My African themed blog retrospective continues...

"Don't drink the water" is one of the most common recommendations for anyone traveling the under-developed parts of the world. The African continent has more than 50 countries where water quality is an issue.  We often take it for granted that whatever we drink is safe, but it takes considerable effort to assure yourself of the same when you travel in Africa. On various trips I have boiled, strained by high tech water pump, iodined and chlorine treated the water I drank. Not only is fresh water to be avoided but so are ice cubes or any fruit or vegetables washed in fresh water. This can have very limiting affects on the ability to eat healthy food on your travels. It is also highly recommended not to swim in any fresh water bodies that aren't fast flowing.  That can be a real downer when traveling on a hot dry continent.

On one particular trip this became a significant health issue.  My traveling companion and I had been traveling only a few short weeks from Kenya westward through Uganda, Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo), and Rwanda when we arrived in Bujumbura, Burundi with extreme stomach discomfort. Fortunately, the missionary hosts of the boarding house we found, recognized our distress as stomach amoebas. The treatment was this powerful drug called Flagyl.  We were told it had considerable side affects and could be quite injurious to our bodies, taking years off our life. But, what was our choice? Thankfully, they told us we had caught it before it developed into amoebic dysentery. We took the Flagyl and recovered in time to continue our long range travel plans.  We boarded this WWII era ship to travel down Africa's longest lake - Tanganyika - to go to Zambia and then on to Zimbabwe.

During the several day boat ride, we passed by and visited the location of where Stanley met Livingstone and the Gombe Stream chimpanzee preserve created by the efforts of Jane Goodall.  Even when we were off the ship it was recommended we not enter the lake for fear of contracting Bilharzia or other water borne parasites that would bore up through our feet. The ship only made three or 4 official stops along the lake, but every day people in smaller wooden boats would swarm the moving vessel to sell goods or board/de-board the moving ship. That was always an extremely chaotic event in the sometimes choppy waters.

When the ship finally docked in Zambia, the port town we arrived in had a raging cholera epidemic.  No public water could be consumed. Only bottled soda was recommended. We decided to expedite our travel across Zambia on a long two day train journey to escape to the relative luxury of Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. Finally we could drink their well treated public water and marvel at the world famous majestic Victoria Falls.  The waterfalls are spread over a couple kilometers and are viewable from so many great vantage points that back then didn't even have fences to protect you from the edge of the tall cliffs. This portion of our much longer trip certainly caused us to appreciate how precious and important clean healthy water is to the foundation of any society.

In part one, I shared some of the human elements of risk that we encountered while neglecting some of wildlife related adventures on our honeymoon trip. I thought I would share a couple of the animal based stories to balance things out.

People who've never been to Africa often assume that there are wild animals everywhere. The reality is that in most parts of Africa, the animal populations have been diminished to such a point that they exist just in national parks. A few countries have abundant wildlife, but even those are suffering from deforestation and diminished habitat; the result of human encroachment. The days of 'Out of Africa' type safari situations are rare if not altogether non-existent. Fortunately, East and Southern Africa hold much of Africa's remaining wildlife resources. They make great destinations for photographic safaris.

In Kenya, there are a number of good national parks, but they are visited by a lot of travelers so you rarely feel alone. It is still magical to watch lions, elephants, hippos, rhinos, giraffes, wildebeast and zebras in the wild, but less so when you have to share that space with other land rovers hovering nearby for their perfect snapshot so they can tick it off the list. One of the more elusive animals that people want to see is the cheetah for their exotic look and speed. We spent a several days driving throughout Maasai Mara scouting for a cheetah. It became a contest for everyone in our group to be the first one to locate one. They blend very well into the long tan grasses of the Serengeti plains and their numbers are diminishing. We had located all the other major animals and were restless to find one. Late in the afternoon of our third and final day, Mrs. Zimba finally spotted one at great distance as we were leaving the park area. Thanks to her sighting at that time of the day, we were able to view the cheetah for a while without any other vehicles disturbing that magical moment. It was definitely a highlight and point of pride for her to have been the one.

The second story I wanted to share was our journey down the Zambezi river in Zimbabwe. While driving in land rovers on safari is very enjoyable, it can be at times like watching TV out your square windows in the safety of your vehicle. On the other hand, canoeing down a treacherous river is very much more a perilous feeling. There is no noise, but the river, and little to protect you or to escape to. The river itself isn't filled with a lot of white water rapids in this stretch we traveled, but the wildlife risks are everywhere.

The sense of vulnerability is quite palpable. You are instructed to regularly tap your canoe with your paddle to send sound vibrations into the water to alert nearby hippos. They are everywhere as you paddle downstream. In Africa, hippos cause the most human deaths, and when you are around them you sense why. They prefer staying in groups in the water throughout the day and coming out at night to feed. They will submerge and re-emerge unexpectedly. They are so enormous that they would toss you into the river with ease if they came up underneath you. Once in the river you are easy pickings for their massive canines. One bite is all it takes to severely injure you. Our group of canoes zigzagged our way down the river with regularity to keep a safe distance from most pods of hippo. There were some unexpected close calls regardless.

Another animal to be wary of were the crocodiles. They were less populous than hippos, but more menacing in their look. They could often be seen sunning themselves on rocks or the river shore only to disappear into the nearby water as we approached. Due to their presence, we weren't allowed to swim in the main river at all. A couple shallow clear water sandy sections were the only exceptions along our several day journey.

In the late afternoons, we would search for an island to camp on. The Zambezi river is the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. I had asked at one point why we always searched for an island in the middle to camp, thinking it might have to do with borders and permission. They said it was done as a precaution because last year a lion had hauled away and killed someone from their tent on another canoe companies trip. Yikes.

The second night, we set up camp on a big flat sandy island. We set up mosquito nets over a basic frame for our individual sleeping areas. No tents were needed as it didn't rain that time of year. As the fire was dying down after our cookout meal and people drifted off to bed, we heard the sounds of a lion. This unnerved some of our group. We were told their calls carry over great distances and this was why we stayed on these islands for safety. Because there is no pollution or competing light for hundreds of miles, the stars were incredibly clear as you looked up through your mosquito netting. We drifted off to sleep, exhausted from many miles covered paddling down the Zambezi, to the sound of the lions calling to one another. When we awoke in the morning and one of the two leaders came back from a 'loo' run, they informed us sheepishly that they spotted fresh lion tracks not 20 meters from our campsite. A lion had indeed crossed the channel to check us out that night, but may have been kept at bay by the fire or some other fortunate deterrent.

Relieved to be back on the river for out last day, and tired from the long journey, we made our way to the exit point where we would be met by the lorry to return us to Lake Kariba. We arrived ahead of schedule so there wasn't vehicle to meet us, so we decided to take shade under some Ilala palm trees. Bad idea. Those trees are popular with a number of animals for their palm kernels and within a few minutes we were quickly fleeing to avoid the two elephants who came to feed on those particular palms. We moved our packs and canoes further inland and watched from a safe distance.

Both our Kenyan and Zimbabwean wildlife adventures were amazing with memories to last a lifetime. Seeing animals in their natural habitat is incredible. With increased development and population growth, it will be interesting to see how long African wildlife can hang on. I hope to take my kids in the coming years so they can experience it for themselves.

"Don't worry dear, we will be safe in Africa."

Those were the words I said to my wife as we flew to our honeymoon destination, 10,000 miles from our home in Portland, Oregon. I had grown up in several countries in Africa. I had studied, worked and traveled back to Africa multiple times since, but this was my wife's first trip to a third world destination like Kenya. I had wanted to show her the majesty and beauty of Africa while having a taste of my experiences to better understand my background.

I assured her we would be met at the airport by my homestay father of years ago who would whisk us to the relative safety of his home. He is a towering friendly Luhya man named Habil who generally beams confidence wherever he goes. He indeed did meet us amongst the throngs of taxi men and con artists looking to prey on unsuspecting visitors at the airport. We were led to his car as we exchanged pleasantries. I asked how things were and he had a beleagured look on his face. He proceeded to tell us how his home has just suffered from an attack from a group of lightly armed bandits a couple nights before. At least three men had scaled their walls, entered their home to steal their valuables and had been fought off by the collective efforts of the family of six. The eldest son had a machete wound to his forehead as evidence of the struggle. Wonderful start.

The scary story unnerved my wife, but not as much as the next occurrence. About 10 minutes from the airport on the main highway was the body of a dead man lying by the side of the road uncovered, the apparent victim of a violent hit and run. In Africa, they often don't rush to cover the body and ambulances are slow to arrive. We had never seen a dead body out in the open and it was clearly unnerving.

We arrived safely to our host's home and things seem to have returned to some semblance of order and normality. A night watchman had been hired temporarily as a result of the recent attack to provide extra security. The family was genuinely thrilled to meet my wife, because I had been one of their favorite home stays years before and had stayed in touch. It was an honor for them and we all enjoyed each other's company. The next morning we headed into Nairobi for a tour. Nairobi is a densely crowded, bustling African city. To those who are not prepared, it can be quite overwhelming. There are people everywhere, many beggars, much pollution, traffic congestion and it can be very intimidating. After that morning trip, my wife insisted I do all the trip preparations in Nairobi, while she would remain with our hosts.

I was quite accustomed to Nairobi and proceede to arrange a number of outings around Kenya for our two weeks in Kenya before we headed to Zimbabwe for the final two weeks of our honeymoon. We went on a tented safari in Maasai Mara to view the animals. We ended the trip by flying up in a 4 seater plane to an exclusive resort in northern Kenya which was quite luxurious for another exotic safari.

In between these two nice trips, we traveled to western Kenya to visit another of my homestay familes. This was a very rural destination. We had to take an overnight bus to get there, which broke down somewhere in the rift valley at 3 in the morning. When we arrived in the regional capital of Kakamega, I rented a local bush taxi to take us the rest of the way. The roads are very rough and the car even rougher. Imagine a 30 year old beater with a sledgehammer taken to it. I've been in some where you can see down through the floorboards (african air conditioning). Most of the bush taxi's starters were shot so they would have to get a push for a jumpstart each time. We were eventually dropped off in the local small town of Emasatsi. From there, we had to walk the last mile or two by foot along winding paths through the rolling hillsides and farm country.

The Ambale compound consisted of three mud huts and one cinder block home. No running water or electricity existed and bathrooms consisted of a hole in the floor of the outhouse/bathouse. The family couldn't have been more thrilled to meet my wife and see me again. They are truly the quintessential rural farming African family with 7-8 kids living as Africans have lived for hundreds of years. Their perspective on life is so different to be around. While we had a good visit and immersion into local culture, enduring those conditions was challenging for my wife or anyone unaccustomed to third world conditons.

We went on have a great two weeks in Zimbabwe. Fortunately, the infrastructure of Zimbabwe at the time was much better. We rented a car and ventured on our own for most of it. We also flew to a couple other destinations for safaris, canoe trips down the Zambezi and the like. We had an amazing time traveling on our own throughtout the country trouble free. She loved Zimbabwe in comparison and the honeymoon was very memorable and truly eye opening for both of us.

I had intended to share a sampling of all my African experiences for her to understand and appreciate my upbringing. She was a good sport dealing with some of the hardships, but to this day she insists it was all a test for her to pass to become my wife. Which of course makes no sense because we were already married, but it makes for a humorous story. I suceeded in keeping her safe, but not before showing her some of the perils that are omnipresent when traveling in Africa.

It's amazing how much our lives depend on electricity.  Yesterday, with over 100 degree heat in usually mild Oregon, we had a brown out.  It eventually blew out the transformer across the street when it came back on and we were without electricity for 5.5 hours until 10:30 pm.  So that severely affected my ability to do much (no computer, tv, microwave dinner or just light).  Sometimes its hard to imagine I spent days and weeks living in Africa without any electricity or running water available.  Anyways, back to my series of archive blogs from those days.

"As my semester abroad in Kenya was coming to an end, I longed to remain in East Africa to prolong my incredible life changing experiences. I ended up travelling in Kenya and Tanzania most of that summer before heading back to school for my senior year. During the latter part of the trip, I had travelled through Tanzania to Dar Es Salaam the largest city located on the Indian Ocean. When I had entered the country, the immigration officer has asked how long would be my stay, and I told him a month. He immediately stamped my passport and off we went.

In Dar, I stayed in a typical budget traveller lodge in the Indian district. All the shops were owned by Indians and the food was very affordable and tasty. A couple of the long term tenants at the lodge were Tanzanians from other parts of the country who had come to Dar to become DJ's. I befriended one and frequented his club most nights. I was enjoying the laid back lifestyle of Dar meeting people and having a good time. A couple weeks later, on a routine morning sweep, two immigration officials visited the traveller lodge. When you register you have to indicate your passport details. I happened to be in my room when they visited and they asked to see my papers. I showed them my passport without fear or hesitation figuring I still had another week or two on the visa.

No such luck. Unbeknownst to me, the entry official had given me just a week instead of the month saying nothing. I was now illegally in the country. I had heard that sometimes all these officials were seeking was a little kickback and they would be on their way, but I didn't pick up that vibe and they didn't pick up my hints to 'resolve' the issue. They told me I was in big trouble and escorted me to the station. I was put in detention for a while as they processed and threatened me with grave consequences. I pleaded that it was an innocent mistake, that I was American, and I would never intentionally do that. My charm worked no magic on them and there I sat. A couple hours later, the next level of official was sent to interrogate and threaten me. I pleaded with the same story. He said I was destined to be sent to their local prison in violation of their immigration laws. I didn't panic, but feared what even a single nights stay in that local prison would be like for a young american. I asked if I could have representation from the American embassy. This request pushed me up to the senior level official at the station. I met with him a couple hours later (everything moves slowly there) and was on my best behavior. He finally aquiesced and indicated I would pay a fine and have 48 hours to leave the country or go to prison.

As I stood up to show my appreciation for the favorable outcome I made a huge faux pas - inadvertent error. I was reaching for my things as he reached out with his right hand to shake. Because I was turned slightly and my right hand was occupied I reached out with my left hand to shake his hand. You should have seen his face change. He immediately looked extremely offended and he instructed his subordinate to take me immediately to my detention room instead of leaving. There I sat for another couple hours before being released with orders to immediately head to the train station to purchase my one way ticket out of the country. When I got to the traveller lodge to collect my things, I indicated the strange incident that had prolonged my stay at the station. My DJ friend indicated that in Africa, the right hand is reserved for eating and greetings and the left hand for wiping. It was a huge insult to extend my left hand to him and if it had occured earlier in the negotiations it might have been the tipping point to my going to prison.

As agreed, I got on the train late that evening and headed back to Kenya by Mt. Kilimanjaro and through the Maasai areas of the Serengeti plains. I escaped what could have been a very unpleasant situation and gained further insight on the cultural differences that exist in Africa."

All this week, I'm sharing classic archived blog entries from a couple years ago.  They are a series of stories and situations I encountered in my various travels through Africa when I was younger.  So don't be confused if you are expecting poker, I will return to poker subjects after this week.

"How often do the situations we are in dictate the veracity of your words? To survive in society we often 'shade the truth'. When people we encounter ask us things, how often do we tell them the absolute truth? It is only natural to tell little white lies. It often just avoids conflict. We do it sometimes because its none of their business to know, or we wish to hide the truth because we fear their reaction. Its definitely a necessary part of co-existing in society, whether it be with strangers you meet in everyday life or your family and closest friends.

How do these decisions to 'shade the truth' affect us in the long run? Where do you draw the line in your life? It can be a slippery slope where it could be argued why ever tell the truth if it doesn't serve our purpose. But what kind of life is that? There really is no easy answer. Each person has to answer it for themself, but I think its good to think about these situations.

I'll use one of my experiences from my semester abroad in Kenya years ago to illustrate an example. We had a long Easter weekend off, so most students made plans to do some travelling around the country. A few of my friends had pre-planned to climb Mt. Kenya in a group. They had all packed back in the states special cold weather gear for the second tallest peak in Africa ascent. I hadn't wanted to pack all that gear for just that one weekend so I made alternate plans to hitchhike around Mt. Kenya with a girl name Lani. We accompanied our friends up to the launch point to meet their guides and then ventured off on our own.

It was very scenic circumnavigating the mountain on the ring road and visiting Isiolo, a true frontier town on the edge of northern Kenya wilderness. We had spent Saturday night in Nyeri and were heading south Sunday morning on our long journey back. We had noticed a lot of people in nice outfits along the main road but thought nothing much of it, when two young women came running up to us. They asked if we were American, we said yes. They said its Easter, you must come with us to church as all americans do. Backtracking a bit, Lani's last name was something like Weiss and I didn't go to church. But, we sensed a unique opportunity to experience something different, so we agreed to accompany the excited young Kikuyu women to their hilltop church.

The location and view from this church was unlike any i've ever been to before or since. We were on the slopes descending from Mt. Kenya and this church was at the top of one of the bulging hills with a view in all directions for many miles of green verdent farms and forests. In addition to the view, we were treated as honored guests being the only whites/foreigners attending. We were brought up to sit up with the pastor of this evangelical church. We looked out over the congregation and out the open air windows in all directions. It was a breathtaking view. The service was heavy on baptist style singing and preaching which was very moving, even for a jew and non believer.

At the culmination of the service, the pastor and entire congregation turned to us at once and asked us if we wanted to be 'saved'. Would we accept the lord jesus christ to be our lord and saviour? Now what do you say?

And who do you think said what in this circumstance. I had gone to church many times in my life, as my father is a born again christian with a strong faith. Lani was a practicing Jew who was respected amongst the students for her beliefs. In that moment, I stood up for what I believed and said NO, she quickly followed that up with a resounding YES. The congregation momentarily stunned by my rejection had burst into celebration and applause when Lani said yes. She was brought to the Pastor and commited herself in front of everyone. She was a 'hit'. The service ended shortly after that and as the congregation spilled out of the church they surrounded Lani to give praise and congratulations. I was shunned and relegated off to the side. What had begun as an incredible experience had become very awkward because I hadn't acquiesced to the circumstances of the situation.

We said our goodbyes shortly thereafter and proceeded on our long journey back to Nairobi. Few words came up between us as I didn't want to interject tension or question her motives. We knew it was obvious that she hadn't converted. She had simply said a "lil white lie" in the face of a challenging situation and had been rewarded for it. I'm not passing judgement on her, because I understand her perspective. What would you do in that situation.

Life provides us endless opportunities to 'shade the truth'. I'm not saying how to handle these various situations, only that you give them the proper thought they deserve. Develop your own lines and limits. You will sleep better in all areas of your life when you get to a place where you are comfortable and somewhat consistent with these daily decisions."

Here I start to share some of my specific adventures in Africa...

After sharing in my blog about the extent of my Africa adventures, my mind spent all night sifting through them. Often times, when you have unique memories that most people can't relate to you end up putting them 'in the closet' of your mind where they collect dust until they see the light of day again. Now that I've opened the door, I'm not sure which pieces to share first. I'll err on the side of action. I've always thought this story would make a good hollywood movie scene.

Setting the scene, the year was 1991, there was unrest in Togo. It is a small sliver of a country in West Africa next to Nigeria. They had a long serving dictator type leader who the people were starting to tire off. But what typically happens in Africa is the leaders become more despotic and repressive the longer that they are in power, to remain there. I had been travelling for almost 8 months by now, the last 3 on my own. I had survived Nigeria, which is a story in itself for another day, and was looking forward to the last stretch of countries. The day before I arrived the army and police had shot and killed some university student leaders who were protesting. My long distance group taxi from Nigeria let me out at the market in Lome, the seaside capital in Togo.

The first thing I noticed was that they were speaking another language. Togo was french speaking, Nigeria had been english, and the local dialect was different as well. I spoke some French and I asked for directions to some accomodations, but people seemed a bit on edge and pre-occupied. They said there were no local taxis available but directed me to the neighborhood where most mid to lower range hotels were located. The local taxis are the foundation of the nation's transportation network. They had gone on strike to protest new higher rates imposed by the governement. As I walked the streets I noticed that things were different. Usually, major African cities are always bustling during the day, but there weren't many people out and about. At major intersections, some people had build a large tire obstructions to block traffic, as I walked on with my big backpack, I saw them light it one on fire with kerosene sending up plumes of noxious black smoke.

Once I got to the local hotel district, I took no time in selecting a place to stay fearing more time on the street wasn't a good idea. The hotel was basic tropical africa. It was several stories tall and I had a stark room with a bed side table and modest dresser. It had slatted glass windows, no mosquito netting and a giant fan built in the ceiling. I ended up spending most of the evening up on the rooftop observing the events taking place on the streets below. Skirmishes were taking place between the army and protesters, be they students or taxi drivers. There were very few cars out on the roads. Things deteriorated when protesters started stoning the passing cars to discourage any traffic at all. After discussing the situation with a couple travelling african businessmen, I decided it would be best if I didn't stay any longer than that night in Togo. You always have to be flexible when travelling in Africa as conditions are always changing.

That night it was particularly hot and muggy, and the mosquitos were out in force. Because there was no mosquito netting and the windows being slatted allowed in any creatures looking for a meal, I turned on the industrial strength fan to full strength to deter them. It felt like sleeping in a wind tunnel but helped drown out the sound of army helicopters circling the area trying to enforce the new curfew imposed to quell the unrest.

In the morning, I was informed it was 3-4 miles across the city by foot to get to the border post. The streets were mostly deserted except by protesters and the army. I tried to make my way in the general direction indicated to me but had to take several detours to avoid trouble. One such scene had students stoning a police station mercilessly. About 50 people on the outside pelting the building into submission, eventually storming the building and dragging out the scared local policemen for a public beating before they set the building on fire.

Successfully navigating the streets to avoid trouble, I eventually neared the edge of the city and the beach front border area. The situation was much more severe here. Helicopters would circle occasionally above, students were busy barraging the border post with sticks and stones. Occasionally the army would bring in a truck load of soldiers to engage the marauding students to little effect. I noticed other fearful visitors also trying to make their way to the border to escape the chaos. We were all huddling in the nearby streets, in the safety of the big walls that surrounded all the homes in the area, waiting for things to dissipate. After a couple hours of skirmishes between the army and protesters, another truck of soldiers arrived to reinforce the government forces. An army helicopter swooped in low which sent all parties for cover temporarily.

In the brief calm brought on by the helicopter's recent departure, I seized the moment. Looking back on that day, I don't know what possessed me. I sensed we would be caught there for many more hours if nothing decisive was done. I wasn't a big risk taker but I had assessed that foreigners weren't being targetted in this dispute. So I picked up my pack, emerged from the shadows of the street and boldly marched out with my large blue Lowe backpack onto the oceanside road that led to the border post. Everyone started looking at me. I tried to walk with a firm sense of purpose, no matter how scared I was inside.

The student protester group was the first that I had to get through, and a number of them surrounded me wondering what nerve I had to be there and insert myself in this conflict. Thinking fast I used some basic French "Je suis Americain" (I am american) and "Allez les eleves" (long live the students). This brought a cheer from the throng assembled. Suddenly I had shown American support for their cause and removed the tension of the moment. So deciding not to let any time pass for them to consider other moves I kept walking.

This region in between the warring factions was littered with stones and other debris thrown in the battle zone between both parties. I marched forcefully, trying not to take any missteps among the rubble, towards the shocked soldiers who had come to reinforce the border post. They were perplexed, they had heard the cheers as I passed through the students, but I was now approaching them. They stood almost frozen wondering my intentions with distrust. I said not a word to them until I approached what appeared to be one of their leaders when I said simply "Je veux allez au Ghana" (I want to go to Ghana). He paused, thought a second and raised his arm pointing to the border post room. Suddenly the border officials who had been crouching below desks in the simple border post buildings emerged to process my passport so I could depart. The atmosphere was surreal, as all the windows had been stoned out and there was debris everywhere. I hesitated no longer than an instant and crossed the border to Ghana as those on the other side looked on at me in disbelief.

The proudest aspect for me was that my bravery or foolishness had broken the tension of the moment and other foreigners who had been trapped and wanting to leave now emerged from the shadows to make their way to the border as well. The skirmishes would continue. The violence would continue to escalate in the coming days and weeks eventually leading to an attempted coup. I spent less than 24 hours in Togo, but it was some of the most memorable moments of my 9 month trip.

The last couple days at Poker Curious have been uber busy.  I thought I would slowly make the blog transition to some of the more exciting tales from my earlier days traveling the world and Africa in particular with this archived entry.

Zagnut31, a PC admin, mentioned that he would be interested in reading some of the highlights from my CardRunners blogs.  So before I start posting some of the more interesting stories, I thought I would start with the first blog I ever wrote over two years ago.  I'll mix in the *Archive highlights between my current Poker Curious entries.

Tales from the Middle Ages

Confession no. 1 - I have never wanted to have a blog.
Confession no. 2 - I have never written a single entry in a diary in my life.
Confession no. 3 - I have never enjoyed being in the spotlight.

So what in the world would possess me to want to start a blog? I'm not sure exactly why.

Maybe I can blame it on the fact that I turned 40 last month. I am officially middle aged. As further proof of my lack of desire for any attention on myself, I had my wife promise me there would be no big celebration that is typical of my family where surprises, family members flying in from all over the country and a big production is typical of such occasions.

Maybe its the fact that my eldest child turned 10 this week. She will develop into an amazing young woman in a few years and be gone in a flash to tackle the world on her own terms. I spend too many hours in front of my computer screens pouring myself into CardRunners. Maybe in her youthful curiousity she will seek out the blog in coming years and look back on my thoughts with some pride.

Maybe reading every single blog on CardRunners regularly the past year has stirred my juices. In the background, I am often nudging our youthful bloggers in various ways. Ultimately in life, as a worker, teammate or parent, your best choice is to lead by example. I don't want my blog to be like anyone else's or anyone's to be like mine. I will infuse my blog with the same passion and commitment that I have shown CardRunners in my operations manager role.

My wife grew up in a household where as a child, you didnt speak unless you were spoken to by adults. Words were precious and verbiage was minimal unless you had something important to say. On the other hand, I grew up in a household where all kinds of talking was encouraged with an emphasis on introspection. We were always questioning things and their meaning in your life. I have come to value both perspectives.

I can anticipate times when my blog will contain entries about philosophical concepts or fatherly reflections as well as others where I muse about CardRunners developments or running into poker celebrities on my travels in Las Vegas this summer covering the WSOP ME. I am very excited about this year's trip to Vegas. I secured a WSOP press pass which will allow me inside the velvet ropes during the Main Event to report on all CardRunners participating in the event. I will stay as long as a CardRunners' member is still playing, hopefully through the final table.

I have been fortunate to have travelled to over 33 countries around the world. I've been a teacher, ice cream maker, art gallery owner and world traveller. I am a husband and father to two kids. Now I ply my trade in front of monitors in my suburban home in Oregon. My life isn't really about 'ballin' and you won't hear a lot of poker strategy unless I find some time to play my 50nl hobby game. But I am working with some of the best poker players anywhere and privy to a lot of poker information that I'll share judiciously. My first hint of things to come is that CR will introduce new blogging software amongst other changes, in August most likely, that will vastly improve how the blogs are presented and set up and which will get many more people involved. Until then I'll share my thoughts in this simpler format.

Zimba

"Always remember that life is a matter of perspective. If you change yours, you can see the world change before your very eyes."

It's only been a day and I'm very excited to have Rex55 on the PC team.  It's nice to collaborate with a professional player who has a strong understanding of the online poker world.  We also share a strong desire to have active forums on Poker Curious.

In honor of Chetna 'Rex55' Joshi coming on board, we are hosting a special $100 freeroll this Saturday at 2 pm EST on Full Tilt.  In addition, there will be a bounty on Rex55 of one hour of free coaching ($100 value).  To gain access to the special freeroll, you must post 3 substantive posts or responses in our forums this week.  Once you have done that you can post your FTP name in the official Rex55 Bounty Tournament thread in Extra Value and I will private message you the password to the tournament.

On Sunday, we will have our second GrinderSchool/Poker Curious $50 freeroll at 2 pm EST too.

I'm thrilled to announce that Chetna 'Rex55' Joshi has signed on to be Poker Curious' first PC Pro.  She is a 31 year old poker pro from Southern New Jersey.  She is a well respected online tournament player who has had success in a wide variety of games (NLHE, PLO, 08, Razz and HORSE games).  She is a respected instructor at PokerXFactor and also does private coaching. She has agreed to move her popular blog to Poker Curious, as well as being active in the forums, chat, contributing original content and playing in most of our tournaments.  She shares our passion for poker information, culture, education and community.

Check out her in depth interview and welcome her to Poker Curious.