From authors J Edward Neill and H.R. Reiter…
A tiny softcover tome stuffed full of heart-rending poetry…
I have designed a “sustainability flag”. The rainbow symbolizes the diversity of the entire world regardless of, race, religious beliefs, nationalities, political standpoints, gender, and sexual orientation. We are all connected to the same planet, and hopefully everybody wants earth to be habitable for generations to come.
The colors of the rainbow resemble the colors in the 17 UN sustainable development goals, the SDG’s. The mirrored E’s are Earth, and stand for Equality, Environment, Eco-friendly, Energy, circular Economy. The green E is land and forest, the blue E water and air. There are 17 stars in the flag, which resembles the 17 UN SDG’s and the lone star in the upper right corner is my guiding star, the 17th UN goal, and it is supposed to tie everything together, in knowledge-sharing and good governance named Partnership for the goals.
The journey Begins, firing up the Iron horse.
I can’t find the words to describe how it feels to fire up a motorcycle, jump on it, and twist the handlebar. If you haven’t tried it yet, I can only say the famous words “just do it”. The feeling of ramming toward an unknown horizon on a distant highway with a 1480cc 110HP twin engine pounding underneath you is exhilarating.
Pura vida is what comes to mind, not much in life beats that feeling. Now stop don’t give me the “giving birth and seeing your child for the first time” cliché, then you surely haven’t tried it. I have on the other hand done the seeing thing, but fair enough not the giving thing. Anyway, back to what really matters!
Yesterday was the first real day of my journey, me alone on a bike driving into the unknown, with the hot wind blasting against my skin, my nostrils filled with the smell of fresh cut grass mixed with a scent of manure , coming from the thousands of cattle, greasing alongside the road in the Uruguayan country side, I find myself almost alone out here, cars are far and in between, the same with the shattered villages I pass by. I am filled with sense of utterly freedom, And I scream it out but nobody listens , I don’t know if it’s my Viking blood that boils within me, or maybe I am just a curious gypsy, a nomad that become alive when facing adventures ahead.
I got a tattoo on my shoulder, it’s a Rune meaning “look into the horizon with an open mind, and hereby experience expanded consciousness” it really sums it up for me, always be curious and humble in you quest for knowledge, and never stop looking, never stop trying to better yourself, through the perspective of strangers. you will find is an abundant well of wisdom.
The good the bad(surprise) and the Ugly
The Good, I got my bike through customs quite painlessly, it took some time in the cargo warehouse at the airport, 2 hours to be precise, but it was really hassle free, the shipping agent and the customs handlers was extremely helpful. The shipping agent Oliver drove me to the airport, he helped me pick up some gas on the way, since the MC was drained, it would have been hazardous flying it here with a full tank of gas, he even paid for the gas at the service station, which by the way all have full service in Uruguay.
I find it kind of cool, since being a gas service station helper was my first job, literally 4 decades or more ago. People waiting fir their own shipments at the cargo warehouse, was very curious about the Harley and a bunch jumped in to help to unpack it.
The bad (surprise), when i unpacked the MC I realized that both tires were flat, especially the front tier was totally without air, i tell you a HD Softail heritage classic is VERY heavy on flat tires, impossible to push alone. I was wondering if it was something the shipping company in Miami would have done, to be able to fit the bike in the case, or maybe it was the change in pressure in the cargo room of the plane that had coursed it to lose all air?
On top of that the battery had died, when I turned the ignition key there was not a single spark, I was afraid the battery had gone bad, but then again it was brand new, and a good quality Lithium battery. Once more the wonderful Uruguayan people jumped in to help, I didn’t even ask for help, they realized the problems I was facing, and without asking they found jumper cables, together we got the bike charged and started up, but of course I couldn’t drive it anywhere on flats, without totally destroying the brand new tiers.
The resourceful truckdrivers arranged for a makeshift build wood ramp, that enabled me to slowly drive my bike up and into a van, luckily there was a side door that could slide open, remember I couldn’t turn off the bike, because the battery was dead, I had to let the engine run to power up the battery again. Here I was sitting on my Harley in the back of a van with the engine running, looking out of the sliding door gasping for fresh air, while hoping the driver didn’t drive to fast or hit a bad bump on the way to the gas station, I had a firm grip on the handlebar front break and both legs planted firmly on floor of the van, trying not to tilt.
We arrived safely to the gas station and wit a little muzzle and wriggle, got the HD out of the back of the van without anybody or anything got damaged. after that it was just a matter of pumping up the tiers, and off I went, of course not before I had given a huge thanks to the driver and shipping agent for helping out.
And the Ugly, Cheap perfume, my senses was challenged beyond, it’s everywhere in Montevideo the cheap chemically stinking perfume, the first experience with it was in the taxi from the airport, that’s not really a surprise, most taxi drivers now a days take baths in horrible cheap perfume, and that’s everywhere I guess.
When I arrived at the hostel and walked in to my private room, it hit me again this time thousand fold, the entire room stunk in the most nauseating manner, I couldn’t escape from it, the sheets were clean, but it must have been washed the cheapest possible detergent. I decided to unpack my sleeping bag and put some of my dirty laundry on top of the pillow, crawled into my sleeping bag and indulged with pleasure my head into my sweaty T-shirt.
I woke up with a pounding headache, and eyes I could hardly open. The stink evaporated from my room, after a full day and night with all windows open, but I never escaped the smell, everywhere I went it stuck to me, or that was the feeling I had anyways, because it was literally everywhere, the hand soap on the bathrooms, walking the damn streets, first I was wondering if it was a scent from the abundance of street trees , but I realized it wasn’t, it came seeping out from every house and store.
I don’t know if you can imagine how liberating it was to hit the highway and take in the fresh smell of grass and manure.
This is the first entry in a new series of blogs from writer, rider, and environmentalist explorer, Michael Kristensen. He’s a native Dane riding through South America, exploring opportunities and cultural challenges to sustainable environmental practices.
His Facebook page is here.
The original blog appears here.
Every week (possibly more often) Michael will be riding through South America, remarking on his experiences, and blogging at length. We at Tessera Guild will follow him every step of the way. This week marks the very beginning of his journey, and some early challenges to his adventure, which will begin in Argentina.
Please note: these blog entries are direct from Michael. No editing. No proofing. As raw as any blog you’ll see.
Without further ado…
Sustainability Tour – Part 1 – ‘Riders with the Storm’
Sustainability, climate change and circular economy, it’s all about sharing. Sharing the resources in every sense of the word, sharing space, and sharing knowledge.
I have decided to drive my motorcycle, from Argentina all the way north through most of South America and parts of Central America.
The purpose of the trip is to find and report, about climate change and sustainability projects from the continent.
I hereby hope to help and inspire people around the world. I wish to motivate them to start their own projects or pass on the knowledge I collect and report about.
I want to pass on knowledge from person to person, company to company and Municipality to Municipality. knowledge that will change the way we think and act when creating more sustainable solutions.
The tour will start in Buenos Aires Argentina November 2019, I will blog and promote all good eco initiatives on my way north, but I need your help to be able to find these projects throughout the region.
Please if you know about people or places, I shall visit let me know, write me and email and connect me with the relevant persons.
I will also do speeches at schools or other interested institutions about climate change and the possible solutions.
It’s important for me to say I don’t do this for self-promotion, I do this because I want to try to make a difference, and help spreading the word. I am so far self-funded, my plan is to look for funding, help with this will be hugely appreciated.
Sponsors so far: www.servicehuset.dk https://www.borgbigum.com
The tour will start in Montevideo Uruguay where I fly in Nov. 8 then I will take the ferry to Buenos Aires Argentina approximately November 12 and will travel as below:
Argentina 12-24 Nov.
Uruguay 25-nov-11 Dec.
Brazil 12 Dec-2 Jan. 2020
Paraguay 3 Jan -11 Jan.
Chile 11 Jan-18 Jan.
Peru 19 Jan-3 Feb.
Bolivia 3-11. Feb
Ecuador 12-19 Feb
Columbia 20 Feb-2 Marts
Panama 3-9 March
Costa Rica 10-17 March
Nicaragua 18-24 March
El Salvador 25-30 March
Honduras 31 March-4 April
Guatemala 5 April -18 April, and end in Belize approximately Ultimo April 2020 if any of you have any relevant contacts in any of these great nations please let me know
(the dates above are approximately dates and are subject to change)
Limbo in Montevideo Uruguay
I am at the moment stuck in Montevideo waiting to get my Harley released from customs. Arriving on a Friday was not the best choice, and information is sparse from the shipping company. I guess I must be patient and accept I have arrived in Latin America where most things are Manana, so I will relax and prepare for the trip ahead.
The Good the Bad(surprising) and the Ugly
The theme of my tour will revolve around the old spaghetti western The Good the Bad and the Ugly, meaning that I will find a good a bad or surprising and an ugly experience or project and write about it in more detail. My journey is mostly a lonely one, one man on his iron horse meeting all kinds of obstacles.
My first experiences noted as this:
• The good, Uruguay is a very organized and friendly country, weather this time of year is a perfect 25C 77F in the daytime and 18C 64F at nighttime. The country is very energy efficiently oriented, currently an astonishing 97% comes from alternative energy sources, such as Hydropower (60%), wind/solar power and Biofuel.
Just 10 years ago Uruguay was heavily depending on energy from the neighboring countries Argentina and Brazil (60% imports), now they have a surplus of energy and export to their neighbors. Mind you this has been done in less than 10 years without government subsidies.
Uruguay is also one of the most electrified countries in the hemisphere with a coverage of 99.4 % of all homes. The country it totally independent of fossil fueled produced energy. Their conversion to alternative energy allows Uruguay to use wind energy for base power and hydroelectric to meet peak demands.
Practically this mean that the country keeps hydroelectric reservoirs at near-maximum capacity. When needed, the reservoirs could be opened with as little as 15 minutes’ notice to meet additional demand. (export.gov)(Wikipedia)
- The bad, (surprise) there are not a lot of ecofriendly or green restaurants in the capital, as most of you probably know Uruguayans are a meat eating nation, and it shows when it comes to find vegan and vegetarian alternatives, they are sparse to say the least. The capital is also very silent, compared to other Latin American cities, the secondary roads are almost empty at all times of the day, it fells like walking in a ghost town if you walk away from the main traffic arteries. almost every building has iron bars and barbwire attached as security even-though the city has a very low crime rate in comparison to most of Latin America.
There are lots of vacant ground level stores, and the price level in the city reflex in the high living standard.
Beer prices will be my comparison tool along the way, in Montevideo a beer at a bar costs, Domestic 0.5 l (which is great) is 2,5$ and an import 0.33 l approximately 3$.
• The Ugly, Sorry Miami but once more you show your ugly crook face, the shipping company TOP Cargo based in Miami, gave me a quote for shipping my bike 3 months ago. Originally i wanted to ship it by boat, since that of course it the cheapest way to ship a bike from Florida to South America. I started 6 months ago asking for estimates, trying to be in good time, I got a quote of 1500$ and told them that I needed the bike in either Buenos Aries or Uruguay by no later than Nov. 10th.
Communicating with them was like pulling nose hair, they asked for the same paperwork over and over, copies of passport driver license and more, i must have send 10 copies to them of each document. Apparently, they don’t know how to scroll down the email correspondence! I was trying to get a date for the shipment for weeks and weeks, then suddenly I get notified that it’s too late to ship it by boat. WAUW really guys, they were kind enough to give me a quote for shipping the bike by air, which of course is way more expensive.
Now I had to pay 3000$, I had the choice to postpone my trip a month having to reevaluate my itinerary missing out on a couple of places, or pay up, I chose to pay for airfare. But that of course was not the end of their crooked behavior, they picked up the bike and took it to their warehouse a week before it was shipping out, I was ok with that and it meant that they had time to build a transportation case, as per estimate.
I am told to come to Montevideo the day after the bike was shipped out which was Nov. 7. I arrived in Montevideo Friday morning and went directly to the shipping agent here, they were very welcoming and we did the necessary paperwork with them, company name is Wave Logistic and so far seem very professional, (still don’t know when i get my bike released though)
Now that my bike is in the air i get an invoice from TOP Cargo that had increased with a 1000$ now I all the sudden have to pay 4000$ in total. I get at them and ask them why , their response was that my bike is an oversized motorcycle, and cost more to transport, they have hade the make and model and VIN number for 4 months, well knowing it is a Harley Davidson Softail heritage, which is a quite normal size HD.
Their threat to me now is that they won’t release the bike from customs before I pay up, so they hold my bike hostage so to speak. I got very upset and have been fighting them all weekend. end-result is that they offer me a DISCOUNT of 400$, which of course is not a discount but a raise in price according to their estimate. I ended up paying them because the cost of storage at the airport would cost me every day it was delayed by my missing payment. Hopefully I will have my HD in my possession tomorrow Tuesday.
The Forever Man
I knew a man without a name.
He walked the streets of everywhere.
At dawn, at twilight, and later
his soles unpolished pattered on roads,
under eaves rotten with neglect,
beyond gates silver and gold.
He knew my name
but his, I only guessed.
The people in whose shadow
looked upon him in dismay,
the children with wonder,
and the world-weary with aching delight.
The lamps, whose lights fluttered in his passing
told not whether he smiled
or whether his face was many
or only one.
Everywhere, I saw him.
On ships, walking the prow.
In church, standing silent
as the poor bent a knee beside kings.
Strolling beside farmers’ ploughs.
Waving his pallid fingers
Everywhere, I saw him.
‘Neath his hat, beaded by rain,
stirred no worldly gaze.
His strides, measured always
to match his chosen ward.
His shoulders, heavy with a timeless suit
made of shadow,
looked the same to me
whether in sunlight
or gilded by the moon.
One day, I came to him.
Was it a fever I had?
Or exhaustion in my bones?
Or had I struck the first of many nails?
I could not remember.
I spoke to him,
And he told me,
“Today is not your day.
“Look for me no longer.
“And find me later than you expect.”
J Edward Neill
Find more words here.
Alex O’Riley has always tried not to fit in. In his simple life, at his tiny Savannah house, he paints quiet masterpieces while living as a hermit.
But with one phone call from a brash New York lawyer, Alex learns he’s inherited Castle Carrick, the grandest castle in all of Northern Ireland.
And while at Carrick, strange and dark events begin to swirl ever closer to him, turning his hoped-for quiet life inside out.
Now he must decide: flee from Ireland and give up his inheritance…or embrace the dark power which compels him to paint wondrous, yet terrifying things.
The Fall of Castle Carrick, a tumultuous, suspenseful novel about an artist and the dark powers wreaking havoc upon his soul.
The Fall of Castle Carrick
Coming (very) soon…
cloaks the heads of fallen kings.
And there I walk, on silent streets
over broken bridges
through the dark capillaries
of yesteryear’s fall.
With ashes, the towers weep
carpeting black the castle floors.
Their sacrificial fires, a century extinguished
but still they smoke
from glass eyes and stone-toothed mouths.
No one is here, save me.
Were they ever?
Ten grains of burning sand
on the fathomless shore of infinity
was the kingdom of man.
Three ticks of eternity’s clock
did we reign.
All that remains is me
straggling through grey fields
beneath crumbling battlements
crunching forgotten bones
under the last boots I will ever wear.
It was never my place
to ask why
Nor have I the desire, nor means
to dig answers from the dust
from the sunless sky
from the dwelling crypts of billions
whose laughter has gone.
No one is here, save me.
Were they ever?
J Edward Neill
More words here
Down the Dark Path
A four-book fantasy series.
When a young woman leaves home in search of a better life, she plunges into a world-ending war. The deeper she falls, the more she senses dark powers rising within her, and the more she realizes she is not so different than the enemy.
For a free preview, go here.
To start reading right now, click the cover:
Here, I sit dreaming
by the quiet glass
through which everything has shined
dark and light
gilded sun and hungry shadow
all of them, gifts
strumming the webs of thought
in my tired mind.
At dawn, I search the panes
for signs of yestereve
for changes in the night
for perhaps the world had broken
as I slept.
But none, are there,
none in the glass
though many in me.
At dusk, I press my nose
against the highest window
hunting the gloam
for haunts yet to wake
for all things nocturnal
who must surely do the same
and search for me
even as I lie dreaming.
And at night, ere the witching
I am most alone
scrawling by candle
inking the world’s walls
with things that never were.
It’s then, just then
I wake from long, black halls,
and see my face, the lights in my eyes
the shadow of my cheek
staring back at me from the place beyond my door.
I fear you none.
For though you give chase across time, across ages,
through valleys blackened by pain
and pastures greened with hope,
the labor is solely yours.
You know my name, but yours will go unsaid,
until the moment of leaving, at whose gates I will no longer care.
For though I might gaze across years, across oceans,
toward a horizon whose distance I will know only once,
you cannot touch me until then.
And so I fear you none.
Strip away the leaves of others, take them as you must.
Peel dry the orchard in which I live, whether summer sapling or wintered oak,
whether friend or foe, whether loved or despised.
I care not.
For they are mine forever, and yours but once.
And whence they come to you, wordless and unchangeable,
they are immortal to me.
In spirit indomitable.
In memory indestructible.
So take them. I care not.
Once the forest falls and I am the only one left,
you may cast your shadow upon me.
Victory, you may claim, fleshless, arid, and everlasting.
And you may laugh to see me kneel in the dirt, under grey skies,
under columns of black clouds in which no heaven awaits.
But nameless, I will hold you.
And bittersweet, your conquest.
For the dark line, drawn in the sand at the time of your choosing,
is no loss to me, no more than a whisper in the eon of my soul.
And I shall fear you none.
Whether sharp and sudden or a slow carrion crawl,
my burdens will be shed,
my thousand aches mended,
and sleep again I shall until the ending of all ages.
But you, my friend,
you must toil on.
For whether here or there or a in place yet unnamed,
your work is never done.
Were I a stone in a pale river,
the water would teach me
beguile my bones into shapes
I’d never known.
Were I a cliff, lording over the sea,
the wind would, over patient eons
move upon me,
at times a gale, sharp yet sincere,
at others, carrying the mist softly to my face,
that I might feel things
to which I’d never awakened.
Were I grass, short-lived and thirsty,
but always a friend to the sun
the rain would nourish my roots,
and beneath its clouds, it would remind me
that no day is ever-bright,
but nor is the darkness always my foe.
Were I fire, booming in the hot belly
of the earth untamed,
my release would raze the life from all things
yet in the end,
I would gladly perish,
and all else grow anew.
And were I a maker of words,
quill in hand, burning hearth in place of ordinary heart,
she would smile at me,
and whisper thoughts undreamed into my ear,
that I might wake the next morn beside her,
with always another page,
and never a dry spell
for the garden in which we live.
Want a free digital copy of dark, dystopian thriller, Lords of the Black Sands?
Review it on the ‘Zon when you’re finished reading, and I’ll send your copy today!
Click here (or click the book cover below.)
She lives in the wind
or so the riot tells me.
A golden flame, a pale rapture, an elemental catastrophe,
all of this, and more, the riot will say.
An invisible trail, she leaves,
on the streets we have walked, in our rumbled bed.
But she is never lesser.
Her hours of toil beget mere moments of calm,
for there is no taming her, only the lie thereof.
She walks never straight, but in tangles, in weaves,
and on wild paths only the trees can name.
She lives in the wind
or so I’ll say
from now until the end of everything.
Many will try, and many will dream of her at peace,
only for a moment’s breeze to unravel her.
to take her skyward.
to unleash her.
The riot, she is.
In body, in spirit.
And those who would tame her,
had best beware.