Happy Halloween à la Suisse!

On Friday afternoon, as I picked up the mail, I noticed a small paper attached at eye-height near the door, aflutter in the breeze.  The paper briefly announced that small children from the neighborhood would be making a tour of the apartments later in the afternoon in costume to "trick-or-treat" for Halloween and requested our forebearance.  Of course, the announcement also provided the afternoon's date as "29 November" but we understood the message anyway.

In due course, the doorbell chimed and I opened the door to a group of darling children chirping "Trick-ee, Trick-ee, Halloween ..." in English.  After I had demonstrated an appropriate amount of mock fright - to their delight, I distributed my treats.  I had my camera near and managed to convince them to pose for a very brief few moments - they were already intent on the next person to frighten.  They learn fast!  The first was out of focus, with strange shadows that made it unintentionally surreal.  But the result was worthy of the spirit of Halloween!

HWMBO was enchanted by the little chant - neither of us had heard it before.  We weren't quite able to distinguish all the words since the children weren't native speakers of English.  He too was delighted with the little ones, albeit a couple days early.  It was clear that time and care had been taken with the costumes and makeup.

Even the adults escorting the Trick-or-Treaters had gotten into the act. 

I almost rushed out to replenish supplies of treats yesterday.  As it turned out, however, these have so far been our only Halloween visitors so our first stash - Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and KitKats brought over from the US by HWMBO - will likely suffice.  Nonetheless we'll leave our jack-o'-lantern lit until the day is officially ended.

Happy Halloween all!

Geneva - Heart of International Arbitration and International Law

During our exploration of la Vieille Ville of Geneva a few weeks back, HWMBO and I spent a  few brief moments in the courtyard of the building known as the Hôtel-de-Ville (City Hall), where one could see different styles of architecture dating from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries.

Also in the courtyard, we noticed a modest engraved stone indicating the location of the "Alabama Room."  The room takes its name from a series of damage claims arising in the 19th century around the CSS Alabama, one of several warships built in Great Britain that were used as commerce raiders by the Confederate States during the US Civil War to do significant damage to the US merchant marine fleet.  After the war, the Government of the United States brought a series of claims against Great Britain for direct and collateral damages, alleging that Britain's knowledge that the ships would be used by the Confederacy against the US was a violation of Britain's official position of neutrality.  Ultimately, international arbitration endorsed the US position in 1872.  To settle the disputes and ensure friendly relations, Britain ultimately paid USD 15.5 million dollars in damages to the US.

The Alabama Arbitration set historical precedent for peacefully resolving disputes between States.  As such, it was a precursor to the Hague Conventions, the League of Nations, the United Nations and the World Court.  These precedents, agreements and treaties, together with the various Geneva Conventions, form the official bases for what is now known as "public international law" or law between States and International Organizations (IOs).   The room where the arbitration was finally negotiated is thus known as the "Alabama Room" although the room itself had already gained significance.  It was previously where the very first Geneva Convention establishing the rules of humanitarian warfare -which certainly sounds like an oxymoron to me - was signed by 16 nations in 1864.

In addition to its historical significance for the world, the Hôtel-de-Ville houses Geneva canton's seven-member Conseil d'État (Council of State) and a legislature of 100 deputies so it is not simply a public monument.  But the seedbed of international law is indeed within the heart of this warm-hearted city.  It is a reminder to us all that ruthless and unwarranted warmongering will not go unpunished - even though, like the fabled Mills of God, it will take time, patience and a lot of diplomacy and negotiation for the international rules that have been broken to earn their due toll of redress for those who have been harmed.  It may take even longer for all those who have seriously transgressed to be brought to justice.  This is especially so when nations that have traditionally taken the lead in ensuring that such legal precedents be created and enforced appear to be among the more recent transgressors.

But it will - inexorably and finally - happen.

Geneva - Crossroads of Intrigue

During our literary tour of Geneva a couple weeks back, we learned about many writers known to and influential in history who lived and wrote here, or who were inspired by events or scenery here.   The attraction has not yet worn off.  People still come here for a variety of reasons.  Many often write about their experiences here as memoirs.  Some of the more contemporaneous writers, however, especially those who came during the early third and mid-20th century, also found Geneva to be a wonderful setting or inspiration for novels featuring diplomatic intrigue, aka spying.  In fact, there are often glimpses of Geneva and/or Switzerland in some of the great spy flicks featuring James Bond or, more recently, Jason Bourne.   Part of this is due to Geneva's role in international diplomacy and as a neutral ground where East and West have traditionally been able to meet, both officially and unofficially.

Among others, our guide mentioned two authors well-known for their novels of intrigue who had spent time in Geneva, specifically, Graham Greene and Eric Ambler.  One of the latter's titles mentioned by our guide was "The Light of Day" which features - as is often typical of Ambler's novels - a protagonist who is a bumbling sort of anti-hero who manages to surprise himself - and the professional spies - by his decisive actions in a given situation.

Interestingly, soon after our tour, the 1964 film "Topkapi" - which was based on "The Light of Day" - was featured on the Turner Classic Movie (TCM) cable channel here.  For some reason, although I had read the novel in the 60s, I had never seen the film.  So I was thoroughly enchanted to see Peter Ustinov cast as Ambler's bumbling anti-hero, together with luminaries such as Melina Mercouri and Maximilian Schell. 

But our guide also whetted our curiosity by speaking about a real-life intrigue that took place in Geneva in the waning days of the Cold War: the so-called "suicide" of a West German politician named Uwe Barschel in a Geneva hotel in 1987.  The incident has resonated with her especially because her husband was at that time employed as a journalist (he is now retired) and had received word in the middle of the night that he should get to the hotel before the room could be "cleaned up."  Reports state that Barschel was found, fully clothed and lying in a bathtub in his hotel room.  His family has always insisted that his death was not a suicide.  Interestingly, this case (l'Affaire Barschel) was also featured as part of a documentary report on Zone d'Ombre ("Murky Area"), as recently as 27 October 2010 on the French-speaking Swiss channel TSR.  The truth of what happened is still not known but there is reason to believe that his death was linked to  his refusal to allow Israeli arms for Iran to be shipped from ports in Schleswig-Holstein. During the Iran-Iraq war, Israel and the United States secretly armed both sides.  When will we ever learn?

The guide's personal link to this true mystery reminded me of another, also related to Geneva, that also has had many strange links to my own life throughout the years.  This mystery, which has always been a personal quest of mine, relates to the mysterious disappearance - and presumed death - of Moroccan left-wing politician Mehdi Ben Barka.  Ben Barka "disappeared" 45 years ago today in Paris, having travelled there from Geneva.  Why I have cause to remember that date is because on or about 29 October 1965, I myself was passing through Paris - my first visit to the "City of Light" - from Rabat, Morocco on my way home to give birth to No 1 Son some months later.  I was horrified by Ben Barka's disappearance at about the same time - ships passing and all that.

Ben Barka was someone whom many young Moroccans who came of age in the 1950s and 1960s admired.  When he was forced into exile in 1963, shortly after the accession to power of King Hassan II, after the unexpected death of his father, King Mohammed V who was considered more friendly to liberal causes, many of these young Moroccans felt that their vision of an independent country based on a parliamentary monarchy had been betrayed.  Hassan II was indeed more repressive than his father had ever dreamed of being.

As an exile, Ben Barka met with and knew several of the great revolutionary rebels of the period.  After meeting Che Guevara, Malcom X and others in Algiers, he travelled to Cairo, Rome, Geneva and Havana, trying to unite revolutionary movements of the Third World.  He was lured to Paris for a meeting, and there was abducted.  Although there is still no one clear theory of what happened to him, most have concluded that he died at the hands of General Mohamed Oufkir, who was the Moroccan Interior Minister at the time.  There have been recurring but so far unverified reports of both US and Israeli complicity in this death as well.

This story has always fascinated me.  Its aftermath has had a tangential influence on my own life.  In 1972, just after I left Moroccan airspace after a brief visit there, the same General Oufkir led an assassination attempt on King Hassan II, unsuccessfully attempting to shoot down the King's private jet.  The King, known for his incredible luck at escaping such attempts, managed to escape yet again.  Oufkir "committed suicide" although the wound was in the back of his head.  Oufkir's family was held prisoner for some 17 years afterwards - a gross travesty of human rights.  The pilot who flew the King's plane and saved his life was thereafter named the Head of the Moroccan Air Forces.  Many years later, I would return to Morocco yet again to meet HWMBO there, at the time working on a commercial US contract under the direction of the Head of the Moroccan Air Forces.

And now we have come full circle.

Geneva - Literary and Cultural Crossroads

Shortly after HWMBO arrived here earlier this month, but before the frenzy of later events, commitments, projects and illnesses, the two of us joined members of our local writing group for a literary tour of Old Town (la Vieille Ville) Geneva.  We timed our 8:45 departure for Geneva to coincide with the last vestiges of the "Rush Hour" but discovered that it still took us a good hour to make it into town, through the international organizations section, across the Mont Blanc bridge and into the eponymous underground parking area there.  This left us a scant 15 minutes to make our way on foot from the parking up to the fountain in the Place du Bourg de Four in the center of the Vieille Ville so as not to be late for the 10:00 meeting time.

We were the first to arrive.  Other members of the group - we were about 12 in all - ambled in more or less on time and we all introduced ourselves.  As we later learned, some had driven from as far afield as Fribourg, making our own little junket seem minimal in comparison.  We all agreed, however, that the morning's traffic had been nothing less than cauchemaresque (nightmarish).  The weather was also quite brisk so we were very glad to have bundled ourselves up warmly.  Our guide, a British expatriate who has worked for Geneva Tourism for years and who now considers Geneva her home, has made a speciality of researching writers throughout the ages who have come to Geneva, who have either been inspired by or had experiences here that have resonated so that they committed them to paper for all of us to share.  To begin with, she led with a major Heavy Hitter.  The first written mention of Geneva that she had found was from the notable historical character, Julius Caesar, who already had quite an illustrious military career behind him before his destiny led him to Geneva.

The reference to Geneva dated from 58 B.C., when Caesar had arrived at the western tip of the lake, believing that it was the source of the mighty Rhône river.   He didn't have the benefit of our later knowledge that the river originates in the Alps southeast of Lake Geneva.  Even if he had had that knowledge, it probably would not have made a major difference in how events ultimately played out.  Caesar came to the Geneva area specifically to confront the Helvetii, a Celtic tribe living in what is now central Switzerland.  The Helvetii planned to move to southwestern Gaul (now France) - by force if necessary - to settle on what the tribe believed were more fertile lands there.  The Helvetti feature prominently in Caesar's Commentarii de Bello Gallico (Commentaries on the Gallic Wars).  Thus, Caesar provides the first known literary reference to Geneva in those commentaries.  A spirited recap of Caesar's Geneva campaign and its aftermath can be found here.

Geneva continued to attract notable travellers, poets and writers throughout the centuries, in part due to its geography.  It is, after all, a central crossing point between northern and southern Europe, as well as between western and eastern Europe.  Other personalities, events and influences contributed to its international attractions.  When Romans were converted to Christianity, for example, they brought Roman Catholicism to the area.  But during the Reformation, French-speaking Geneva invited Jean Calvin to come from Basel where he had initially sought asylum.  Thus, the formerly Catholic St. Peter's Cathedral became a Protestant Cathedral - and remains so today.

A group of touring students felt comfortable enough to rest on the Cathedral's steps.

As a result of Calvin's influence, Geneva became a center of religious reform, as well as a center of religious freedom and, especially later with Jean-Jacques Rousseau in the 18th century, free thought.  In the 19th century particularly, Geneva came into its literary own.  Members of the British aristocracy often travelled through the area, especially on their way to the sunny climate of Italy. 

Many of these were writers who were literally enchanted by the breathtaking scenery and some stayed on a bit, notably the poets Lord Byron and Percy Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, who became Shelley's second wife.  She wrote her Gothic masterpiece, Frankenstein, while spending a cold rainy summer on the banks of Lake Geneva.

Russian writers seeking refuge from debt-collectors or penurious Russian aristocrats also spent time in Geneva.  That is especially ironic, considering how expensive the cost of living in this area is now.

While doing research for this post, I happened upon an article from the New York Times, dating from 1919, noting that it was hardly by chance that Geneva was selected to be the site of the League of Nations.  Writer Julian Grande states rather grandiosely, "By selecting Geneva as the site of the League of Nations, the city of Calvin and Rousseau, of the Reformation and the Red Cross, and of refugees in all times, has now become the capital of the world."  Unfortunately, things did not turn out too well for the League of Nations.  But its successor entity, the United Nations, while headquartered politically in New York City in the United States, has left most operational functions to its major European office, the United Nations Office at Geneva (UNOG), which is actually headquartered in the Palais des Nations where delegates to the former League of Nations met.  Geneva is referred to by UNOG as the "Heart of Europe."

Is it any wonder that so many of us latter-day travellers also love this area?

After the hullabaloo ...

Whew - the past couple weeks have been Busy and yes, the capital "B" is meant!  But now the events celebrating my former boss's retirement are complete and I also seem to be recovering enough from the follow-up cold to begin picking up the pieces of my scattered psyche.

This morning at 8:15, the postman also delivered the Snapfish album that was the culmination of at least one million emails and photo dumps and CDs that I received from far parts of the globe.  It appears that a good time was had by all in the doings!  I have also been acquainted with "top-of-the-line" Rimowa luggage as it was decided by consensus that a blue-black Rimowa cabin trolley would be ideal as a group gift.  So off HWMBO and I trekked to the Balexert shopping center in Geneva, which is in the throes of its gala new opening celebrations this month after a massive makeover.  While the Buzzano shop at Balexert did not have the case we wanted, they offered to have it sent over from their Rive shop.  The case duly arrived two hours later, providing us with the excuse we needed to check out the new shops and facilities at Balexert, which has now "officially" become the largest shopping center in Geneva.   Best of all, Buzzano let us have the ten percent discount that the Balexert shop was offering even though the case actually came from the Rive shop, where the discount was not operative.  Who says that one can't bargain in Swiss shops?

It was good to see so many wonderful people and remember shared good times.  It is true that some of the shared times were also very stressful.  But the fact is that those times were unique, so special in that they involved nationals representing every continent on the globe joined together to accomplish common goals where individual human beings around the globe actually received tangible benefits.  It is unfortunate that circumstances existed where individuals had been harmed in the first place, in large part due to conflicts over which they had no control whatsoever.  But it is equally fortunate that at least some small restitution and, most of all, acknowledgement of the harms suffered by those individuals became international precedent.  We are all proud to have been a part those efforts, even though we have now all moved on to different phases of our lives.

Where sheep may safely graze ...

Saturday, 1 October, not only marked the first weekend in October, it was also la Désalpe 2010 (bringing the livestock, generally cattle, down from the mountain summer pastures) in the nearby commune of Saint-Cergue.  Photos of the always colorful event can be found here and one characteristic aspect is the clanging of the massive cowbells worn around the necks of the cows decorated especially for the occasion.

Close to my apartment, however, we have been treated to a much more pleasant daily tinkling for the past couple of weeks.  For the first time in my experience here, a tiny flock of sheep has been grazing in the meadow nearby, between the apartment complex and the nearby elementary school.  Seizing the moment, I popped over to meet my newest neighbors.

They appeared singularly unimpressed to see me, especially once they ascertained that I was not there to feed them.  They lifted their heads to check me out.  Those small and slender necks clearly would not support cowbells.

They then went immediately back to their activity of the moment - grazing.  For the moment, they are safe.

I can't help hoping that they will continue to be so - and that they are of interest only for their wool. 

It may be only a faint hope, however.   Only time will tell.

Time passing quickly

It's been quite a while since I've had a few extra moments to post.  Several days ago, HWMBO arrived from the States to join in my little Swiss idyll.  It seems as if we've hardly been able to catch our breaths since he disembarked from the plane.   It's not only the daylight period that is getting shorter; it seems like the days don't even have the 24 hours that they used to.  They have literally been flying by.   In another two weeks, it will be Halloween and the year will literally be hurtling into November.

One momentous - if traumatic - event occurred the evening after he arrived.  Our PC here, which was over ten years old, but still functioning, finally breathed its last.  While I was extremely happy that it waited until my very own network technician was on hand before giving up the ghost, I am still mourning some of the photos and other work that may be lost forever for want of a good backup.  Live and learn, I guess.  I still hope that one of my former IT colleagues may be able to retrieve at least some of the photos for me.

Of course, not having the PC was particularly problematic because I had embarked upon a major photo gathering project to celebrate my former boss's retirement.  The retirement had "officially" occurred at the end of August.  But because many of us who would otherwise have organized something were not here at the time, we managed to twist his arm enough so that he would free up some dates so that some of our former colleagues could get together to wish him well.

HWMBO was undaunted by the computer crash.  I was somewhat daunted myself - to say the least.  So we set off for the shops to see what could be done.  We ended up buying the cheapest PC that we could find.  It was a Packard Bell.  Cheap as it was, it works a thousand times better than the old PC and, in some ways, is even more state of the art than this laptop!  HWMBO, bless him, downloaded lots of free software and I now have a functioning PC again.  I was simply amazed at what software one can download for free!

Thanks to extremely helpful assistance from HWMBO and the wonders of Picasa software, we were able to crop, arrange and otherwise photoshop a presentation into being.  It was received to great acclaim on Wednesday, at the "official" celebration at our former headquarters.  We have now updated that presentation to include photos from all aspects of the last 30 years of my boss's career.  Those will be available for viewing at our final get-together next week.  Afterwards, we will give DVDs of the presentations to him and provide links to the Picasa albums that contain them to all who participated, or who wanted to participate but were too far-flung for any of our local celebrations.  I am still compiling a Snapfish Memory Book that will contain some of these same photos together with messages sent to me from several former colleagues who were not able to be present.

This is nothing short of magic, IMO.  Life is truly wondrous.  But the time still goes much too fast!

Gourds and squashes

Together with the turning leaves, crispness in the air and the ever-decreasing daylight, the increasing displays of gourds really shout out "Fall!" to me.  Those include the various squashes and pumpkins that one sees in the grocery stores.  If one is very fortunate, however, one can also see them piled high in the outdoors.

This happened to me yesterday morning.  As I was walking through a nearby village center in my semi-rural area, I noticed some impressively-sized pumpkins piled outside one of the little farms that sells fresh produce directly to consumers as a side-line to its large-scale agricultural production.

While most of the big squashes and pumpkins were piled up high near the entrance,

smaller squashes and gourds were carefully - but attractively - arranged on a shelf.

I remember that my sons, when they were very small, always insisted that one of the two foods that they hated most was "yellow squash."  I don't even remember feeding them "yellow" squash, except the occasional small yellow summer squash in some versions of cous-cous where the delicate flavor was at least partially obscured by the other ingredients!  Their other hated food was "sauerkraut" and I don't remember ever feeding them that either.  Senior moments, perhaps?  It is true that HWMBO and I both love a good choucroute garnie. But that is a taste that I developed later in life, primarily when my sons had grown up and moved away from home for school and/or work.

But one doesn't have to like the taste simply to enjoy the visual delights of these colorful - and beautiful - symbols of the season!

Autumn Colors

Based on the warm temperatures that we experienced over the weekend, we have officially begun the fall phenomenon known as "Indian Summer."   After a period in September that the local weather forecasts had dubbed the coldest of the past three years, the temperature rebounded to become the hottest.  Some people even went swimming in the lake!

But the leaves have definitely begun to turn.  What was for the most part lush green last week has distinctly begun showing colors, as I noticed on the morning walk today.  Having missed glorious photos in past years, I am determined to take my camera with me as often as possible.  Once the colors begn to turn, the phases move very quickly.

One especially flamboyant sign of the season is the colorful ivy that covers so many walls and houses.  So today I am posting some scenes that I found particularly lovely.





"Budderman" Begins ...

Now that it is October, many little ones - and their parents - find their thoughts turning to Halloween, that end-of-October festival that my own sons always insisted was their favorite holiday.  Halloween was when they got to dress in masks and costumes.  Equipped with bags for the "treats" they would presumably receive, they also got stay out after dark and roam through the neighborhood, going from house to house, saying "Trick or Treat?" and generally collecting bagfuls of small-sized chocolate bars and other candies.  They LOVED it!  And yes, their mom would occasionally pinch a "treat" or two from their bags.

Prince Tyger will apparently dress as "Spiderman" for Halloween this year, judging from the photo that his Proud Papa sent to me.  He loves the costume so much that he literally does not want to take it off!

Even though he has grasped the "Spidey" concept and loves the outfit, he still has difficulty saying the word "Spiderman" - or at least he did while I was around during the summer.  He habitually seems to eliminate the initial "s" sound.  I believe that the situation will ultimately be self-regulating and am not concerned by it.  Right now, it's kind of cute.  One simply listens to the rest of the word sound and adds an "s" and, for the most part, his "language" is comprehensible.  Occasionally, he'll even substitute another sound for the "s," thus "gar" or "car" mean "star," which can be confusing when there is also a "car" around.  But his body language helps.  He'll point up, which is a big clue for the proper word.

Another thing that he seems to do quite a lot is interchange his "p" and "b" sounds.  Thus, this summer, when he was holding up a mug patterned with Spiderman, he proudly announced to me that it was his "Budderman mug."  Okay, so it took this slow-on-the-uptake Grandmom a few seconds, but she did finally get it!  He'll have to be very patient with me.

In light of these experiences, it was interesting to discover an incomplete article on the internet that discusses these linguistic anomalies, among others, for speakers of Asian languages who are learning English.  Among some of the most common pronunciation errors, the article's drafter cited the dropping of the initial "s" sound and the intermixture of "p" and "b" sounds.  While the article may be interesting and reflect this individual's experience, it generally refers to those who are already speakers of an Asian language who are learning English as a second language.  My grandson, who is Asian-American, has never spoken an Asian language, even though he has likely heard his maternal grandparents speaking between themselves.  His first spoken language is English.

Even more interestingly, one of the principal languages from his father's paternal lineage is Arabic, where there is no "p" sound at all.  The "p" sound is generally transliterated into Arabic letters as "b."  So there is an alternate precedent for that confusion.   Perhaps there is a universal consciousness at work here in our own little Prince Tyger, who is channeling ancestral memories, albeit unsuspectingly. 

Meanwhile, the object of this metaphysical speculation appears to be thoroughly enjoying life, reportedly talking from the moment he wakes up, with his first word being either "Wheels" (for his various wheeled vehicles) or "Dora" (for Dora the Explorer).

It is literally mind-boggling to imagine what "ancestral memories" his own descendents may have someday!  In the meantime, our very own "Budderman" dreams.  May those dreams be fruitful and happy ones!

Transitions

I realized yesterday afternoon that it was time to turn the calendar page.  Yes, we are now in the throes of October, officially beginning the final three months of 2010.  For me, October has often been a melancholy month, in part because the days get light later and dark earlier once the autumn solstice has passed.

October has also often been a personal transition month for me.  I first consciously realized this in 1978, when I happened to be reading Gail Sheehy's Passages: Predictable Crises of Adult Life just after having made significant transitions in the preceding July-August-September period.  After receiving a divorce that ended a 13-year marriage, I had uprooted my young sons and even some of the family pets from Montana to Arizona to spend a year studying for a graduate degree while on sabbatical leave from my teaching position.  While most of those transitions had not actually occurred in October, it was in October that I had some time to take stock of all that had happened during the rather tumultuous three-month period preceding it.  Similarly, October 1980 was my stock-taking moment after a transatlantic move from Montana to Morocco that also involved new employment.  My long-suffering sons and the family dog accompanied me on this second adventure as well.  It was intended to last for three years.  That particular set of transitions ended up changing all our lives forever in ways that we never could have imagined - at least not during that particular October.

The most significant transitions that resulted in my current lifestyle occurred in October 1994, when HWMBO and I first came to Switzerland together.  At the time, my projection was that our stay here would last from three to five years.  In fact, funding for the institution that had engaged my services was on shaky footing, to say the least, so the move could have resulted in our departure much earlier.  Prospects were so short-term at the time that we could never have imagined that our stay here would last for the 16 years it has!  Had we been able to see the future, we would certainly have invested in real estate here 16 years ago because it would have cost a lot less in the long term than our rentals!  As it happened, I got a realistic second bite at the real estate apple late in October 2005 and snapped at it - although with a very big gulp.  And not without significant qualms.

In hindsight, that turned out to be an extremely fortuitous financial decision because that real estate has since appreciated.  It also helped that the USD exchange rate for the amount that I had to convert for the purchase was significantly higher at the time.   Like so many others with funds that were invested in equities and securities to aid us in our retirement lifestyle, we have watched with dismay verging on horror the various global financial crises.  The absence of ethics and scruples in those who had fiduciary obligations but appropriated and squandered the funds of others for their own whimsy and pleasure - gambling that their Day of Reckoning would never come has been particularly disappointing, as was the failure of Government oversight.  Institutions were in place but were simply not allowed to function as they should have because it did not suit those in power at the time.  When the Day of Reckoning did come, those same scam artists - who without fail preach caveat emptor and "free markets" to others and who consider those who live in poverty to be there by choice - were the first to beg for Government-sponsored taxpayer bailouts, which in most instances translated into billions of dollars received with no strings attached.  Today, the USD is trading almost at parity with the Swiss franc (CHF).

While the financial crises are indeed global, there is no denying the significant role of the unregulated market capitalism and shock doctrine-enforced "democracies" that principals from my own country have fostered at the expense of captive populations, including its own.  Thanks a lot, scam artists and worse!  Many of us are growing impatient with waiting for the "mills of God" to do their grinding.  To this end, there will be demonstrations in the US today, a fact that was barely worthy of mention in the rightward-leaning Washington Post, which unceasingly gives disproportionate coverage to anything with a whiff of Tea Baggery.  Even the New York Times finds other news more important to report.  It's eerily similar to how the MSM virtually ignored the millions who protested the war in Iraq in 2003.  Let's see whether they report anything about this tomorrow and, if so, whether it will be with the habitually disparaging bias they use towards progressives.   

Whether transitions are for better or for worse, they inevitably lead at least to physical shifts in geographical location, lifestyle, health conditions and choices, among others, even if only for a short while.  They can also lead to universal shifts in perspective and spiritual outlook.  Given my own experience with transitions in October, that include changes in employment, international relocations, losses of loved ones, major surgeries, travel and so forth, it is no wonder that I greet the month with some melancholy.  Still, given my experience, even that melancholy is tempered with anticipation rather than foreboding.