Radreffies' blogs

House to live-stream committee proceedings, By Debbie Siegelbaum, The Hill (02/02/12).

The House is now offering live video streaming of committee proceedings online through the Library of Congress.

The Committee on House Administration announced on Thursday that the live webcasts would be available at http://thomas.loc.gov/video/house-committee.

The Library of Congress also will archive previous committee proceedings, which the panel said would create the first "one-stop shop for House committee video content."

There will be an all day conference on on public access to legislative information on Thursday, February 2, 2012, 9AM to 6PM EST, in Cannon Caucus Room, 345 Cannon HOB, Washington, D.C. It is hosted by the House Committee on House Administration.

• agenda and live webcast

 

There are buses leaving every hour on the hour from Puno to Cuzco. We could have done that. But instead, we took the Inka Express.                The Inka Express turned the 6 hour bus ride into 10 hours. Sounds miserable – right? But not really. You stop at four different neat sites along the way, have a guide, plus a (horrible) buffet lunch is included. The buses have big windows, you get coca tea and water and soda, and it’s a lot more peaceful (but also a lot more expensive) than the regular bus.                 Wayne and I decided it was worth it.                The owner of the Duque Inn hooked us up – we got seats 1 & 2, which are the best on the bus. We had views through the front window and through the side windows. It really is a picturesque ride, which is the reason that Wayne was able to persuade me into not taking a night bus after our nights on Lake Titicaca.                The first stop was Pucara, where we stopped at an archeological museum and saw some interesting findings and learned about the people that lived in Pucara before the Incas came and ruled it, like they did everything else. Then we stopped at La Raya, which is 4,318 meters high. Ouch. We took a few photos, saw lots of vendors. Then lunch, which had zero options for vegetarians (Okay, I lie. I ate tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce with a potato squash stew. I was starving as soon as we left.) Then, we headed over to Raqchi, where we saw the ruins of an ancient Inca settlement. It was very special as there was almost no one there, so we got some great photos and our guide told us some interesting stories about the area. Finally, we visited San Pedro Church in Andauyalillas, “the Sistine Chapel of the Americas.” It was the most incredible church I’ve visited outside of Europe (probably). It was a beautiful church with amazing murals and lots of ornate decorations painted with gold leaf – 24k. Nice.                Next, another 45 minutes on the bus and then in Cusco.                 Comfy seats, chill environment, good sites, it was definitely a good decision to opt for the Inka Express over the normal bus to Cusco.

Sometimes, traveling is just insanity.                Like when your tour guide can barely speak English and you’re the only one on the tour in the middle of the jungle.                Or when there’s a bat swooping your room while you sleep.                Or when there are some incredibly slow hikers with issues tainting your trek                Or when there’s a scorpion – no, two – on the wall of your hut that you are to sleep with.                Or when your room smells like dead mouse and you have to pretend things are just okay.                Or when your boyfriend has horrible altitude sickness and you realize you really both should stick to sea level, with his altitude issues and your asthma.                Or when you don’t want to go on a tour and your hotel owner sends you on one anyway without you knowing.                Or when your laundry isn’t done, they fold it while still wet, you’re freezing wearing wet clothes, and they lose a pair of your underwear which is a big deal since you didn’t bring enough with you.                Or when you make a reservation and they give it away and aren’t sure why you’re upset.                Or when there’s another hidden cost.                Or when there’s another identical hat.                Or when there’s another long bus ride.                Or when there’s another toilet without toilet paper.                Or when the toilet doesn’t flush when it should, it must be.                Or when you just are so sick of it all…
                You remember that you love traveling. You love the new experiences, trying new foods, the cheapness of things, not working, having time to be creative and write on the long bus rides, the freedom, meeting new people, seeing new and unusual things, not having to wear uncomfortable shoes, improving your grasp of a foreign language, doing what you want, not having to work, not having the scheduled bs of life back home…
                And really, it’s all worth it. It really is.

                We took fancy first-class from Arequipa to Puno, where I suffered a miserable migraine. We couldn’t find my medicine, so I took two Aleve, which took forever to work. Ah, the joys of altitude.                We arrived to the Duque Inn, a place full of false promises, but which we still liked regardless. Our room was on the top floor, which can feel like it’s a marathon to climb those steps. Still, life was good. We explored Puno, and there’s honestly not very much to explore. We had jugos frescos (maracuya, fresa, y mango y pina mixta) and I bought another pair of legwarmers and mittens, and we searched in vain for my Peru treat obsession, chocolate wafey candies, also by the name of Sublime Wafers. They’re kind of like kitkats, but with a little bit of peanut butter. Failed at this task, I ventured into a pharmacy to see if they had my migraine medicine, and they didn’t, but they gave me something else mysterious that I now have in my purse. I’ll update you all if I use it. We did the usual wandering of the streets, eating strange street food (Something like fried crispy dough with dulce de leche all over and shredded coconut.), ice cream, wandering, talking, all hand-in-hand in a way that we never seem to have enough time to do back home. It was lovely.                And then it was time to eat, of course. We found a restaurant in the Lonely Planet that mentioned “Andean Cheese Fondue” and Wayne was sold. We also got a salad and this amazing cheese bruschetta with fig. But wow, cheese. We did decide we’ll snag one of our mom’s fondue pots when we get home and start making fondue more.                We got up early and hopped on what we thought was simply a boat to certain islands but was actually a tour. (We were misinformed by the owner of our hotel.) Oh well. We swallowed our hopes and let ourselves go along with what was in store.                First we went to Uros, one of the floating islands. It’s pretty cool – they pile these reeds on top of floating sod, stake the sod into the water (so they won’t float away – but you still get the sensation of floating!). Their lives are linked to these plants – they build their homes and boats out of the reeds. It’s pretty incredible. Unfortunately, it seems they subsist on tourism and the whole visit felt slightly less than genuine – though it was interesting, I won’t deny that. Wayne and I went with one girl who showed us her family’s home and then dressed us up in their traditional clothing – which is beautiful, even if she did put an orange skirt on me and not the rosado I would have hoped for. Then she tried to sell us all these crafts she made, many of which were just not our taste. (I’m polite, right?) Wayne ended up finding a neat little mobile to buy for his parents, but we did feel pressured to buy something – and neither of us liked that.                Then we took a little boat ride to another floating island on their “Mercedes” of their boats (Cost: 10 soles each), where I bought a pair of alpaca socks (My feet were freezing) and we paid 1 sole to use the bathroom (disgusting) and bought some coca tea, which does seem to help with the altitude. Or so they say, so we keep drinking it.                 We were on the boat another three hours to Amantani, which is the highest island on the lake. We did a homestay with a family – they knew no English, so I definitely wouldn’t recommend a homestay to anyone who doesn’t know Spanish (Unless you’re with someone who knows Spanish; Wayne had me serve as his translator and still enjoyed himself.). Our family wore traditional gear – big skirts and carefully embroidered tops. Most of the island were farmers – and the work was done communally. We ate lunch – quinoa soup and fried cheese and rice and veggies. Then we skipped out on our “tour” stuff and hiked Pachamama and Pachatata, two different mountains with ruins on the top. We were the only ones on both of the mountains, so that felt pretty special. We took photos and talked and explored uninhibited.                 Then we were both feeling the altitude, so we took a nap. We did notice, however, that our room smelled badly. Being familiar with the smell, we both realized it was eau de dead mouse – or perhaps some other animal. We searched the room, lifting the blankets, under the bed, and decided it was probably in the wall. It was pretty horrendous. We lit matches but it didn’t help.                We got up before dinner and chatted a little with our host family. We had dinner, centered around potatoes, of course, and Wayne shocked me by being unable to finish his dinner. Altitude sickness is real. It started pouring so our host family decided not to go to the party, though I thought it was cancelled. I think our host dad may have been drunk from the earlier festivities. Regardless, Wayne was ill so we went to bed. It was only 8:30p.m., but altitude makes you tired. (I remember my first weeks at Naropa in Boulder, I slept 10-12 hours a night, until my body became accustomed to it.) I woke up at 3a.m. when Wayne was breathing heavy and complaining of a splitting headache. He drank water, took an ibuprofen, and eventually the pain stopped and he fell asleep. But he was so miserable that I decided if he was the same in the morning, we’d head straight back, grab our bags and head to Cusco early (which has a lower elevation than Lake Titicaca).                After breakfast with our host family, and goodbyes, we hiked down to the ferry and we all went to Taquile. Another island with a traditional indigenous culture, though the attire was different. The women wore shawls with pompoms signifying their marital status, and the men communicated their marital status and political power through their hats. The attire was carefully made and quite beautiful.                We walked around, I bought a pair of Alpaca gloves as a present, and then our “group” went to lunch where I was served another disgusting vegetable tortilla (Think: vegetable omelet cooked in too much oil that somehow tastes disgusting – and I really love eggs.). I ended up leaving, letting some poor backpackers eat my meal and wandering around.                And then we climbed down 543 steps to the ferry. The island has most of the town and its inhabitants living high up. Nobody seemed especially friendly, and I suppose I would be irritated if my tiny little village became a tourist destination. (Hell, I’m annoyed at the tourists in my city, and I live in New York!)                We headed back to Puno on the world’s slowest boat. When we arrived, a shower felt lovely, and then we got amazing fusion food (We’ve found the fusion food here to be the best, even if they did serve Doritos (!) with the guacamole.) and of course, I got a pisco sour.                We randomly found a shop that sold my chococlate wafey candies and fun alpaca goods. And then, we found a fair trade shop where they teach women how to knit and give them a skill, women that live deep deep in the city where they can’t sell it – and they sell it for them. I wanted to support a good cause, plus they had great craftswomanship, so I bought some stuff to support them.                And then, being at altitude, we were exhausted, so we sat around, trying to book hostels and finally, fell asleep wrapped tight into each other’s arms yet again.

                I’ve traveled quite a bit, and I would have to say, of all the countries I’ve visited, Peru wins the distinct honor of most disgusting toilets. Toilets that don’t flush, toilets you don’t even want to squat over, and toilet paper is rare. Even in hostels/hotels, when you have private rooms, toilet stall doors that never close, sometimes you have to purchase the paper (or they will give you a very limited amount for your trip).                So my recommendation – always have toilet paper with you, wherever you go. Bring instant hand sanitizer – I’m not a huge fan of that stuff, but otherwise, there’s nothing.                And until then, though I’m adoring traveling, I’m really looking forward to returning to my world of clean toilets back home.

My friend Charlotte just sent me a resource which is going to come in extremely handy in my work as a  librarian and could also possibly be useful to you, reader! Its a free downloadable document called the Code of Best Practices in Fair Use for Academic and Research Libraries,  and it was published earlier this month by the Association of Research Libraries (ARL).

According to the ARL website, the Code’s purpose includes answering copyright/fair use questions such as (and I quote):

• When and how much copyrighted material can be digitized for student use? And should video be treated the same way as print?
• How can libraries’ special collections be made available online?
• Can libraries archive websites for the use of future students and scholars

In order to obtain the necessary information for the report the Code’s research team interviewed dozens of academic and research librarians. It makes me really pleased that ARL made this detailed document freely accessible to anyone!

P.S. This 10 page FAQ for librarians on copyright is quite handy, too!

Press Release from GPO:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: January 30, 2012
No. 12-07

GPO SUPPORTS NATIONAL ARCHIVES ON PUBLIC ACCESS TO PRESIDENT KENNEDY ASSASSINATION TAPE RECORDING

First Audio Content on FDsys

WASHINGTON-The National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) is providing public access to the newly discovered audio tape recording of conversations between various individuals in Washington and Air Force One pilots and officials on board during the flight from Dallas to Andrews Air Force Base following the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963. The tape recording is available on the U.S. Government Printing Office's (GPO) Federal Digital System (FDsys). This is the first time audio content is available on the system, which is a one-stop site for authentic, published Government information. GPO and NARA have a long-standing collaborative relationship in publishing the Federal Register and recently worked together to provide the public with electronic access to the Nixon grand jury testimony.

Link to FDsys: www.fdsys.gov

This digitized version of the two hour and twenty-two minute recording was donated to the National Archives by the Raab Collection. The tapes were found among other papers and memorabilia of Army Gen. Chester "Ted" Clifton, Jr., who served as senior military aide to President Kennedy. The White House Communications Agency (WHCA) provided the tapes to Gen. Clifton. The conversations were captured by WHCA, which routed all phone calls and radio traffic. The recording includes references to new code names and incidents, among them are a private conversation by head of the Secret Service Jerry Behn about the disposition of the President's body; an expanded conversation about how to remove the body from the plane and where to take it; an urgent effort by an aide to Air Force Chief of Staff Curtis LeMay to reach General Clifton; and attempts to locate various Congressmen from Texas. For more information go to: http://www.archives.gov/

"GPO is pleased to provide our digital services in partnering with NARA to make this important historical find available to the public," said Acting Public Printer Davita Vance-Cooks. "This collection marks the first time GPO is providing audio content on the site. We look forward to continuing our long-standing relationship with NARA and other Federal agencies in providing digital access to authentic Government information through FDsys."

author:  Larned, Emily K.

If you remember my gushing review of Emily's Parfait zine, you know I'm a fan. Basil Is Dying, about the passing of her beloved tabby will not disappoint you, but it will probably make you cry.

reviewdate:  Jan 25 2012

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author:  Crabb, Cindy

The Encyclopedia of Doris is more than the sum of its Dorises. I'm often not crazy about zine collections because zines read better individually. They're complete unto themselves and are particular to the moment they're published. With the Encyclopedia Cindy edited together nine years of Doris content, plus articles and interviews from other zines and magazines, and so it reads like a complete work, rather than awkwardly connected episodes.

reviewdate:  Jan 26 2012 isn:  978-0-9831255-1-8

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State of Wonder by Ann Patchett — Unlike my beloved Citizen Reader, I loved Patchett’s latest novel. I didn’t feel the plot was lacking in action (although since my mother claims I only like books with no plots, you may want to take that with a grain of salt or three), and I loved the main character’s bafflement at being confronted with a series of alien cultures — first the city where she stays for the first part of her trip to Brazil and the expats who live there, then the village up the river in the jungle, then the secret world of the scientists who work there. The premise of the novel is that a drug company has scientists working in the field in Brazil to discover why the women in a particular tribe there are able to have babies into their 70s and to try to make a fertility drug using their secret. Having now experienced 39 weeks of pregnancy, I’m not sure why anyone would want to go through it at age 70, but I was captivated by the book nonetheless.

The Submission by Amy Waldman — Waldman imagines what would happen if there were a contest to design the 9/11 memorial and the person who won it turned out to be a Muslim American. I feel there must be a term for this sort of literature — books that introduce a societal shakeup and then show you how a variety of representative characters react to it (in this case, a wealthy liberal victim’s wife, a working class victim’s brother, an illegal Muslim immigrant, an activist lawyer, a banker, the governor, etc.) — but I don’t know what it would be. But in any case, I enjoyed following Waldman’s speculations.

The Informationist by Taylor Stevens — The January pick for the library’s mystery group. I believe Stevens’s claim that she did not base her character on Lisbeth Salander, but then I wasn’t much more impressed with this book than I was with Stieg Larsson’s. It seems like a fairly standard thriller to me — engrossing if you can suspend a certain amount of disbelief — but the only part I really liked was the setting. Most of the book takes place in Equatorial Guineau in western Africa. Stevens lived there for a couple of years, and you can tell.

Once Upon a River by Bonnie Jo Campbell — I’ve only read four books in 2012 so far, but I can tell already that this one is going to be a strong contender for the best book I read all year. Margo, fifteen when the book starts out, lives with her father near her extended but somewhat estranged family on a river in central Michigan circa 1979. The list of bad things that happen to her rivals that of Jude the Obscure (she gets raped by her uncle; her cousin kills her father; she ends up homeless on the river because she wants to avoid the child welfare people), but it’s somehow not a depressing book, or at any rate it’s so compelling, and Margo is such a strong actor in her own story, that you forget about being nothing but depressed.

To Hell With All That by Caitlin Flanaghan — Caitlin Flanaghan is a very stylish writer who makes insane generalizations and has apparently no understanding of what constitutes data or evidence. She is thus exactly the kind of writer whom I love to hate, and in the last week or so of pregnancy I was incredibly grouchy, and the idea of reading a book about which I could grouch at great length was very appealing and was indeed quite satisfying. It was almost as good as the arguments I used to have with Ronald Reagan (in my head) when I was a kid.

Love Works Like This by Lauren Slater — I am very fond of Lauren Slater’s books, but I hadn’t realized until I stumbled across this at the library that she’d written one about pregnancy and motherhood. Like Slater, although to a lesser degree, I have a long history of mental illness and I took a lot of antidepressants during pregnancy. I was less worried about the chemical soup my baby was swimming in than she was (my theory being that while the studies on antidepressants and pregnancy are inconclusive, the studies on maternal depression during pregnancy are very, very solid, and it’s a very bad thing, and so I chose the unknown risk over the certain one), and I had a different set of challenging experiences during the months I was pregnant, and a very different birth experience, but it was good to read a book that so explicitly dealt with pregnancy not as a time of sunshine and roses and high expectation.

We got to Arequipa and immediately headed out to the main square to meet my friend from Huanchaco, Jon. Wayne had never met him and of course, with a few pisco sours, and random dinner at Che Café, we all quickly bonded. We laughed about traveling, about drinks, about more. We ended up completely smashed, finding a candy store and discovering the elusive wafer candies that tasted oh-so-delicious when drunk (and delicious the next day when we were sober as well!).
The next day, was our explore Arequipa day. We had a short run (My asthma proves to be problematic at high atltitude.), then went to Monasterio de Santa Catalina, which was really interesting. We learned a lot about the nuns. After, Wayne and I had lunch for 7 soles ( a little more than $2) and then went to Museo Santury to see the frozen body of an Inca maiden – very interested. We learned all about how these select royal children were raised just for the purposes of being sacrificed. Sad. The body was well-preserved due to ice and snow covering the mountain.
Then Wayne and I explored Arequipa, walking around, eating popcorn, helados, popping into various shops and streets, people-watching. It was so nice because for so long, Wayne and I have had such opposite work schedules that we haven’t had time to just chill, to just walk around, hand-in-hand, talking. It was really lovely.
We had dinner again with Jon, eating at the horrible Wild Rover hostel (though the food wasn’t horrible). Then we found a club and got 2 for 1 pisco sours and got wickedly drunk.
Then, we had to get up at 2:45 to get picked up for a two day Canyon de Colca trek. Canyon de Colca is the second deepest canyon in the world. (The first deepest is another in Peru in a more remote region. Also, Americanos, this canyon is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon.) We squished into the back of a minivan where I promptly fell asleep and Wayne stared out the window and tried to sleep. We arrived in a small town at a freezing restaurant where we ate bread and cheese and jam and coca tea for breakfast, drove a little more, then stopped an amazing lookout where we saw condors and some other animals. We drove a little more and then began day one of our trek.
We climbed down to the bottom of the canyon, which took a few hours.  The soil was dry and rocky and the footing could be slippery and I fell on my butt and another hiker’s shoe at one point (Better than landing in mule poop.).
When we got to the bridge at the bottom, we waited as our guide instructed. And waited. And waited. Our group was only eight plus our guide, and the first six of us waited. Apparently, two of the girls had problems – one had knee problems and downhill was problematic for her, and the other was afraid of heights. I’m not sure why they thought it was a good idea for them to sign up, but we ended up spending a lot of time waiting (and less time in the pools!). Then, we hiked another hour to our lunch spot, where the food was actually decent. There were lots of avocado groves we walked through, so of course we had delicious chunks of avocado with lunch.
We walked an easier hike, mostly flat and down, passing agave and aloe vera and all these beautiful places whose names I don’t know. We walked on this tiny single-track trail that was the only way to get around the towns – there were no roads. You had to hike many kilometers over rocks with steep ups and downs and cactuses on other sides, with just mules as your method of transport – and you had to lead them so it’s not like you got to relax. Our guide told us some interesting stories until he had to go back to help the others in our group.
We waited at the next bridge for another hour or two. The sun sunk low in the sky as we waited. But then the all arrived and we headed to Paradiso.
Paradiso had warm water pools – heated by a waterfall high up that was fed by a rather warm lake. The sun was setting but Wayne and I jumped in the pool anyway and swam around for a little bit. Then we went to our room to change and I noticed something odd on the wall, something I had never seen before.
“Uh, Wayne. Is that a scorpion?”
Wayne looked at the wall and just stared. And stared.
We went to our guide. He told the property owner. He followed us to our room. He looked at the wall and then smashed it with a tissue. Just like you’d kill a little bug at home.
We were a little nervous so we put all our stuff in our bags, worried about bugs. Then we ate dinner and went to bed. Wayne and I were a little nervous and slept tight, holding each other and I dreamed about scorpions. When we woke up, we were both alive, unbit, but we had a new scorpion on our wall. We quickly dressed and prepared to climb up the canyon.
Our guide estimated three hours. From the start, it was a difficult climb, my calves aching at the beginning but soon getting used to it. My asthma struggled, and I used my inhaler as the altitude increased. We got to the top in two hours, an hour less than our guide said we should climb it in. And then we waited. And waited. We grew colder and colder, no longer moving, the sun not yet fully over the mountains. We ate our snacks and moaned with hunger and cold.
We were waiting for a slow German hiker, and a South Korean guy who brought his entire backpack – all 17 kilos of it! – on the hike. They were having a tough time. The two Dutch girls who had problems the prior day were taking mules up. Just when Wayne was proposing to save the day by running down to help them, our guide came up. He told us they would be a lot longer, and gave us directions to our breakfast restaurant. We went into Miriam’s which had plastic lawn chairs and nonfunctioning water in the bathroom, but Miriam served us rolls and eggs and butter and marmalade and we put the coca leaves in water which helped us with the altitude and recovery.
After everyone hiked in, they ate and we headed out to an amazing lookout point. Then we went to the hot springs – many in our group were too lazy/poor to head down, but Wayne, a Swedish backpacker, and I fully enjoyed the hot pools – our favourite pool was outdoors and at 40 degrees Celsius.  We ended up befriending these two old Peruvian guys who shared their drinks with us and told their stories. Wayne and I ordered pisco sours which we drank in the water, stretching our legs, enjoying the day.
After we returned to the bus, we went to a buffet, which surprisingly had vegetarian options. Then we stopped and saw some lamas and alpacas and took photos, and headed back to Arequipa.
We were tired. We showered, flipped through our Lonely Planet and tried to make plans. We grew frustrated, and headed out to dinner. I had an Arequipa Sour, which was papaya juice instead of lime. It was pretty incredible.
And then we got back to our room and cuddled up together, sleeping until it was time for one more run in the beautiful city of Arequipa.

And so I returned to Lima.
After my luggage was embarrassingly searched (oh, how foul it smelled after four days in the jungle!), I flew a peaceful flight to Lima.
After a chatty cab ride, I arrived at the Barannco Backpackers Inn. After I dumped the stuff in my room, and gave my dirty clothes to the hostel to wash, I headed out for a long run. I ran along the water, enjoying the parks, the pretty views, the other runners. I headed home for a shower and to try to grab something small to eat, as Wayne was arriving that night and I had a feeling he’d be hungry.
As my body was used to jungle time (bedtime after dinner, rise at 5am), I could no longer stay awake until Wayne’s flight arrived. I crawled into bed and passed out for a few hours, waking around 12:30. Shortly after, I heard the door opening and a very familiar very American voice. He arrived, looking like anyone does after a long flight, telling me of his lost luggage. It was incredible to be back with him, and see him. Since we had gotten together last February, this was the longest we had ever been apart. It felt so right, so perfect.
Because Wayne was hungry (of course) and I was starving as I hadn’t eaten after my long run, we wandered out. A vegetarian restaurant (!) I had passed earlier, only noting that it was in a train car (Perfect for mi novio) and that it was open until 2am. We headed inside, ordered a salad, sandwich and a pizza, and of course, two pisco sours. The drink of choice.
After, we headed back and went to sleep for a few hours. We awoke early, and ate the typical breakfast in Peru of bread and marmalade and butter for breakfast. Then we headed out, walking down along the beach, walking around the beautiful streets. We were in love with Barannco and decided to change our plane tickets on the way back to spend more time in Lima before we flew back to the States.
We ate lunch – Wayne’s first Peruvian meal. Of course, I got the eggs/rice/platanos/salad option, which I’ve had plenty of times before. We also got pisco sours and tried the delicious yet scarily neon yellow Inca Cola, which we both discovered we secretly love. And then more walking on the streets and on the beach. And then a flight to Arequipa!

If you’ve read my blog much before than you might know how much I adore digital archival collections. Imagine – then – how pleased I am to be writing today about American History Online, a project which boasts 362 historical digital collections! This site is as rich in primary resources as my favorite West Village bakery (Molly’s) is in cupcakes.

Brilliant Luna Park at Night (Underwood & Underwood, 1904)

The site is extremely well-organized and current. Visitors can browse by subject, (i.e. Government, Music, Religion, etc) , place, or time. It’s also possible to search by keyword and/or year.

I could (and probably will) spend hours exploring this project. Have fun!

Readers of Slashdot asked Carl Malamud about his experiences and hopes in his project to prod the U.S. government into scanning archived documents. They asked questions about metadata, digitizing rare books, what he thinks about corporate partnerships in the process to get public data released, other projects like Ancestry.com and PACER, and even "Which government agency is the worst to get information from?"

Malamud's answers are posted at the link below "with a mix of heartening and disheartening information about how the vast project is progressing."

• Carl Malamud Answers: Goading the Government To Make Public Data Public, Slashdot, Your Rights Online section, Posted by timothy on Monday January 23, 2012.

 

                After getting a boat ride from a farmer, I hopped a cab for the bumpy, muddy 20km ride into Puerto Maldonado. In the cab was the driver and cook in the front, my guide, me, an Italian backpacker, and an American nonprofit founder/medicinal plant shaman, plus in the trunk, a mother, her four kids, two giant backpacks, and two packs and the spare tie were on the roof of the car. Typical.                I arrived at the Tambopatu Hostel, and was very unsettled. My jungle experience had been ruined, was awful, and maybe I should just fly to Lima. Maybe.                A bunch of friendly backpackers welcomed me, and the owner and jungle guide was there. He told me about a trip leaving the following day, an overnight that would allow me to make my flight back to Lima. Sold! Plus he seemed friendly, came recommended, and not just by the guidebook, but by other travelers I had met, including the Shaman.                The next morning, after a very good for-a-hostel breakfast, we walked down to the ferry – all 11 backpackers and 2 guides – with giant rubber boots. We all struggled with our bags which were weighed down with heavy clothes and rainjackets, which we didn’t need, and giant 2.5 liter bottles of water, which we did need. We got on a boat for about 45 minutes, applying sunscreen, enjoying the breeze, spraying on bug spray. We were already getting bit up.                After we arrived, we put on our rubber boots and began hiking in the sweltering rubber through a very muddy trail. Quickly, we saw monkeys, birds, fire ants leaf cutter ants, and lots of other insects, trees, plants, and wildlife. After around an hour, we got into a canoe and went across the lake.                We hiked a few minutes and then found our cabins. Mine was a private room in a hut I shared with two Chilean girls. A mosquito net over the bed, wooden floors, thatched roofs. It was rustic.                We had enough time for a short swim before lunch and I was a little nervous – this is where they found caiman and pirannahs, but our guide convinced us it was okay. He went in first to show us, and after one or two steps, we saw it wasn’t. He stepped on a fresh water stingray.                 He went up to the lodge, where they burned a termite’s nest – the smoke healed disinfect and heal the wound. Someone also gave him an antibiotic. We were sweating, but no one else was hurt.                After lunch, I sat in the shade and wrote a letter. After getting bitten up by ants, I headed down to the water. It was cooler and I continued writing in the shade, but finally, after others urged me, headed in for a quick swim. I splashed a lot while I entered and exited, but was still scared.                 Our afternoon hike was focused on medicinal plants. We ate native fruits, brazil nuts. Our guide pointed out all sorts of wildlife, and we were sweaty and dirty but so enthused.                After a short break, we hopped in canoes for a sunset ride. We saw monkeys – so many monkeys, hanging in the trees, so cute! We saw lots of birds, including the infamous “stinky bird” (that sounds like it has asthma). After the sun set, our guide caught two caimans and passed them around the boat.                We had dinner, and then, went on a short hike to look at various tarantula.                Then bed – around 9am. No electricity means an early night.                I woke up at 5am, due to a bat swooping around my room. Freaky. I crawled out, keeping as close to the ground as possible. We headed back to the canoe for another ride – more monkeys, more birds, just a beautiful day. We climbed high high high, many spiral staircases up, to see an incredible view.                Then breakfast, chatting.                And then – a hike with just the son of the property owner. We did not talk, but sweated, pushed, and quickly completely a tough hike. Everyone else was on a boat ride, but I was off to catch my flight.

                                                                                                  
                I had been in the jungle years ago in Brazil – it was one of the most incredible travel experiences of my life and I couldn’t wait to repeat. Sure, there were scary and gross and filthy moments, but it was a lovely experience.                I had booked a tour to the Nape Ecovillage and Botanical Gardens through Rainforest Expeditions – highly recommended in my Lonely Planet and sounding like an amazing trip. I’m sad to say this wasn’t the case.                I’ll keep it as short as I can: I arrived and discovered I was the only person on my guide’s tour – and oh yeah, I was her first tour ever. No one else was there, my guide was shy and quiet and didn’t know a lot. The schedule had been changed – hunting and fishing with traditional forms had been added, along with a fishing trip. Vegetarian says NO! A jaguar had been in our hut a few days prior – our hut which had giant screen-less, glass-less windows, and no doors anywhere. I was frightened to sleep. The bugs were also scary! Our first day, we did maybe 30 minutes of activities, and the second day 4 hours. And then we were done, and I had two more days. I asked repeatedly for them to take me back and they resisted but finally agreed. Nothing was right and I was unhappy. I was so sad because I had so looked forward to this part of the trip for a long time and it was so saddening that it was not working out like I had so hoped.

                This trip, too many times, I had long layovers and no time later/earlier to run. So I learned the brilliant option of checking your bags. Sometimes, as in Cuzco, they charge way too much. But at least they store your stuff.                After changing in the VIP Lounge (where they stored my bags securely), I headed out to run to Plaza de los Armes. On the way, I stopped at a pharmacy to get much-needed Cipro. No prescription necessary, just a short chat with a pharmacists and 5 soles later (or around $1.60USD), I got medicine that tamed my wild Peruvian belly.                And then I kept running. I ran fast. I asked a friendly painter for directions. ‘Ay, muy linda,’ he told me of the plaza. And I ran.                I ran past tourism like I hate it, like I haven’t seen in a while. While running, people tried to sell me things, to have me change dollars to soles (Why? Like every smart traveler, I hit up an ATM for the best rate, and I had enough soles!), to get me to hop on the Macchu Picchu tour.                Cuzco was pretty, yes. The hills reminded me of Chacha – but I think Chacha is prettier. It was green and lovely and quaint and colonial – but I sometimes get sick of the massive tourism.                After an hour and a half, I re-entered the terminal, people perplexed and amused. I went through security, changed and freshened up in the bathroom. And then I had enough time to buy an internet password, email those I loved one last time before the jungle, and get excited for the next step in my journey.

Originally, I was torn between Chiclayo (much closer to everything else, and with an airport) and Chachapoyas. Yes, an overnight bus ride – but if you get first class, like I do, it’s not so bad. But the overnight bus left me with the option of taking another 12 hour bus ride to Lima or flying. I found a fairly affordable flight and figured I could do the best of both worlds and see Chiclayo! Bueno!

I arrived bleary-eyed but ready to explore the city – until the kindly security guard informed me that it was too dangerous for me to walk around.  My friends had been pickpocketed in the city a few days prior, and the news was bursting about the assault of a North American woman. I don’t know what happened, but it seemed to be pretty bad as everyone was quite worried. I thought about getting a hotel just for a place to take a nap, shower, and have a secure spot to crash, but the affordable ones listed in Lonely Planet had all seemed to shut down. (Several people verified this for me.)
So I chilled in the bus station until 7am, and then joined the masses on the streets. With my pack in the bus station’s luggage storage, I still had my laptop, passport, kindle, camera, iPod – I had to be careful. So I walked cautiously, trying to ignore the many stares/comments I got.
I explored the main square, various streets, and then got breakfast. “Tienes comida vegetarian?” Hmmm…She pointed out there was spaghetti con veduras. “Para desayuno?” She shrugged. I decided I couldn’t deal with any more eggs, so I ordered that for breakfast. It was with some sort of soy sauce, no onion because I requested that, and tons of cabbage. It was edible.
After breakfast, I wandered around the town a bit more, and then, dealt with the drama (and expense) of mailing things back to the States. And then I headed to the even more extreme drama of catching a combi (minibus) to Lambayeque. I hopped off when I got to the town, and someone told me how to get to the Museo Tumbes Reales de Sipan.
The site of Sipan is about 40km from Chiclayo, but this wasn’t that. Basically, when they discovered this tomb, they moved most of the stuff to this site to be restored and displayed. It’s one of the top ten archeological museums in the world and is just gorgeous – it’s laid out in the same way as the tomb, in layers, so you walk around on ramps like you are layers in the tombs – and the tombs are arranged in a similar way that everything is found. It includes the skeleton of the young (He died in his 40s.) Lord Sipan, who died young with a terrible bone disease – maybe arthritis. Because he was royalty, he did not walk – he wore golden sandals. (FYI, If I’m ever a lord or president or ruler, I will not wear shoes you can’t walk in. I will make running a national past-time.) Anyway, all his jewelry, his clothing, everything is on display. They also found the bones of several others buried with him – his wife, concubines, soldiers, etc. I’m sorry, I love Wayne, but if he dies, I’m not jumping into that burial site with him.
The museum is only 10 soles (a little more than $3USD), but to get a private guide (which really helps to tell a lot more of the story than is on display – which, by the way, is only in Espanol) is only 20 soles – so you get someone telling you all about everything, answering your questions – for a little more than $6USD.
It was absolutely fascinating, and I was full of questions. Also very cool – you get to see people fixing and working on restoring remains in a building to the side of the main building.
After, I got ensalada de fruta con yogurt, miel y cereals (fruit salad with yogurt, honey & muesli), and then returned to Chiclayo. I got my bag from the bus station, was very relieved, as the bus station personnel have proved themselves incompetent many times – temporarily losing my bags in Chiclayo when I was transferring buses to go to Chacha, marking my bags for Trujillo when they were destined to Chiclayo – and then arguing me that my bag was going to Trujillo and shouldn’t stay with me.
With time to burn, but not sure what to do, I decided to head to the airport early. I used the wifi, relaxed, and enjoyed not being in a rush, for once.