I was sitting in an airport hotel room in Kuwait when i began writing this very long story, for a very brief visit to my destination. I’ve decided to make it since a shorter story. I had sent just my family members a long email detailing my plans to embark on a journey to nature and wildlife, in pursuit of elephants.
I since had spent the last 4 days leading up to and beyond Christmas – which is also my birthday – mostly alone in an office, in a huge building, outside of Frankfurt, Germany; courtesy of the guy whose start-up it is. The building empty for christmas holidays, this huge building hollowed of people, was my home. It was actually the perfect place for the time. The electricity, WiFi, expansive desk and foldout bed upon which I laid my sleeping bag, served my time to continue to communicate and peruse the internet with ideas of where I would go now that my plans were no longer pertinent. I basically spent Christmas and my Birthday in a room alone behind a computer screen; catching up, filing, investigating my next possible moves, reading and writing. Something that I actually love to do, hence a gifted appropriate space.
I’ve been on a continued search of where to go, where to land, that is inexpensive, to create time. My intent is to complete my book in the next two months. That was what I was also after in planning a trip to India. My search there was for elephant sanctuaries and an elephant village. With India out of the picture, I considered hitching to Spain and ferrying to Morocco, to further hitch to a workaway there. A google for an elephant sanctuary surprisingly brought me to France. This shifted my efforts to look for workaway exchanges in France because it feels less risky. I’m going to a workaway host tomorrow in Germany, and have a host in southern France that I’m looking forward to that is booked for a later period of time.
Historic quarter red flag christmas
I was living in Montpellier France, when I was asked to leave several weeks ago. I had a room with a mother and daughter for reduced rent, in exchange for English instruction to the daughter for the duration of the school year. I didn’t have much time to find a new living situation. I didn’t know where to go. I almost flew back to the United States. Family close and yet far, I decided to continue another intended segment of my journey, to participate somehow in helping elephants in their natural habitat.
I haven’t had income, so looking for any normal priced rental in shared housing in France seemed dubious. I decided to embark on a trip to Africa or Asia, something I have yet to do, to spring into the wilder places of our wondrous planet to experience seeing various different creatures in their natural habitats, while they’re still here. Before climate breakdown, human overpopulation and ecocide (thank you George Monbiot for your continued fervor in sharing information) clip them out of existence. I’ve wanted to see elephants in particular. I was googling for sanctuaries where I could volunteer, found an elephant village. Tears came to my eyes when I discovered that these as well as potential workaway living/work exchange programs working with elephants. I have written about the majesty of trees, the regenerative properties of fungus, about plastic in our oceans, human corpocrisy, greed, the impossibility of continuous consumption on a finite planet, of overpopulation, of health, various methods of renewable energy and the splendid creatures and life forms with whom we share this planet. I alternately share other peoples’ inspiring or provocative articles or write my own in my blogs.
I decided to take this leap of faith to begin the travel that I’ve intended to do, to the wilder places of this living planet to see some of this splendor, before they are extinguished from existence from ecocide. I don’t like to kill even a spider or a fly. I love all life forms. I figured that once I arrive, the overhead will be considerably cheaper. I had little time.
Still pressured, not sure where I’d go. I write often about ecology and sustainability, with various ideas and potential solutions to matching the need of human power to create community gardens, bee highways, animal bridges, sustainable building and energy resources. I saw a way of creating a win/win situation of matching refugees who long for a home with projects that could be started all over the globe – in renewable energy as well as elder in home care, so that people could remain in their homes and have help stay with them. I thought that my huge love of animals and the natural world could lead me to apply my writing, creative and communicative skills towards matching with groups to educate locals on how to appreciate and live in harmony with the animals around them, to preserve their habitats.
I thought I’d go to a place with elephants. I honed the African safari countries down to Tanzania, however the US State Department had a rather fear provoking portrayal so full of warnings, that I was scared away. I had attended a lecture of an Elephant Dr. of Assam, India in Santa Fe, New Mexico a year ago and had this in the back of my mind since. I lived in Santa Fe last year where I busily working as a substitute teaching for K -12th graders teaching all subjects for the Santa Fe public schools during most weekdays, and working for the Santa Fe ski basin as a 1st year ski instructor for adults weekends and holidays. I loved it.
I have been writing a book that I keep having just small amounts of time to devote to. I have numerous times looked for and applied to artist residencies, but really have never been fully devoted to the task. Many of the residencies or asking for a patron require inquiring way in advance, and with small windows of open times I had the opportunity this last spring to devote a big chunk of time to continuing with my book, through a friend’s lending me space as an office in his home in Taos, with the electricity and internet connection that I needed. It is a huge priority. I have been continually searching for affordable housing, or work/living exchanges with hosts with internet. And haven’t really found what I’m looking for yet: a group of artists/writers/musicians living under the same cooperative roof; each with a deadline and from time to time showcasing what they’ve accomplished from one hurdle to the next.
The pressure was on in my residence in Montpellier, holidays were coming. I continued searching, now India. Spent hours and days investigating flights, VISAs, vaccine requirement, safety. Booked a flight hastily, because each day closer to the 25th would go up in price. Then started the online application process for an Indian eVISA. That seemed pretty straight forward. I then found like a magnet, a perfect host through workaway. I hadn’t been really able to easily negotiate the WWOOF site, and upon clicking on workaway, of which I’d already been a member but needed to renew it, I found the site sophisticated, user friendly, and plus they list ‘last minute hosts’. I found an excellent match, in the same general area in northern india where I wanted to be. It was a Hindu Priest and his wife and kids who are descendants of the local deity of this Temple of Rats. They also also operate a Camel business. I was delighted and relieved, now having a place to land. All of this took an enormous amount of investigating and comparing and searching and reading and organizing. I had decided to fly out of Frankfurt, an airport hub, because I had over-extended my tourist VISA in France, besides having applied for jobs and attempted to get a working permit.
The adventure begin. Taking an inexpensive bus – a day and a half prior to my flight, because otherwise I would have exceeded the departure time, and I was now ready and willing to skip some comfort and sleep.
I had a long conversation in French with a woman who had been a school director. We had rapport on a lot of subjects. The sleep deprivation had begun. I arrive at the immigration to get to the flight, and I am asked something in German about Berlin. I figured it was about a train ticket, for once getting caught by controllers for not paying a €2,50 U-bahn ticket. The 25 year old German policeman was stern. He eventually walked me back to a waiting area. The price was not €100, or 200, but €1,000. He told me I needed to pay them €1,000 in cash to get on the flight. Uh, I guess the interest accrued over the years. He wouldn’t listen to any explanations, that I haven’t lived in Germany…He walked back to their offices behind a glass wall and I saw him laughing with his colleagues. I decided to take a picture of this, and another man rushed to the door and I deleted it before him. He left.
The other option was 15 days in jail, which wasn’t really an identifiable option, when one has just booked a flight, paid for an eVISA, and made all the preparations. I wonder how many times they do this? I walked to an ATM conveniently located just a few yards away. Typically I don’t get cash from a cc, it’s too expensive. Now was withdrawing a thousand euro, with which the exchange rate and ATM fees added to $1,450. I typically travel by bicycle, and have a loved mt. bike in Montpellier that cost a little more than the lock. There’s a lot of bike theft in Montpellier, I found out with the disappearance of my first bike. I’ve learned my lesson concerning outstanding tickets. I wanted to fight it, and now accept it.
Determined to fight this 1,000 Euro fine
I stayed some days in Frankfurt,Germany upon my return with the intention of getting this money back – criminal injustice. This was now out of the airport police jurisdiction and in the hands of Berlin. I decided to go do a workaway instead.
So, I pay and board the flight. In retrospect, was thinking that this amount of money is worth being able to re-enter France.
flickr_Trip Pics Frankfurt Oasis Plastic plug in Kuwait
I had planned to sleep on my 21 hour layover of the Kuwait Airways at the Kuwait terminal (an online booking of the most inexpensive fare). And was shock delighted, to learn upon approaching the airways immediately and asking about their transit visas, I learned that I was to be provided a hotel and food, due to having over an 8 hour layover. This lead to a delightful series of conversations with Indian employees, from whom I learned a lot about their lives in Kuwait.
My Kuwait Airways experience was marvelous, especially the sophisticated jet that I was on en route to India, and the hospitality I received on the 1 day VISA layover in Kuwait.
Jan. 2018 – featured a complimentary Hilton Hotel room for those who had longer than an 8 hour wait. I was one. Processed a transit VISA there at the airport. The 777 jet was modern with a sophisticated interactive panel: featuring downward cameras, forward cameras, a map of timezones, flight trajectory map and zoom in images of earth from any point on the globe. I was investigating the depletion of trees in the Amazon rainforest at one point. Checking out a lovely unusual feature in New Zealand on a peninsula near Christchurch
Almost every Indian man when asking ‘how long have you been in Kuwait?’ answered 10 years. So I was met with a van taking me to the Kuwait Holiday inn, free of charge transportation from the airport, and complimentary meals and and room service. Things were looking great. The next flight on an equally sophisticated 777 jet with great interactive video features. I had a great person sitting next to me with whom I had a non-stop 4 hour conversation with a bright Indian girl attending NYC, daughter of two doctors, who was full of information and with whom I also had a great rapport. I’ve met wonderful people with whom I’ve communicated and learned a lot of fascinating information, as well as seen a lot of the impacts of globalization; on slave workers from Asia to the Arab countries, families broken up, over-the-top pollution in Delhi…
flickr_Kuwait Airways experiences
I arrived at the Delhi airport and proceeded to immigration, and now it was pointed out that the papers I printed out from the initial eVISA were not an actual VISA. There had been problems on the eVISA form, when after the 1st pdf file of my passport pic was not the correct size (after i attempted to resize it in photoshop, when I decided to go back to the copy shop, this time a different service woman scanned it with the precise dimensions that i stated. My error I presume for not communicating this the first time, or realizing that it had to be done initially within the proper dimensions. The form would not let me upload the correct size, now for a 3rd attempt. I contacted the Indian govt office link provided and explained with documentation my case # and so forth and sent them the attached pdf, showing my passport pic at the size that was appropriate. This information was not transferred. I was denied, and I assumed it was because of this technical failure. I was told I could not enter the country, and had 15 minutes to book a flight out of it.
They had no WiFi, I have no smart phone. Upon my continued demand for WiFi access, a young Indian guy with his smart phone was delivered. He became the person supervising and keeping me in check. His phone provided me with internet. I didn’t know where to fly to. I have left things of value at a friends in Montpellier. I didn’t want to fly back to the States. I was beginning to investigate flights to Nepal, where I was told there is ‘visa upon entry’. I was just about at the point of choosing a flight and paying, when the man approached and said, your 15 minutes are up.
He said I would be sent back to Frankfurt, from where I started, on a flight in several hours. My passport was passed from one to another official. This flight unlike the sleek, modern sophisticated 777, was smaller, older and packed with mostly men of Indian, Pakistani and Bangladesh origins, returning to work in whatever Arab country, where they leave their wives and kids at home for years. Another layover in Kuwait, but this time at an airport hotel, designed to be a lockdown, for those without VISA entry status. I met a bunch of people, Indians who are residents in NYC, a doctor and his doctor wife, an IT guy, another Nepalese IT guy, an aging Israeli hippy type who teaches yoga in NYC and who was carrying these Tibetan bowls, which he used for 7 of us to have a healing ceremony, laying down on carpets in one corner of the lobby, with our eyes closed and he guiding us with visualization and sending out tone reverberations of each of these bowls (which probably weighed altogether 75 pounds). The conversations we all had together were fantastic.
I arrived at Frankfurt and was about to approach the steward who had my passport, when a tall, big bellied, borderline disheveled man approached me with an envelope and sort of leaned into me and quipped, why did you go to India without a VISA? You need to pay for this flight. He was bullying and aggressive. It then occurred to me that he must have worked in the same department as these immigration police, who I felt, were using the parameters of the situation there at airport departing immigration to extort money. In such a sophisticated cyber system that they could almost instantaneously track fees, with years of interest rates, how was it that they couldn’t contact me via email, to inform me that I had an outstanding fee? Were they not able to discern that I was no longer living in the country? Or recognize mail delivery being returned? I demanded this guy to have my passport and then asked him what his name is, leaning down to read his name tag, and as quickly as he appeared, he receded.
So I arrive in Frankfurt ready to go to the police, above the police there at immigration, and find that there at the airport are the federal police. I tried to make an appt to reach someone at the embassy, where you can visit by appointment only, and there are no places to book it in their online system. I have a number I will call tomorrow, just to get advice on how this has come to be. I never saw the alleged ticket or anything in documentation. the guy had given me a flimsy 1×2 inch receipt, that surely would have been lost or forgotten, if I hadn’t been immediately sent back to land in Frankfurt.
I am sorry, I think that I have just formulated the blog I’m about to post, as I continued to ramble on to you, telling you the story. I have been waiting for days through the three days of celebrating Christmas in the German tradition, alone in this space, a bit daunted to leave it, because I wasn’t sure that I could get back in, even with the supposedly appropriate keys. I am still exhausted. I have now after writing for the last days, created two cover letters to ask would be hosts if I can stay with them in Morocco, and have begun investigating how to get there. I probably will use the Flixbus voucher I now have to return to Montpellier, where I have to ask someone if I can stay there. Whoops, just as I waited the last few days for the American consulate to be open, I would have to wait a week here in Limbo for the holiday prices to drop down to their regular price. They appear to be doubled, even tripled during the holidays. And having packed for India, am pretty much ready to launch off to a new conservatively dressed
I had a workaday lined up, my laptop and electronic equipment with, absorbing all of the information about how to be street smart in India as a single female traveler. Had thought of going to Tanzania, but was scared away by the US State Dept rather fear provoking portrayal. So I decided upon India, and was pulling this decision and actions towards making it happen together in a matter of weeks. This coincided with the death of my only brother, on the 2nd of December and the decision of the last housing situation, mother of the daughter wanting to learn English in exchange for less expensive rent. When she told me, no discussion, that I needed to leave and kept pressuring me, I felt sort of fed up with having the last several shared housing situations evaporate. Money is an issue. I so much want to spend merely 2 months on completing my book, and want to continue to learn, research, absorb information and write my blogs. I thought that since my love is languages and animals and a feeling of urgency about the environment, that I could do cultural exchanges, live inexpensively and live for a bit of time at elephant sanctuaries….I found an inexpensive flight, then immediately processed an online eVISA, then set to contact potential hosts. Found some great workways. Felt so excited to finally embark on going East of Eastern Europe…had found a delightful sounding place to land, had researched like crazy, then had some technical issues with the pdf file of my passport not being clear, because it had not been properly scanned and digitized the 1st time and when I realized that I needed to do this again, it was now the 3rd time i was uploading the pdf pic of my passport and the reform kept saying ‘you already uploaded this’. I nevertheless sent the resized form to this office along with all of the documentation, and departed. I met a wonderful woman with whom i gained a lot of information and exchanged a lot on our ride on this inexpensive bus lines. Shared considerably a lot between our points of view of education….I had been doing so much research, so much, about where…how, guests of when. Then I arrive in Frankfurt, Germany airport hub, found a great cafe to do yet more investigating of the train station the new host informed me i needed to take on this long journey, after arriving in the int’l New Delhi airport, also a hub. I get to customs, and this 25 or younger hardliner, stern, police officer working at customs at the airport, when I was there with enough time to look at prices for the electronic equipment i want to purchase either there or in Delhi to not fry my laptop with unstable electric currents, and he basically says, about this ticket i didn’t pay, for a metro Berlin rail ticket, maybe i was given a fine for €35 euro or something. He said, you can’t get on the flight unless you pay €1,000 dollars. WHAT! this girl here is so fucking frugal i can live on 1,000 for 6 months. I never eat out, i have bought 2 beers in bars, way over my budget. i’m the purchase a can and drink it in the park to save money kinda gal. So, then he escorts me to this back waiting room where about 10 other officers were mingling about. I said, okay, and i was speaking in German, that this must have been something that accrued, over 5 or 6 years. what? he said, either pay me 1,000 in cash or go to jail for 15 days. I would have taken jail, but I just spent a GINORMOUS amount of time and effort to finally make moves towards this dream. So, angry, but naturally one can not reveal anger to an officer, tears starting to stream. The clock ticking. Investments and contacts and huge effort already made, basically thinking that the school year deal that this family had now suddenly retracted, left me with just not the funds to pay rents…..What got me was that this guy then behind the glass walls of the police desks, was laughing. I took a picture, and another officer almost ran out to me to grab my phone, and i deleted the pic in front of him. I mean, for me 100 dollars is extravagant. I realize now, and after sitting on the flight with a very bright Indian girl going to NYU who was returning to India for her winter break, that this is not something I’m just going to let slide.
I never do. I wrote to Verizon wireless once in a complaint letter signing it at the end ‘Can You Hear Me Now?’
So, yeah, he escorted me to the ATM, and i handed over more cash than I’ve held in my hands in any one time, EVER. yep, i write, draw, paint, take photos, blog, research, have had numerous mega stints writing my book so now it is about %90 completed and I’m so, so into it and so excited and proud and fervent about what i’m introducing in this science fantasy tale with history, geography, science, biology…..woven into it. And this little nazi basically used extortion, intimidation and threats, and then laughed with his colleagues about what he was getting away with as i stood there helpless. Wow, is that ever criminal, super criminal.
Well, then I have this continuous delightful conversation with the very insightful and bright young Indian woman whose both parents are doctors. She gave me many many insights into the Indian culture and places to visit…Mentioning that the phenomenon of males exporting themselves to Arab countries to work is more of a working class phenomenon. Then I arrive at the Indian customs, and basically the Indian version of the German dude, decides that regardless of whether the eVISA was rejected because of an IT flaw or passport blurry, when I contacted them 3 more times with officially explaining what happened. He decided that this American woman was going to have to bow down to his authority. And about an hour and a half later, he basically in a tone convincing and authorizing his boss to not let me in, lead to his boss saying that I can not enter the country. he said, you have 15 minutes to book a flight. uh, what? ok. do you have internet? no. well i don’t have a smart phone sir, EVERYTHING i do, job seeking, housing seeking, communication with family…..is though the internet. He then got this rather hot young guy in a suit to provide his phone to give me internet access.
Oh, yeah, forgot to mention that after the 1 day bus ride and one night waiting for the flight, then anticipated 21 hour layover in Kuwait on Kuwait Airways, figuring I’ll be entertained looking at the people streaming by, i get a hunch. find a Kuwait desk upon arrival, and it turns out, the airline allows you to fill out forms to be ushered a transit visa, and the airline provide complimentary transport to a Kuwait Hilton, complimentary room, with slippers, room service, three meals, pool. This is a chick who only couch surfers or sleeps in lobbies, as I had the night before my flight, among an assortment of other airport campers, where I also met a really cool young Greek girl with whom I also had an engaging conversation.
So, yeah, perks like this are VERY appreciated by me, sort of like a Fantasy. I immediately go to open a window, damn, windows in most hotels i guess don’t open, climate controlled, then when I did walk outside, i was like, shit, i can smell something funky in the air quality, so maybe it’s just as well to have a room that has a slight dank musty smell. I was loving life. Got an adapter to use….and the flight was really cool. Excellent interactive maps, movies…complimentary this and that. Yeah, so the green tree-hugger just massively contributed to 777 chem trails.
Okay, so I’m like 15 minutes to choose where to go? uh, okay, do i return? do i Nepal, okay, yeah, Nepal, sort of close. And was starting to configure in my head what I could do. go there, apply for the eVISA again. and then the (was just about to use another pejorative term for the supervisor) dude returns to say, times up, too late, what? so when he said, 15 minutes, he meant it. Now I was too late to book a flight, and was going to be sent back, deported from my 1 and a half hour stay in India. Thank fucking god that the airline paid to deport me, rather than now racking up another thousand for a last minute flight. The mobile phone guy was quite cute, gave him my card to check out the blogs etc. and then he walked back to say are you on FB? which appears to be a very heavily used network, because this was the same question of the young Indian woman who was among our group at the airport (tremendously more shabby) hotel where we (some new fabulous people i connected with who had missed their connecting flight to NYC) mostly Indian, a couple who are doctors, an IT guy father, another Nepalese IT guy and an Israeli yoga teacher who did a Tibetan bell healing ceremony with all 7 of us in the corner of the Kuwait airport lobby in the hooka area, where we laid down and he performed this ceremony. As this time none of us had transit VISA’s as i had had the 1st time around, we were sort of in ‘hotel arrest’, that is, no one in this hotel could walk outside, security, security, like i’ve never seen. Ganesh, the IT guy living in New Jersey reminded me that India hadn’t existed previous to its creation by the British. It had been a collection of separate city-states, each with their own language…of which there are approaching 300 or more. And that not only may there be religious clashes, but regional. Sushi, the NYU girl mentions that there’s sort of a disdain between those of northern and southern India. The north are fairer skinned and the south have a higher literacy rate. She also mentioned that the students that populate the student body of NYU in Manhattan (which has campuses all over the world including Ghana) are first in number, Chinese, second Indian and then the down home American students.
It was a series of meals and fantastic conversations among our little group who found one another who really quite connected. So, I’ve learned a lot, more than I have time to go into here, except that I see MASSIVE pollution. I mean Kuwait, like i said. Delhi, was unfuckingbelievably polluted now in the morning. I mean, as this plane was taking off today, now on a smaller, and more shabby and much less sophisticated plane, it was filled with mostly Indian, Pakistani and Bangladesh men, coming to work, in their quasi slave labor for the wealthy Arabs.
I found out after asking, i always ask a lot of questions, that one Egyptian guy here, 10 years, and Indian guy from Kerala, here 10 years, uh, each with children and wives. What, you mean India is filled with women and their babies and all the men are abroad, for TEN YEARS? MY NEXT QUESTION, WHO ARE serving as THE PROSTITUTES? Well, I wound up chatting with the Kasaskstan (sp?) and Indian flight stewardesses at length in their service area. They told me of the Kuwait women, many many wearing toe to hijab designer clothes, yes, even the head scarf, and that the the Arab men technically can have several wives. And that the women in their black burkas, with only a slit revealing the eyes, also sport having different boyfriends and no one ever knows who is walking behind this head scarf. And they described a few times that a women is sitting down in seat 32 K or whatever in a black burka, then they come back and there’s a woman with a low cut top, mini skirt, high heels and tons of makeup. And they say, where’s the…oh, it’s her. She went into the bathroom on the flight and returns to her seat on her way to Paris, giving her phone number to whomever. It was hysterical listening to them. They had a lot of insights. I listened to cross-cultural comparisons of the woman from Kurdistan, (i may be saying the wrong name) but a country that was once Russia, and hence she knows Russia and her own language better than English, and looks Chinese or Siberian! Then the two of them went on to describe that it’s young Indian girls who are the prostitutes, with a high turnover rate. And that it really sort of is slave labor, the Kuwaitis or Qutarians will hold onto the passports of the of their workers, and treat them like shit in some cases, and because they have no rights or ability to leave, they are stuck in these conditions.
So, wow, I’m so tired that earlier today i had to make sure my laptop was on my little bedside table and not my lap, because i kept nodding out. And now, though i thought i was going to go to bed at 9pm. Our dinner gathering among these delightful mostly Indian native people and the Nepalese and Israeli (looking very much like a hippy) dude who performed this ceremony after our dinner conversations, now has turned into me deciding with my endorphins from sleep deprivation to begin to write.
I first started to look at workaways, because frankly, i don’t have a clue of what i’m going to do or where I’m going to live. However I do know that I wish to complete my book, and that I have diversified interests and skills, health and strength to contribute to workaway or WWOOF projects, as long as they guarantee internet (necessary in research and writing the ebook) and can offer the time left over from the 5 hours/day 5 days a week to focus on full-steam ahead on the book. It’s cold everywhere, south of france, morocco, germany, and yeah. that’s what’s going on.
So I’ve just had numerous conversations with all sorts of insights arriving from smart people contributing their ideas and experience.
And do you know what? The developing and industrializing nations who are outsourced from imperial capitalists and corporate globalization, is just redistributing the dirt, grime and destruction and massive pollution that comes form construction and industry, and is just dumping it into the rest of the worlds back yards, not to mention tearing up social fabric, splitting up families who can’t get buy with the prices of the GDP affecting their now countries. and the Western Northern imperialists and affect of globalization is choking up the entire world.
It is time for people to stop looking the other way. This is ALL OF OUR PROBLEM. In fact, I can’t believe that morally, business and politics can turn a blind eye. I googled before departing for my one hour and a half India trip, and learned that the Indian Prime Minister, like the US Orange MisFit each are in the pocket of industry. Preferring lining pockets for the GDP and forgetting the decency and morality and conscience of what ruin and spoil their actions of profit, for profit alone, are doing to the planet. When the plane was this morning rolling onto the waiting path of the runway and you COULD NOT SEE 20 YARDS, frankly, not EVEN 10 YARDS VISIBILITY out the window of the jet. I just thought, oh my fucking god. what are we doing? As long as no one knows, know one cares. Not in my back yard, not my problem. PEOPLE THIS WAS A HORRIFIC WAKEUP CALL. and yeah, appropriate to tack on this handy international real-time pollution index. Looks like i have to wake up in 2 and a half hours, but hey, I had to get this out there.
