmember Amir Farokhi, have taken it upon themselves to preserve and create intown walkways that cater to folks who opt to traverse the city without using the streets.

PEDS

Making the city a haven for pedestrians, however, won’t be easy—or even feasible—without significant changes at the municipal level.

Farokhi recently reintroduced legislation that would make it the City of Atlanta’s responsibility to repair and maintain sidewalks.

That’s right; the onus is currently on the adjacent property owners to ensure the walkways are up to snuff.

The City of Atlanta’s Department of Public Works, however, hasn’t traditionally enforced that mandate, Farokhi has said.

Public Works commissioner James Jackson told Curbed Atlanta in an email the city’s new Department of Transportation is now charged with oversight of such matters, and the new DOT commissioner, Josh Rowan, said only that he would “be working with Councilman Farokhi to better understand his legislation.”

A few local funding mechanisms—the TSPLOST and Renew Atlanta bond programs—support some sidewalk upgrades, but the problem is larger than those funding sources can handle, Farokhi insists.

The councilman said he’s awaiting a report from the city that should take stock of where sidewalks need replaced, repaired, or otherwise. It’s expected to be published in March, he said.

“I expect it to be in the hundreds of millions of dollars—toward a billion dollars, or around there,” Farokhi said. “So the question becomes... how do we identify a dedicated funding source that could be applied to fix sidewalks over the next five, 10, 15 years?”

For the time being, Farokhi wants to table his legislation in the council’s transportation committee, at least until the city’s report on sidewalks is published, and following planned work sessions dedicated to identifying funding channels for potential upgrades, he said.

“This will not be a fast process, unfortunately,” Farokhi said. “Ultimately, we need to find the dollars to do this before we can push it through.”

Atlanta City Councilman Antonio Brown, who represents Council District 3, which covers Westside neighborhoods such as Vine City and English Avenue, told Curbed he’s backing Farokhi’s legislation.

“Sidewalks play a critical role when creating healthy communities,” Brown said in an emailed statement. “Every community should have access to safe sidewalks, regardless of income level... I fully support the legislation.”

So does pedestrian advocacy group PEDS, naturally.

“We can’t keep kicking the can down the sidewalk when our sidewalks are broken and getting worse,” said the organization’s president and CEO, Cathy Clark Taylor.

PEDS officials, Taylor said, plan to meet with Farokhi to start building a plan of action next month.

Neighborhood leaders in more affluent communities, such as Brookhaven, Virginia Highland, Inman Park, and Ansley Park, she said, have in the past banded together to address concerns of lagging pedestrian infrastructure.

“Sidewalk maintenance is not an issue that only impacts affluent residents,” she said. “In low-income areas, even ones that are gentrifying, this kind of effort would not be possible. Contractors won’t work on projects unless they cover frontage along about a dozen lots or more.”

Even leaders in Midtown, which boasts some of Atlanta’s most impressive pedestrian-friendly spaces, know there’s plenty of room for improvement.

The subdistrict has seen $1 million in investment in sidewalk improvements since 2014. But there’s more work to be done to continue the community’s shift from its car-centric ways, says Midtown Alliance CEO Kevin Green, who’s also on board with Farokhi’s push for reform.

“Sidewalks are vital public spaces,” Green told Curbed in an email. “The city’s longstanding policy that adjacent property owners are responsible for sidewalk repairs has never worked and isn’t enforced.”

Acknowledging the city’s responsibility to repair public sidewalks is overdue, Green insists.

“As we all know, it’s going to take money and commitment to repair the backlog and maintain public sidewalks at the level we need to,” said Green. “As a city, I think we can do better, and it’s time.”

source https://atlanta.curbed.com/2020/1/17/21068988/atlanta-city-council-sidewalk-transportation-amir-farokhi

[newstfionline]

Mass evictions in freezing Beijing winter sparks public outrage but little official remorse

By Simon Denyer and Luna Lin, Washington Post, November 27, 2017

BEIJING--In his nationwide address to usher in the start of 2017, Chinese President Xi Jinping said he was “seriously concerned” about people living in hardship in his country--those who struggle to find jobs, housing, health care and education for their children. Xi pledged that to “ceaselessly solve those problems remains an unshirkable responsibility for the party and the government.”

But as the year draws to a close, tens of thousands of migrant workers are being tossed out of their homes in the freezing cold and biting winds of the Beijing winter, with little or no notice. It is a mass eviction sparked by a fire in a crammed and unsafe apartment building on Nov. 18 that killed 19 people, but it is part of a broader plan to modernize, beautify and gentrify the Chinese capital as a showcase for the Communist Party.

To many Beijing residents, it’s seen as callous and cruel. It also has touched off a rare outpouring of sympathy from the middle class toward the poorer sections of society who form the backbone of China’s economy but suffer the blunt end of Communist rule.

Hundreds of volunteers have gathered to help migrant workers with offers of temporary accommodation or assistance in moving their belongings. Others have brought soup or food to the evicted people, or donated warm clothes. Many more have taken to the Internet to declare their anger, sharing videos and photos of migrants thrown out of their homes. And more than 100 scholars, lawyers and artists signed an open letter protesting the evictions.

Even Chinese state-controlled media struggled to justify the evictions, admitting they were carried out too hastily and that local authorities sometimes behaved in a “simplistic and brutal” manner.

But authorities have responded by deleting social media posts and taking down a link allowing people to volunteer their services. A drop-in center to provide temporary accommodation to the evictees was closed by police. In a country where civil society is suspect, any attempt to protect the poor against abuse by the state is seen as potentially subversive.

Wang Minglei, a 43-year-old interior decorator who has lived and worked in Beijing for nearly 15 years, said he felt betrayed after being given just 10 days’ notice to leave his home.

“When they needed people to work and build the city, they welcome us,” he said. “Now the construction’s almost done, and they want us out.”

Less than a quarter of a mile away, Su Kezhu, 38, packed his belongings into boxes and bags, while his wife, Yang Juan, cooked a final meal in the kitchen of their tiny room in a row of one-story houses. Su came to Beijing to work as a warehouse keeper seven years ago, and the couple left their only child with their parents in Shandong province. But now he feels he has no choice but to admit defeat and go home--because he can’t find anywhere affordable to live.

“I don’t want to leave Beijing,” he said. “In fact, 90 percent of the people who get kicked out don’t want to leave, but there’s no place for us.”

Migrant workers doing construction and service jobs are often poorly paid and lack any semblance of workers’ rights. Without urban residence permits, they either have to leave their children behind in the villages to be brought up by grandparents, or send them to ill-equipped and crowded schools in the cities, which are sometimes closed down by the authorities.

The open letter signed by intellectuals accused the authorities of failing to reflect on mistakes that led to the deadly fire or making any effort to console the victims. They wrote that officials used the incident as an excuse to conduct the evictions “at lightning speed,” threatening hundreds of thousands of people with homelessness and destitution.

“We think this is a vicious event that is illegal and unconstitutional and seriously abuses human rights,” they wrote.

Ordinary citizens were no less angry.

“This is quite good, let them go back to their home towns and contribute there,” one user sarcastically observed on Weibo, China’s equivalent of Twitter. “Let people in the capital look after their own children, deliver parcels, repair the toilets, deliver takeaway food.”

Others took aim at the government and state media for allegedly referring to migrant workers as “low-end population.”

“Lower-class population” in every big city deserves respect, if there are no couriers, no waiters, nannies and real estate agents, street peddlers that you despise, your life would be less convenient,” one said, in a comment deleted by censors but preserved on the freeweibo.com website.

“What is lower class is not the population, it’s the mode of thinking of the government,” another person wrote in a deleted comment.

A link set up by Warm Beijing, a private group aiming to encourage volunteers to come forward and help, was taken offline. The page now displays a message saying that it “may contain sensitive words and has been banned!”

Meanwhile, the Tongzhou Home, a drop-in center for migrant workers, was visited by police after offering evictees the chance to store luggage or stay the night. It was later shuttered.

“I saw there were so many people desperately in need of help, and I just wanted to do something for them,” founder Yang Changhe told the South China Morning Post. He added that police told him he was not allowed to take people in because he was not licensed as a guesthouse or hotel.

State media, while allowing that “transient workers deserve respect,” argued that the evictions were a well-intentioned campaign that had gone awry or been misread.

But some local authorities did appear to reconsider after the public outcry. One township-level administration halted the evictions and allowed people to stay at least until the end of the year, and another offered some temporary accommodation and transport tickets.

Meanwhile, President Xi announced Monday that China should continue to upgrade the country’s toilets as part of its “toilet revolution” aimed at developing domestic tourism and improving the quality of life.

[lewigm-blog]

Newsletter 3: Lima tell you something about Peru’s Capital…

Me trying to imagine and pose for a cute couple’s picture. Cat has to send me a picture of her sitting on some steps so I can photoshop her in. (Also I wonder what was going on with the couple behind me. I’d like to think that I captured a cute moment of them) Published April 16, 2019

Gypsy Music

“God is a gypsy who plays her violin

At the gate of my heart.

Hidden in the high thin notes of her wild music

is her longing for love.

She plays her rhapsody

Until the tears come… longing, longing to be invited in.”

-        Sr. Lou Ella Hickman

 After spending a short six hours at the Starbucks in Cusco, I finally finished my pre-Lima newsletter in Cusco… That is to say that I am only three newsletters behind now! I am excited to be writing going through my experience and time in Lima with a broader perspective on what the Lima trip has meant for me. The city has much life and is constantly moving with rushed vendors hopping onto moving buses on highways and throughout every street. Interestingly enough, traffic seems to function better than some major U.S. Cities. Everyone here is an aggressive driver, not much like Jersey or Long Island drivers in the ways they can be careless or distracted, but rather they drive with an attentive, but intense approach to driving. Not all conductors can be characterized this way, but I can say this much about the commercially employed and apparently licensed drivers.

Amidst the bustling movement of people and vehicles, I have been able to draw out three “themes” or questions that capture my time in Lima: Traffic, privilege and more traffic, “Why am I here?”, and “Bohemian Rhapsody” While some of the events and moments I describe while in Lima fall clearly into one theme, most others blend and find their place somewhere in between.

Traffic, privilege and more traffic

As my fellow first year community mate and I arrived in Lima, we were met with an overwhelming heat and cloudiness that pervaded each and every breath we took. It was as if Peru was letting us know that although we had come down 3,000 meters of altitude, we weren’t going to make it through the coastal region without some discomfort. In true volunteer fashion, we were provided with a cheap Altel “dumb” phone (which only worked on speaker phone) to communicate with our JVC community back home for anything migrations related. Another adjustment we had to make was navigating the city without access to consistent internet. We found ourselves downloading, screenshotting and even hand drawing walking and bus routes to move around. It became our nuanced approach to being simple living JVs in Lima.

One of the aspects that struck me the most about Lima was the rhythm and pace of the traffic and the Limeñan people. Our entire first day in Lima was spent attempting to understand the bus routes and system. We stayed at the “humble” Inmaculada Colegio located in Santiago del Surco, which was conveniently located near a major highway (Panamerica Sur Highway). The highways have bridges and other points of access so that pedestrians could make their way to bus stops. Bus companies in Peru tend to be privatized and have specific routes which only added to the confusion. The city of Lima had its own public bus company, but we never made it to that point in our time with public transportation. After failing to describe our destination to nearly 20 buses, we decided to hop on a random bus and see where it took us.

Once aboard, we zipped past several districts and areas of the city, both poor and underdeveloped and also drove through areas that were more touristy and gentrified.  One region in particular, San Luis, had me disconcerted and would shift my perspective for the rest of my time in the city. As the bus drivers maneuvered through hordes of stagnant traffic, several passengers hopped on and off to get to their destination. One young man, about my age, made his way onto the bus and stood near a woman in a seat in front of my community mate. I initially thought nothing of him as he appeared to be just another passenger who, like most other Peruvians on public transportation, had little regard for personal space. He suddenly bent over and drew closer to this woman putting his arm around her, speaking to her as a close friend would. I couldn’t hear much of anything over the incessant car horns and chants of street vendors attempting to sell their goods, but after he spoke, the woman seemed distressed as she began to shake her head. He crouched down, and it appeared that he was comforting her. She then opened her backpack and he searched through it, taking out some money. He casually called over a bus vendor selling snacks and purchased a soda with her— I suppose now his—money. In a dramatic and cruel fashion, he opened and drank the soda in front of her, gasping in delight after consuming the first sip of his spoils.

If my description of this event so far hasn’t told you much about me, I am quite weary and observant of those around me, especially in unfamiliar territories. Perhaps it was the inner gringo in me or all the news media clips that my mom and other family members would share with me before arriving in Lima, but I feared for my own safety. In that moment, I felt that my decision to wear Chaccos, Touristy white cargo shorts and a Henle Long sleeve shirt was the worst thing I could’ve possibly done (Picture this but with a different shirt). I experienced an intense pressure and anxiety as my Americanness and privilege seemed surged up as if it was beach ball that I was trying to hide underneath water. I felt very out of place and wanted nothing more than to disappear. I had never seen a robbery in action.

What could I have really done? What if he approached my community mate? I only felt the sweat profusely leaving the pores from my hands onto my knees and shorts as these thoughts passed through my mind. Seeing what I believed to be a casual Jason Bourne-esque robbery on the bus, I only wanted to get back to Andahuaylillas. I struggled thinking about how I would travel the rest of my time in Lima. My community mate and I still had a whole 12 days in the city, and I wanted nothing more than to leave after our migrations process was over. I was never quite at ease during the rest of the trip after that moment but had to pull it together for migrations.

The next few days were spent drawing out maps to the tramites and customs office about an hour walk away. What we expected would be a process that would take a few trips and days was over in a matter of three hours. We left the Inmaculada early ordering an Uber from inside the Inmaculada to take us to the interpol and customs office. We thought we had arrived early enough but there was a long line of others waiting to be let through. One thing to note is that Peruvian lines can be complicated and generally disorganized, but we didn’t know that at the time. With a great wave and influx of Venezuelan refugees, things were backed up for everyone who may have just wanted to renew their licenses, ID’s and file any other paperwork. I was growing nervous after seeing other folks in line pulling out the same sheets of paper that looked completely different than ours. I thought that we had forgotten something back in Andahuaylillas and our trip would be for nothing!

When we finally reached the front of the line, an employee asked me where my papers were, and he noticed that my community mate and I had United States passports. He then loudly exclaimed “Oh you’re AMERICANS?! Why didn’t you come up front and say so?!” and then he took us inside. As we walked past several offices and groups of people, we were told that we had waited in the Venezuelan line and we would be tended to shortly. The process afterwards was clear and simple. We were fingerprinted, had our teeth checked and signed a few documents. Within a few hours we were out of the interpol offices and I was to check up on my religious carnet in a few weeks back home in Cusco. It seemed like an easy process for us but there were many Venezuelans still in lines and I wondered how long they would be there.

For those who may not know, Venezuela is going through an economic, political and humanitarian crisis. The “President” Nicolás Maduro has allowed for much corruption to go unchecked for years, leaving many to flee the country so that they can provide for themselves and their families. Many Venezuelans seek refuge in nearby countries such as Ecuador, Bolivia, Colombia and Peru. Many of the street and bus vendors in Peru today are Venezuelans hoping to make some money to meet up with family in other countries, or to simply feed themselves for the day. It is both sad and amazing to see the resiliency and positivity of many Venezuelans who are grateful for every sale and donation.

During my trip with the tourist bus company PeruHop, I met a Venezuelan named Luis in Paracas who was working in a hostel we stayed at. He fled the country as things were starting to get violent and desperate and he told me how grateful he was to find employment and a place to stay. Most of Luis’ friends and family weren’t so lucky. Oftentimes, even if they managed to leave Venezuela, they struggled finding consistent employment.

The sentiment and tensions that some of the Limeñans had towards the newly immigrated Venezuelans weren’t helpful during the mass migration. During mass at the Inmaculada, some Catholics grumbled about parables or readings that welcomed the stranger and foreigner. This crisis has been going on since Hugo Chavez’ presidency in 2010. It has been nearly a decade and the issues have yet to be resolved. The distaste and disapproval of their migration seemed ironic to me because just a few decades prior, Venezuela had opened its borders to receive Peruvians. I suppose it surprised me to witness a distaste of migrants and refugees in another country. These issues are present everywhere I suppose.

 Why am I here?

This question of “Why am I here?” came up often during my time in Lima. After our migrations experience took only a mere 3 hours to accomplish, I wondered what we were going to be doing for the next 12 days. My community mate and I decided to spend a few days on the safe and touristy bus company called PeruHop. It took us to the beach town of Paracas, near the Ballestas Islands or better known as “The Galapagos of Peru.” We also stayed in Huacachina and the area of Ica, home of the largest desert oasis where spent an afternoon looking at the sunset after sandbuggying. This was definitely an experience that I would normally enjoy but given the reason I had come to Peru in the first place, seemed to contradict the JVC value of simple living and solidarity with the people we served.

This was a difficult discernment process because it wasn’t a decision that affected solely myself, but my other community mate as well. I had not been accustomed to living a life of much travel, vacation and privilege before. As some of you may know, I was raised with my brother by a single mother who had sacrificed much to ensure that we were provided with the necessities. Here and there money would be saved up to take a trip to the free Knoebels family park or on the rare occasion, to Dorney Park. Time off and vacationing wasn’t the norm for me, and it was difficult to discuss with my JV community mate since our upbringings were starkly different. I constantly had to ask myself, “Is this really simple living? Why am I spending more than 3 months’ worth of stipend for a trip that most of the people in the Quispicanchi region will never experience? Am I doing this because I want to or to appease the community?” Questions like these surged constantly and left me feeling uneasy and resentful.

I understand that I have many differences with others, but I struggled to find a balance between our different gustos (tastes) and interests during our time in Lima. It was a particular challenge being just one on one with that person, but I (eventually) realized that I was at odds with my community mate because we are different people. I understood the saying “You learn a lot about yourself and others when you travel with them.” It was certainly an intense way of experiencing this saying as it was two people.

I have found that this whole arranged marriage part of the Jesuit Volunteer experience was difficult because well… it’s arranged! In my life, especially leading up to my departure, I tried spending most of my time and energy with the people I cared for the most. I had no problem leaving an event or kindly declining invitations to spend time with acquaintances. I simply did not have the time to casually be wasting time, or at least that was how I bluntly rationalized that decision. I spent time with the individuals who I would consider true friends, the people that gave me so much life and added value to me as a person. I believe that I may have brought a bit too much of that no-acquaintance attitude into Peru. Naturally, I didn’t realize this completely on my own. I had the help of some Jesuit apartment mates for two weeks at the Inmaculada.

 Bohemian Rhapsody

Contrary to my earlier descriptions, not all from my trip was a negative experience. I had a wonderful time within the walls of the Inmaculada. With it being the start of the “summer vacation,” the colegio was empty and quiet. The only sounds came from construction, much like the University of Scranton during the summer. Life was still going on, but at a much slower pace. Any other noises would come from the aforementioned Zoo, but mostly from the bird exhibit. Macaws and Peacocks would constantly shriek and call out throughout the days and late in the evening. I never quite grew accustomed to those sounds because they were always foreign and unexpected in the super city.

           The time I would spend in the Inmaculada before and after exploring the city with my community mate was a time to order my life and for calm reflection. This was both good and bad because I would have a lot of time on my hands to think about why I am here, which was a frustrating question to ask. I felt that I was just wasting my time and struggled to understand what this time in Lima really meant. I was at odds with my community mate on how to navigate the city. I struggled with the value of simple living after paying for three months’ worth of stipend for PeruHop. I wanted to start working and although I recognized that I would (eventually) appreciate my time adjusting into Peruvian life, but that didn’t make going through it any easier. Interior conflict and resentment was a brewin’ and what I needed was some spiritual direction.

           I found that during those times I would write and converse with the Jesuit brothers and priests who stayed in the Inmaculada to reorient myself. I discovered much life and joy within the Jesuit milieu in the mornings around the dining room. It was a time that I would chat with my new source of inspiration and passion for food, Olga. I would always cook an egg in the kitchen so that I could preview what was to come for lunch and hear about her life in Venezuela. I also noticed the routines and particularities of some of the Jesuits. One Jesuit would always have a fruit, perhaps a granadia or a sliced apple, while reading the paper. Another would always ask Olga for an over easy egg. As she would make his egg, he would toast a slice of bread, spread butter and pour olive oil, made from the Inmaculada’s own olive trees, onto his toast. Quite a unique way to do breakfast, but my community mate learned another way to spread butter!

Everyone had a routine and I realized that it was something that I longed for myself. I began asking them about their lives and roles in Lima. Some Jesuits were simply passing through, while others were more permanent residents working within the schools in the area. I really enjoyed my time with the director of the Inmaculada, Father Oscar. He was the parish priest who originally brought JVC to Andahuaylillas. I also enjoyed speaking with Monsignor Alfredo Vizcarra, the bishop in Jaen. His story was particularly interesting because he was sent to work in Chad, where he founded 17 Fe y Alegria schools. He had no particular desire or interest to go to Chad, but that is where he was sent, and he was able to make a difference there. Monsignor Vizcarra told me that although his mission had many successes, the journey was not without any challenges or failures. In that moment, I related to this because I hadn’t clicked particularly with any of my community mates. Perhaps I wasn’t as open to the experience to learn and grow within the JV community as I had once thought…

 “Hidden in the high thin notes of her wild music is her longing for love…”

 This was an experience of God; a chord was faintly being played that I recognized, something I could hum along to. The initial feelings that I had when I was called to enter this JV experience resurfaced and I felt renewed to be challenged as a person to grow for and with others. The sound that beckoned me brought with it much excitement and fear. It was a call to be more able to find God in all things. In that conversation with Alfredo, I had also asked him about his motivations for joining the Jesuits. He told me that he was called early on in life, but with a well-maintained prayer life and dialogue with God, he found solace as he left his studies of law for the Jesuits.

As he continued to speak, I questioned and began revisiting my faith life and relationship to God. Was what I had only a technical or academic sense of faith? Do I really believe that I am a Catholic? Can I say confidently that I own my faith, that I have a relationship and prayer life with God? I realized that the answer wasn’t clear just yet. Up until that point I realized that I didn’t have a defined and clear relationship with God. I don’t know if anyone ever does reach a constant state of nirvana, but I felt that perhaps I wasn’t even trying. I merely appreciated what the Catholic faith life had added to my life. Sunday masses helped provide an orientation for my life one week at a time. Ignatian Spirituality appealed to me because of its intellectual approach to faith and life. It was as if I was stuck with only talking about Faith, God and sharing stories and reflections of my life without ever being clear that God was at the center of it all.

 “At the gate of my heart…is her longing for love…longing, longing to be invited in…”

I didn’t believe in the faith with all my heart. I saw its goodness and potential, but I was not ready to accept it. This was the challenge for which I felt called to face during my time here in Peru. It was also a call to see God in other people as well. I realized something surprising about myself during this reflective period. I had been used to taking on the responsible, big brother role within my family and I was beginning to show some of that with my community mate at times. I had come into this volunteer experience with expectations and desires for what I wanted a Jesuit volunteer to be. Naturally, when those expectations weren’t met, I was going to be inevitably frustrated. I had not given myself or my community mate the space to discover this new world and chapter in our lives. It wasn’t fair of me to do that, and it is something that I have slowly been improving on.

My conversations with the Jesuits and my brief experiences of prayer after that night gave me something more focused to work on; To be truly open to witnessing and hearing God’s call to not only love others, but to allow myself to accept the ways in which others want to love me. I hope that with time and effort, I can continue to explore and renew the commitment to a healthy and holistic relationship with God. To nurture a relationship with the God that is always there, the God that is always beckoning us to let Him in, even when and where we least expect it.

“Is this the real life? Is this just Fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the sky and see...”

 Gypsy Music (Or what I call “God’s Bohemian Rhapsody”)

“God is a gypsy who plays her violin

At the gate of my heart.

Hidden in the high thin notes of her wild music

is her longing for love.

She plays her rhapsody

Until the tears come… longing, longing to be invited in.”

-        Sr. Lou Ella Hickman

A group of international PeruHop friends after winning Trivia Pictured (Left to Right): Jenz (Our Danish sugar daddy who paid for our drinks) Jary (Holland Native who came for Peru’s international car derby Dakar, Also loves Chipotle more than anyone I know even though he’s only been there once), Jack (An Australian student just traveling and balling on a budget) Me (Inhaling to look decent in the apparently medium sized shirt) Phyllis (My community mate who killed the celebrity part of Trivia) Margerite (German free spirit who was such a kind soul)

Me trying to imagine and pose for a cute couple’s picture. Cat has to send me a picture of her sitting on some steps so I can photoshop her in. (Also I wonder what was going on with the couple behind me. I’d like to think that I captured a cute moment of them)

The view from the Olive Cerro at the Inmaculada. It was cloudy but a spectacular view nonetheless

Links to Photos:

Lima: https://photos.app.goo.gl/HnVHCALVR6naKB7s6

PeruHop Adventures: https://photos.app.goo.gl/rpkFB8eWsf677aUB8

[prameet]

Gentrification and displacement in New York City

Sociologist Ruth Glass coined the word “gentrification” in a 1964 work exploring the connection between housing and class struggle in London: “One by one, many of the working-class quarters of London have been invaded by the middle classes—upper and lower. Shabby, modest mews and cottages—two rooms up and two down—have been taken over, when their leases have expired, and have become elegant, expensive residences … Once this process of ‘gentrification’ starts in a district it goes on rapidly until all or most of the original working-class occupiers are displaced and the whole social character of the district is changed.”[1] But director Spike Lee perhaps described the concept of gentrification in simplest terms when he said, “I grew up here in Fort Greene. I grew up here in New York. It’s changed. And why does it take an influx of white New Yorkers in the south Bronx, in Harlem, in Bed Stuy, in Crown Heights for the facilities to get better?”[2]

Causes of gentrification include supply-side factors (the decline of urban housing prices to the point that it becomes enticing for outsiders to purchase), demand-side factors (changing demographics, economic, and labor conditions), and policy factors (tax incentives for home buyers, mortgage programs, local construction and economic development, and public housing rehabilitation).[3] Effects of gentrification include low-income displacement, racial discrimination, increased segregation, loss of affordable housing, and spillover effects on city services. A report by the National Community Reinvestment Coalition found that gentrification and displacement occur most often in America’s largest cities with thriving economies, with half of all national gentrification taking place in just seven cities – New York City, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, Baltimore, San Diego and Chicago.[4]

In New York specifically, more than a third of low-income households (more than 1.1 million) live in neighborhoods that are either at risk of or already experiencing gentrification and displacement.[5] The three New York neighborhoods that are gentrifying the most, according to their% change in average rent are Williamsburg/Greenpoint, Central Harlem, and the Lower East Side/Chinatown.[6]

My neighborhood of Forest Hills – which has a median household income of almost $77,000 (24% higher than the citywide median), a poverty rate of 8.1% (much lower than the city wide rate of 17.9%), and a residential property sale price increase of 1% between 2017 and 2018 (compared to 3% in Queens and 4.3% citywide) – is comparatively not a strong candidate for gentrification and displacement (see Appendix 1 for a complete breakdown of Forest Hills neighborhood indicators over time).[7] Part of the reason is that “enclaves like Forest Hills Gardens, Kew Gardens, Malba ... and Bayside Gables were built for the upper middle class or wealthy and haven't changed too much in the last century or so. Classic gentrification ... is not as likely as more spillover of native-born Americans,” according to Queens Borough Historian Jack Eichenbaum.

For this reason, Forest Hills has often been on urban planners’ lists of neighborhoods that are primed for upzoning (rezoning an area to promote development and increased density) to absorb the city’s population growth that might otherwise go to gentrifying neighborhoods. Moses Gates of the Regional Plan Association wrote in 2015:

Instead of having our urban amenities drive multimillion-dollar house sales, why not upzone these kinds of neighborhoods and allow more, and more diverse, people to access them? This is, after all, a stated priority of Mayor Bill de Blasio – to create more equitable neighborhoods, partially though the application of its new Mandatory Inclusionary Zoning (MIZ) policy. But because de Blasio is choosing to apply MIZ almost exclusively in lower-income neighborhoods and not in places like Forest Hills, he is missing a huge opportunity to create both affordable housing and more inclusive communities … By upzoning [Forest Hills] and applying MIZ rules, the city could add hundreds of housing units, 25%–30% of them affordable, in an area with excellent transportation, a variety of commercial amenities, and great local public schools. But no one has proposed upzoning Forest Hills. And the reason for this is also wholly unsurprising: its residents want to preserve their suburb-in-the-city enclave through strict limits on density and development.[8]

De Blasio became mayor of New York on a platform that promised to address income inequality exacerbated in part by gentrification and displacement. “The truth is, the state of our city, as we find it today, is a Tale of Two Cities – with an inequality gap that fundamentally threatens our future,” he said in his first State of the City address.[9] “Fighting to end the Tale of Two Cities – not just because it’s moral and just but because it makes all of our lives richer. It must not, and will not, be ignored by your city government.” Similarly, in her victory speech after becoming elected Queens Borough President, Melinda Katz said that she looks forward “to working with Mayor-elect de Blasio from Borough Hall to take on the inequality crisis in our city.”[10]

But New York and Queens continue to face high levels of inequality, spurred by gentrification. Comptroller Scott Stringer found in a 2017 report that “citywide, the number of businesses in our most economically challenged neighborhoods has increased 41% since 2000, and by even more (45%) in neighborhoods commonly classified as gentrifying. That’s good news. But it’s also true that the benefits of that business growth have not always been broadly distributed, and that deep disparities persist along racial, educational and geographic lines.”[11] The number of minority-owned businesses accounts for only 21% of business employment and 16% of revenue.[12] Black-owned businesses in Queens actually decreased from 5% in 2007 to 3% in 2012.

Part of the reason Amazon’s much-discussed proposed HQ2 in Long Island City, Queens, received such pushback from vocal local groups was because of its potential gentrifying effects on a neighborhood already experiencing intense gentrification. In a blog post opposing HQ2, the group the Queens Anti-Gentrification Project wrote, “New York City is in the middle of a housing and homelessness crisis that worsens every year. Rents are skyrocketing, neighborhoods are gentrifying, housing court lines are getting longer, and NYCHA (public housing) is in complete disrepair … It is in this context that AmazonHQ2 is coming to Long Island City, threatening to significantly speed up the process described above. Thousands of high paid workers from around the world will be moving to Queens, and this tech-gentrification will lead to tenant harassment, rent hikes, and massive displacement.”[13]

These inequalities also play out in education policy in New York and nationwide. Of students who qualify for free or reduced-price lunch (the proxy for low income), 21.3% scored proficient on the citywide English exam and 24.8 scored proficient in math, compared to 50% and 53.1% for students who don’t qualify.[14] Nationwide, the educational achievement gap between the wealthiest 10% of students and the poorest 10% grew from 90 points on an 800-point scale like the SAT grew from 90 points in the 1980s to 125 points in the 2010s.[15] Policies that will protect students in gentrifying areas include measures to protect residents from displacement; establishing integrated, high-quality schools; easing overcrowding by creating more schools; make school choice options more accessible; and create culturally responsive education.[16]

Appendix 1: Forest Hills Neighborhood Indicators over Time[17]

[1] file:///C:/Users/prameetk/Downloads/the-new-urban-frontier-neil-smith%20(1).pdf, 31

[2] http://nymag.com/intelligencer/2014/02/spike-lee-amazing-rant-against-gentrification.html

[3] https://www.elca.org/JLE/Articles/1135

[4] https://ncrc.org/gentrification/

[5] https://www.urbandisplacement.org/maps/ny

[6] https://www.citylab.com/equity/2016/05/looking-back-at-gentrification-in-new-york-city/482310/

[7] http://furmancenter.org/neighborhoods/view/rego-park-forest-hills

[8] https://www.metropolitiques.eu/To-Prevent-Worsening-Inequality.html

[9] https://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/11/nyregion/text-of-bill-de-blasios-first-state-of-the-city-address.html

[10] https://qns.com/story/2013/11/07/katz-swept-into-boro-hall-in-landslide/

[11] https://comptroller.nyc.gov/wp-content/uploads/documents/Neighborhood_Economic_Profiles_2017_Queens.pdf, 3

[12] https://comptroller.nyc.gov/reports/the-new-geography-of-jobs-a-blueprint-for-strengthening-nyc-neighborhoods/

[13] https://queensantigentrification.org/2018/12/24/fuck-off-amazon-no-amazonhq2-principles-of-engagement-statement/

[14] https://citylimits.org/2013/09/25/class-in-the-classroom-the-income-gap-and-nycs-schools/

[15] https://equitablegrowth.org/income-inequality-affects-our-childrens-educational-opportunities/

[16] https://chalkbeat.org/posts/ny/2019/01/17/we-study-school-choice-and-gentrification-heres-how-new-york-city-should-prepare-for-amazon/

[17] http://furmancenter.org/neighborhoods/view/rego-park-forest-hills

[silverbirdtravelplusltd-blog]

10 best islands for a Malaysia holiday

From the cosmopolitan charm of Penang to the hippie getaway of the Perhentians, a diverse array of islands offer a huge variety of Malaysia holiday options. Here, in no particular order, we present our Top 10 best islands in Malaysia. 1. Perhentians: Hippie hideaway

While many backpacker haunts have become gentrified over time, the Perhentians have managed to retain their low-key vibe. Courtesy G E M/Creative Commons/Flickr They might not be easy to get to, but the Perhentian islands off the northeast coast of Peninsular Malaysia have achieved iconic status on the backpacker trail. And for good reason -- the waters are so clean that you can snorkel right off the beach and still see a diverse array of aquatic life. Fishermen turned tour guides will also take you out in their small boat for a day trip to swim with sharks and turtles. In the evening, beach bars set up cushions on the sand as wandering fire artists do their thing. Where to stay: For high-end Malaysia holiday lodgings, check out the Tuna Bay Island Resort. Budget hunters should look up Abdul Chalet. Getting there: Regular buses leave from Hentian Putra bus station in Kuala Lumpur, taking nine hours. Alternatively, fly from Kuala Lumpur's LCCT airport to Kota Bharu, and then catch a taxi to the port town of Kuala Besut. 2. Tioman: An island for flashpackers

The island of Tioman and the waters surrounding it are protected nature reserves, which has helped it retain its wild vibe. Courtesy tak.wing/Creative Commons/Flickr Although part of the Malaysian state of Pahang, Tioman is actually reached from the Johor town of Mersing. There's also a direct ferry from Singapore. This popular Malysia holiday island has two claims to fame that continue to be hyped by media and marketers. One, the dramatic topography of this teardrop-shaped isle in the South China Sea was (supposedly) used as a backdrop for the 1958 movie "South Pacific," while Time magazine named it one of the world's most beautiful islands in the 1970s. Though it's now a firm fixture on the tourist trail and has lost a little of its exotic mystique, it retains --- where many of its Southeast Asian contemporaries have lost theirs --- the natural environment and wildlife that first made it famous. First among animals, on land at least, are the giant monitor lizards that roam among the kampungs (Malay for villages) in search of food. Don't worry, they avoid humans. Most of the time. Where to stay: For a boutique experience, check out JapaMala. Getting there: There are bus services from all over Malaysia to Mersing; from here it's a two-hour boat ride to the first jetty on the island. Tioman also has a small airport, which Berjaya Airways flies to from Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. 3. Langkawi: Best for luxury

Don't worry, Lankawai has the same stunning beaches as the rest of these islands. We just thought you might be tired of looking at white sand. Courtesy Jan Bjerring/Creative Commons/Flickr Located right by the border with Thailand, Langkawi is part of the Malaysian state of Kedah, not Perlis which is in fact directly adjacent. Famously, the Malaysia island was believed to have been cursed in 1819, when a woman named Mahsuri, was put to death for alleged adultery. Before she died, she uttered the words, "There shall be no peace and prosperity on this island for a period of seven generations." Two years later Langkawi fell to the invading Thais, with much of its population subsequently dying from starvation. The island was then indeed barren for a long time, before Prime Minister Mahatir Mohamed --- the colossus of Malaysian politics who also built Kuala Lumpur's Petronas Towers and the Sepang F1 circuit --- decided to turn it into a resort island in 1986. He declared it a duty-free island, and ever since then Langkawi's growth has been nothing short of spectacular, with high-profile resorts dotting its sandy shores to make it a Malaysia holiday star. The best way to take it all in is on the 2,200-meter-long cable car, which rises some 710 meters above sea level. Interestingly, Mahsuri's husband and son moved to Phuket after the Thai invasion, and it was on that island that her seventh generation descendant was born --- in the year 1986. Coincidence? Where to stay: They don't come much more stylish --- or eclectic --- than Bon Ton, eight traditional Malay homes set in a former coconut plantation. Or there's always the Four Seasons Resort Langkawi. Getting there: Langkawi has by far the best flight connections of any Malaysian island, with dozens of daily flights to Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and Penang. 4. Penang: Food and heritage

Historic Georgetown is a highlight of Penang. Courtesy Phalinn Ooi/Creative Commons/Flickr The Pearl of the Orient has a long and illustrious history. "Discovered" by Captain Francis Light in 1786, Prince of Wales Island, as it once was known, was for a long time one of the jewels of the British empire. Alongside Melaka and Singapore it was known as one of the Straits Settlements, a string of outposts that dominated the sea trade between India and the rest of Asia. However, its importance gradually waned over the centuries, before it was rediscovered as a Malaysia holiday destination and reinvented as an IT hub. Today, under the close eye of Malaysian opposition and Penang Chief Minister Lim Guan Eng, the island is proudly parading its past --- the UNESCO status granted to historic Georgetown in 2008 guarantees that. But its greatest attraction is its street food --- from Penang laksa off Macalister Road to banana leaf in Little India to seafood on Gurney Drive --- you'll find it all here. Alongside a raft of improvements designed to attract even more visitors, including investment in public transport, a tree planting program, pedestrianization schemes and a schedule of new cultural festivals and fairs, this magnificent island --- only slightly smaller than Singapore --- is once again making its mark on the world stage. Where to stay: Since 1948, the recently restored Lone Pine sits serenely on the north shore of the island, while for city digs look no further than the Hotel Penaga, heritage buildings in the heart of town. Attracting a lot of attention among luxury lovers is the Eastern & Oriental Hotel, a restored colonial property. Getting there: Flights from around the world land at Penang International Airport. From there, inexpensive taxis can transport you to destinations around the island, or you can catch the airport bus into town. 5. Labuan: An isle of bankers

Clear waters, white sands and offshore banks. What everyone looks for in an island. Courtesy prilfish/Creative Commons/Flickr Located off the coast of East Malaysia, sandwiched between Sarawak and Sabah, Labuan is one of three Federal Territories (the others are Kuala Lumpur and Putrajaya). Its special status as an international offshore financial centre and free trade zone has allowed it to attract outside investment from the financial sector (some 6,500 offshore companies are based here). Long-term, the Malaysian government envisions the island as becoming one of the world's major offshore business centres, akin to the Middle Eastern hubs of Dubai or Bahrain. While it has some way to go to achieve similar status, the nation has a track record of dreaming big and making it happen -- the Petronas Towers and annual F1 race attest to that. If you're not involved in the financial services, there are other reasons to visit such as wreck diving. Over the years, numerous ships were sunk in the shallow waters off Labuan, making it ideal for novice divers. These are simply known as the American, Australian, Blue Water and Cement Wreck. There is also a well-tended War Cemetery, where an annual remembrance ceremony is held for some 3,900 Allied soldiers who died during in World War II. Where to stay: For both service and quality, it's a close toss-up between the Tiara Labuanand the Grand Dorsett. Getting there: There are daily flights to Labuan Airport from Kuala Lumpur, Miri in Sarawak and Kota Kinabalu in Sabah. There is also an air-conditioned ferry to Brunei. 6. Layang-Layang: Isolation guaranteed

Would you call this an island? Layang-Layang's isolation makes it one of Asia's best diving experiences. Courtesy Matthew Lee/Creative Commons/Flickr Little more than a coral reef with a runway, the tiny island of Layang-Layang is located some 300 kilometers northwest of the Sabah capital of Kota Kinabalu (KK), the state to which it belongs. A creation of the Malaysian Navy, which reclaimed land from the sea in order to state the nation's sovereignty over the Spratlys, that South China Sea island group also claimed whole or in part by China, Taiwan, Vietnam and the Philippines. Surrounded by pristine waters that drop to 2,000 meters, Layang-Layang is often ranked as one of the top 10 dive sites in the world due to its remarkable array of marine life. Due to the Navy's presence, the coral reef has been spared the explosive damage caused by dynamite fishing and other destructive practices, leading to underwater visibility of more than 40 meters. Particularly of note are the schools of scalloped hammerhead sharks, which can sometimes number in the hundreds, though you can also expect to see manta rays, dolphins, barracuda and turtles. Where to stay: Easy one to answer. At the only game in town, the traditional-styled Layang Layang Island Resort run by the Avillion group. Getting there: The only way in and out of this Malaysia island is on a charter flight from Kota Kinbalu, with the price included in the various packages offered by the only place to stay on the island. 7. Sipadan: For hard-core divers

In his 1989 film "Borneo: The Ghost of the Sea Turtle," famed underwater explorer Jacques Cousteau said, "I have seen other places like Sipadan, 45 years ago, but now no more. Now we have found an untouched piece of art." Courtesy Benjamin Hollis/Creative commons/Flickr At the end of 2002, following a long dispute with Indonesia, the International Court of Justice ruled that the island of Sipadan was Malaysian. The country, and the state of Sabah which it is part of, have reason to be relieved. Sipadan is often rated as the world's best dive site, with a location in the centre of the planet's most bio-diverse marine habitat. In order to protect the fragile ecosystem of this Malaysia holiday destination, in 2004 the government ordered all of the dive resorts off the island, banned night dives and set a limit of 120 divers per day. The move worked, as the surrounding waters continue to teem with life. It's home to 3,000 species of fish, hundreds of species of coral, an abundance of rays and sharks and large populations of green and hawksbill turtles --- so much so there is a famous turtle tomb, an underwater labyrinth that has drowned many of the unfortunate sea creatures. Where to stay: As you are not allowed to stay on Sipadan itself, stay close by at theSipadan Kapalai Dive Resort built on stilts over the water or Sipadan Pom Pom Resort. Getting there: It's a 55-minute flight from Kota Kinbalu to the town of Tawau, an hour's drive to the even smaller township of Semporna, and then a 40-minute speedboat ride. 8. Redang: For a 'Summer Holiday'

If you get tired of white beaches, Redang has plenty of wildlife, including monkeys, deer and monitor lizards. Courtesy Phalinn Ool/Creative Commons/Flickr The Redang archipelago actually consists of nine islands, namely Lima, Paku Besar, Paku Kecil, Kerengga Besar, Kerengga Kecil, Ekor Tebu, Ling, Pinang and Redang itself. Together, they form a marine park situated 45 kilometers off the east Peninsular Malaysia state of Terengganu. Unlike its close cousins, the backpacker-filled Perhentian islands to the north, Redang is very much an upmarket destination, with mostly resort accommodation on offer. Accordingly, the island also has its own airport, served by Berjaya Air, which since 2004 has flown daily to Kuala Lumpur's Subang Airport and Singapore's Changi. With excellently preserved coral, the main attractions of Redang are snorkeling, diving and the crystal clear waters. You'll need to stick close to the shoreline regardless, as the interior is mostly impassable, apart from a road that connects the airport with the coast. In 2000, the Malaysian island was the setting for Hong Kong movie "Summer Holiday," which featured Cantopop star Sammi Cheng and Taiwanese heartthrob Richie Ren. The success of the film led to a sudden influx of tourists. Where to stay: The same company that owns the only airport and airline to fly in, also has the best place to stay, The Taaras, by Berjaya. However, film fans should head to the Laguna Redang Island Resort, where the colourful souvenir shop was a key setting in the movie "Summer Holiday." Getting there: If you don't want to pay to fly in directly, the alternative is to fly to Kuala Terengganu, and then continue by car and take a ferry from the port of Merang. 9. Rawa: For a weekend break

Not all of us have opportunities to stay in a sultan's lair. Rawa is the next best thing. Courtesy Phalinn Ooi/Creative Commons/Flickr There aren't many chances to stay on a Sultan's private island. Rawa is one. Owned by the family of the Sultanate of Johor, Rawa is a small island 16 kilometers off the east coast of Peninsula Malaysia. Only two resorts hug its white-sand fringed west coast, which is accessible by boat from the mainland port of Mersing (also the departure point for more distant Tioman). Because of this exclusivity, Rawa attracts tourists looking for a more secluded vacation. While the west coast is postcard perfect, the rest of the shoreline consists of inaccessible, dramatic rocky cliffs that plunge directly into the sea. To check these out, take the easy way and rent a canoe or hike up steep steps to the summit of the island, from where you have vantages of the eastern shore, the coast of Johor and the other 12 small islands that make up the Johor Marine Park. As your choice of accommodation is limited -- it can often fill up quick with young Singaporeans looking for a weekend getaway -- so book up early. Where to stay: There are only two places to stay on the island: Rawa Island Resort or the smaller Alang's Rawa. Getting there: From Kuala Lumpur, catch a bus or drive to Mersing, from where regular ferries depart. Note that during low season (November to March), ferry frequency can drop sharply. 10. Pangkor: Loved by locals

Tiny Pulau Pangkor lies off Perak on the west coast of peninsular Malaysia. Courtesy Phalinn Ooi/Creative Commons/Flickr Despite measuring just eight square kilometres, Pulau Pangkor (pulau is the Malay word for island) is one of the most popular beach getaways in Malaysia -- among locals, that is. Pangkor is one of the country's most accessible islands, yet it is overwhelmingly the preserve of Malaysians, who head there every long weekend for a little rest and relaxation. There is little in terms of nightlife but instead you'll find uncrowded sandy beaches, a huge variety of amazing local cuisine and friendly people. Where to stay: Try the Pangkor Island Beach Resort. Getting there: There are direct flights to the island from Subang's Sultan Abdul Aziz Shah Airport via Kuala Lumpur, or it's a 30 minute ferry ride from the town of Lumut. Editor's note: This article was previously published in 2012. It was reformatted and republished in 2017 by CNN Travel Read the full article

[gentrificationinbrooklyn-blog]

The subtle and not-so-subtle signs

The consequences of gentrification and its impact on community residents present themselves in a myriad of ways. Some are more obvious, like when longtime residents are purposely excluded from public community events, and some are more subtle, like adding fewer words to local business’ storefront signs to appear more exclusive. Even the cliches of gentrification hold truth — trendy boutiques, expensive coffee shops and organic food markets taking the place of family-owned businesses is prevalent throughout these neighborhoods. Some businesses, although not replaced by gentrified businesses, must rebrand their offerings to fit the desires of the community. For example, a lingerie store in Williamsburg that mostly catered to an older clientele of Polish women changed its target audience, and an employee remarked that the old patrons don’t really shop at the store anymore (DeSena & Shortell 95).

As I mentioned in the introduction, bicycles are one of the more trivial, yet obvious ways that gentrifiers try to exert power in communities. In one instance in Williamsburg, a community event called “Williamsburg Walks” shuts down Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg to vehicular traffic. Instead, the street is lined with art installations, yoga studios providing free classes, patches of grass and plants in the street. The initiative was proposed by the New York City Department of Transportation, so although it seems like it should include all New York City residents, an event like this calls into question the use of public space and community events in a gentrified neighborhood (DeSena & Shortell 89). The “Walks” event is largely homogenous, with mostly white twenty-somethings and young families attending the event. Even though the neighborhood has significant Latino and Polish populations, these groups rarely attend the event (DeSena & Shortell 90).

One of the most fascinating parts of my research was discovering the article What the signs say: Gentrification and the disappearance of capitalism without distinction in Brooklyn. The article examines storefront signs as mechanisms for gentrification, using specific language ideologies and rhetoric representing class struggles for material wealth (Trinch & Snajdr 1). According to Trinch and Snajdr, there are two types of signs in Brooklyn: ones that employ Old-School Vernacular, and those that employ Distinction-making. Signs with Old-School Vernacular tend to be wordier, giving detailed explanations of the provided goods and services. The wording is accessible and inclusive, using simple language that welcomes all people. Sometimes, the signs even contain words in different languages, catering to the different groups in the community (Trinch & Snajdr 3). While utilizing many words is the key factor for Old-School Vernacular signs, they also share two of the following key features: “ancillary signs; large typefaces; store names that refer to location, surnames, type of business and/or products or services; reiterations; non-standard written English forms; languages other than English in Roman transliteration and/or non-Roman scripts; complementary symbols or pictures; and sincere references to religion, ethnicity, national origin, race and class” (Trinch & Snajdr 7).

Conversely, signs on most gentrified businesses in Brooklyn don’t usually advertise their goods and services, but they stick to short phrases that do not usually illustrate the offerings of the business. According to Trinch and Snajdr, the awning of a new restaurant in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn solely contains the word “james” (11). Another example is a sign that simply reads “Wink,” and turns out to be a hair salon (Trinch & Snajdr 11). These linguistic choices subtly push out longtime residents, as they begin to feel like they don’t even have a sense of what these businesses offer. In reality, no one would know exactly what these businesses offer unless they went inside to inquire directly, or if they looked it up on the internet beforehand. However, the exclusive feeling of the signs draws longtime residents away from entering these businesses to inquire, and many will not take the time to research what a store offers before going in. Arguably, no one should have to do prior research on a business before going inside just to find out what it offers. But when one does take the time to research, and then enters the store without asking any questions, there is a sense of accomplishment — a sense of penetrating the wall of exclusivity that the store presents. According to Trinch and Snajdr, distinction-making signs tend to share these textual and linguistic features: “one word or a short phrase written in a reduced font-size; polysemic or cryptic names; languages other than English that index sophistication and worldliness; (sometimes erudite) historical and literary references; and all lowercase letters” (12).

I was particularly fascinated by the article’s description of how distinction-making signs use historical and literary references. It mentions an ice cream shop in Brooklyn that I frequent with my family — even though it’s not in my neighborhood — called Ample Hills Creamery. The name gives a nod to Walt Whitman’s 1865 poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” which, as an English major, I didn't even catch until I walked inside and observed the mural on the walls inside honoring Whitman. Trinch and Snajdr also note that “... as Whitman also probably intended, the words ‘ample hills’ also allude to women’s breasts. With ‘creamery,’ the intertextual play on the sign is rich: two scoops of ice cream resemble breasts, which can make milk, and milk is needed to make ice cream” (13). This subtext, which is clearly not initially understood by the average person, creates a feeling of exclusion and superiority, even in a business that offers something as accessible and universal as ice cream.

Signs that employ Old-School Vernacular tend to give off a “what you see is what you get” vibe, inviting community members to trust and patronize the businesses because they know exactly what they’re going to find. Some of these signs even use words and phrases like “Welcome friends” and “All nationalities welcome” to prove that they really are committed to catering to everyone in a community, fostering a culture of inclusivity (Trinch & Snajdr 15). But with distinction-making signs, the language is subtly exclusive. Although wording on storefront signs might seem trivial, it’s the subconscious effects that go to work to make people believe that they are not welcome in a community, further marginalizing minority groups — although they were the ones in the community first. But we already know from history that that’s never made a difference to colonizers.

[jobsearchtips02]

Rigorous coronavirus lockdowns expose class departments in Europe, US

Throughout Europe, countries are hurtling towards deep economic crises.

And yet, the European poor will be much better off than their American equivalents, because they have universal healthcare and subsidized wages for people who have actually lost their tasks.

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A couple of weekends ago, a video of individuals defying France’s coronavirus lockdown and dancing together in the streets of Paris set French Twitter alight. Authorities showed up and distributed them quietly, letting the terrace “DJ” off with a caution Many suggested law enforcement would have reacted differently if the gathering of individuals, in the gentrified community of Montmartre, had actually not been middle class and white

The occurrence was especially inflammatory since it followed numerous nights of violence in lower-income neighborhoods just a couple of miles north, where cops fired tear gas and rubber bullets towards groups of youths who torched vehicles and lit dumpster fires. The clashes started after an occurrence between authorities and a motorcyclist that landed the latter in health center, but they were rooted in wider grievances about France’s strict eight-week lockdown and its outsize effect on individuals in the banlieues, or working-class suburban areas.

Across Europe, shutdowns have actually wreaked economic chaos– France just suffered its worst financial contraction since World War II, while the UK is on track for its inmost recession in 300 years The poor will of course be hardest struck. Currently, long lines of individuals snake through France’s low-income communities towards food distribution websites But as alarming as it is, those people will likely wind up better off than their American equivalents. They have universal healthcare and state-subsidized furlough pay. And due to the fact that most have actually not been completely laid off, they’ll be back to work when organisations resume on Monday.

Inequality is rife

Several weeks into confinement here in France, the public health chief announced that Seine-Saint-Denis– one of the poorest, and densest, departments in France– had seen a spike in deaths compared to other areas around Paris. The far-right politician Marine Le Pen implicated the government of not effectively implementing lockdown measures there, while French media snapped photos of crowded pathways and described the department’s locals as “ undisciplined” for not respecting the rules. But the banlieues supply a number of Paris’ important workers, such as cashiers, cleaners, and garbage-truck chauffeurs. Individuals seen out and about in Seine-Saint-Denis were most likely just going to work.

Not that those commutes are simple. Public transportation has been considerably reduced, and one grocery store employee from Cergy-Pontoise, another suburban area, informed me the train he takes to work has just been running when every two hours. He stated that’s also why more individuals can be seen on the streets in his area– they do not have lots of shops to begin with, and have to walk further to access them.

On the other hand, the wealthy main arrondissements of Paris are peaceful. According to information from the French telecom Orange, more than a million Parisians got away the city when the lockdown was announced. Those that left handled to prevent, to name a few things, the daytime exercise ban– a Paris-only guideline forbiding outside exercise between 10 am and 7 pm. And while some fortunate city-dwellers might have backyards or roofs, most have actually now gone 8 weeks without access to green area due to the fact that parks have actually been closed because March16

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According to Dr. Jennifer Heisz, a professional in brain health and associate teacher in kinesiology at McMaster University, not being able to exercise can have major physical and mental health consequences. Working out makes us more resistant to daily stress factors, along with avoiding stress-induced swelling, which can lead to stress and anxiety and anxiety.

But exercise– and outings in basic– have been limited throughout Europe. The Italian region of Lombardy banned outside workout completely in mid-March. Spain did the very same, and, for 6 weeks, likewise banned children from leaving their homes. Here in France, we are just enabled out once a day, for an optimum of one hour, and can only travel 1 kilometers (0.6 miles) from home. Calls to domestic abuse hotlines have increased

Breaking these lockdown guidelines can get you in hot water. We need to bring ID and paperwork to justify being outside in case paramilitary gendarmes stop and question us. Since late April, French police had carried out15.5 million stops and administered 915,000 fines However the decision to fine is extremely subjective. If you go out for groceries– one of a handful of acceptable reasons for leaving the home– it is up to the officer to choose whether your chosen store is within a “affordable” range from your home or whether you have actually abused your advantages.

The fines themselves are signs of socioeconomic status too. Much of my friends at first brushed off the idea of getting one (EUR135 for your very first violation); if they really needed to break the rules, they ‘d just run the risk of getting captured and paying it. But over the weeks, the law has been tightened up. Now, a 2nd infraction can cost as much as EUR1,500 and a 4th can cost EUR3,700– and land you in jail for six months. Again, this matters if specific individuals are disproportionately targeted.

It’s going to be even worse in the US

While the inequalities in Europe have been serious, the situation is likely to be even worse in the US.

Here, the shutdowns have actually at least prospered in their objectives of flattening the COVID-19 curve. Cases in Italy, Spain, and France peaked in early April and have actually fallen ever since. By contrast, brand-new cases in the United States have plateaued at a still-high level. And regardless of some state governors pushing to raise limitations, virus cases are on the increase beyond New York City.

Relief is in sight on the financial front, here, too.

On The Other Hand, the US reported on Friday that more than 20 million individuals lost their tasks in April and lots of businesses are vanishing entirely.

Some people have, no doubt, slipped through the cracks here in Europe, specifically in the casual sector.

This is an opinion column. The thoughts expressed are those of the author( s).

Do you have an individual experience with the coronavirus you wish to share? Or a suggestion on how your town or community is dealing with the pandemic? Please e-mail covidtips@businessinsider.com and tell us your story.

Get the current coronavirus organisation & financial effect analysis from Service Insider Intelligence on how COVID-19 is impacting markets.

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