Archive for the ‘Travel and places’ Category

I know. You thought Second Life was dead. Let’s be honest: Who would be interested in avatars anyway? No money to make there… Well, think again. A virtual-life-savvy hotel resort on a sunny beach in Japan is making a fortune. In real money .

The concept is simple: the resort lets you spend a flower-scented romantic weekend with the virtual love of your digital life. Mind you, not the gorgeous long-legged girl that is operating your favorite manga avatar. Nope… a weekend with a virtual cartoon.  Hundreds of manga addicted, 3G sidekick packing men are visiting the resort to date… an avatar.    A Japanese beach town has found a new tourism niche by drawing young men and their virtual girlfriends. The Ohnoya hotel and the nearby town attract over 2,000 real visitors for this!

All over the resort, these men point their smartphones at AR codes -a two-dimensional barcode that looks like tiny black and white squares-. Thanks to “augmented reality” (AR) software, their fetish manga avatar appears on the screen overlay of their phone.

Last year, a Japanese man calling himself SAL9000 married his favorite cartoon beauty Nene Anegasaki in a tuxedo ceremony that was an incredible hit on YouTube.

Now obsessed young men hunt for scarce dressed manga girls all over the peaceful pacific Japanese coast to fulfill… well, I’m not exactly sure what .

I showed some good friends around in Normandy. You cannot get past the Cider, the Camembert, the Calvados and the gorgeous countryside. But all over the fields and forests, all over the dunes and beaches are the marks of the Second World War. There is simply no way of getting the hang of Normandy, if you do not try to understand its past… from William the Conqueror to the countless young lives that died for their respective colors 65 years ago.

So we showed up at the Normandy American Cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer.  General Mark W. Clark said one day “all we asked was enough soil in which to burry our dead”, and here it was:  172.5 acres of perfectly landscaped memorial grounds are overlooking Omaha beach and the English Channel. It contains the remains of 9,387 American military dead, most of whom were killed during the invasion of Normandy and ensuing military operations in World War II.

It was raining cats and dogs. It was cold. There was a stormy wind that chilled us to the bones. But hearing superintendent Hans H. Hooker talk about his cemetery was heartwarming.  In the pouring rain, he sketched us the grim details of the landing, bringing back lives of young men that died on those beaches, Americans and Germans alike. Here is a man with a passion for history, simply reminding us never to forget, urging us to remember.  I just hope that people as passionate and respectful as Hans will still be around for our kids, and the kids of our kids.  Over 9000 white crosses and stars of David silently witness about the absurdness of war. We need people to continue to tell their story…. .

Sometimes there’s a man… I won’t say a hero, ’cause, what’s a hero? But sometimes, there’s a man. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there.

Meeting a great delegation of Porter Novelli West Cost while in San Diego was nice. Great to see some real people on the old avatars. And I must admit, the Surf and Turf that I attacked during the Social Media chat was…. Mjummie. And huge! This is just a lobster…tail .

Now look, I’ve been known to find creative solutions transforming cars into marketing and communication vehicles. And then, I found this insane Mini Cooper in the streets of Austin while I was walking to a Porter Novelli event. A complete TV-editing and broadcasting facility fit in to a small car; respect!

Arrived in Austin, Texas, after a stormy, bumby and hellish journey of just under 20 hours. Bit broken, bit beat, bit grumpy, way tired but nothing a Texan stake and some Mexican Tequila-enhanced beer can’t cure.

Arriving on Austins friendly airport always makes me smile: deep-rolling Texan accents and real-blue jeans. A cabdriver with a Stetson reassures me: I really made it to Texas, spending the next days and nights on and around #SXSW (Social Media Wonderland). I’ll keep you all posted!

I’ve been to most big cities. Name them: New York, Vegas, London, Kuala Lumpur, Delhi, Calcutta, Shangai, Beijing, Paris, Moscow, Marrakesh, Singapore, Dubai, Tokyo,… I’ve been in the world’s most plushy hotels, and spent on multiple occasions more on breakfast than on my very first car.

I’ve flown over the Hecla in a helicopter, saw the sun go up from a hot air balloon over the Grand Canyon, saw the Aurora Borealis in Spitsbergen, and I’ve been on top of the Atlas Mountains at sun set. I saw cheetahs dining, elephants fighting, dolphins playing, snakes digesting.

And each time my wheels grind the stony curvy roads of Trouville-la-Haule, a minuscule little village in the darkest part of Normandy, my heart feels at peace.

One day, this old buccaneer will drop his anchor somewhere in the midst of this stately apple trees. I’ll own a cat, drink homemade cider and play petanque.

One day….

Somewhere along our evolution path, something went terribly wrong. I’m sure you know what I mean… I am talking about “the others”. Those people who still have to look for their ticket when they try to check in. The ones with the oversized bags. Without the required visa. No, they cannot remember the name of their hotel. Yes they forgot to fill in their landing card. The Hawaian-shirted, sunburned passenger.

They scare the heck out of me. They have these nice cabin luggage that fits easily the complete wardrobe of a midsized African village, and they squeeze it elegantly, and with a vengeance above my suit jacket. In the next hour, that luggage will be opened about a dozen times, to accommodate his K-way, to get out his Sudoku book, etc…

Next thing is that the other will ask me to take his picture. Framing him, and his travelling tribe. And then, he will be recording the take off with a turbo sized high-def camera (note the Sony labels are still attached, noblesse oblige) while muttering half-loud (for the off-camera track, you understand) everything that he sees.

After that, the stewardess will ask him to move to his assigned seat, which is going to be next to me. Obviously, he will try to sit on my lap to get there, and will whack my Bloody Mary over my computer.

After that he will tell me his life. All of it. From childhood over the second divorce, up to the happy kids. And the other one loves garlic. And he will use my 50% of the armrest. And he will go to the restroom plenty, Hey, it’s for free. And he will share if it’s a number 1 or a number two. And he will explain me all the funny bits of the movie he is watching while I try to work.

And he sweats. God, do other ones sweat. And their deodorants are packed, and shipped on their way to Timbuktu. A week ago.

And mind you: @ landing the other ones will clap, applaud, and whistle. As if putting down a 747 is a circus act. And right after the landing other ones will leap over your lap and cram the gangway with their souvenirs, luggage and kids. And they still think they get out faster by pushing hard.

Other ones should walk… or bike.

I simply hate public transport. It’s personal. It’s deep. It hurts. Ok, I admit, I’m a petrol head and I would rather drive somewhere than trust myself to the whims of some unknown employee from a grey and mystical ministry of transport. If I can, I’ll take the wheel. Thank you very much.

There are of course exceptions. Though I am fully mentally prepared to go through the pains of getting a pilot license, being ridiculously heavy colorblind prevents me from it. And my accountant claims I cannot afford an airplane yet. So I give my money to airliners that threat me like cattle, give me bad service, Lilliputian overcooked food and make me miss my connections.

A bad knee prevents me to cross the North Sea swimming, and even if I could, last time I checked my cherished electronic gadgetry did not like moisture very much. So I have to train. Well, trust me. Trains hate me. They do not run on time. They never go where I want to be. Their staff speaks a multitude of languages, none of which I master. And very simple requests like “can I sit down together with my wife” or “could I get another Coke” is met with an ice-cold “none is possible”.   I know. I’m nagging. But I paid 525 Euro Business Premier hoping to get some service. Which I did not.

Ever tried the London metro travelling with suitcases? These endless corridors? Automatic ticket control machines that smash your luggage? These steep stairs that force you to backbreaking escalades? All that for 5 euro for three stops?

Excuse me, but Jeremy Clarkson is right. I cannot be bothered. Where are my keys?

Well, I do have a soft spot for older cars. They are often proud relics of ancient times, appealing to my poetic soul J. When I saw this old veteran casually parked in the back of a dead ugly truck, my heart was bleeding. Here is the ancestor of 4×4, survivor of the landing @ the beaches in Normandy humiliated by a rusty lorry. Sigh. Some people have no respect.

We were invited by the Vespa club de France (thanks mister Reine!) to showcase our Bluetooth enabled fleet on the docks of Quillebeuf sur Seine on the 14^th of July.  Parrots MG TF, and both the Lotus and the LaRo Lightweight featured alongside vintage Vespas and a plethora of French classic cars.

Thousands of people took turns around our wheels, admired the stunning audio blasting out of the Parrot RK 8200 radio (we linked it up to a 1800 musical watt installation in the Lightweight J), and posed in, on or around the vehicles.

Our youngest admirer was 1, the oldest one just turned 97. We drained the batteries of our Sony Ericsson phones while streaming audio to our speakers for more than 10 hours straight.

A sunny day. Lots of demos. Sunburned. Sore feet. Aching backs. Tortured ears. Hungry. But very satisfied… we smile

In my eyes, the most beautiful sailing ship in Rouen is the Amerigo Vespucci, a tall ship of the Marina Militare, named after the famous  explorer Amerigo Vespucci.  She was put into service in 1928 and was used by the Italian Navy until 1943. She is used as a training ship ever since.

Well, when you give a new toy in our hands, we want to try it, test it out. So we took Felix our Bluetooth enabled LaRo Lightweight into the Normandy forests. Simple mission: go and dive it into the muddy roads till it gets stuck. Yep, that way we could check out our 24 volt 5 ton winch.

So all excited we floored the jeep into the most obscure corners of the woods de Bretonne and the steep slopes of the Seine estuary. We jumped over tree trunks. We splashed through water. We did see an abandoned Toyota buried in a muddy field. We dived into mud pools that could hide a camel. We tractored through prairies. We pushes fences. We ploughed through ditches. We ripped of branches.

We had lots and lots of fun, sore bums and bruises. But we could not get the Lightweight stuck. Sigh. There will be other times!

Some of the most beautiful sailing ships in the world are gathered in Rouen this week. We are hopping in and out the crowds with our three cars, but we cannot help walking in awe amidst these queens of the sea. Miles and miles of sail, marines, and telltale odours. Boyish sailing songs. Shiny cupper. Fairy shipbells. Gorgeous ships, with mast and ropes waken the little pirates in us

The cutest ambassador for Bluetooth wireless technology on this trip is without any shadow of doubt young Leon Nolf.  He walked around with his fancy, ear-protecting Bluetooth enabled headphones (from MSA Sordin)  for days… stealing many many hearts. Le coquin… J

Luckily Stefaan was able to get the wipers going again, so moral went up. We met lots of beautiful cars on the road. A classic rally Aberdeen to Le Mans featured Jaguars, Lotus, Aston Martins, etc. But ours do not look bad either!

Rain, rain, rain… 200 klicks of pouring. Nothing but water. Ideal when you are driving three convertibles.  One of them (the one I’m driving L) thought this would be an ideal moment to shut down  the screen wipers. Can’t see. A Thing. 200 klicks to go. Who came up with this idea any way?

I love this fast moving way of life. I love my job. Stress, mobility, encounters, travel, deadlines… it makes a big part of my clock tick. I guess I am just not made for the slow lane.  The pedal to the metal, and then relax with family, friends and loved ones. From time to time though, I need to break away and recharge in a lonely, god forgotten place. The sea. The green woods of Normandy. Avalon. The incredible light of southern France. Wine, time and books. Not connected for a couple of days.

Good as new. But I notice that my time between charging up batteries  has decreased. A lot J. So if that is the ideal excuse for more break-aways, where do I sign?

This week, I am visiting the Bluetooth All Hands meeting in Phoenix, Arizona. Every time I come to this desert state, I get under its spell. Endless blue skies, burning sun, the real-cowboy-cactus, the wild hills. Just sitting here on my balcony and sucking in the vast scenery makes me very happy. Maybe I am a sunshine boy after all…

Now you can have all the words in the world, all the social influence tools, all the data mining software available… nothing can describe the sun sinking behind the mountains in this desert. It is gorgeous.

Or so. Revved up my car this morning to faithfully do my 85 kilometer to the office. Sun was shining, eastern holidays… all moms and dads are recovering somewhere on a trendy ski-slope from too much chocolate bunnies. So I should have had an easy, fluid, quick, refreshing drive. Forget it. There was quicker movement in the Galapagos turtle community than on my highway.

And yep, as most mornings, some brain-dead people managed to slam into each other in a queue that creeps along at 24 kilometer an hour. Sigh.  Why can people just not concentrate on what they should be doing: driving. I see people calling, eating, sms-ing, nose poking, beer drinking and tabloid reading…  Poor drivers should be shot. Twice. For good measure.

On Thursday morning, around five o’ clock, I was freezing my butt off in the garden, happily enjoying a double espresso, and watching a spectacular moon eclipse. Only me, some fireflies, twinkling stars and a slowly hiding moon.

A moment of awe and nostalgia.   Sipping my caffeine I saw the Moon enter te penumbra,  the lightest part of the Earth’s shadow. Half an hour later, when the warmth of my bed seemed only a distant memory, the Moon penetrated the deepest dark of Earth’s shadow, the umbra. The Moon turned distinctly dark, leaving only a red glow. I could hear nature holding its breath… the sky looked darker and deeper than any other night. Just to the right of the faded Moon, Saturn blazed its colors. I felt peace, and as time stood still in my garden I closed my eyes, and thought of Avalon. And smiled.

Were they lost? Still hanging around in Spain after not participating in the Dakar Rally? Just being silly? Is that Skipper on their head? Revenge of the Aussies? Too much cava? Beats me…

From my room here in Barcelona, I do have a splendid view on what one day should become the Sagrada Familia Cathedral. Well, if they ever stop building the thing that is. In 1884 Antoni Plàcid Guillem Gaudí i Cornet, the architect who dreamed it up, finished the crypt. Since then a lot of work has been done, redone, rethought… but not a lot is finished. Seen the speed and enthusiasm of the workers I can spot from my room, it will take another generation. Or two. And will someone please tell the council of architects continuing the design to shift to lighter mushrooms? Gaudi’s part was ok. They are now making it butt-ugly.

I have to admit: my Spanish is painfully close to nonexistent.  Si.  Luckily, with some French; English and expressive mimicking, you go a long way. Restaurants are usually no problem. In Barcelona, most of the time, you can happily point at the picture of the food you like. And it will show up on your plate some later, in a slightly different form, proving that these photographers and their Photoshop colleagues really do miracles. Some restaurants go lengths translating their menu in English. The one we ate at yesterday happily offered “tail of Quick Shave”. Honestly: I have NO idea. I’m just not brave enough… J

Ok, I said Vegas was ugly. Trust me: it is. Concrete, glass, lots of plastic and no coherent styling whatsoever. A cacophony of influences. Bad copies of classical buildings from Venice, Luxor, Paris, Shanghai, Monte Carlo, New York. But, by miracle, @ night Lady Vegas becomes all shiny and attractive. Millions of lights put even Paris as light city to shame. Beautiful. Fake… but beautiful. J

Often, @ night, when I am far away, I like to escape, and hunt for a place where I can see the stars. I need to reach out, to see the sky, to see the twinkling of far away suns and galaxies. They make me feel calm, restful and at peace. Breathing the cold air, I look for Orion, or the Hunter as he was called by the ancient ones. His three-starred sword guides me the path to the North. There I find The Wheel, or the Wain. But these names are forgotten now, rebranded as a Bear. I know where I am now, and can follow Hydra, or the telltale “W” of Cassiopeia in ancient times called “The Queen”, and let my mind soar East, towards home and even to the misty shores of Avalon. I smile.

One of the advantages of being a communication consultant with too many stamps in my passport is that from time to time I get to taste a delicious cocktail that they just do not mix at home. The most dangerous one is the Tiki Puka Puka.  As everyone knows, Puka-Puka is a coral atoll a bit north east (for the geographically disabled: above and to the right ) of the Tuamotu Archipelago. At Trader Vic’s they brew a mean cocktail with the same name. Beware. It kills, it hurts… but it is darnnn good! There is enough alcohol in there to floor 82nd Airborne division. It comes in a bowl the size of a foot bath. It is sweet. It comes with a nice flower. It comes with a mix of four different blends of lethal hardcore rum. And it will just rip your stomach out and send your family brain cells to Mars if you drink more than one. And here is how you mix one. I warned you!

I have to admit: Las Vegas is really ugly. Kitsch, bad taste, pastiche and some architects that obviously smoked the wrong pot after way too much frozen margaritas. Some of the buildings provoke vertigo, headaches, and schizophrenic reactions (but we are better now, thank you J) . However, some hotels do have something. My favorite is the Wynn. Contrary to the arrogant Trump tower, the Wynn radiates some elegance. Well, it is the favorite of George Clooney… what else?

Well, there we go again. CES Vegas:  The International Consumer Electronics show. As a communication consultant heading up the technology practice, and having multiple clients and prospects exhibiting at this event, I have countless reasons to be here. The show kicks off today, so I’m in for queuing up at taxi lines, browsing the endless floors, pavilions and tents, meet people, collect blisters on my feet, and generally get marveled by new gadgets, features and applications. Geek in tech heaven.  

The most misunderstood assumption people make, is that I adore travelling. Well, I do not. I enthusiastically, absolutely, positively and very radically hate it. O yes, I love to be in cities a bit all over the globe, I love meeting with people from a different culture. I just love discovering other landscapes, monuments, wildlife, sceneries and food. All that is ok, fascinating, educative, and mostly rewarding. It is the getting there that is killing me. The endless monotone thouckthouck of trains, their inability to get you anywhere timely, and the fondness of high speed trains to stagger to a mindboggling crawling across the countryside, and then stop in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason usually gives me a headache. I spare you the details on the flying. Finding a vacant car park at the airport (knowing well that settling the parking ticket bill will rip me an arm and a leg off). Then there is the random way crucial information on which check-in-line to queue is displayed. The self-important grinning of the airport employee that my luggage is twelve nano grams overweight, involving an extra-charge equaling a staggering half monthly salary, and to be paid at the other side of the airport (but first you need to survive the Olympic queue over there), before you can see the first lady again with prove of payment. Oh, well…. Security checks, where you need to get laptops in and out, and on and off, and where all of the sudden stripping in public, in front of strangers and cameras becomes an art-de-vivre. Standing spread-eagled while an overenthusiastic security lad, with a fondness of garlic, tries to rearrange some vital organs in my Levi’s is not exactly my idea of fun.Then you have the marathon walks to the gate, the dirty toilets, the bad coffee, the marathon walk to the other side of the airport when your gate gets re-assigned (It does. A lot.). The cramming your luggage in an overhead bin, settling down in a cramped airplane seat to discover your neighbor for the ride has a minor sweat problem, lost his deodorant ages ago, and wants to establish the new record for nose-poking. And the onboard entertainment system is broken. It does. A lot. So absolutely: I love being there, but I hate getting there. Beam me up, Scotty!

With the holiday season kicking in, I start dreaming about lonely beaches and deserted oceans shimmering under a lagoon-blue sky, listening to the happy chatter of a colourful Parrot. *deep sigh*. I found 11 Bluetooth tips on Mike’s blog for a wireless holiday, making life under the sun, at the beach or wherever you go a bit more comfortable

1. Prepare Carefully with TransSend
Many people enjoy the preparation of a trip just as much as the holiday itself. Once you have compiled the information you need for your vacation, upload all useful data phone numbers, addresses, points of interest to your mobile phone or pda directly from the internet using TransSend. This means no more lost print-outs and always the right data in any language or alphabet. Handy, and nature friendly!
2. Drive Safely
Driving to your holiday destination is not without risk: car trouble, traffic jams, roadworks and accidents make that you need to keep concentrated all the time. On top of that, most countries have enacted laws that forbid and penalize the use of a mobile phone while driving. Use a Bluetooth handsfree solution headset, carkit or aftermarket system to avoid accidents and fines.
3. Be a Clever Pedestrian
Paper maps in crowded places, remote areas and windy cities are not the best solution. Using a personal navigation device in combination with a Bluetooth enabled gps receiver, you will not only find your way hassle-free, but pick up interesting information at the same time.
4. Be Your Own DJ
A holiday needs a soundtrack. Make sure you have uploaded your favorite MP3s on your phone or MP3 player and don’t forget to pack your Bluetooth stereo headset or portable speaker. CDs and wired MP3 players are a thing of the past.
5. Be Streetwise
Nothing as annoying as losing stuff in strange places; or worse, your precious belongings getting stolen. So don’t flash that shiny mobile phone of yours in hotter areas. Better to make your calls with a discreet Bluetooth headset. That way you can stay in touch with friends and family at home in a smart and safe way.
6. ICE Your Phone
ICE stands for Information Contact Emergency: the numbers that you want to call if something has happened to you. Mark these contacts in your phone book by adding ICE to the names (ICE Doctor, ICE mom & dad, etc.) and voicetag these entries to easily activate calls with one push on your Bluetooth headset.
7. Do Something with All Those Pictures
Use your camera phone to capture the best memories of your holiday, but don’t leave them trapped on your phone. Instead, send them via Bluetooth technology instantly to friends, store them safely on your laptop and wireless photo frame, or print them immediately on that portable wireless photoprinter. Who needs cables to do all that? And impress your friends with a holiday slideshow on your tv, using a Bluetooth enabled multimedia viewer.
8. Keep in Touch
You will meet a bunch of interesting new people on holiday, but face it: all those names and numbers scribbled on napkins and coasters get lost all too easily. Put all your contact information in a .vcf card on your phone, beam it via Bluetooth technology to your holiday friends’ phones and ask them to do the same. Take a picture of your friend and add it to her or his .vcf card. If you synchronize your phone with your laptop, all your new contacts will be stored safely in your email contact database.
9. Keep the Kids Happy
Holiday is supposed to be fun but long drives and rain-soaked afternoons tend to be quite child-unfriendly. With their mobile phones connected through Bluetooth technology, they can have lots of fun playing games against each other. Or take along the Nintendo Wii, with its Bluetooth wireless controllers. Parents will be thankful for the distraction.
10. Be the Coolest
When you are on the beach, it is all about being the coolest. Sunglasses are indispensable, especially if they are equipped with Bluetooth wireless technology: play your music or stream your phone calls straight from your sleek shades. Besides, your Bluetooth watch will display text messages and tell you who’s calling.
11. Always Online
Anywhere you go, you’ll always find small internet cafés where you can send some quickly written web-based email. If you want to keep a real holiday diary or a travelblog, you really need to update regularly. Dial-up networking, with your phone as a portable modem transferring data to and from your laptop via Bluetooth technology, will get you online, where and whenever you want it.
Yep…. I know! Now give me a cocktail, not shaken, blue, and wireless….

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