Blog-o-licious!

WANTWANTWANTWANTWANT.

This:

Hyperwall 2

just to get ready for this:

Diablo III

June 28th, 2008 Posted by admin | Tech, General | no comments

Boycott Microsoft, now.

Long-time readers of this blog know I have no love for Microsoft. For those of you who need proof, Exhibit A would be this post. Exhibit B, this one.

I run an Ubuntu Linux system and browse with Firefox. When I run searches, it’s through Google or Wikipedia. The likelihood of my wanting to use Microsoft Live Search, MSN, Hotmail, or any other online product Microsoft touts is up there with the chances of a snowflake in hell. So you can imagine my reaction when browsing along the Intarwebs, I click on a link to a web page, and get this:

No, the link itself doesn’t point to Live Search. Not at all. No, I don’t use Live Search, nor do I want to. This is happening while browsing a site I’ve seen before, to a page I know exists. But somehow, stuff gets redirected to Live Search anyway. Worse, this redirection happens even while editing blog posts–WordPress dialog boxes get completely derailed in order to show me Live Search results for the word “customjuju”. Um, yeah, that should make me think your search engine is indispensable. And the best part is, after Live Search takes over a page link this way, that’s where the link always goes–unless I kill my Internet connection and reload. Why? Because Microsoft Live helpfully plants a bunch of cookies to make sure their site loads again and again and again until I use their search engine.

Now, y’all know that ain’t right. When other people who aren’t Microsoft do this, it’s called hijacking. I mean, people pay me to fix their computers when something like this happens. This is obviously some kind of click-piracy to “prove” many people are using Live Search, by showing how many people load the site. In some cloud-cuckoo-land the Microsoft execs inhabit, this kind of server request sleight-of-hand is supposed to prove they’re better than Google, or Yahoo!, or whatever, rather than showing they can’t get market share without sleaze-baggery.

No. I refuse to go along with it.

But you don’t have to take just my word for it. Webmasters have been having problems for a while with server logs spammed with live.com results that um….didn’t really happen.

So I think it’s time to show Microsoft where the money really is–in other products made by companies with a better ethics system.

Who’s with me?

Editrix’ Note: If, like me, you don’t want Firefox/Linux spouting Live Search when you’re trying to read a cool cartoon like Girls With Slingshots or Day by Day, do this:

In Firefox, go to the “Edit” Menu and click “Preferences”.
Choose the “Privacy” Tab.
In the “Cookies” section, click the “Exceptions” button.
Block the following sites:

• live.com
• search.live.com
• msn.com
• search.msn.com

Next, close the “Exceptions” box, and click the “Show Cookies” button.
In the “Cookies” window, search for any cookie names with variations of live.com and msn.com, and delete them.

Close the “Cookies” window.
Close the “Preferences” window.
Restart Firefox.

June 26th, 2008 Posted by admin | Tech, General | one comment

Habit forming.

True to my status as a professional late bloomer, I just now caught on to this meme that was truckin’ through the Net a couple of months ago.

The Band Meme. Rules here, with a tip of the hat to Squeaky Wheel, via A View from the Porch.

Y’all remember that game, back in the day, where you turned the sound down on your TV, turned the dial to 11 on your stereo, and played Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon while watching whatever random stuff came up on the TV? And remember how mindblowing it was to see the sounds and images come together as if they were always meant to? No? Well, if you don’t, here’s the next best way to re-create that experience (chemical enhancements optional):

The Band Meme
Here’s how it goes. You are about to have your own band’s CD cover. Follow these directions to the letter. It’s fun and requires no thought at all. Go to……

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
   The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
   The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
   The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the result in your own journal because it’s more amusing that way.

Well, alrighty then. I played this little game out, with results I quite liked.

And then I did it some more:

And then I discovered I couldn’t stop:

This meme’s kinda on the honor system, so I’m not tagging anyone. However, if you’ve played this one and had fun with it, go ahead and post a link to your own album cover goodness in the comments.

March 13th, 2008 Posted by admin | Tech, General | no comments

Linux for teh win!

Praise be to the power of the Intarwebs! We may be way off the beaten track here in Rewalsar, but thanks to reasonable, if not stellar, Internet access, we’re able to keep up with the news of the day. So imagine, if you will, the sheer girlish glee with which I read that Microsoft is allowing Vista customers to downgrade to Windows XP. That’s right: after spending the money for a computer system beefy enough to run Vista, after spending the money for software and equipment that Vista will deign to work with, after spending the money on tech support for a new operating system–Microsoft’s customers are basically dissing new-but-long-overdue Vista for the older-but-now-reliable Windows XP. Microsoft attempted to release the downgrade program quietly to appease customers, but by now just about every tech blog and tech new site is carrying the story.

*snerk*

Now, about three years ago, there was the Windows XP Service Pack 2 debacle–the non-consensual upgrade that came with a 16% failure rate, free of charge. Of course, few people remember the incident now. I’m mentioning something that happened over a decade ago in Internet years, and the sheer amount of trauma may have just blocked the whole memory out of people’s minds. That experience was enough for me to give up on Windows, and switch to Ubuntu Linux. At the same time, Mark Morford wrote a column asking a question a lot of people have been wondering about ever since. Back then Linux was considered to be that funny open-source tech that only sorceror-geeks like me could possibly work with. Now there’s big-time computer companies like HP and Dell, offering systems pre-loaded with Ubuntu Linux. If that doesn’t put paid to the idea that Vista is no more than a couple bugfixes away from okay-now-ness, I don’t know what does.

Microsoft has been playing “Monopoly” for so long that they’ve failed to notice until now how many folks have stepped away from the board completely and gone off to play a new game. (Probably “Sorry” or “You Don’t Know Jack“, but I digress….) That quiet murmuring sound you’re hearing, somewhere in the background? It’s the sound of millions of sorceror-geeks, hopping in a dance of victory, while shouting over and over, “Tolja so! Tolja so! Tolja so! Tolja so! Tolja so! Tolja so!”

But let’s get back to the Windows Downgrade story. The official line on the downgrade–which includes, by the way, extending Windows XP’s retail lifespan into 2008–is that it’s for customers who “need more time” before switching to Vista. Oh, really? How much time does the average person need to switch to an operating system that’s two years overdue? Maybe someone needed more time to think up a good excuse for downgrading. Obviously, the downgrade program has less to do with satisfying current Vista customers, and more to do with satisfying OEM partners like HP, Dell, and Lenovo.

In a recent security fiasco, Windows Genuine Advantage, Windows’ copy protection program, was supposed to phone home to Redmond, WA to verify that your Vista license is legitimate, instead of a cheap, pirated bootleg copy. If the software license checked out, well and good. If it didn’t, Vista was supposed to tell you that so sorry, you’ve got a bootleg instead of that authentic Microsoft goodness, kill out a bunch of high-end features, and shut down to a black screen. You were then supposed to trot off to Best Buy, or CompUSA, or wherever, to buy a legitimate copy of Vista to fix the problem. However….seems nobody considered what would happen if the secret decoder ring copy protection server in Redmond, WA stopped working. For, like, 19 hours. Now we know: legitimate users, who bought the software precisely so they wouldn’t have to deal with this issue, get locked out of the software they paid for. As a bonus, the same users get to pay Microsoft for the tech support call to get everything unlocked again.

Imagine you’re a big-time computer maker, like Dell or HP. And you see all of these problems with Vista going on. And you hear about the ever-growing list of hardware and software that can’t run under Vista, but worked great in Windows XP. And stories like the copy protection nightmare keep coming to your attention. And you’ve got retailers who can’t sell your hardware with Vista on it unless it’s at a discount. And then…you look at your company’s internal costs for upgrading all of the PCs your workers use from XP to Vista, and the expense is going to run to hundreds of millions of dollars…if you’re lucky, and everything works. Otherwise, your upgrade will cost ten times that. What would you do?

Well, I know what I would do. I would pick up the phone, and make a call to somebody whose initials might be “BG”. Yer humble editrix might be far away in another country, and not actually privy to such high-roller phone conversations, but at a guess, the call would go something like this (with apologies to ICHC).

BTCM (Big-Time Computer Maker): Duuuuuuude. Ur new OS, Vista? DO NOT WANT.

BG: Duuuuuuuude. WTF? Y u not want Vista?

BTCM: Cuz ur OS iz teh suxxors.

BG: Iz not.

BTCM: Iz too. Customers aks, “I can has XP?”

BG: LOLLOL. Vista iz OEM bundle. We’re in ur ‘puters, running ur systems.

BTCM: Dude. All those ‘puters we make? NOT YOURS.

BG: But we has market share.

BTCM: Do not.

BG: Do too.

BTCM: Do not. We’re in ur boot sector, putting in Linux.

BG: Oh noes! They iz stealing r market share!

BTCM: So maek new Vista.

BG: I maed you a Service Release Pack, but my ‘puter eated it.

BTCM: HAHAHAHAHA. *click*

And then the next thing you know, there’s the downgrade program. But, as Illiad wonders, why stop with XP? Why not downgrade back to a real OS, like Windows ME, or Microsoft Bob? There’s gotta be something in the Windows lineup that can properly compete with Ubuntu Linux and the Mac OS.

Isn’t there?

September 29th, 2007 Posted by admin | Tech, General | 2 comments

Modern life

Rewalsar is a small Indian hill town. It’s not Delhi, or Mumbai, or Bangalore.

This being so, living in a house just outside Rewalsar means more than a few lifestyle changes. Occasionally I’ll get a bit of mental whiplash when I look back on the differences between the modern life I had in the Bay Area, and here. Just to give you guys a taste, I thought I’d spend this post listing some examples…

1) Making Coffee:

Bay Area: The night before, pre-load coffee-maker with ground coffee and water.

The next morning, stagger out of bed and into kitchen. Push button on coffeemaker. When the coffee’s done, pour and add fixin’s. Drink.

Rewalsar: The night before, fire up the stovetop (see below) with an electronic lighter. Fill up the humongous teakettle with water, and wait for it to boil. This is a good time for a few rounds of a sock or sweater. Once the water boils, pull over a footstool and put the water flask on it for ease of filling. As always, marvel at the the amazing way the flask keeps liquids hot for, like, ever. Everyone in town has at least a couple of these things, designed to keep tea hot during a day of visits from friends and neighbors. The flasks are a kind of super-thermos that use cork stoppers. After filling the flasks, place on counter to await the morning coffee-making procedure.

In the morning, stagger out of bed and go on kora. About an hour and a half later, put a drip filter over a different flask, and pour hot (Yes! Still extremely hot!) water through the coffee. Once the water pours through, pour coffee and add fixin’s. Drink.

2) Acquiring milk:

Bay Area: Get in car. Drive to Safeway. Buy milk. Take home, place in fridge.

Rewalsar: In the morning, wait for a small Indian child (the son of our landlord) to call “Auntie?” through the front gate. Open gate and offer small cook pot for child to pour milk into. Reward child for bringing the milk with a toffee, or a piece of fruit. Reward cow for supplying the milk with a bunch of vegetable trimmings from last night’s supper, by handing it to the child. This milk is usually still body temperature from the cow. If I were a more “eat
local“-obsessive foodie, and had the Hindi vocabulary for it, I could probably find out which udder the milk came from. Stick pot on stovetop. Fire up the stovetop with the trusty lighter, and heat milk to foaming. Take milk off burner. Once milk cools, place in fridge.

3) Using a gas stove:

Bay Area: turn knob. When burner puts out blue flames, adjust height with knob and start cooking. No gas? Call the gas company.

Rewalsar: turn knob and listen for hissing gas. Put the trusty lighter next to the burner, and click the button-trigger. When burner puts out blue flames, adjust height with knob and start cooking. No gas? Switch the hose connector from your empty propane tank to a full one. Meantime, it’s time to get the empty one replaced.

Editrix’s note: everyone uses propane-fueled stovetops. The only true ovens in Rewalsar belong to bakeries. The tanks are a combination of reliable and indestructible, sporting a collection of dirt and dings from hard use. It’s not uncommon to see a chai-wallah sitting right next to the tank attached to his stovetop, smoking a cigarette or bidi while brewing the next glass. One of the tanks’ big advantages is that they work during power outages. Try that with your microwave.

To get the tank exchanged, ask neighbors when the gas truck will be coming through. If the truck isn’t coming today, give thanks for your second tank. Otherwise, everyone checks along the road to see if they can spot the truck. Whoever sees it first goes to the other houses to let folks know it’s time to drag out the empty tank downstairs and to the side of the road. An alternate alert method is to listen for a distinct “CLANG” from next door. The family matriarch, rather than drag the tank downstairs, simply tips it off her balcony. The tank will land next to the road, just in the right place where a propane-wallah can hop off the back of the truck, grab it and exchange it for a full one.

Meantime, a second propane-wallah carrying a purse hops out of the truck. Hand this man your money for the tank. Then go to the truck’s driver, and hand over your gas customer book–this book tracks your gas deliveries. The driver makes notations in the book and hands it back. Now for the fun part: dragging a full propane tank back upstairs.

4) Getting a snack:

Bay Area: Get in car. Drive 4 blocks to 7-11. Buy Slurpee, preferably blue, or Pringles. Drive home.

Rewalsar: Leave house. Walk down path to town:

Go to general needs store. Purchase potato chips, or an Indian snack like aloo bhujia, and cold soda. Alternately, stop by a namkeen (snack) wallah for a few pani-puri. Walk back up path, or catch a bus or rickshaw.

5) Feeding a cat:

Bay Area: Get in car. Drive to PetCo. Buy bag of food. Go home, and open bag. (Do not have cat help you.) Pour food in bowl. Place in front of ravenous cat.

Rewalsar: Leave house. Walk down path (see above) to town . Go to Butcher.

Look at carcass hanging in window. If the tail is long and hairy, it’s goat; if it’s a bit thicker and woollier, it’s mutton. Then check out bits on butcher’s counter. Ask for a kilo of meat, and have him hack it into small bits. Ignore flies in butcher shop. The butcher will hand over a flimsy plastic bag filled with meat bits. Take bits home.

Once home, cut bits even smaller, removing any bone chips and tough, stringy tendons. (Do not have cat help you.) Small reject bits with meat attached can be fed to ravenous cat immediately. Place bits in blender. Crush several washed eggshells to small powdery bits, and add to blender. Then add a couple handfuls of cooked rice or tsampa (ground roasted barley). Blend to a paste. Put half in fridge, half in freezer. When cat asks you what happened to the rest of the meat you bought, put one serving in a bowl, and place in front of ravenous cat.

April 18th, 2007 Posted by admin | Tech, Travel, India | 5 comments

Don’t Touch That…”Answer Call” Button

So last week was kinda interesting, because a number of people stopped answering their cell phones. After a couple of conversations with Tibetan friends, Lena ferreted out the truth. They weren’t picking up calls because there were a couple of phone numbers…OF DOOM…that were known to kill people who answered calls from these numbers on their cell phones. Our friends all had stories they’d heard about folks who had just keeled right over dead, right after answering a call from one of the phone numbers…OF DOOM.
Except for the story of this one guy, who only ended up paralyzed, because when he got a call from one of the phone numbers…OF DOOM…he canceled the call, rather than answer it.

And who am I to question such things? I get up every morning to walk around a lake that’s supposed to be there because Padmasambhava wouldn’t burn properly.

Anyway, about the phone numbers…OF DOOM…should you receive a call from any of the Indian (country code 91) phone numbers below. DON’T PICK UP. ‘Mkay?

9888308001

9876725587

9816085868

No need to thank me. Your happiness–and mobile phone safety–are all that matter.

April 1st, 2007 Posted by admin | Tech, India | 4 comments

House Fulla Sky Pilots

Today was a day full of pujas.

Those of you who care about such things already know that the Mercury finally hauled his butt out of Retrograde today. We’d put a number of things on hold because a Mercury Retrograde is inauspicious for so many things, especially if they involve communication. Moving, buying a computer, starting a new project, signing off on contracts. Much of our race to get the house livable concerned moving in before the Retrograde got underway.

A bit of backstory. Back in the (Western) day, when I was starting a new job every couple years, part of the learning curve for my latest boss du jour always involved a little talk about Mercury Retrogrades, and why launching the new network/website/software app during a Retrograde was a bad idea. Usually the Talk would be met with a lot of skepticism. After all, there’s no mention of the Mercury Retrograde in any MBA course. It’s not something you can assign a numerical value for ROI calculations. On one job, the Powers that Be were so skeptical, I gave up and went on vacation, rather than face a software launch during a Retrograde that was particularly hellish. After the first Retrograde, a newly-enlightened manager type would often sheepishly appear at my desk, asking quietly, “Hey, um…when’s the next Mercury Retrograde? And, uh, how long do they last, again?” I did manage to educate some corporate folks that yes indeedy, that stove’s hot, but never without going through the burned-fingers stage of learning first.

Fortunately, we now live in a part of the world where such things as auspicious and inauspicious days are taken seriously. Too, our part of the world is one where a lot of different gods reside. It’s in one’s best interest to be nice to the neighbors, regardless of which plane of existence they’re actually living on. So it should not surprise you to learn that Joy, using her finely-honed astrology skills, and our Brahmin landlord’s pandit, using traditional Hindu astrology methods, happened to arrive at exactly the same result when it came time to schedule the house-warming ceremonies for the house. The date would be March 9, at about 8 in the morning. Bitu’s pandit would come and perform a big housewarming puja. Lena also formally requested the Kenpo of Ziggar Monastery, and Palga Tulku, a bright young man who’ll end up running Ziggar Monastery some day, to come and perform a Tibetan house blessing as well. At some point during the day, we’d do our own private ceremonies, too.

Another infonugget for you: when a Mercury retrograde ends, there’s sometimes a bit of whiplash as all the things that were fubared get un-fubared, and start up properly again, sometimes with a vengeance. Which is how our house filled up with such a huge combination of Sky Pilots from different religions. (Counts on fingers) Let’s see…Hindu, Tibetan, Native American, Druid, esoteric….

Oh, and did I mention that most of these ceremonies involve setting stuff on fire? No? My bad.

This is all taking place in India. Precisely scheduled and timed events are on everyone’s wish list, and let’s just leave it at that. So we three MommyWizards arose nice and early this morning, and Malka, our bhi, arrived early as well, to give the house a quick sweep-up and serve tea as required. Eight o’clock came and went, and things finally kicked off around 8:30, with the Hindu puja.

The Hindu puja was part wedding ceremony, part sympathetic magic, and part construction project. First came the transformation of the guest room into a temple with the judicious application of string, bright yellow cloth, and palm fronds. Our landlord Bitu and his wife participated in the ceremony as man and wife, gently tossing flowers, rice and ghee over ritual objects as incense smoke filled the room, and the pandit chanted a mile a minute. Then everyone adjourned to the street at ground level, to build a little god-house in front of our actual house, and properly furnish it with incense, flowers, and a small hand-made doll representing a servant to keep it up.

During a lull in the construction activities, Joy began a Native American ceremony. This one involved a burnt-food offering out on the balcony to all beings and sundry. Compared to the Hindu pantomime and house build, Joy’s ceremony was relatively simple, involving reciting a prayer and ringing a dorje to let the proper beings know that dinner was served. The burnt offering was left on the balcony to smolder at its own pace.

As Joy completed her ceremony, the Tibetans rolled in, and we settled ourselves in the office for round three.

Yes, the office is right next door to the guest room, where the pandit was now busily chanting a mile a minute while pieces of wooden crate burned merrily away in a brazier. Um, yes, the guest room is one of the interior rooms, with no window leading directly outside (though the windows do lead to the open-air corridor…) Why do I mention these things? Um, no reason, really….

The Tibetans. Right. Back to the Tibetans. Part of the Tibetan house-blessing style is to bring kataks to drape over the household altar, a main doorway, and the stove (Tibetan Buddhism is very practical when it comes to matters of food and shelter). Another part is to bring tsok–essentially a food offering that gets distributed to everyone attending the ceremony. Tsok usually consists of biscuits, small bags of chips, and individually wrapped candies–stuff people can easily drop into a pocket or bag and carry away. This is one of the few ceremonies I’ve been to where there weren’t any Westerners who needed reminding that spaghetti, soup and casseroles are not good tsok.

Lena had remade the office to offer Tibetan flat seating to Palga Tulku, Kenpo, and anyone else who wanted it. There’s a protocol to the seating thing, where the leading rimpoche gets the highest padded seat, and any majordomos, seconds-in-command, or runners-up get a slightly lower pad, and regular folks get floor-level seating. Palga Tulku, as a tulku and rimpoche in his seventh lifetime (or thereabouts), got the highest pad, with Kenpo seated a couple of inches lower. As I mentioned earlier, Palga Tulku is a bright young man in his twenties who’s completed his regular studies, and come to Rewalsar to continue his religious training as a Tulku. What this means in practical terms is that we all sat with Palga Tulku discussing things like Internet connection quality, and whether Airtel or Reliance offered the better cell phone service, before he picked up his vajra and dorje, and started belting out that old-time religion.

Tibetan house blessing ceremonies involve blessing and feeding the “spirits of the place,” rather than the building. The spirits are fed actual food. In our case, coffee, biscuits, rice, several kinds of dal, and incense were on the menu. The foodstuff is blessed and then carried ceremoniously outside to be burned. It’s not just one serving, either; we whipped up a huge serving bowl of spirit feeding goodies, and an equally large carafe of coffee, and both were emptied out bit by bit as the ceremony continued. An attending monk carried each plate and cup of coffee out to our balcony to be burned in a round metal bowl filled with coals and more pieces of chopped up crate.

Let’s review, shall we? At this point in the proceedings, we had the house filled with smoke from rose-scented dhoop, white sage, pine incense, biscuits, rice, dal, and the fore-mentioned pieces of chopped-up crate…which turned out to make somewhat toxic smoke. There was a moment of arranging and rearranging all of the various burning things on our balcony so people wouldn’t choke to death while blessing the house. Joy, Lena, and I stood it long enough to add our own plates of blessed foodstuff to the burning bowl, and then Joy retreated to my room to stave off an asthma attack as the Tibetan ceremony wrapped up. Afterwards we all adjourned for lunch at Bitu’s house, where they served Brahmin vegetarian fare.

Sunset, as I write this. A couple more private house blessing pujas, and we’re done.

March 9th, 2007 Posted by admin | Tech, India, Tibetan Buddhism | 4 comments

Obligatory computer geek content

I just hadda share this URL from Jakob Nielsen’s AlertBox. Nielsen, for you readers without sorceror-geek tendencies, is pretty much the Godfather of Internet usability. Whenever I wonder why a web page I’m looking at sucks so bad, he usually has the answer, backed up with hard statistical evidence.

Anyway, he recently released a column on computer usability in the movies. If you’ve ever wondered why something like Minority Report looked so fabulous and so totally unrealistic all at the same time, or if you never could quite swallow the pirate hack in Independence Day, here’s your answer:

Jakob Nielsen’s Alertbox: Usability in the Movies — Top 10 Bloopers
http://www.useit.com/alertbox/film-ui-bloopers.html

“This is a Unix system. I know this.” Classic stuff, that.

January 13th, 2007 Posted by admin | Tech | no comments

The Tennis Ball on a Stick

Once upon a time in Oakland, I noticed an interesting thing about the meter readers employed by Pacific Gas and Electric. In addition to all of the other arcane tools attached at belt level for sensing, sniffing, and adjusting anything to do with gas or electricity, was one tool whose purpose I really couldn’t guess. It was always a stick, painted in the PG&E’s corporate color of sky blue, and topped with a tennis ball. More often than not the tennis ball was colored fluorescent yellow, but not always. And there was always one close to hand on the meter reader’s belt–it was obviously not one of those infrequently used tools that could be left in the utility truck.

Finally, on a day when a meter reader came to the office, I stopped him and inquired about the tennis ball on a stick.

“It’s for dogs,” was the reply.

Well, of course. The average meter reader, whose job requirements include entering people’s backyards, climbing in and out of basements, and peeking through fences, face their share of loose dogs who are really invested in defending the very patch of real estate in which a meter might be located. While there are any number of high-tech solutions for repelling dogs–including whistles, tasers, and even a doggy edition of Mace©–the most effective dog repellent is one any child could construct in about ten minutes, and use immediately.

The stick keeps the dog a safe distance away, while the tennis-ball tip alternately offers the dog a non-human appendage to gnaw on, or safely pushes it away without injury. It’s all about proven technology.

In India many technology decisions follow this pattern–if something is cheap, involves few or no moving parts, and is easy to use, that’s the technology in use. “Western” solutions involving complicated mechanisms, expensive electronics, or extensive training just don’t make the cut.

Recently the Delhi city government decided they wanted all bus drivers to keep to a certain speed limit. That in turn meant putting some kind of governor on the buses. In the States, the solution might involve some kind of electronic Black Box under the bus’ hood, ready to throttle down the engine as soon as it gets close to the limit, and record any attempt at circumvention. The Indian solution?

A block of metal under the accelerator pedal.

Effective, easy to implement, and any traffic cop can inspect it for tampering. A metal block is either in place doing its job, or it’s not. Simple, no? Similarly, the power is out in Rewalsar as I write this. Very little other than the town cyber cafes are shutting down. Most wallahs keep their money in a box or drawer; cooking is done using a propane stovetop; and it’s daytime, so no need to break out the candles. The local chai wallah crushing spices for the next batch of masala chai uses a convenient chunk of cement, rather than a fancy grinder.

Recently Lena discovered a good source of wool and roving for us to spin up. Joy was able to purchase a bag of raw fleece for a hundred rupees or so (about $US2). Somebody in the village owns and runs a carding machine, so we took the fleece down there to be processed. Alas, the carding machine was down, and waiting for a replacement part to come from Mandi, “maybe Monday.” Which Monday never really got specified; the carded was obviously down until further notice. Time to break out the handcards…

December 18th, 2006 Posted by admin | Tech, India | no comments

Technical Difficulties, Indian Style

So.

When last we looked, our intrepid heroine had somewhat successfully survived Delhi Belly, Indian auto-rickshaw rides, and the touts of Connaught Place to establish herself with her fellow MommyWizards in the small-but-holy spot of Tso Pema, in the far nothern reaches of Himachal Pradesh. Shortly after, the tribal blogs fell silent, for more than a month…

What happened?

Well, what happened was something I had been intending to write about later. As in, “I’ll do it as soon as I’ve taken care of this other problem…” And, of course, the other problems always involved a non-functioning laptop. Day after day passed as I planned out blog entries, only to get caught up in the latest computer repair nightmare. And I had even been warned about the possibility of encountering technical difficulties neither I nor my bag of geek tools was prepared to cope with. I had heard stories from other Westerners, and even from my fellow MommyWizard and partner-in-crime Joy, about the big bad Electronics Eater of the East…

Entropy, my friends. It’s not just for Physics classes any more.

I don’t know if it’s a side effect from the sheer number of gods and religions in this region, or just the subcontinent’s multi-millenial habit of always functioning just on the edge of complete collapse, but Entropy is accelerated tremendously in SouthEast Asia. Joy noticed the side effects first: laptops that functioned perfectly in the States would default to the Blue Screen of Death and stay there. Watch bands meant to last years would disintegrate within 4 or 5 months. Luggage accessories designed for the worst back-country treks imaginable would simply fall apart while sitting untouched in a hotel room.

Over the last three months I’ve found myself saying, frequently, that handling tech in India is very different from handling tech in the US. For one thing, many base assumptions are different. Assuming that things like electricity, spare parts, and fast fat Internet pipes are available is the fast road to certain madness. Instead, the rules look like this:

1. The faster you want stuff to happen, the slower you will have to work. This is the hardest rule I’ve had to deal with so far. Tso Pema is remote enough that any complicated technical difficulties require a 26-hour round-trip commute to Delhi. And overall, repair jobs and tech orders take longer, and usually involve the tech’s cousin or friend driving the needed part in to deliver it by hand from Chandigarh, 4 hours away….
2. Never assume electricity will be available or stable, and plan accordingly. This means power inverters, voltage stabilizers, and UPS’s at the ready at all times. In theory India electricy is 240v. In reality, what comes out of the wall can range from 180v-280v, with enough dangerous spikes to turn the latest handheld plaything into a really sexy paperweight.
3. There are no such things as “spare parts.” If it works, it’s in use already. The corollary to this is that it’s a good idea to find out where to get stuff before you really need to know.
4. Be prepared to work with lowest-common-denominator tools. I searched in vain for a decent repair kit, on ly to find the the kits most commonly available consisted of magnetic screwdrivers. Magnets? To work on computer equipment? Yup. Windows 98, ME, and even 95 are still hard at work daily in Internet cafes across the country, despite Microsoft’s pronouncement that they’re no longer supported. USB slots and CD burners–don’t expect them, just dance a little happy dance when you find them.

Lena frequently reminds me that India is a place that is accustomed to functioned on the verge of collapse for about 5000 years now. So far it’s actually failed to do so. Meantime, of course, any Western visitors are in for a scary ride.

Entropy, people. You Have Been Warned.

September 16th, 2006 Posted by admin | Tech, Travel, India | one comment