Phil's wanderings

The new TSA security regime - does it make us safer?

philsylvester — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 10:33:00 GMT

Full body x-rays, hands-on pat-downs, demands for ID, bans on liquids, gels, nail clippers, hair spray, knitting needles and now ink cartridges – the new TSA security regime.

Travel safety specialist at WorldNomads.com, Phil Sylvester, sifts fact from fiction and asks – does it make us any safer?

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I’m as sick as the next person at taking off my shoes and belt!

In 2005 I was part of a TV crew travelling the world for 7 weeks. 4 unrelated people aged between 25 and 45, travelling on the same newly issued American Express card, with 14 suitcases of electronic equipment (with industrial-looking batteries). We got special attention everywhere, but by the time we reached the U.S. we’d been to The Netherlands, Finland and the United Arab Emirates, so you can imagine the security hoops we had to jump through every time we boarded a plane in the U.S. (and we took 6 US flights in 14 days!).

Like I said, I’m as sick as the next person at taking off my shoes and belt.

Since then there’ve been other attempts to attack planes. Security is tighter than ever. Now we have Full Body Scanners and “enhanced” pat-downs. I can’t contemplate making that same trip.

That’s the thing about security – as soon as you harden one weak point the attacker will move on and look for the next. Once identified a hole in the defense can never be left open. This game will never end, but is the TSA playing the right game?

Secure Flight.

You have to hand over your full name, as it appears on government issued ID, date of birth, gender and address. Small differences between the name on the boarding pass and the ID should be okay. The TSA says, “should”. Duke Johnson better start letting his friends in on the secret he’s really Marmaduke Johnson if he wants to board that flight.

(Mind you, this is not new. Prior to 9/11 I knew a man who called himself Ric, and used correction fluid on the Frede part of his real name - Frederic - IN HIS PASSPORT. He didn’t get on his flight that day.)

So will the Secure Flight information stop a would-be terrorist boarding a plane? “I’ve got the semtex cleverly sewn into my shorts, I’ve secretly activated a terror cell which has lay dormant for a decade, but d’oh I forgot to get my fake ID!”

Times Square would-be bomber, Faisal Shahzad, was a US citizen – no need to fake his government issued ID.

The TSA must have its reasons, but for me, Secure Flight is a waste of time.

Full Body Scanners.

They’re going to show everyone what you look like naked (especially after the pictures have been leaked onto the internet), and hit you with unacceptable doses of radiation, right? Wrong.

The dose from a backscatter X-ray full body scanner, according to the President’s science advisor Dr Holden, is 86,000 times lower than the annual safe dosage. You’d have to take 235 body scans A DAY for a whole year just to reach “safe” dosage.

You’ve seen this image of the body scan which has been manipulated in Photoshop to reveal everything?

It’s a fake. It was an illustration by a German magazine of what it thought might happen when the scanners were introduced.

The real TSA body scan images look like this.

Sorry, but I don’t see hotbackscatterimages.com being a hit.

Full body scanners – a success. Scan me, and let me know when I can keep my shoes and belt on while you do it.

“Enhanced” pat-down.

The hands-on, crotch area body search which so upset John Tyner at San Diego the other week could be embarrassing, more embarrassing than you expect.

The officer’s fingers touch every part of your arms, legs and torso, there’s even a gentle parting of the butt cheeks according to one account.

It was Kate Hinni of FlyerRights.org who first likened the search to “foreplay”. I don’t know anything about Kate’s love life, but unless they were playing Barry White music with the lights down low, I think “foreplay” is an exaggeration or at least inaccurate.

One traveller recently posted on another forum “For those who fly, TSA foreplay, get ready to be violated!” to which another traveller replied “or you could go through the machine.” I’m with him.

Manners, please.

It’s not the security measures; it’s the way they do them. The lack of respect, the do-it-or-you’re-a-terrorist attitude. Someone needs to give the TSA a handbook on customer relations.

Would we all feel better about a crotch search if the officer said “please”, and “would you mind”, and “excuse me”? I think we would.

And as John Tyner argued, most people will co-operate if there’s an alternative. If the TSA is allowed a multi-layered security procedure, can we be allowed a multi-layered response: “No body scanner, thank you. No pat-down, either, but I’ll go through the metal detector and explosives sniffer as many times as you want.”

What’s the alternative?

Do we have an alternative? Terrorism attempts haven’t been detected before hand, it was only when Richard Reid started lighting his shoe, and Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab started burning up his under shorts, or an insider tipped us off about the ink cartridges, that we had any idea what the terrorists next move would be. Still, the number of terrorism deaths on planes in the US since 9/11 – zero.

So, does the new TSA security regime – awkward, rude and annoying as it is – make us safer?

Ask the 147 people on the planes on 9/11. Give them the choice of being touched in the groin area or dying in the most horrible terror attack the world has ever known. Ask the 2605 people in the twin towers if they would object to passengers in Boston being put through a full body scanner. Ask all 2976 innocent victims if they’d swap a lifetime of hassle and delay at the airport for one more hour with their loved ones.

I’m as sick as the next person of taking off my shoes and belt, but I do it.

World View - Have/Have Not

philsylvester — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 17:39:00 GMT

Why Mexico's border towns are so dangerous.

Ciudad Juarez (Mexico) was recently named the most dangerous city in the world. There’s a drug war raging that claimed 350 lives in October 2010. The bloodiest month in a bloody year – 2666 homicides, and when that figure was published it was only November 1.

While I was researching one of those incidents, a shootout at a shopping mall, I looked at a Google map of Juarez. I knew it was a border town, and you can call me naïve, but I didn’t realize just how close it is to the US border. Americans will laugh at me, but for others who are unfamiliar with the geography, Juarez is across the Rio Grande from the Texas town of El Paso…. And it’s not a wide river.

So why is one side a perfectly respectable, normal community, and the other side is a drug and crime riddled mess? The answer of course is poverty, and here’s a simple way to illustrate that.

Map of 2 Worlds

This is El Paso/Ciudad Juarez. The border is marked in blue. I’ve picked two points, just about at random, on either side of the border.

This is the US side of the border: neat streets, comfortable houses with swimming pools and a lovely community park.

Across the border, it’s tin roofs, dry river gullies and dumped auto bodies.

These two vastly different worlds are less than 3 miles, and 2666 murders, apart. Poverty has a lot to answer for.

That's my View of the World.

Australia Day, a guide for 1st timers

philsylvester — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 10:24:00 GMT

Let us rejoice!*

When the English sent 11 ships loaded with handkerchief and bread thieves to Australia in 1788, they thought they were handing out harsh punishment to a bunch of ne’er-do-wells.

While the overlords in foggy London were wringing their hands and bwoahahaha-ing in malicious glee at their cunning plan, the convicts were blinking in the bright summer sunshine, staring out across what we now call Sydney Harbour, and couldn’t believe their luck.

This wasn’t punishment, it was paradise… and we’ve been celebrating that day ever since.

We have this great big belly laugh of a day to do what we love best: have a barbecue with friends, cool off in the surf (because it’s mid-summer and can be 35 degrees!), and when the sun goes down, eat roast lamb and blow-up tens of thousands of fireworks over the Opera House.

Thank you, overlords!

Australia? Day

Strictly speaking this is a celebration of the day New South Wales was started, the other colonies have their own, different foundation days. It wasn’t an organised, national public holiday until 1994, but everyone’s into it now.

It’s the biggest day of the year for stuff from when the first hot air balloon rises at dawn till the last skyrocket falls to the ground close to midnight. Fun fairs, cake stalls, vintage cars, air force fly-overs, tuna throwing competitions (don’t ask– okay, it happens in a fishing town in South Australia), gnome conventions, official receptions, citizenship ceremonies, and of course the ubiquitous Aussie barbie (barbecue – check the WorldNomads language guide for Australia).

There’s a regatta on the harbour that has run annually since 1838 (that’s old in Australian terms) when whaleboats raced each other. These days the harbour ferries ‘compete’ in what must be the most fixed race in the world, but there are no losers on Australia Day - especially on the ferry chartered by the company that runs the national lottery, it’s filled to the gunwales with millionaires who picked the right numbers!

Mayors sweat under their robes, middle-aged jazz musicians strum their banjos until their fingers bleed. But most of all it’s a day for sitting on a picnic rug and just being Australian.

Many of Australia’s half-million indigenous people don’t share the same sense of celebration. A few still call it “Invasion Day”, and there’s no denying the aboriginal population suffered shockingly because of white settlement.

Righting the wrongs is a slow process. It wasn’t till 2008 we officially said “sorry”. All official Australia Day events now begin with an acknowledgement of the “original owners” of the land. Many aboriginal communities take part in the celebrations, performing “welcome to country” ceremonies, and sharing the hope for a fairer Australia.

Join the celebration

Not Australian? No worries, everyone’s Australian on Australia Day (or bloody wishes they were!) and you’re invited to the party.

If you’re in Sydney it’s hard to go past the chance to set up harbour-side with all the free entertainment happening right in front of you. Go early to ‘bags’ a spare bit of grass at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair (a local landmark which looks across to the opera house and bridge).

Darling Harbour, on the city’s western side has another set of celebrations and evening fireworks.

Hyde Park in the centre of the CBD is turned over to an enormous food festival.

Sydney’s main streets are blocked off and every organisation, fan club and collection of collectors has their life’s work on display.

If you’re after musical entertainment, there are all types of concerts, the biggest being the Big Day Out (book ahead, it sells out) usually held on Australia Day in Sydney.

Down at backpacker central – Bondi Beach – there’s no shortage of fun. The main event being a surf race on giant inflatable thongs – again, I’m talking about footwear, although the other option sounds fun!

If you go to Bondi Beach (or any beach), don’t drink before you go in the drink, and swim between the red and yellow flags. There’s a vicious rip at one end of Bondi Beach called the Backpacker Express. It’s a nice stretch of sand with not many people about…. we’re all further up the beach between the flags for a bloody good reason: people drown here.

The same stretch of beach is popular with thieves too. While you’re out swimming (or drowning – they don’t care) they find your wallet, phone and music player cunningly hidden under a corner of your towel or tucked into your shoe – devilishly smart, those crooks!

Alcohol is banned on Bondi Beach -there are plenty of pubs in the streets behind the beach - but there’s no law against fish ‘n’ chips and good humour.

Because Australia Day is a “family event”, organisers are quite strict about drink and drinking in public everywhere. Check for signs indicating “alcohol-free” zones, and try to stay nice around the kiddies.

There’s far too much drinking in general on Australia Day. It’s mid-summer and it’s usually hot. Resist the temptation to down another cold beer, have some water instead. You can get dehydrated easily and alcohol only makes it worse.

It’s not all Sydney

It doesn’t matter where you are in Australia, you won’t be able to go very far without running into a celebration of some type. Every local council across the country is turning it on. Be sure to slip, slop, slap – slip on a shirt, slop on sunscreen (not tanning oil!), slap on a hat and get out there.

Australia Day is always celebrated on January 26^th, in 2011 that’s a Wednesday – do you need any other excuse for a mid-week party?

*Part of the Australian national anthem; “Australians all let us rejoice, for we are young and free.”

The "new" South Africa; born on Robben Island

philsylvester — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 10:57:00 GMT

Have you noticed how many South Africans you know now? Never met one before a couple of years ago, now they’re everywhere!

Here’s a game you can play at your next dinner party. Ask one of them what they think of the “new” South Africa? They’ll talk for hours, put the Duracell bunny to shame doing it. Fascinating though, a people and a country full of contrasts and surprises.

Take Cape Town, for example. Beautiful.

When Nelson Mandela looked at it from Robben Island, just 12 kilometres away, it must have been a special torture. If his guards had allowed him to lift his eyes from the dusty path as he walked between his cell and the quarry where he toiled, he would have seen the deep blue Atlantic Ocean forming a white fringe around the town’s feet. So close, and yet so far from his living hell.

Robben Island is a world heritage site these days, a living museum and a tribute to Nelson Mandela and the other political prisoners who fought apartheid. Modern day tourists step off onto the same wharf where the prisoners arrived. The official buildings made of stark grey granite are caricatures of prison buildings, instantly recognisable to Australians as the work of convict labour. The message must have been impossible to misinterpret, the effect immediate. A guard tower rises over a road leading directly to the jail. This was an institution designed to break the spirit.

Our guide inside what was the maximum security jail is Speech Subuwo. He’s a former inmate. All the tour guides are former political prisoners. Speech’s crime was to run guns across the South African border into Angola. He was a dozen years captive on Robben Island, and crossed paths with his more famous colleague.

Speech shows us cell 5 in B block where Nelson Mandela spent 16 of his 23 years in captivity, rising at 4 each morning from a straw mat in this impossibly small room, digging in a limestone quarry that almost sent him blind and existing on meagre rations. Like all prisoners he was forced to speak an alien language, Afrikaans. Contact with the outside world was limited to a couple of heavily-censored letters a month. Beatings were frequent and severe.

A walled courtyard was Mandela’s only free space, shared with scores of other inmates jailed for defying the “pass laws” which prevented blacks from moving freely in the white controlled nation. Even here there was no escaping apartheid. The so-called political prisoners shared the jail with rapists, murderers and thieves, but white outranked “coloured”, who outranked blacks. Food was rationed accordingly.

And there was worse – solitary confinement. No talking, no communication, not even with guards, sometimes for years on end.

And what about Speech?

“Oh yes, two and a half years.”

Speech uses few words to say a great deal.

“It was very bad. Many men went mad.”

It is not what was done to the prisoners here that make Robben Island special, it’s how the inmates reacted to the cruel, unusual and inhumane punishment after they were released. It would have been forgivable if Nelson Mandela had sought revenge, risen-up against his oppressors. Instead, he preached reconciliation and convinced others to lay down their arms. A new and prosperous nation was created when blood and ashes could have been all that was left. The “new” South Africa, the free, democratic South Africa was born on Robben Island. To visit here is to understand how different things could have been without Nelson Mandela, and to appreciate how a great nation full of hope and promise was made.

Tours to Robben Island leave from the Nelson Mandela complex at Cape Town’s V & A waterfront every hour until mid afternoon. The tour takes 3 and-a-half hours and costs 1200 Rand per adult and 100 Rand for each child.

Whale watching in South Africa

philsylvester — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 10:48:00 GMT

Game viewing in South Africa usually means hunting down “the Big Five”, leopard, lion, buffalo, elephant and rhino.

But in Plettenberg Bay, we went one better... the big five - plus one... enjoying some of the best whale watching in the world.

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The Western Cape of South Africa is whale watching heaven. A 2000 kilometre stretch of coastline between Cape Town and Durban, warmed by the Indian Ocean’s Agulhas current, is home to over 30 species of whale, Humpbacks, Killer Whales and Brydes Whales. The most spectacular is the enormous Southern Right Whale. Each year between June and November they come to this coast to give birth and to raise their young. Everywhere along this coast there are chances to catch a glimpse of these creatures as they laze in the warm waters sometimes just metres offshore! (The best of them are listed by whaleroute.com which has a comprehensive list of every whale watching spot.)

But for a really close-up look there’s nothing like getting on the water. Whale watching boats operate out of just about every major town along this coast, but we’ve picked Ocean Safaris in Plettenberg Bay for two reasons; we’re promised an exciting “rocket launch“ of the boat, and more importantly, Ocean Safaris is the major source of funding for the Centre for Dolphin Research.

Plettenberg Bay is the summer playground of Johannesburg’s wealthy. Multi-million dollar homes line the beaches and headlands overlooking a wide and pretty bay. It’s also situated at the heart of the Garden Route making it a great base for exploring the gob-smacking beauty of Wilderness National Park, Knysna National Lake Area, and the Tsitsikama National Park. The summertime population of Plett’ balloons from 10,000 to over 100,000, but during whale watching season the mansions, and the town, are all but deserted, so securing a room in one of the hundreds of guest houses and B&B’s should be simple. Our private room at Bosavern Guest House with en-suite, an enormous bed overlooking the bay and breakfast was 1250 Rand per night.

We’d already spotted whales in the bay, pointed out by Bosavern’s delightful hosts, Vivienne and Gerald Dreyer, so we were excited as we arrived for our morning tour. Plett’ doesn’t have a marina or a jetty so our party of 12 whale watchers was suited up in spray jackets and life vests and loaded into a four wheel drive truck. This then delivered us to a fibreglass catamaran sitting on its trailer on the nearby beach. We simply walked aboard, sat down and then hung on as the boat and trailer was rocketed into the water by the truck. The boat shot off the trailer, the twin motors started up and we were off through the surf.

Spotting a whale can’t be guaranteed but within ten minutes we were alongside our first animal and the cameras were clicking. Rules dictate that whale watching boats keep at least 50 metres distant, and various parts of the bay are put off-limits from time to time to give the whales a break. There were four sightings on our trip. No breaching but plenty of “spy hopping”, “back rolling”, “fluke waving” and “fin slapping”, a good time was had by all mammals involved.

After our party was whaled-out we skipped across the bay to the nearby Robberg Cape and its Fur Seal colony. Hundreds of them live on the rocky cliff ledges of the nature reserve. They probably don’t mean to be, but seals are hilarious, cavorting and looking like being a seal is the best fun in the world.

After 2 hours it was time to return to the beach - and if you thought the launch was fun, wait for this! Full speed straight at the beach, the cat spears though the shallows and back onto dry land. The local Evinrude shop must do a roaring trade in propeller blades! The 4WD truck delivered us back to Ocean Safari headquarters thoroughly thrilled and remarkably dry.

Plettenberg Bay is a sometimes spectacular, sometimes tedious 5 hour drive from Cape Town. In the other direction, Port Elizabeth is 2 hours, but there’s an airport with connections to Johannesburg at Knysna/George, just 100 kilometres away.

Bookings are essential with Ocean Safaris (www.oceansafaris.co.za) and cost 350 Rand per person.

Photos: Random pix

philsylvester — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 10:02:00 GMT

random

Cape Town to The Cape

philsylvester — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 09:30:00 GMT

I wrote this a couple of years back, but because so many of you are in South Africa for the football, or maybe now thinking of going there, I thought I'd share this with you. Written, but never published anywhere... until now. (I've updated the prices to 2010)

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To travel to one of the “four corners of the world” simply hire a car in Cape Town and hug the coastline below Table Mountain following the road to the Cape of Good Hope.

On this day in late spring the Atlantic Ocean is sapphire blue, the waves startlingly white as they crash onto the shoreline. We keep them on our right and soaring Table Mountain on the left. Think of The Great Ocean Road meeting Byron Bay and we can still see our central city hotel in the rear view mirror.

On the other side of the mountain is Camps Bay, the premiere beachside suburb of Cape Town. This is where the business elite swap their power suits for wet suits, where they live-out the “beachside living” lifestyle, but are close enough to rejoin the rat race each morning. Architect-designed homes cascade down the hillside onto a beachfront strip studded with cafes and restaurants.

There are plenty of guest houses here and a couple of boutique hotels. We drop in on friends whose wedding we’re attending later in the week. Their room in the Primi Castle is divine. Throw back the curtains and the view is 100 per cent beach, and it’s no more expensive than our business-like hotel back in the city. You can’t beat local knowledge.

A quick coffee and some swooning over the wedding dress and we’re back onto the M6 as it twists and turns, rises and falls. We’re keeping one eye on the road and the other on the ocean for signs of migrating whales. They come into the warm shallow waters all along the Western Cape coastline. Whale-watching boats operate out of Cape Town and just about every other town with a jetty.

The word of the day becomes “wow!”, and we say it once more as we pull into Llandudno. This is where the people who think Camps Bay is too busy come to live! Another steep hill lined with beautiful homes, below a north facing white sand beach is cupped in its hands. There’s no shop here, just one road in and out (a security guard writing down the registration of every vehicle that enters), nothing to give much encouragement to day trippers, but that creates a sense this is your own private beach.

Next is Hout Bay and the Mariner’s Wharf, with a restaurant serving the catch from the local fishing boats, but it’s too early for lunch and we’re pushing on for the Chapman’s Peak Drive, a spectacular road rising nearly 600 metres with views to the east and west of the Cape. But we’re out of luck, the road is closed for repairs, a few warning signs would have been handy, but as the locals say “Africa wins again” and we’re forced to backtrack and cross to the other side of the peninsula.

This proves to be no real hardship because it takes us through the Constantia wine district. South African wines are very good quality, and relatively inexpensive even by Australian standards. It would be easy to spend a whole day visiting the vineyards alone… maybe tomorrow.

Now we’re on the other side of the Cape. False Bay stretches away to the east. It’s more densely populated here, more affordable for ordinary Cape Towners. Urban sprawl can swallow up the character that makes places like these desirable in the first place, but thankfully the old fishing towns of Kalk Bay, Fish Hoek and Long Beach retain much of their charm.

Now we’re ready for lunch and we stop in Simon’s Town. There’s a decent sized marina here, some slipways and guessing by the number of uniformed people, a small navy base. It also appears to be the bric-a-brac capital of South Africa. While my wife goes a-gathering I settle down in a restaurant overlooking the marina. It faces north, which is ideal because as I remark to the waiter “it’s blowing dogs off chains today”. It took him a little while to comprehend, clearly labelled me as a mad Aussie, but it did no harm to the excellent service. Calamari, a couple of salads and a glass of wine each for just $Aus30.

Clearly not everything in Simon’s Town operates so efficiently or maybe it was the gale that was blowing. The whale watching billboard advertised the next trip would leave at noon, even though it was now past 1 pm. I’m sure the foolhardy (with their dogs securely fastened) could have found the skipper easily enough.

Just two kilometres south of Simon’s Town is the Boulders penguin colony (10 Rand entry). A gentle stroll across a raised boardwalk led us to the beach and a colony of some 2000 African penguins. African penguins are bigger then our Fairy (Little) penguins, about the size of a cat (if you can imagine a cat walking on its hind legs while wearing a tuxedo) and this is the only place on the mainland where they nest.

Ten kilometres further on is the Cape Peninsula National Park. The wind here makes sure nothing grows above head height. The ostrich were clearly visible, the baboons (which are a menace – keep your car doors closed) less so. Now our goal is in sight; Cape Point. From here the next stop is Antarctica. I’m drawn to places like this. Places with a sense of reaching the end of a journey, one of the four corners of the world. Places like Land’s End, the top of a mountain, or for the less adventurous, the end of the St Kilda pier.

The predictable tea rooms and souvenir traps are at the base of Cape Point, but this is also the starting point for serious bushwalkers and bird watchers. A group of them armed with cameras, tripods and binoculars, and suitably attired in khaki vests and zip-legged trousers, are setting off as we arrive. The steep cliffs and craggy rock monoliths are home to 250 species of bird. This is an ornithologist’s nirvana.

Scuba divers should also note that the cool Namaqua current from the west meets the warm, eastern Agulhas current at Cape Point. Maybe that should read “keen” divers, because Cape Point is also know as Cape of Storms and is home to 26 shipwrecks.

If you’re one of the energetic types you can take the 120 natural stone steps leading to the top of Cape Point, 260 metres above sea level. We opt for the funicular ride, (a new, modernised version opened in June 2010 and now costs 75 Rand per person). It is so windy up here I’m surprised the lighthouse is still standing. The girders of a transmitter tower moan and vibrate in the gale. Everyone’s hair is standing on end!

Refreshed by what is claimed to be the freshest air in the world (it does have an Antarctic tang to it), we return to the car park. An hour long walk leaves here to the very tip of the Cape of Good Hope, officially the most south-westerly point of Africa, and to swimming beaches. But we suspect the water to be as “fresh” as the air, and besides our mission is accomplished, only three more corners to find.

All the major car hire companies operate out of Cape Town. South Africans drive on the same side of the road as Australians (most of the time), petrol is under 6.5 Rand per litre.