roger_sanfran's Xanga

november update

Tue, 30 Oct 2007 07:58:42 GMT

the summer, good that the camps went over well. and thats july

august comes a week in a camp near artik with environmental education with kids. otherwise not very steady, see the new group of volunteers sworn-in. must be a mid-service depression.

september kids are back to school we spent a couple days running round neighbourhoods trying to spread the news of the flex program which sends some kids (age 14) to the US for a year. applied to a couple of business schools and thats a month.

october is almost over, went tree planting one day, was sick for a week. trying to set up paypal account for local kindergarten donations (heating system). help people with small grant applications, working with budget. more clubs, many english clubs. mixed success.

october: miss home a bit. cold now. leaves in red and yellow. moved to new apartment, small with piano. self sufficient. turned down some jobs back home. staying here for the rest of the year it sounds like. going home in 20 days (hong kong, for 37 days) wonder what it be like to have a long vacation? (within this 27 month one)

recent interests: russian and baking (very essential with the long winter)

see some of you soon! until next time

April Update

Thu, 19 Apr 2007 05:41:34 GMT

Three months and not a word from Roger on this forum. I suppose you can explain it away saying there are more important things for him to do. Or simple laziness. The latter holds more water.

Doing fine. What lovely weather, snowing in mid-April. These days the main concern is language skills. It is a very hard language afterall Armenian. Perhaps translating it all into my Chinese dialect will work a little better for learning, but I feel like there is no time anymore for such wrong turns.

Later. Take care all.

January Update (1 of 2)

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 08:20:49 GMT

Salutation

My heartfelt thanks, for those who have corresponded with me over the past months. I appreciate your time while worrying about a) what to buy and b) how to pay off the credit associated with such expenses. I sincerely wish you can manage at the end.

Which brings us to this. Whats new, friends? This month I am burning myself up helping to implement this two-country International Youth camp. Details are here. <http://www.iocoalition.org/>

Even the best grants won cover all the expenses. If you have some gifts you don like from Xmas, please return them to the store. And donate a buck or two to this cause, if you so desire. It fast. It easy. Its tax deductible. Talk with you boss too, for matching donations. Use your magic. For those who are more profit-oriented, lets do this: You come visit the city I reside in anytime, over the rest of my life, I try my best to accommodate your every need. I will personally cook dinner, with stuff I got from the market the same day. My wife will set the table. My young ones will put on a good show at the piano. And I won forget--the rice wine.

Your call.

Lecture

(Based on a time-broken collection)

-Why are you working so hard, Dad?

-Everyday I open my eyes I say to myself, that before I close my eyes in the evening, I have to find a way to bring at least 兩皮嘢美金, just to do business and feed family. You know how much you and your dino brother can eat (for he can dissolve bones).

-I see. So, how you manage that?

-Hah... I just do.

-You are my hero.

New Year

(Based upon a drink-impaired recollection)

-Morning, son.

-Morning... Dad?

-Now listen... yesterday night, three bottles I drank.

(Look at full shot glass, and the empty shot glass in close proximity, on the breakfast table, also, remembering the half dozen empty bottles sitting out on the snow in the yard, while taking a cigarette break)

-(With feigned surprise)What? How many of those half-liter bottles?

(Proudly shows three fingers. Of course, I can count, unlike the end of the previous evening)

-Umm. How you manage that?

-By drinking this now,

(filling the glass) You too, now... fear not, my son, its healthy. Cheers!

-Okay Dad. Wow, brrrrrrrrr~!

(Village calculation: 3 shots @ about 1 minute per shot = 3 shots in 3 minutes)

-Son, my chest really hurts.

-(I wonder why) Oh-oh, that ain good Dad.

-Hah... I see, that you have become A., son.

December Update

Tue, 12 Dec 2006 02:31:19 GMT

Snow had come to Vanadzor! It feels very much like back in the day in Chicago, admiring things covered in white. It actually is warmer when it snows hard. But you got to watch out for the ice especially in your own backyard.

As usual, quite cheerful, well rested, well supplied, and sleeping a fair bit.

Hello! Good to see you

-Heard you went to the movie yesterday

-Yes

-Was it good? Was it as good as the book?

-Yes?No

A Rococo Study

Saturday. A morning beautified with love, glittering with heavy precipitation from the sky. It was still snowing rather hard but the wind had died down, and the air at once felt moist and warm. I went to AELTA, its office beyond the smart lavender doors brightly visible from the end of the hallway amid the noise and sounds of grade school students, who apparently have sessions six days a week. This sanctuary is located, tucked away on a corner on the second floor of school number six, near the shuka, or the bazaar, depending on whom you talk to. It is a room of around two hundred square feet, its walls newly painted with lemon yellow from the ground up and a milky white above four and a half feet, the end point of a collaborative effort of a peace corps volunteer and the staff member of the association, a stern looking, cigarette smoking middle aged women with similarly severe looking black rimmed eyeglasses that matched, a chemical engineer by training, whom with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the disappearance of area heavy industries found herself confined to this work space in this very corner of the building. The ensuring course of independence, there came massive, blanket unemployment, which had plagued the central Asian nation of A. ever since.

The office, I soon learnt, had until that very summer of restorative spurt of activity been, quite literally, a hole in the wall, all its walls dank and grayish green from the fervor of fungal activity, the air carnal and foul, moistened and spore saturated. The ceiling above the eleven cubic feet of space, meanwhile, had been darkened by rainwater along with the rich iron deposits it carried, water which, throughout the years numbering ten and five, have gradually found its way, seeping through the cracks of the roof of the school building, which had continued to serve its duty to house generations upon generations of changing faces with minimal, or should we say, non-existent maintenance.

While Russian educated S. possesses a native command of the country language and, of course, Russian, under her immediate disposal, her grasp over the elements of English was, at best, rudimentary. However, merely looking through the glasses of a casual visitor with the sole intent of catching a movie on one balmy Saturday morning, or better, a member of the Association who was there to say hello, one can see that S. has no lack of good company. For the three sides of the small room, was completely lined from corner to corner with sturdy four foot high shelves, its contents which, upon closer inspection, revealed that S. not only possess good company, but was blessed with a most elite company. Among the ranks: huddled as closely together as possible, numbering a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred, was Penguin classics of Russian, French, and British origin, their black coats shining under the gleam of the diffuse, slightly slanted beams of the wintry sun, beams uninterrupted by the double paned glass windows entering in from the east end of the room. Among the veterans were also spotted fresh, or not so fresh, faces: The mournful, sour-looking Steinback, side-by-side with the less seriously disposed, lighthearted, Hemingway, along good old uncle Faulkner, who, however unlikely it sounds, had found new acquaintance with Orwell, forever bent on telling of oncoming destruction, and deconstruction of tongues, of suffocation in the last days. Even the all-must-read-all-time-all-American, Twain, whos fame I could never decipher, can be found tucking along, together with various minor TEFL materials, thick "how to start a small business" manuals, periodicals and stock of all walks of life, their eager, closely cropped, freshly shaved faces and smoke tanned fingers moving about, anxious for action, any action.

Despite of the interesting juxtaposition between the old and the new, the contrasting lemon yellow and white interiors with the sub-zero weather outside blocked by the forever faithful glass panes, the room was well warmed. A wood stove sits quietly on the forth side of the room, proximal to the one baby piece of furniture--a twenty nine inch wide-screen Panasonic television, which, thanks for the apocalyptic visions of globalization, with industrious and resourceful, ISO-900X compliant mass-manufacturing ubiquitously dotting the coastal areas of the South China Sea, as asparagus sprout after the rains of spring, was complete with alumineric, unmistakably dirt cheap plastic paneling and a completely flat screen with a dust and abrasive-resistant hard glass covering. By this very time, L., my fellow volunteer residing in town, the facilitator of the event who had assiduously made preparations and all the organizational legwork for one of these joyous, dream-like, almost romantic, occasions, had quietly slipped into the room, bringing with him a refreshing dash of the morning cold with the opening and closing of the purple door. Accompanying him were a handful of first, second, third year students currently studying in the degree program in the V. Teachers Training Institute, smartly dressed, a little too provocatively dressed one might say, outgoing, intelligent young girls in their late teens and early twenties, faces gleaming with hope and as beautiful as flowers in bloom in late April and May, such that, my dear readers, there is not the slightest question that their seemingly mindless giggles, feigned na鴳et?and chattiness, may be, without condition, fully excused.

A Botched Diversion.

The movie commenced, with a few minutes of typical awkwardness and small talk, without much ado, thanks largely to the smooth operations of L., or better, the operations of his nimble fingers of his right hand, his fiddling of the colorful buttons of that foolproof remote control device. So, the batteries inside were not too tired from

over consumption, the details that unfortunately remain untold for brevity sake. In my humble opinion such proceedings ought to be kept within the very room where it occurs, but of course, as with some reminders and promises and future expectations of certain favors personal and/or financial, information from minor skirmishes off the coast, classic ou-target-me-I-target-you-back?scenarios to classified state secrets, kept under a multitude of lock and key tucked neatly and safely in those boring brown cardboard folders "labelled for eyes" only in some cabinet sealed semi-permanently in a facility built with so much concrete that it supposedly can withstand nuclear blasts in more difficult times, consisting of a labyrinth of multiple, interconnected, not very well lit tunnels stretching miles and miles towards the ends of the earth. It has to be under such conditions such documents were kept in the name of national security, or simply left there and not sought after, veered away from the center of attention due to the careful interactions between the passing of time, the lapsing of memory private and public, as well as the relevance of information, the truth, may we add, and nothing but the truth and the whole truth, can be readily assessed, or better, brought with someone offering to pay the right price.

But let us not further dive, at this moment, into the complex groups incentive systems that, in a truly classical economic sense, the "invisible hand" that pertained to the collection and dissemination of resources and information of all kinds, which, by the way, is bounded to be perpetually asymmetric, or even, as one might argue, inconspicuously kept esoteric. But enough is enough. Lets move on, shall we?

Actually, in all actuality

The actual showing of the movie, which is the crux of this essay, the story that it foretold, the longwinded journey that it takes its viewers in the following one hundred and six minutes, the duration remembered for the starting and ending times of the film was written, in black on white, on the board on the wall upon which the back of the television leaned against, yes, the precise spot which one would normally expect to be met with the facade of a clock of various shapes and dimensions, now is clearly written, in quite large fonts for all in the room to see, with the signature from L right hand, in a manner resembling disengaged, half dead, part-time proctors in public examination:

"10:30 - 12:16"

,and above that, the name of the movie,

"All is Illuminated".

All this had been done, so that, during the course in which the movie was shown, the mental concentration of other members of the audience would not be disturbed by that very question inevitable, one that, unlike most other things said, seem to make a more lasting impression then the rest, accompanied by a distressed expression, in a muttering soft enough but enough volume to be carried to all ears, "So, when is this [long, brutal, torturous, I-cannot-even-figure-out-what-is-going-on with the help of subtitles, sub-par, third-rate, "art"] film going to end?" That is to say, that it was a heartfelt hope that questions similar to such are, from the very moment that the words and figures are written on the wall, banished.

As for the movie, it was, indeed, a production no less spectacular. Well, realizing that I was going a little to fast, lets take a step back, shall we?

Student news edition

December 2^nd . As for the movie, "All is Illuminated" (200X), an independent production which , judging from the title, gives off one of an unhealthily overstretched, abrasive, abusive, poorly casted (Illijah Wood behaving like Hoffman in Capote, go figure), clinging on to stereotypes, and relying on a snowballing of prejudices which had been built up, casted far and wide amongst the fish of souls, it is not a wonder the aforementioned, now operating in exile, question in the previous paragraph would get asked. All things considered, (what is up with that? as NPR does exist in this country, darn those imperialists trying to be bring what they call democracy everywhere and start wars acting like world police), and contrary to expectation, the movie is, anpayman, a splendid, almost heroic, effort. It is about a rigid search in a foreign land for roots and family history, the perpetuation of the family line, the "what happened?" with answers which, without it, the current, ritualistic but uninteresting life of the protagonist back in the United States would be, like the Japanese might say, "microbes suspended in liquid? or, like the Chinese (English?) would remark, "swallow without a nest"; "the lone orphan engulfed in the bitter seas". Another story also came into mind, that of the lone wanderer whom, while navigating the maze of Tokyo expressways lit by the green ghostly hues from office buildings and employees bent from overtime, the driver of the vehicle who might, or might just refrain from, in the two-and-a-half seconds before the impact imminent which would violently reduce the 280ps R32, and its sole occupant, into a heap resembling a curled up box of Marlboro Reds, mysteriously mutter, "Knock, the door gets barred from the inside. Seek, little shall ye find. Ask, and you are bound to get answers so painful you wish you had never been born?" Deafening crash. But of course, it is speculation; there is just no way anyone can say that in two and a half seconds right? Well, maybe the announcers in those drug ads can. But, all in all, there the big questions that were asked by ordinary people all the time. hy are you here??here are you from??here are you going??This movie, ll is Illuminated? dealt particularly with the one in the middle. Highly recommend. Do have some minor flaws, say Elijah Wood, but otherwise, a good one. 106 minutes. At the ALETA this Saturday 10:30. Again at the Y next Monday 14:00. D.B.

(Exeunt)

12.02.2006, Sat. 12:24. The day was young. The dues, which sustained the heating of the room during the course of the movie, were diligently paid, like one standing in line at the post for half an hour to clear the monthly phone bill, since over here the lines do get cut off when dues are not paid, bringing much inconvenience. The firewood in the stove smoldered, some nice white ones. The smart purple doors of the V. branch of the AELTA winged wide open; figures emerged, like fishes wading through the Big Reef. The air was cold, the very formal "Good bye? and "Until next time?heard briefly before dissipating into voices of pupils erupting from the corridors on the second and first floors of the school buildings. That very noise reminded me, and I sure would not forget that one, that hope does springs eternal. Until next time or never.

Epilogue

-Heard you met with the French girls yesterday

-I did.

-And later? So was it good? (nudge, wink, attempt to grab hands, pat shoulder)

-Yes?i>Huh?

(Its never too late, or rather, too early, but I wish all of you a MERRY CHRISTMAS, and HAPPY NEW YEAR. Roger out.)

November update

Wed, 01 Nov 2006 11:52:05 GMT

I thought I was about to turn into one of those many who have decided to stop completely updating their Xanga site, for better or worse, when I picked up the pen which has been thrown on the table, or hang on the pen rack, if you will, and resumed these infrequent updates, which you, you, you, and you might read. Appreciate it.

Of course, at this rate, there will only be 10 or 12 more of these before I return to the "Ah-Men-Na", should I decide to take on a course of graduate study and enter something in the fall, as opposed to the more desirable, less travelled, but less fitting to the time table, roaming in india, complete with duc tape on a naglene bottle, and a framed backpack, sun roasted like a bbq pig.

Have been doing a little more work with the beeboyz recently, with microfinance at somewhat a standstill. Well, winter and long nights are fast approaching with that conspiracy with the clock, better known as daylight savings. So the beeboyz have a lot of freetime. Fortunately days have been a little warmer hovering around positive 15C, but the sign would change soon.

Recently have been focusing on couple of things: "how stories are told" and "what makes a story interesting". An example would be: is it more interesting to tell a story where the cow is killed before your eyes, or its it even more so when you hear it from the other side of the 9 ft wall which you could easily scale, but most probably decided not to?

A more interesting query might be "the unconscious choices which shaped a piece of writing." Kind of a oxymoron if you ask me. Well, its simple: because you are never going to find out if its true, but only speculate (duen3 gwu2). Now thats a rather facinating way of going at it, all of a sudden it sounds like the other word which we often heard, faith... oh, what does oxymoron mean again? I forgot. I really did. I was just using it because it sounds cool.

Oh what else. I'd rather hear from you, stars and stripes and bandanas, straight, and no chaser. There are just too many things which can be told, but are not, decided against, nullified, annihilated. Some call this a self-censureship, that fighting against it, struggle, the triumph over it, liberation. But then we are constantly reminded that freedom is also an illusion, that meaning is self-created, that dangers bring opportunity, or the like, words of wisdom from the experienced, the initiated...

Alright, time to make my rounds and show up at the Y. Take care friends and relatives, father's siblings, brothers and sisters.

September update

Mon, 18 Sep 2006 13:16:15 GMT

Friends,

Sworn in as volunteer by ambassador a month ago in some Marriot. Guess what we got- a nice little 1 inch by 1 inch pin made somewhere in Rhode Island with the two countries flags on it. God bless government contracting!

Started work in the assigned task, at the microfinance agency. Went around with colleague to nearby towns sitting in on pre-credit meetings, monthly repayments, etc. I am not a debt collector, but just observing. As I said, things are one at a time here. But good times learning Armenian, reading, and hanging out with colleagues. In fact, my manager today just assigned a difficult task, "think about what you can do here (for us)..." I better think very hard. They are already so organized and well structured! But we will think of something. Good luck on that. =)

The second task involves beekeeping, this is quite interesting. Includes side meals with mineral water bottles and shot glasses. Surprise surprise what is inside the mineral water bottle. In the next month, we plan to attend 3 agricultural product expos, start Beekeeping classes in the villages for kids, and do more organizational strengthing. This is quite promising. Side note, if I ever come into the possession of some land in the future, setting up bee boxes and planting herbs in the garden (see below) would be high on the list.

The host family is great and continues to be, the living quarters are excellent. Warm shower and occational internet from home, what more can you ask for? And, being Chinese, what else, but the food is fabulous! Think about those 99c herbs you get back in the US of A, a mere 2 oz from the supermarket, sometimes not very fresh. Here, its 25 cents, and its like a pound of the various greens, dill, cilantro, you name it. Incredibly tasty stuff. And the various ways to cook rice dishes. Thats another surprise to us who are used to white rice. The other week we were doing a lot of canning for the winter, peach juice, plum juice, tomato sause, pickles. And the time spent everyday to prepare food! And you thought Cantonese people like eating so much.

Bookwise, nothing too interesting this month. Perhaps books do not make us wise. Done with Dubliners, theres no Portraint of the Artist as a Young Man or Ulysses to follow up with, so there has to be some switching of gears. And maybe my clutch is bad. Now reading Peter Hessler's "River Town", documentary about his Peace Corps service as English teacher in provincial town of Fuling in Sichuan 1996-98. As much as I cannot even hope to start to understand what an American's life in rural China might be like, this is very well written, almost too easy to read, and contains a large section on the Three Gorges and Hong Kong, respect for his investing in finding out about the Chinese. You don't usually find that in a book about China. Other times you can find Roger quietly hacking away, a word at a time, The Estonian writer Iko Manan's children story "Hot Icecream", in Armenian. Or just mauling over some restaurant review of New Yorker back issues. Its just a good model for good American English? I have read so few magazines for a while, please advise.

Who knows what next month will bring... I have Zhang, Da Chun's "Xiao Shuo Bai Lei", 2004 (Wild kinds of fiction (?)), a good guide to writing. The only Chinese book on the shelf, I am almost afraid to touch it. Lately, I feel that my expression is quite limited, trying my hand in written Chinese, not to mention English. On the other hand, writing in Cantonese would be very comfortable, flowing, colorful, flavorful, and interesting, but what do you think? Please write in a few words of discouragement, like "You can't possibly write, forget about it!" That should teach me, that "bead right on the head with the stick with yelling".

Hope you are all doing well! Until next time, and take care!

-R

August update

Fri, 11 Aug 2006 05:41:56 GMT

A week away from being sworn in as a volunteer in the capital, Yerevan. Its hot over there I heard, almost 40 degrees (110F?). Growing up in the subtropics thought Id be able to adjust, but again, must be spoiled by weather in NorCal. I just shut down when its over 30 degrees, like the past 3 or 4 days, even in the provincial capital of Vanadsor. Its good though, once its past midnight it usually cooled down enough that one can go to bed. And work, if any, realistically doesn't start till around 10:30 11:00 so one can still get adequate sleep. Also, the ceremony will be held in an air-conditioned space. Its all good.

To thank our language teachers for their hard work over the past 9 1/2 weeks of training, to put up with a bunch like us, our class cooks them dinner tonight. Its been a while since I had done stir fry, but I am sure out of courtesy they'd say they like it very much regardless. Fresh ingredients from the market sure do help, and so does the baking soda on the otherwise not very tender looking piece beef. You know the trick. =)

Others are doing salads, chocolate cakes, bean casseroles, and Hungarian fare so sure it be a good dinner.

Read some short stories from Atugawa Ryuosuke (english trans., a pity), the author of Roshomon. Its great. I recommend it. Now tackling Joyce's Dubliners once again, it has been a while since I read it, maybe it was in high school? but it is always comforting to read writers that seem to constantly draw upon the same british style pre-university educational/life experiences like I happen to have had, so I don't mind re-reading this as oppose to struggling with say Jane Eyre, which I'd say stresses too much on this thing called marriage. Not too thrilled about that, to be frank with you.

Circling through quite a few books these days, on top of learning the Armenian language. Just like a long vacation. Until next time.

well nothing too surprising

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 11:50:13 GMT

barev tzez (hi all). we are training as a group in vanadsor, armenia, the administrative seat of the lori region, a city, well, town with about 200.000. place used to be called kirovakan in the soviet times, chemical factory blazing, but with full employment, its all good. then come the earthquate in 88, collapse of the ussr, independence, war with neighboring azerbaijan and a not so easy ceasefire since 94. cos of the blockade from turkey in the west, economy has recovered somewhat (double digit growth for the country since 2000) but still lot of work to be done here. its not what it used to be and although theres internet access and everyone seems to be carrying a cellphone, there are times when you feel this deep sadness yearning for good times.

interestingly enough, we are training here in vanadsor while staying in a nearby village with hose family for 10 weeks and only yesterday we got our site assignments, a lot of folk, esp the english teachers and environmental education workers are getting placed at far away village and little town schools, which i initially want to be in, but because a group of us (including myself) will be doing some business development here i got to be in a large town and i got placed in (surprise) vanadsor. for the next couple of years, i will be primarily working with an non-government organization (NGO) named Kamurj MDF (Bridge Microenterprise Development Fund) where i will be engaged in strategic planning, consulting and training of their, well, micro finance operations, which are just starting here in the regional office. exciting. but how it works, i can only find out more later. do i feel prepared for this? i hope i just don't contribute to the high overhead which usually plagues NGOs, and i will do my best to soak up the knowledge, and build some useful working relationships and friendships.

but first, i have to learn the language. thats key. its got quite a few letters (35) and the alphabet has been around for 1,700 years so its got a whole lot of history and its quite complex if not impossible to learn, but little by little, i hope will get it. as for the living situation i got placed in a nearby village with 7 others and, wow, how can we repay such hospitality! five hearty meals a day and plenty of good coffee. a national dish here is called dolma which is meat and rice wrapped in cabbage and my host mom makes it spicy so its quite addictive and easy to adjust to. of course i miss rice but well i am over it now. and its world cup month and i am chinese (its assumed i am a friend of Jacky Chan) so i have no trouble mingling with the locals, kids and adults. my host sister is studying english in a teachers university and speaks such good english so that doesn't help my armenian, but recently i was able to utter more words in the language, so good laughs, so its all good. later when i move to my permanent posting i will engage a new host family but becuase i am so close i can always visit. what good luck!

i can't wait to tell you more, there are so many stories, but i have to go for dinner and some basketball so i guess i will post again soon with more specifics. hope all is well and god bless.

ÆæÏë

Mon, 22 May 2006 03:59:13 GMT

衄褫夔岆ㄛ藩珨毞竘腔砑睿僇嘉ㄛ?婓怮嗣賸ㄛ垀眕傚稛?夔薯?湔婓眳ㄛ毀奧祥怮婓砩釬妦欒廢?ㄛ?磐ㄛ笭瞎ㄛ淕燴腔岈﹝

毀淏ㄛ?婓嗣欒筏腔珨毞眳笢ㄛ藩藩菋善庤偵腔妦欒ㄛ硐猁婬秏趙ㄛ俙庤珨狟赽ㄛ珨毞婌綎賸ㄛ猁嬪紒?祥摯ㄛ??妦欒隙?ㄛ載睡岆猁豪嶲珨遁珨遁腔ㄛ滖趙傖殤宒朼?蔗趙腔?岈闚ˋ

壅奧壅眳ㄛ珨湮剽嗣楛陎ㄛ褫眕磐摩傖橙腔?呯癩螹ㄛ毀奧霜囮賸﹝稛珨啜掊珩祥岆妦欒岈﹝隴掊岆僩褭呯腔癩螹ㄛ陑夎砑ㄛ衱夔衄妦欒硉儸ˋ?挲ㄛ饒祥淏岆斕朸?瓷ˋ衱祥岆夆?腔ㄛ符衄鶸楹斕饒嚶渝夎醱腔昹ㄛ寤昹儸ㄐ

筍佷蕉夔薯衄癹腔ㄛ掊?惤?棒ㄛ?給侐氪扂ㄛ厘厘衄垀祥裘ㄛ黺??岆辭?參稛飲?狟ㄛ眕摽麼夔參窣諉ㄛ麼夔艘堤珨慶燴?腔砩癩ㄛ衄翍祥?腔偝睿咥砑ㄛ樓奻褩跐掖凝ㄛ婓楓眳華ㄛ汜魂祭極鞣ㄛ嶲掀廌嗣ㄛ垀眕綎厘衄珨僇竭墿竭墿腔嶲ㄛ岆桽?﹝筍歇蕦餫霜囮腔ㄛ幅彆湔腔ㄛ憩岆稛赽ㄛ舒舒搪擄ㄛ晞傖賸珨掛掛腔?﹝

褫管婓?嚶湖笢恅ㄛ善政婓?坋煦勛薯ㄛ淏咡衄珨毞褫眕參殤奻腔飲溫奻珨?揃蹋笢ㄛ褫眕蕦蕦華楹脤﹝饒衄嗣疑ㄛ褫眕掀苤緊俙?參窣鋪?腔絿載赻蚕赻婓ㄛ蚗砦噫腔婓剽ㄛ俙芄﹝

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Thu, 18 May 2006 18:36:55 GMT

Alright. Give it a shot.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/43741541@N00/