Planes, trains, and AUTOMOBILES

The passenger train system in this country survives because of the federal government.
No major airlines have been allowed to fail since PanAm and TWA curled up and died.
So, I suppose that the boards and CEOs of the most quintessential of American industries feels it is their birthright to receive a bailout.

And apparently, prominent economists such as Jeffery Sachs, are on board with that plan. It is a national industry, they say, with world-wide implications if it is allowed to collapse.

What they fail to mention is that not all of those world-wide implications are bad. If the American auto industry can't get its act together, and, pardon my saying so, can't remove its head from its ass, then why should we the taxpayer take on the role of proctologist?

If the American auto industry receives the cold shoulder from the bailout angels, and it cannot raise capital from bond issues, then perhaps it should hold out its hand to the Saudis who were instrumental in "fueling" the assembly lines of SUVs and pick-up trucks.

As Tom Friedman so nicely says, giving Detroit a loan/bailout/handout/ in order for them to retool their lines for the new demands of the American consumer is ludicrous. Ludicrous because while Europeans were embracing the Smart Car, Americans were drooling over the Hummer H3.




In order to be a viable player worldwide, the American auto industry realized long ago that smaller, more fuel efficient vehicles are the ones that sell abroad. I suspect that the only Europeans who own pick-up trucks are the ones in the construction or agriculture industries, and that Africans feel that SUVs are very useful in places where the roads are little more than dirt tracks with large potholes.

So, yes, part of the fault of the lackadaisical attitude of Detroit carmakers toward more efficient vehicles lies with the American consumer. But the car manufacturers are by no means stupid. They have figured out how to bring down the cost of production and increase the efficiency of their assembly lines for the vehicles they do make. Foreign car makers lead our market in smaller and more fuel efficient vehicles. But American manufacturers have stubbornly hung on to the bigger is better theory of innovation.

Lack of foresight goes beyond the blueprint table, however, to unsustainable pension and health coverage schemes. As their workforce continues to retire, huge sums of money will be spent on giving them 75-100% of their salary and health benefits. If the auto makers aren't making as much money, have to re-vamp their factory lines and supply chains for smaller and greener vehicles, and have to pay retired workers, then what is to assure us, the procotologists, that the bailout money will be used for something nationally productive, and not simply to ensure retirement lifestyles in Michigan?

The Living Goddess

Until May or June, Nepal was the last (only) Hindu Kingdom in the world. Now, of course, King Gyanendra, who (did not officially) murdered his brother and family in 2001 to become the King, is no longer allowed to live in the palace. And the Maoists, who have been waging a several year long insurrection across Nepal, burning tires, having protests, poaching rhinos and tigers and killing people are now in power.

Despite all of these political changes, one Nepalese tradition - an odd one if you ask me - has remained intact. This tradition appears to have its roots in the Rana dynasties of the 1800's. In the Nepalese form of Hinduism, the sitting king or leader has a personal deity (this is not unusual. Families often have personal deities. Except this deity is ALIVE!). So, this living goddess, or Kumari, is ensconced in a home which is neither temple nor palace, but more of a square building with the center cut out, so she can look down on the people within the building on the ground floor.

The living goddess must be a pre-pubescent girl. She is of a low caste family, and I think it is a buddhist family, although I didn't know the buddhists had castes, so it doesn't make a lot of sense. In trying to understand this tradition, I got a lot of different stories. What is consistent is that a new girl was recently selected, in order to match with the astrology of the new Maoist leader, since the king has been deposed. She is only 3 years old, and when one hears about the selection process as a non-believer in living deities, the sanity of the child does come into question.

So, the prospective goddess is brought to Kathmandu, to the Durbar (Royal) Square where the Royal palace used to be, and is locked up in an ornate building opened only for this purpose:



Here is where things get positively weird. She either has to:

Remain there all night in the dark, alone, and somehow find and choose some special jewelry. If the correct jewelry is selected, and she does not get scared during the night, she is the chosen one.

OR (from a more reliable source)

In the selection process, the sacrifice of 108 animals are made, including 1 buffalo. The heads of all of these animals are placed in the special building, and she has to remain there all night with 108 bloody heads, and not be frightened.

See why one must wonder if the child is right in the head?

As Hindus, Hemant Kaka and I tried to go and pay worship to the living goddess, but we were told that only Nepali Hindus were allowed to do so. Once she reaches puberty (or a new leader comes into power), she is no longer a goddess, but remains kept by the state like a nun for the rest of her life. And once a year, she is paraded around town on a human powered chariot.

Entrance Gate to the selection building:

vanquished obstacles

What a fantastic feeling it is to be happy to be an American abroad! People of all nationalities were congratulating me, as if I had suddenly morphed, from a representation of ridiculousness and stupidity, to the embodiment of hope and change. President-elect Obama...thank you! I heard of the victory via short-wave radio, translated from Nepali, in the Chitwan jungle. I'm still catching up on all of the coverage, speeches, and pictures of spontaneous celebration, but am glad to be back, and know that I'll be at the inauguration.

It was not an easy journey back, however. After illness, altitude sickness, and exhaustion, the airport authorities the world over decided to make my journey a little more "interesting". In Nepal, I was frisked a total of 3 times. As if, in between one pat-down and the next feel-up, I'd be hiding things in between the cups of my bra. But most ridiculous, the Nepalese government has a rule that 500 and 1000 denomination Indian rupee notes are illegal in Nepal. Ok - it isn't legal to try and pay with them, no problem. But it is also illegal to possess them. A fact that you only discover upon entering Nepal. So, I didn't use the Indian rupees that I had, because it was illegal to try and convert them. In trying to get out of this beautiful country with absurd security procedures, my handbag was checked - after being through 2 x-ray machines. And then, my wallet, which was inside my handbag was checked. And the 500 rupee notes were discovered. "These are illegal to have in Nepal, madam."
"Yes, I understand that, but I am leaving now and going to India."
"But you cannot have them in Nepal. It is illegal."
"Ok, but I did not find that out until I arrived in Nepal. What was I supposed to do then? Where was I supposed to keep these notes?"
"It is illegal."
"Ok, sorry. But you can't have them. Now let me out of this country!"

I was frisked once more, on the runway before climbing the stairs to the plane.

And as if this was not arduous enough, in Delhi, when I try to enter the airport to board my 15 hour flight to NYC, the over-eager police man standing at the door will not let me in. Because my paper ticket has the wrong flight time on it. So, can I go to the airline counter to fix the problem? No. I must go to some outdoor Air India outpost, stick my head into a small hole in a concrete wall that is about chest height, and try and convince the poor schmuck who is working the midnight shift in the concrete box that my ticket had been changed.

After 15 hours, can I just get off the plane and enter the US, already? Please? Alas. No. Life cannot be that easy. The customs officials wanted to inspect the shoes I wore in Nepal. Because I was in the vicinity of YAKS. They had not been cleaned (because who cleans their hiking boots in a hotel bathtub before going on an international flight?). And they had yak poo on them. Or some other unidentified dirt. He offered to clean them in a 3 hour, government sponsored disinfecting process, unless I promised to go home and clean them right away. The government cleans your shoes? Who knew.

One would think that this was enough. After 3 friskings in Nepal, 2 more in Delhi and a 15 hour Air India flight, how many more obstacles can be put in my way to Baltimore? 3 more, apparently. First, the TSA officer did not think my passport picture was me. Then, she did not think that my second form of ID was me either, because both have a Nirali with long hair. So, she wrote some codewords on my boarding card, that caused the next TSA officer to ... wait for it... Frisk me! Again! Then, I was placed in a "holding area", also known as a glass box, and an announcement was made. "Female Houseguest". This is code for check a woman out, in the anti-terrorism sense. Jeesh! Don't they have more interesting people to frisk at JFK?

Despite it all, it is good to be back in the New America. I just hope it doesn't suffer the same fate as New Coke.