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Geneva: New arena or renovating the old one? Did you like

Hiccups Ice

Touching array, April 28 at City Hall Piogre: magistrates and judges left, center and right of the City and Township, communion in the mandatory fervor that any politician does-Geneva was required with regard to the local hockey club. Contest genuflections ("you've exceeded all expectations and is a dream city and township" - Manuel Tornare Dixit), exercise individual and collective prostration blissful ("you've brought something magical in the city" - Charles Beer dixit), chorus of praise ("the course of the Eagles may be likened to a victory" - Remy Pagani dixit) ... after which, as we must get down to business, bulk promises: we will renovate the rink Vernets (who deserves it, such as merit, stage Frontenex), we'll give you another ice rink, more larger, more beautiful, more expensive and more empty, we will install at the Arena, or The Plan Wadding, or elsewhere, we do not know where, but regardless, we will pay. Each year. As for the stage of Praille. It will draw on public funds to build the thing, to maintain it, to administer it. We will pay for the rink, we will pay for the club, even if it communicates its budgets reluctantly and that its accounts are opaque. The President of the club Servette Hoykey Hugh Quennec, who wants an ice rink at least 10,000 seats, requires "guarantees and commitments" of the City, and threatens: "Without adequate infrastructure, the coach and I will our suitcases. " For Praille?

Comic repeat
Any crowned his defeat in the championship final, and all sanctified by the chorus of local politicians (one is a year of municipal elections, he should not expect anything other than Contest demagoguery we've been blessed), the Geneva-Servette Hockey Club wants money (it is deficit of three million and wants to VIP seats to balance his accounts) and a new skating rink, larger, more beautiful, more expensive ... and too bad if the city has already spent fifteen million to refurbish our old Vernets (where whispers still echo the "Gran Mitin" our English Communist zautorités had authorized the condition, illusory, and that Dolores Ibarruri Santiago Carrillo 's value it receives and quiet ...) Renewing the rink Vernets, then? either. Especially since we have already begun. But building a new arena, for example at the Arena, we replay the score as Mark Muller disastrous stage in the Praille does not change even the chorus ("it takes a showcase for the club"), substituting only the word "stage" with the word "ice"? The caution expressed by the sole or substantially Rémy Pagani required, and large effusions ritual past, it would be good if the "political" consent to operate their brains rather than their election calculators: one caller to the other the minimum cost of a new arena goes from simple (50 million) to triple (150 million), the last of idiots knowing that now, as the Praille at the end of the year, the actual cost of construction such large machines sporting reached double the cost originally announced that the invocation of public-private partnership and the promise of a "business plan" are just window dressing and as the sport (or whatever takes its place in speaker of the kind referred to Praille or proposed at the Arena or anywhere else) does not return the equipment it has acquired in his name, and that was paid by public authorities, it will Year after year, for half a century, closing holes and fill gaps. These helpful reminders, however, fall softly into the ears of the deaf volunteers blocked. "Today is to forget the divisiveness of the political world to hold the mass rally behind the team, "Geneva, hockey has started Manu. Well no, we will not forget the "divisiveness of politics," and if we are given power to maintain them, we will be talking. Because the "public gathering" also far more modest than his proclamation media, and especially more than fleeting impulses mixers enthusiasts monuments to the glory of professional sports, does not justify anything. And especially not until ten years apart, we sing the same song, we produce the same lies, to commit the same erreurs, camouflées par les mêmes bricolages et niées par le même aveuglement.

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The Elvis Gratton city are


You'd think all that Florida is the place in the world where there are most of Elvis Gratton square inch, due to the abundance of Quebec tourists.

You're wrong. One, the Elvisme Grattoni is not unique to average Quebecer. This is an evil striking the male testosterone all over the world. Two, if you think Florida takes the cake is that you never set foot on the side of Vang Vieng, Laos.

few years ago, Vang Vieng has become, because of the incredible location (behind the river that crosses the vile, there are huge karst formations, and this for miles), a must for backpackers from around the world. But because of the excessive influx of tourists, the city had lost little of his soul typical Laotian village to become a party town, or should I say bawdy, where meals which are added illegal substances (if you know what I mean) are the norm in restaurants in the city.

Every tourist crossing Laos met in its path at least another tourist who had only one thing about Laos: Vang Vieng is the city to fart face. "

course, anyone whose the sole objective is to fart face by visiting a country is a cool person, very cool. And this probably is the most fascinating in Vang Vieng: the high concentration of very cool people.

Being cool is a state of mind, a personality trait. Some do, some do not. But when you're cool, you do not need to force yourself to stay cool ... you're cool.

Except that's cool in Vang Vieng, due to the ubiquity of cool way, is not cool enough. He is insecure in its coolness. And what happens when cool trying to become a super-cool-chill-relax-yo-dude-fuck-man-wasted-wicked-top-double-mega-cool-for rechill-Reyo cooler than cool the other side of the street? It

s'attrique like a big settler who tries desperately to attract attention ... and he became an Elvis Gratton!

And Vang Vieng Tokyo is not exactly in terms of size, the cross Elvis is a relatively easy task ... in fact it is impossible not to see Elvis in action.

Australian cool being too common (usually one that emerges from the batch because of its abundance and similarity: small youngster of 19 who weighs 142 pounds wet, who rides his belly and arms works well apart torso as if he weighed 195 pounds of muscle and good balance this lack of muscle and hair ... unless it is a technique of ventilation to the armpits), I've prepared a top 7 of my favorite Elvis. For purposes of clarity, I tell you right away that I will not tell you that my belly were Tarzan in the street ... all are cool belly to VV.

- A large Indian 6'4 "which follows the approach of a robot which has bars pencil across the face.

- His Indian friend who had lots of stuff written in fluorescent pink on its chest , abdomen and back ... not had time to read the novel, but it seems clear that it was of Voltaire.

- Another nice Elvis loved the stuff on his upper body. But it has pushed the limits a little further. No pink pencil. Three big sticks paint "spray" on the same three body parts: one black, one white and orange. Purpose of the operation. Recreating the tiger's coat. Apparently the two girls have already told Le Matin that spray paint is excellent for the skin to breathe. Congratulations Tiger!

- A modern day ninja who took the decorations hanging from the cotton curtains of his hotel room (after a string two feet long with a cotton ball with little hair hanging at the end ... really ugly, by the way), which has transformed en "nunchaku" et qui les fait aller dans la rue... vraiment eu peur de ce dude.

- Deux génies en costumes de bain rose fluo ... longueur boxer, donc à la mi-cuisse. De style et de couleur très cauchemar années '80. Le tout accompagné de coupes de cheveux "bleachée" indescriptibles. Indescriptibles, mais surtout très laides. Tellement laides qu'à côté, le turbo Longueuil passe pour le nec plus ultra du bon goût, de la classe et de l'élégance. Sérieux, ceux-là, je pense qu'ils pensaient être cool, mais ils avaient l'air tellement fif que même les gars de Village People leur auraient dit non en entrevue.

- Monsieur rodéo. Généralement, quand on prend un tuk tuk, les passagers sont dans la cabine et les bagages sont sur le toit. Pas Monsieur rodéo. Lui, c'est le contraire, il est debout sur le top du véhicule, devant les bagages, et est aggripé à une corde attachée au devant de sa monture et qui crie après le chauffeur d'aller plus vite. Vraiment hilarant. J'en ai encore d'intenses douleurs à la rate...

- Mon top du top. L'homme aux trois dessous. Un boxer, un bermudas et un pantalon psychédélique aux 5757643495 couleurs et motifs. Un peu chaotique comme agencement? Pas vraiment parce que les trois sont placés de manière à ce que l'on voit bien la couture des trois dessous... très symétrique en plus et le pantalon is at the knees and he struggles to move forward. To top it off, earrings paper butterfly-shaped sunglasses and a coat hanger gossées obviously not white glass inside. And obviously too stoned at 11:30 AM to realize he had dropped his t-shirt 50 meters before.

... there was a chance the mountains!

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The mentally ill woman


Following the recommendation of two tourists in the bus to Vang Vieng Phonsavanh, the choice of hotel in Vang Vieng stopped at Garden Organic.

The location: near the river and the balcony of the room directly on the huge and majestic peaks characterize the karst region. The perfect setting. 50 000 kips for the room rate is excellent.

Everything seems perfect, except one thing ... staff do not seem very likeable. Instead, to make the visit of the room seems a chore for the owner's wife. Nah, nothing serious. And the owner himself? A close look stupid who does not smile and gives a hard time employees who work in the construction of new units. Nah, nothing too serious.

Except that there is no air between being a big beast that never smiles and knows hardly answers to your hello et devenir un fou furieux qui ferait passer pour un petit chaton tout inoffensif l'Enragé qu'est Michael Douglas dans le film du même nom... Malheureusement pour moi, le pas à franchir, ce débile à insérer dans une camisole de force l'a franchi avec ses grosses bottes sales pleines de boue. La victime de cette crise magistrale, moi... évidemment.

Après la quatrième nuit passée au Jardin Organique, il est temps de quitter les lieux pour se rendre à Vientiane, prochaine destination sur l'itinéraire.

Deux compagnons de voyage hollandais rencontrés à Phonsavanh et habitant au même hôtel me racontent qu'ils ont réussi à faire passer le prix de leur bungalow 80 000 to 65 000 kip the night ... while having promised the owners to stay three nights, pay for laundry and buy beers and other drinks ...

Not really intend to bring down the price of 15,000 kip the night, but if I'm able to bring down the price of 5,000 kip the night I'll be delighted. After all, bargaining is customary in Asia. Even in hotels and it even happened a few times to see me offer a discount for owners who never asked.

When out tickets, I asked the woman if she can lower the price of the bedroom, while insisting that they offered a discount on my compagnons hollandais. Je m'attendais à un oui ou à un non. Pas à un non suivi d'excuses débiles du genre: ils n'ont pas la télé et la climatisation (euh... moi non, plus). En Asie, le marchandage se fait généralement avec le sourire parce qu'il s'agit d'un jeu. Mais là, ce n'est pas un jeu du tout. La femme au sourire bien enfoncé entre ses deux fesses crie non, non, non à tue-tête, gesticulant et ayant l'air de plus en plus bête à chaque seconde. C'est beau, c'est non, j'ai compris. Pas besoin de me faire votre plus belle imitation de Godzilla.

Je tends les billets. Maintenant, c'est combien pour les deux yaourts et les biscuits? 22 000 kips, comme d'habitude. No. 26 000 kips. 26 000 WTF? 12 000 to 10 000 for cookies and yogurt? No, 14 000 for yoghurt? WTF? This is the third morning online I buy yogurt at 5000 kip ... 7000 kips why this morning? In addition to having the good humor of a 45 gallons of cow crap, try you make me swallow that inflation has increased by 40% the price of yogurt in the past 24 hours.

Madam, yoghurts are 5000 kips around town. No, no, no, it is 7000 kips.

Ok, crazy big. I'll just go buy my food elsewhere. I take the yogurt and leave it in the fridge. And I take the cookies and throws them on the shelf. Fatal error on my part, because this is when the Hulk comes into the fray.

Hulks starts to bawl me in Laotian and banging on the freezer next to the reception. One, two, trrrrrois .... as the fight ... The fuse blows to the freezer while the insults fly.

-Easy tiger ... it calms down. Give me my receipt for the room and I'll fouttre camp to the PC.

The chorus continues. As the woman tells me I'm the worst client on earth (his arguments are a little blurry, I could not in detail), Not So Easy Tiger takes his guest book and shouted: "How Many Nights, how Many Nights?? "

- Euh, quatre, monsieur, dis-je en commençant à élever la voix.

- No good. People stay here one month and don't ask for discount (à voir comment vous réagissez quand on vous demande un rabais, on se demande bien pourquoi les gens ne demandent pas de rabais... et en passant, monsieur, vous avez un peu d'écume sur le bord de la bouche)

C'est beau dude, pas de rabais. Mais la colère du tigre se poursuit. Après avoir lancé son cahier sur le livre, Hulk prend deux bouteilles de bière pleines et fait semblant de me les lancer par la tête. Une, deux, trrrois... Quel calisse de fêlé!

Je n'ai aucune idée si le gars va vraiment me lancer les bouteilles, but I lower my head. I'm getting the dog. I recoil. The more I declined, the more advance with two bottles in hand. It refeinte to launch new bottles. I step back again ... it goes eventually start one.

The woman does not know where to turn. At the same time she tries to calm her husband, she yells at me that I should be ashamed of throwing the cookies on the shelf because the Laotians never do that ...

Am I so stupid. Total lack of civility on my part. It's not nice to throw biscuits on a shelf, it's better to yell at a customer and try to throw bottles of beer per head ... Calisse of thick, Do you really want to reassess your ladder that stuff serious vs. not serious while your husband still has two bottles of beer in their hands?

giant green bottles deposited in the box and starts typing on the freezer, crying because I did not want to buy bus tickets, preferring to do in town with a nice lady (the lady was selling simply its tickets cheaper than Hulk and when I told him I would buy the ticket if I sold it the same price as the lady, he had panicked). Now he is pissed off because of the tickets. Dude, it's called capitalism and consumer choice. No problem that you sell your tickets more expensive than elsewhere, I'll just shop elsewhere. But that Not So Easy Tiger did not like it. He mouth, jaws, mouth.

And he advanced towards me. He pushed me with both hands. I even bitch. The guy is a bit too violent for me. My bank is zero patience. I cry in my lap: "touch me again just for me, big cellar, which I call the police. Touch me one more time just to see."

The guy raises his fists like a boxer. His wife yells to dissuade him from hitting one of his clients. I stay in front of him. The guy down the arms after a few seconds (I see his cell common sense just woke up in his brain), retreat behind the counter and continues to bawl me out in Lao.

I am beside myself. I continue to challenge the mentally ill. "Big thick Envoy, hit me, hit me just once. I would see that." The script was already in my head: a bruise on my face and that the complaint to the police and the Embassy of Canada.

I leave the scene. My "fuck you ass hole!" is felt very powerful and very deep. Hers too. But I do not care. The important thing is that the mentally ill do not bite me ... after all, I am animal vaccinated against rabies, but I do not think the vaccine is potent enough to counteract the bites of the mental patient.

PS: Ideally, you would avoid this story and you will never give your money to the two madmen Organic Garden in Vang Vieng. Friendly advice.

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The empty

The tuk tuk leaves the terminal dusty Nong Kiaw. Eight tourists piled on the seat left and eight on the bench right. Not a free place and bags around the driveway. Four hours of very interesting perspectives for the journey towards Luang Prabang.

few minutes after our departure, the driver stops his tuk tuk to raise a family Laotian, father, mother, young son and le bébé naissant. Le père scrute les lieux... même s'il n'y a pas de place pour la famille, il fait signe aux autres de monter.

Sans hésiter, le femme fonce vers le fond du compartiment pour aller s'accroupir sur le plancher de tôle, bien accotée contre la fenêtre arrière du véhicule.

Quelque chose cloche avec cette femme. Beau temps, mauvais temps, grande ou petite, riche ou pauvre, à pied ou à vélo, au travail, au repos ou dans les loisirs, les femmes laotiennes sourient en toutes circonstances.

Pas elle. En entrant, son visage fixait le plancher pour aller s'écraser dans son recoin inconfortable. Pas l'ombre d'une émotion ne traverse his face and eyes. Emptiness, absnce, total nothingness.

Other women, young mothers like herself and old peasant, poor and poorer, are jumping on board during the trip. No space for them NONS more. Despite the unenviable position, life and joy emanating from their eyes. But not in the woman's empty.

A simple matter of fatigue, perhaps? After all, the woman has a baby on his neck which requires milk to a staggering rutyme. No, it's more than just fatigue.

Even when he was offered, with insistence, to take place on the bench, she refused, preferring to remain at the bottom of the cab. As if she would steal something from someone. Even when she refused multiple offers, she does not even shaking his head. It's just if the head moves back and down his chin. As if she was afraid to upset or offend someone.

When you offer him some food, it restores the offrance his oldest son. As if she did not deserve those calories.

A tourist takes out his iPod and a listener tends to oldest. Curious, but also scared and hesitant, the son ends up being tempted. The tourist places the listener in his right ear. A beautiful gesture of sharing. The session of music and dance (the dance for tourists who bring some joy in the life of the toddler) lasts 10 minutes. The woman looks at the entire scene. For a split second at the very beginning, we almost felt an ounce of light and joy in her eyes. But this semblance of an ounce of emotion sells quickly, the woman falls into limbo.

No, not that tired. Widespread fear of taking anything. As if she deserved nothing. Women must be 30 years, but it seems 55. As if his life belonged to him several years ago. A life sacrificed. A look at 10 000 suffering.

The sky clouds over, the storm arrives. We descend the paintings on the side of the tuk tuk to stay dry. The Curtain fell, the light is scarce inside the vehicle. The woman is still sitting on the floor plate. Sitting on the benches, our faces are still light. But the woman's face, hidden in the floor well, he is well in the shade. In the shadows ... a little picture of his life. The woman seems to be even smaller. His gaze is fixed. She looks outside. Its position, the only thing she can see outside is the rain that falls. I think she watches the rain instead of fixing a gap of some sort.

Every time our eyes met, hers is landing on the floor in two, three movements. Fatigue weighing on his eyelids while the rain continues to descend on the outside. Always, every time she closes her eyes, the latter rouvent three seconds later to return to infinite void. She refused the right to rest his eyes for a few moments. Sleeping lady. Escape. Dream for a moment that your life is no more than an endless sacrifices.

No picture of this lady in the tuk tuk. The least we can do is give him what little dignity he has left. And anyway, I did not need a photo to remind me that look to the 10 000 punishment. These empty eyes are etched in my memory forever. I marked for life by these two almond-shaped eyes. The tuk tuk

reaches its destination. The woman exited the vehicle, the baby in one arm, a basket in the other. Her husband does not help.

The woman's shoulders curve forward, an infant in one arm, a basket in the other, the oldest hanging on the back of her skirt. It departs from the terminus dusty ... slowly but surely moving towards the next step of the way of the cross of life ...

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Sparrows modern


I've seen several young monks in Laos, especially at 5:30 AM on the streets of Luang Prabang, when these young students dress Orange wandered into town accepting the offerings of passersby on the sidewalk before returning to the temples to explore. Ritual

very interesting and enlightening the lives of these young people, despite Time cocks.

But I had never met the young monk in his working environment, study, prayer ... what I did for the first time at Wat Muang Ngoi Okat in the village of Muang Mgoi Neua in northern Laos.

We are entering a building adjacent to the temple. Five monks are about 12-14 years sitting on floor cushions. I can already imagine studying the writings of Descartes, Marco Polo, Einstein, Michel Louvain ...

Oops! No! Not really! These future Dalai Lama are rather playing cards and smoking a cigarette ... Welcome

the 21st century!

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the stage of Praille? You'll love the Sports Centre Plan-les-Ouates!

Le déclassement de 58 hectares du secteur dit « Les Cherpines – les Charrotons » dans la Plaine de l’Aire, sur les communes de Confignon et Plan-les-Ouates, a été accepté la semaine dernière par la Commission parlkementaire cantonale de l'aménagement, contre l'opposition de l'UDC et des Verts, les socialistes étant divisés (pas opposés au déclassement en principe, mais très critiques sur le projet qu'il rend possible). Le Grand Conseil devra encore se prononcer, mais à vue de nez, et sans prendre trop de risques, une majority is ready to vote this derating required to achieve, between the Aire, Base Road and Highway Bypass, a project with, theoretically, 2000 homes, but also a proposed sports center (about plan- les-Ouates) gathering all sports imaginable. To believe that the disastrous experience of the stage Praille learned nothing concrete to fetishists excuse to "play".

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The Committee of the Grand Council gave the green light to the first decommissioning Cherpin and Charrottons, the Grand Council should follow, but without that we know exactly what will grow vegetables on the land instead of the chard, and what will replace the local agriculture that has settled. It is known that the common Plan-Les-Wadding (that is to say its political majority) wants to implement a fitness center complete with a Maousse rink, football and rugby, shooting areas archery and horse riding etc. ... topped with restaurants, a hotel, shops, offices and parking Certainly, it is also planned to establish in this area from 2000 to 3000 homes, and public services (schools, etc.), but the whole package, and his artistic tying, can only recall to our memory a similar exercise at the Praille. With financial consequences which logically should be the same: engaging communities in public funding of a project oversized endless. Urbanized area of north-east of the highway bypass is one thing. The urbanized anyway, especially without real reflection on the consequences in terms of traffic, is another. The space lends itself perfectly relevant to the creation of a true eco-district, including agricultural plots, taking up projects in contention spaces and public services they offer, but being careful not to repeat in Plan-Les-Ouates errors, to use a term conservative, committed to Praille-but never acknowledged by those who not only have committed, but were imposed on the population. To counter this risk, a referendum committee was set up: * it should act upon the vote of the bill for decommissioning. Soon enough, hopefully, for the emergence of a cons-project meeting him at the real needs and that prevents public authorities from having to pay for decades the consequences of an error all the less forgivable that it would be a relapse into the blindness voluntary. *
http://www.plainedelaire.ch/

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Go see Ho Chi Minh ... as kindergarten

Go see the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, former chief of state and heroes of the liberation from colonial rule in Vietnam, is a must. Technically, nothing in life is a must. But pay a visit to the remains of a man who means so much to the people of this country is somehow part of the pilgrimage compelled to Hanoi.

Who said Ho Chi Minh said communism and politics. Who said communism and political order says, authority and honesty. In

one month in Vietnam, I had not really been in contact with public authorities, politicians, communists. But when you visit the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, you fall right into it, face first.

Here is the order and rectitude to their extreme. Not a hair over, not a step out of the row. Here, regulations are implemented and enforced, not interpreted. Otherwise, the whip reaches the speed of lightning.

The funniest (and I think that's what fascinates me most communist countries) is that in the street, in everyday life is a little mess and chaos : pedestrians crossing the street everywhere except at traffic lights, motorcycles that run in reverse and beyond in places prohibited, motorcycles and cars that are parked on the sidewalk, horns endlessly. In short, all those little things that make you love Asia and we would spend our lives.

Oops, you move away a little ... So back to HCM.

The moment an hour, I fell in childhood ... when making trips to the small school with Theresa, the lady "Fatic" that would not stop crying when you did something that was not his business. At the mausoleum of Theresa Fatic, there at least 75. It's the little gentleman in formal clothes.

front of the mausoleum, there is a huge grass pitch (like 10 football fields). Everywhere there are signs "Keep off grass". As the lawn is crisscrossed with a network of paved strips, the normal reflex is to say: do not walk on the lawn to walk on paved strips.

Fatal Error! Approximately four seconds after committing this crime against humanity to have set foot inside the grass pitch (on tapes), three whistles are going the tut, tut, tut! And three pairs of arms stir panic to tell me to get out of there as fast as possible ... a little swat and arrived by helicopter to shoot me.

- Yes, but I do not walk on grass
- Tut!
- Yes, but it says not to walk on the grass, but not on the tapes.
- Tut!
- Yes, but ...
- Tut!
_ Yes, but if you do not want people walking on the lawn, why you do not put a fence?

Editor's note: Here, Sven did not understand. Logic suggests that a rule closing the thorny issue of right of way "holy grass". But with a fence, six persons deprived of a job filled with challenges and overcoming personal. Make tut! with a whistle and protect a piece of turf.

After walking 10 minutes to walk around the lawn, it's time to queue outside. I respect the rules: long pants, no jacket, no camera, no mobile phone, hands out of pockets. But another whistle go to the tut, tut, tut! This time the crime is even worse. Not 100% in range, the shoulder is a little beyond those of perosnnes front (like 8 inches too much on the right). Lese-majeste! We execute, we enter the rank, the little man is happy.

The group enters the building that houses the remains of HCM. I begin to paranoia je veux être bien sûr de respecter les règles. Les gardes en blanc sont les gardes suprêmes et prennent leur rôle très au sérieux. Je fais particulièrement attention à mes mains... surtout pas dans les poches.

Soudain, Thérèse Nguyen sort le bras et pointe mes mains. Quoi, mes mains? Ah zut, elles sont derrière mon dos. Chez HCM, les mains doivent être sur le côté. Three strike, you're out! Mais ou avais-je la tête? Je suis d'une indiscipline parfois...

C'est donc les mains vissées sur le côté que j'entre dans la salle principale. La salle fait environ 7 mètres sur 7. Il y a 7 gardes dans la salle: quatre aux quatre coins du cerceuil and three on the platform of visitors. Between a Vietnamese and a white, who do you think is more scrutinized by Theresa? Le Blanc, of course. The guards have eyes only for the white man who does not work fast enough in the eyes of Theresa. Faster ... although I'm about four feet behind the visitors in front of me. Fourth sin.

Uncle Chi, sorry for all these blunders. I would not be such a bad student. I so wanted a no-fault. Forgive me for being a habitual criminal. After

as sin, I go outside. Dozens of people are taking pictures of the street outside the building. The street is a wide boulevard of at least six lanes. I am very careful not to put myself between photographers and groups ... I had enough trouble this morning.

But never mind, I made retututer! For the 5th time. The guard is not happy, arms waved. Fuck me you silly? Hands on the side, there is no line, so no need to walk behind everybody, I do not walk on grass, I walk the same speed as everyone else.

Therese me tip the sidewalk. Must walk on the sidewalk.

- But there are dozens of people on the street. Why me, I must be on the sidewalk?
- Tut! tut! tut!

Yeah, I understood, tut, tut, tut!

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Become a master in the art of saying no


Sorry for those who do not like statistics, I recidivism figures today. And figures on the solicitation to buy in the streets of Vietnam.

Without saying that the stress is unbearable, just say it is pervasive and constant ... and that "No thank you" said with the most beautiful smile at 8:00 AM can become a little less polished 12 hours later when you've spent the day saying no to every turn.

Again, to give you the most accurate statistics on the phenomenon, I risked my life on the streets of Hanoi. Challenge of the day, count the number of times I have been asked to buy something between 8:00 and 21:00, or for 13 hours. Let's go in descending order.

158: number of times I was asked by the driver of a motorcycle to go to walk with him.

107: number of times I was asked by the cyclo drivers to board (driver pedals behind while the customer is seated at a kind of half-carriage.

83: number of times a vendor wanted to sell me food.

52: number of times wanted sell me any unnecessary Cossin cursed that I did not need (Lonely Planet false, playing cards, lighters, fans, hats, t-shirt, giant inflated balloons for children - with the kind face of Hello Kitty ... that's my favorite ... I you really look like someone who has something to squeal with a ball Hello Kitty?)

40: number of times we wanted me into some business (restaurants, bars, souvenirs, massage, etc.).

8: Number of times I've been asked to polish what I had in my feet ... Then I wore flip-flops (just to see the guys try to wax a strip of plastic about an inch wide, I think I should have said yes).

448 times. In 13 hours, almost 35 times per hour ... about once every two minutes.

Number of times I said no: 448! A perfect score! As Rodger would say, pow! what season.

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A yellow card for football-cash?

"No Sweat at football World Cups"

The Work Swiss Labour Assistance ( SLA) yesterday launched a petition "Hor $ game - A yellow card for Sepp Blatter! . * Requires the petition to the International Federation of Football-dough (FIFA) that is actively against exploitation and to respect human rights during the World Cup football. FIFA should impose the sponsors and construction firms and other stages equipment induced by the global football and they pay them living wages and respect for core labor standards. Countries and companies that are unwilling to meet these conditions should no longer be able to organize the World Cup or take on work in connection therewith. And after the circus, once the parties TVs, FIFA fans and stuffed décuités, the local populace returns to normal operation?

* The petition may be signed on
www.horsjeu-afriquedusud.ch/

Panem et circenses

To the next World Cup football in South Africa, FIFA has nothing left to chance. It governs everything from the height of grass on the diagonal screen for regulatory public broadcasts. This allows control of every detail to FIFA to ensure a benefit under two billion Swiss francs. FIFA leaves nothing to chance. Nothing that could fetch at least. Because it would, in the words of its president, Sepp Blatter of Switzerland, powerless to enforce labor rights and human rights. But "the World Cup will benefit unfortunately not everyone. South Africa has invested 4.5 billion francs for the World. These massive investments have, however, brought nothing to the 20 million poor people in South Africa. 43% of the population will therefore offside, "says the president of the Swiss Labour Assistance, Hans-Jürg Fehr, who continues:" The workers have built stadiums for low wages and poor neighborhoods have been shaved for reasons of image. The new houses promised to the people displaced were not built for lack of money. " Whatever she may say, as an organizer of the World Cup, FIFA has the opportunity to put pressure on agents and impose conditions on the social level. The SLA therefore requires respect for human rights at events organized by FIFA - a requirement all the more essential that the next World Cup will take place in Brazil. The requirements of the SLA are simple:
. Fair working conditions for construction workers and other employees
• The slums should be demolished.
• No muzzle for accredited journalists.
"Countries and companies that violate human rights and practice exploitation should not be allowed in future, to organize World Cup or take on work in connection with it, "says Hans-Jürg Fehr. It should probably translate this sentence in the conditional, but it should also say, write, know that we are still a few and some have not been totally brainless by the recurrence of the old precept, "Give the mob's bread and circuses, she fuck peace. "