Dartmouth Pow-Wow

All first-class speeches -and by association AMDAL posts- begin with a quotation from Webster's Dictionary about the meaning of the word in the title of the speech. To use the idiom "in that vein," in that vein, let us think about the etymology of the word Powwow, as today marks the beginning of the 2010 Dartmouth Pow-Wow, a tradition that started here in the 1970s.

The use of the word Powwow, as defined by some online etymology looker-upper, dates back to 1624 and was first used to denote a "priest, sorcerer" in a southern New England Algonquian language. The current usage, including Dartmouth's application of the word here, harks to 1663 and more precisely translates as a magical ceremony among Native American Indians.

The Dartmouth Pow-Wow is special for many reasons. It's one of just six times a year where the College/ town of Hanover formally allow a ceremony on the Green; it attracts nearly 2,000 visitors annually from across the country and represents the second largest celebration of Native American pride/ history/ culture in the Northeast. And it helps to celebrate Dartmouth's age-old connection with and mission of educating this country's native peoples. Sorry Sars, but it probably also stirs up the all-too-frequent Dartmouth Indian debate.

On a personal note, to me the Dartmouth Pow-Wow serves as a fun weekend to witness and experience a part of this country, a niche of our collective culture, we too frequently dismiss and intentionally hide. It also reminds me of my own Native heritage. Apparently when I was three years-old, on a vacation to Wyoming, we visited an Indian museum. Despite typically playing the cowboy rather than the Indian in all my childhood "makebelieve," and despite carrying two silver 6-shooters on my hip, I strode up to a display of a young Indian boy's formal dress and in total seriousness made the case to my mother that in a previous life I had worn that outfit. So here's to our Native heritage, be it legitimate, fake, adopted or educational. Enjoy the Pow-Wow.

Oh, and every time I say Pow-Wow I can't help but think of this:

So much for cultural sensitivity.

Music and 

Well, the music industry and Apple reached a milestone today with iTunes announcing the sale of its 10 billionth song.

As a fanboy, this is obviously great news, but it also provides us with a little insight into tech savvy Americans' tastes and the status of music in our culture.
Check out iTunes best selling songs ever shown above.

MLR, how about a link from your JOTWs to iTunes for direct purchasing? This would be convenient and really boost iTunes' sales to a new high.

Never Go Against the Family

... Now you come and say "Don Corleone, give me justice." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me "Godfather."

The above quote is obviously from The Godfather. I need not even state it. But it could easily be from my day to day life. You see, most of the ingrates around here don't even realize that this summer I became The Godfather to a small Peruvian child...

It all started at 13,000ft during my last week in Peru on a relatively remote island in the world's largest high altitude lake. I was staying in the home of a local host family, which like all others on the island, lacked electricity or running water. What it did have was a spectacular view across Lake Titicaca to the Peruvian mainland and some serious snow-capped Andean peaks in Bolivia. It also was only a stone's throw away from a makeshift bar.
The odds were already stacked against me. How could I have possibly come out of this NOT a Godfather (or a father for that matter)?

After a night of traditional dancing with the local women, most of whom seemed to be single but also 4ft 8 max, we sought out said bar.
Unfortunately it turned out to be little more than a neighbor's house, and midnight in an agrarian society is typically too late to be up watching infomercials and considering purchasing the Ginsu knife. So like good tourists eager to support the local economy, we awoke the sleepy "barkeep," knowing that our American dollars were probably worth more than their REM sleep. A few cases of Cristal later (unfortunately, Cristal is also a bad Peruvian beer), we somehow found --and purchased!-- a bottle of Jose Cuervo (also a bad Peruvian beer).
Safely back in Mexico, the night quickly deteriorated. A few hours later my 6ft 4 American friend and 4ft 8 host mother were literally carrying me back to my bed, while I expounded on plate tectonics and volcanic eruptions (double entendre intended).

When the sun came up some few hours later, I was awoken to the lovely sound of God's voice outside my window. Apparently Priests only make it to this delightful corner of Peru every few years (hard to believe in such a Catholic country) but today just so happened to be a day that a Belgian Priest was visiting the island. Such short notice was call for drastic measures. Apparently I'd done much to impress the night before and my host mother was quick to ask me to attend her 10 year-old son's baptism before my boat left my hungover ass a-sea. At least that's what I thought she said.

Fifteen minutes later I'd eaten my Peruvian pancake breakfast, had a wadfull of coca leaves in my lip and was well on my way to attend the ceremony.
Turns out in my stupor, I'd misunderstood my host mother and had agreed to become 10 year-old Hederson's Godfather - a minor detail, especially for a Jew.
The worst part is, it wasn't until I got back to the States and relayed the story to everyone that I realized what being a Godfather really means. It's not about being there on Sundays and special occasions -- something I'm ok with knowing I'll never do for this kid-- it's about helping foreigners get student visas and paying college tuition bills. This was all slightly more than I'd bargained for in my post-cuervo delirium.

I'm currently at a crossroads with my decision to abort this relationship. On the one hand, it'll be years before Google Maps arrive on his island and he can finally track me down. On the otherhand, I don't want to be the next Peruvian tourist who ends up dead so my fat can be sold for cosmetic lotions (see here).
So when you ask me why I'm not headed to Canoe this weekend or to NY to visit, just remember it's because I'm the Godfather, and you never go against the family.

Translations

Having been a Spanish major, my fallback career may have been in translation. With my fancy Dartmouth education, thankfully I'm still lightyears ahead of BabelFish(!), but a new iPhone app may make me replaceable. For someone interested in language, and for our lectores hispanoparlantes, this new translation app may interest you. Jokes after the break.


Think of how practical this could be, especially once it's expanded into a variety of languages.

--Lost in Chinatown seemingly miles from American civilization, a Chinese version of this app could help you back to the States.

--American soldiers in Iraq already are "equipped" with iPods to assess drone data and satellite information. With an Arabic version they could also question locals re the whereabouts of weapons of mass destruction.

--In Afghanistan, or little Afghanistan (my old haunts on the East AND West sides of 52nd and 9th in NYC), innocent street goers could even chat up their taxi driver en route to the office, once the Afghani version is released.

--Here in the Great White North... nah... too soon. No diversity here -or cultural understanding for that matter.

--In the medical realm, this app could be a crucial mediator between doctor speak and lay person understanding.
Dr: Ma'am, unfortunately magnetic resonance imaging of your brain suggests penetrating cerebral lesions affecting the orbitofrontal lobes bilaterally. This most certainly has impaired your executive function and lead to your disinhibited affect and behavioral abnormalities.
Translation? You're f***ing crazy. (See Phineas Gage)

--There's even the chance that an urban dictionary translator of sorts could narrow the generational language gap in this country. Halloween provides a great example.
Homeowner: What are you supposed to be?
Seemingly cute kid's answer: I'm a jelly bean.
Translation? I'm supposed to be done by now. C'mon lady, I've got 6 houses on this block.

--And lastly, a blogging translator might even help to make my posts funny to others. Maybe.

*Note this post was stupidly made last friday pre-Halloween LiveBlogging and is being re-posted now so people can actually see it and because, in continuing with my AMDAL trend-setting (multi-language posting and audio feeds), I thought we should also incorporate repeat posting in downtimes, just like the TV networks.

That Curious Yellow Soda

A few weeks ago --and to much fanfare-- I wrote a post about food and cleverly dangled a photo of said yellow soda at the conclusion of the post, promising to later fully explain its origins. In keeping with my promises and my desire to make AMDAL a hispanic-friendly website, I'll deliver on that p!edge now.

As many of you may know, I've spent some of my best years in Peru. One of my favorite reasons to return as many times as I have is, of course, Inca Kola. I'm actually not even a soda drinker. In fact, carbonated beverages in general didn't become part of my diet until beer became an interest towards the end of high school (jeans were also foreign until 7 West Wheelock became my residence!); but the Golden Kola has a special place in my heart as it does in Peru's. In fact, a little research shows its quite the anomaly in the world soda market.

A favorite axiom of mine ponders what Coca Cola considers its biggest competition. Most people would respond Pepsi. The answer is actually water. But in Peru that answer would decidedly be Inca Kola. In fact, the question should really be reversed, given Inca Kola's peculiar market dominance. Peru is one of only a few markets in the world where a local soda outsells Coke. It's also one of only three markets where Coke has recognized it cannot compete and changes its secret formula to appeal to the palate of the locals (extra sweetener in Peru's case).

What makes Inca Kola so appealing? Well it's the taste, silly. (Though the novelty of the urine color is not to be underestimated). To outsiders it's often an acquired taste, one likened to liquid bubble gum; but no matter how you cut it, it's undoubtably refreshing. Its sugary sweetness makes it go all the better with salty foods, including Peru's famous fusion take on Chinese, chifa. And let us not forget the smoothness with which it washes down cuy, the guinea pig delicacy of the Andean region.

And again the coloring it quite interesting. In hospital settings I've often heard doctors compare a patient's hydration status/ urine color to the soda itself. Health nuts fear not. Not all is synthetic bad-for-you-ness. The coloring originally came from a local Peruvian plant, the hierba luisa, which is still commonly drank as a tea today.

The other significant reason I choose Inca Kola along with my Peruvian amigos, is political. Though recently a distribution/ production agreement was reached between the Peruvian Kola and Coke lessening the decades-long Kola War, many consumers choose Inca Kola because it's seen as the Peruvian soda, a patriotic choice, not unlike our own delicious Freedom Fries (which being a salty snack would go nicely with an Inca). The nationalistic Inca Kola advertising campaigns in Peru abound. El sabor nuestro (Our Flavor) is one of many similar slogans. The love affair is so rampant Peruvians even adorn their homes in Inca Kola statements of support. (I'm sure money has nothing to do with this.)

The bottom line is that like much of Peru and Latin America itself, Inca Kola is quite the enigma. In a world dominated by Coke and American markets, Inca Kola is a refreshing (pun intended) rejection of that paradigm, one that keeps beckoning me to return to Peru and return as a consumer.

I don't always drink urine-colored soda; but when I do, I prefer Inca Kola.

Bienvendios amigos hispanos

Buenos días amigos y fanáticos de la página web Todos mis negocios se hace en vivo (TmNsHeV)!

Esta página es el producto de horas, tal vez años, de aburrimiento! Fue creada por unos amigos míos después de que se graduaron de Dartmouth mientras que trabajaban como esclavos en Nueva York. Aunque mucho que se lee acá se refiere a ese mundo verde de la universidad encima del cerro, seguimos avanzando y buscando nuevas maneras de comunicarnos con todo el mundo. De esta vena, me gustaría presentarme como diplomata cultural hispano de TmNsHeV. Mucho gusto.

Durante las próximas semanas espero introducir mis amigos al mundo hispano, mientras que exploro temas interesantes también para nuestros lectores hispanoparlantes, quienes constituyen una población siempre-creciendo.

Esto será un proyecto siempre evolucionando. Espero que les guste!

Para ver la versión en ingles, haz clic acá

Cultural Understanding

That recently discovered "undiscovered" native tribe in Brazil/Peru,

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/americas/05/30/brazil.tribes/index.html

ya, this is how they understand the Internet: 

http://yyyyyyy.info/