21.11.11
20.11.11
14.11.11
4.11.11
Clampdown on communications at cyber conference
The London Cyber
conference hosted by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office was a disaster for
journalists.
It was set up so that
delegates and journalists could not mingle. Delegates could not go to the media
room and media could not go to the areas where delegates were giving
presentations.
The only people able
to interact and report on proceedings were non-journalists.
This seemed ironic given that we had to provide passport details, pictures, letters from employers to prove our identities.
This seemed ironic given that we had to provide passport details, pictures, letters from employers to prove our identities.
It was somewhat of a
shock to find upon arrival at the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre in
Westminster that not only were bags to be checked and a walk through a metal
detector required, but that two security men with guns (big ones, not sure what
kind) were overseeing proceedings.
The second shock was
that the only refreshments available to news hounds were instant coffee, tea
and milk. No food whatsoever. The
significance of this being that it meant journalists had to leave the premises
in order to eat and go through the security search procedure again upon
return. This meant they were
unable to watch all the proceedings.
The third shock was
that the proceedings were only available to journalists via TV screen. Some events were live streamed and
others were screened on a 20 minute time lag, which made it very confusing to
know what was happening and when.
There had been no
effort put into trying to figure out how journalists could listen to
side-by-side screens with different information broadcasting from them at the
same time.
Panic ensued as the
technology failed and limitations became apparent.
I immediately got a
headache.
Interview rooms were
available, but a list of delegates was not. The only people obviously in
attendance were the speakers.
I was able to reach
one person I wanted to interview through a contact in New York City who put me
in touch. The other two people I interviewed got in touch via Twitter. I had
sent tweets asking people if they wanted to talk to get in touch.
This is not an ideal
way to do reporting. There were 900 delegates from 60 countries.
When I asked to book a
room to do an interview, I was asked who I wanted to interview by the staffers.
This was an inappropriate question. I should not have to say who I am
interviewing, I should be allowed to book the interview room without any kind
of explanation. I had to be escorted and so did the person I was interviewing.
It seemed like there
were about 20 people involved in making this interview happen.
On On Day Two,
@documentally told me I could get into the delegates area. I did manage to get
into the area. The main benefit was free lunch.
Anyone of interest had left by the time I got inside.
Anyone of interest had left by the time I got inside.
The irony of all this
being that the meeting was supposed to promote the idea of Internet freedom and
collaboration.
I managed to do a
story, a factbox and a video, so I did achieve something, but I feel I could
have done much better and found some really interesting people to speak with
had I known who was there.
I went for ½ pints
with @documentally, @radiokate and @naeema afterwards.
30.10.11
Twitter tales: A love story in 140
The first in a series
It started about a year ago and ended 8 months later.
It started about a year ago and ended 8 months later.
She
got to know him online via Twitter. They connected over war and conflict, a
topic of mutual interest.
It later seemed somewhat like a premonition.
She said she’d like to meet him and he
started DMing her in an overtly seductive manner.
She responded, thinking he was genuinely interested in her.
He told her he had an online girlfriend he’d never met
in person. He said he wasn’t interested in having a girlfriend in real life.
A contradiction, it’s true.
Sometime later he told her he had split up with his
online girlfriend. Things seemed to be swinging in her favour.
Eventually, they
met in person and they had an intimate sexual encounter.
Afterwards, he said he would call her, but he never
did.
She hadn’t thought to ask if he was interested in
having a regular friendship because she thought they were friends.
Wrong.
She
was very sad. She felt exploited.
Alone.
She caught up with him on Twitter a few days later and he
said he’d been sleeping, that he’d enjoyed the experience they’d had together.
He had changed.
Things got complicated in the Twitter world. He
refused to speak to her on the telephone. She didn’t have his number so she was
powerless.
She then discovered that he was treating other women the same way on
Twitter.
Sadness turned to fear and anger. She felt isolated, vulnerable.
Trapped by 140, by the world wide web.
She had no one to talk to.
She looked for help online.
She needed help. She called a bullying hotline for parents and children.
They
told her to call the police. She did.
The police officer was kind. Helpful. She
felt better.
The officer said all she could do was to warn others.
She did. He found out.
Afterwards, he
told her he would never speak to her again.
He hasn’t.
Heroes.
29.10.11
24.10.11
Being a Road Scholar by @DougDowen
I invited Doug Dowen to write a guest post for TellingTales after he asked me to do the same for his Common Voice blog. I've never met Doug in person -- we know each other via Twitter. I'm fascinated that he manages to blog each day. Here, he explains how he got started and shares his views.
What does it take to be a "Road Scholar"? There are no real qualifications, actually.
Late last year I was contemplating making some sort of entrance into the blogosphere. I tossed an idea out via Twitter... just to see what kind of feedback I could garner.
I actually didn't know what to expect, but, surprisingly, a couple of my mutual follows on Twitter called me to the challenge to blog every day for a year. That may seem like nothing exciting, or even remotely interesting, but since I drive a truck throughout the U.S. I thought there may be some good stories on occasion.
The term "Road Scholar" - as is obvious to see - is a play on the term "Rhodes Scholar." I've never gone to college, but there is a lot one can learn driving a truck (I've learned more about geography as a driver than as a high school student).
However, "The Road Scholar" series is more than just a blog of a truck driver... at least I hope it is. Hearing about bad experiences at a grocery warehouse generates little, if any, interest.
But to get a basic understanding of the different cultures, from small towns to metropolitan cities (not to mention the different attitudes as well), and the periodic snapshot of picturesque scenery than many may not have the opportunity to see otherwise... now THAT would make for good reading material.
I do go on a rant from time to time, whether it's to point out the erratic behavior (and complete disregard for others - and that includes OTHER truck drivers), or venting my frustration of self-serving protests (the "Occupy" movement) or irresponsible leadership (our own government)... well, that can also make for good reading.
I've always tried to present a neutral point of view when opining on social/political subjects. Basically, "The Road Scholar" is about one man's perspective of the country that he drives through on a daily basis, and presenting it to others - with photographs, whenever possible - whom either would not see it any other way, or take such panoramic views for granted.
There's a long road ahead - I hope you'll come along.
Doug spent eight years in the U.S. Marine Corps. Now he drives a truck. He's been happily married for 18 years and has four sons.
15.10.11
Blogging about food on #BAD11
This year, Blog Action Day -- when all participating bloggers write on the same topic -- coincides with World Food Day.
I volunteered at the Daily Bread Food Bank in Toronto for a couple of years in the 1990s. My job was to track the weight of food contributions and to write letters of thanks to people who donated food.
I also helped ensure that people who wanted to organize a food drive in their office had the bins and pin-up posters they needed. Most people who used the food bank were employed -- they just didn't earn enough money to be able to cover the cost of the quantity of food they needed each month.
The first stage play I ever saw was a production of Oliver! in London's West End when I was a child. The musical adaptation of Oliver Twist, the novel by Charles Dickens, was a transformational experience for me. In my household we always had enough to eat and I had never considered that some people might not until I saw the play.
8.10.11
Battling borders
I wrote this post for The Common Voice
blog. Twitterfriend @DougDowen asked me to write for his blog as a stand-in while he
was observing Yom Kippur, a Jewish holiday.
I’ve often thought about how much more difficult setting up a new life in London would have been without social media.
I’ve often thought about how much more difficult setting up a new life in London would have been without social media.
Through Twitter, since
moving to London from Toronto in 2008, I’ve been able to make new friends in
England and keep in touch with old friends in Canada.
When I was a child, my
mother -- who is English and emigrated to Canada with my Canadian father in the
1960s -- relied on snail-mail letters from family and friends to stay in touch.
I’m lucky because I
have a Canadian and a British passport, which means I can travel freely to
Canada, Britain, the United States and the 27 countries of the European Union
without needing a visa.
Last weekend I went to
Berlin, where invisible and visible borders destroyed so many lives in the 20th
century.
Nazi rule in Germany
after 1933 destroyed Berlin’s roughly 200,000-strong Jewish community by
enforcing exile to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp or to death camps.
After the Second World
War, Berlin was divided first into four sectors among Russia, France, Britain
and the U.S. and later, in 1961, split into communist East Berlin and
capitalist West Berlin.
The Berlin Wall,
constructed to prevent an exodus from east to west during the Cold War,
separated families and friends again until it was smashed in 1989.
Now the city
commemorates the Holocaust with the dramatic Memorial to the Murdered Jews of
Europe, designed by Patrick Eisenman, and engineer Buro Happold, made up of
concrete slabs, and via tributes in the decade-old Jewish Museum, designed
partly by architect Daniel Libeskind.
The divisive wall is
also commemorated throughout the city with markings on the ground, pieces of
wall and a museum at Checkpoint Charlie, which marks the border crossing between the old East
and West Berlin.
Estimates vary, but
between 100 and 200 people were killed trying to escape from east to west.
To a tourist, reconstruction, reconciliation and remembrance characterise modern-day Berlin.
Old scars remain.
1.10.11
17.9.11
30.8.11
Visit to Oslo
Oslo is still in mourning after attacks by an anti-immigration zealot killed 77 people on July 22. Anders Behring Breivik detonated a car bomb in Oslo and shot young people at a Labour Party camp on Utoeya island outside the city.
Oslo Cathedral, close to Hotel Rico, where I stayed for three nights, is still surrounded by tributes to the dead. I went past it each day I was there. One day I saw a boy place a single red rose in the railing by the doorway.
This graffiti of a child's face was on the wall of a lane leading to a driveway.
One of the most amazing things about Oslo is this neon sign advertising Freia chocolate.
It is very difficult to photograph, but a good shot worth a lot to the soul.
I caught this blue image at night and the one below during the day when the lights were off.
In general, Oslo is spectacular for its light and colour.
Perhaps not surprisingly, Oslo shares northern iconography with Canada.
Except that we do not have Viking hats in Canada.
I was lucky enough to have had a friend, Dean, who took me all over the city.
One place we visited was Vigeland Park, which is amazingly green and has the most incredible sculptures created by Gustav Vigeland made of bronze, granite and iron.
We went to the Viking Ship Museum, which houses Oseberg, Gokstad and Tune ships, and other Viking finds. The ships were found in royal burial mounds in the Oslo fjord. They were to carry the dead into another world and contained various treasures, which are on show in the museum.
We took the bus to the museum, and the ferry back to central Oslo.
We walked past the parliament and the building where the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded each year.
The night I arrived we had Indian food in Groenland, the second night we went to an Italian restaurant called Olive for pizza and the final night we ate Norwegian cuisine at the Grand Hotel.
I had the best dessert -- rhubarb and strawberry soup -- at the Grand Hotel.
After dinner we went for a walk to look at the opera house.
On my final day, I went to the national art gallery. I saw Edvard Munch's painting "The Scream" -- which I have seen before in New York -- in a room dedicated to his work.
Cat outtake from "Rest time in the Garden" by Pierre Bonnard.
Part of "Struggle for Survival" (Christian Krogh, 1889)
I might add more pictures.
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