Arrived in Glasgow

I’m sitting in my new place. New country. New city. New people. I have exactly the same feeling I had nearly 15 years ago when my parents dropped me off at university (well, maybe not exactly). Yesterday morning, I kissed Andrea good-by to go away for a year of study. It was cold and rainy when I arrived in Glasgow. I’m excited about the program I will enter; but, at the same time, this will mean some sacrifices. Last night, the first night here, I was sort of sad. Excited but alone again. It better be worth it (and I mean that literally, everything here seems about four times more expensive than in the Czech Republic).

I did not learn very much Czech in my time there; coming to Scotland sounds, at first blush, like a relatively easy move when it comes to language. After all, English is spoken here. But, when I walked out of the airport yesterday, I needed to find the taxi I had booked to bring me into the city. I stopped an official airport looking fellow and asked where the taxi stop is. I literally did not understand one word he said! I’m not entirely sure how that is possible. Thankfully he did gesture in a direction and I found the location.

My taxi driver was this jovial guy who gave me a general overview of the traffic situation and some points about the city on the way in. However, I had to listen very keenly to make much headway through is accent eithe. E sounded lik e were speakin ethout everal diptongs e ave en moost Anglish spech. Ploos, air winder wos dawn e ole wae ain thee nois from de wind russian bie mae ait terrabil diffcult tae hear eich oother.

I will just have to get my ears in tune; most of the people I spoke with when I was here before were much more intelligible. (And, I have to wonder, it may be difficult for people to make their way through my accent. So I’m not complaining.)

The flat I’m in seems great; it’s in what used to be a fire brigade compound. There is a big inner courtyard with a community patio and we are in a relatively quiet neighbourhood. This will be good as I have a feeling I will spend most of my time this year sitting here reading.

Colloquial copy

I’m trying to write voice over copy for the Xtreme Team video; however, my words sound like a tired university professor reviewing the exploits of a group of adventuresome young people. I find myself using phrases such as in retrospect and along those lines. I’m not sure if this is a warning that my writing and speech is verging on cliché or I merely have the wrong set of vocabulary to write such things.
I recall meting a group of teens in a Philadelphia transitional home a few years ago. We fell into a lexically mismatched void of communication; I was saying, “Oh, pleased to meet you; it seems your program is progressing quite well here…etc. etc.” to their bemusement. I left with the impression they thought I was making fun of them. But, that’s just the way I speak. If I had attempted “streety” language it would have been truly false (and—I probably would have been thrashed).

Now, I’m just aiming for neutral language that will appeal to young people who might consider going on Xtreme Team. I’m afraid going into a MSc program this fall will pull me further down into an abyss of cluttered language. I shall endeavour to—I will keep Strunk and White close at hand.

Shame

For most of human history (or, “civilised” human history, if you like) the most disappointing thing one could do would be to shame one’s ancestors. To break family honour or lose face in society was (and still generally is) a terrible matter. To have a parent or close relative say, “You have shamed us all” could send a person into a downward turn for the rest of his or her life (which may be spent in psychological or physical exile depending on the severity of the transgression).

One’s family has a certain amount of honour built up over generations; to shame it is seen as a theft. An act of shame may draw down heavily on the account and cause it all to collapse. I think, to some extent, the responsibility (or the burden, if one considers the extreme expectations of some families) of holding up the family name has diminished. We are, in “the West” at least, so focused on the individual’s accomplishments and failings that past glories (or downfalls) are of little importance. This is, of course, both liberating and damming. If my forefathers were scoundrels, I’ll probably not be held to attest for their misdeeds; but we also tend to neglect the history of goodwill and actions of many who have passed on (this is particularly emphasised by the loss of extended families and the mobility of society in general; we are no longer of a place—neither bound to its history or its future).

It is the future we have to address. Whereas we once took care not to shame our fathers and grandfathers, we now take even less care to honour our children and grandchildren. Our focus, as a society, seems to be entirely on the present; in this, we shame both past and future generations. This is not a shame belonging to any one family or lineage; my shame spreads to your family and yours to mine. It is like a cancer than begins in one cell and spreads to another till, system by system, it consumes everything.

We are consumers of all (often we are collectively referred to as such as in the somewhat telling economic term consumer confidence). Our idealised frontiersmen forefathers might be forgiven for believing the Earth was an inexhaustible resource—we can have no such delusion. We are now openly stealing the fortunes of all who follow for our own temporary benefit. I’ve never heard someone openly wish a life of deprivation and despair for future generations; yet this is what we curse them with at almost every step. What greater shame or selfishness is there than this to lay upon the human family?

Note that I do not exempt myself; I am as complicit as the mass of others in a thousand little ways. But I do not wish to shame those who came before me—those who, no matter what we may now see as their missteps, believed they were building up a world for the better. I also do not wish to become a source of shame for those who follow. As I write this, I’m looking out my window at a group of children playing. I want none of them, as adults, to look back at me and say, “You knew; why could you not have been a source of change?” And what a radical change that must be.

Soaring

I had a wonderful belated birthday gift today (which ended up much better than my previous birthday experience last month). Petr Pojar, a colleague of Andrea’s, is part-owner of the local airfield here in Most; he’s an avid amateur pilot (thousands of hours in the air over the span of 30 years). We are beside a mountain range here and there is a lot of hang-gliding, parachuting, etc.; several months ago, Andrea and I saw a sail-plane in the air and I mentioned this is something I’ve always wanted to do. So, she arranged a flight with Petr (which I did not know about till this morning)!

We flew in a Czechoslovak Blanik L-13 glider. It’s a somewhat compact (for a glider) two person plane (a bit less room than economy class in Lufthansa, but the view was amazingly better). We were towed up by a single engine prop plane (also Czech made—in 1949) from a grass runway. At about 3000 feet, Petr released the tow cable and we were gliding—and, except for the sound of wind rushing by and the mechanism of the controls, there was no noise. In some ways, it sounded like the stroke of oars on a boat skimming over water (the plane doesn’t weigh much more than a small boat anyway; it’s 292 kg or 643 lb empty).

Several times, Petr dropped into a sudden dive (a free fall like this gives the impression of zero gravity) then pulled up into a wild arc (which, of course, pulls down several times the force of gravity and pinned us to the seat). The plane must not stall easily; it seemed, at the end of the arc, we were pointed straight up and would fall out of the sky! That was also the point, at the peak of the plane’s recovery, where there was absolutely no noise; we were thousands of feet in the air in absolute silence. I’ve heard pilots say that gliding is almost like a meditation and can understand why. Rather than tearing through the sky with a big engine, one must learn to read clouds and ride the winds.

We had a terrific view of the city and surroundings (unfortunately we had a great view of what happens when there is extensive surface mining for coal; the past fifty years of industry haven’t been kind). After about a half hour, Petr spiralled back down toward the airstrip (which, rather disconcertingly, has a big pond at the head of it…which he seemingly dove straight down towards before pulling up and gently landing on the runway). The glider also has a very short landing distance; I think it was less than a hundred feet or so.

And then we went and had a beer; which is the way to finish off all things Czech.

There was also a parachuting competition today—that’s something I’m not sure if I ever want to do.

Discarding life

Speaking of China, we’ve heard in recent days about product recalls of Chinese made toys. What happens to all these recalled toys? Millions of toys are coming back in; where do they go? Are they melted down and recycled into new toys (noting that the reason for recall is lead in the paint; will this lead be removed somehow)? Will they be dumped into a landfill (again, what happens to the lead)? Will they be shipped to some other country that does not note child safety so closely?

(For that matter, what happened to the millions of batteries recalled from mine and similar laptops? Recycled, I hope. What’s going to happen to the millions of mobile phone batteries Nokia recalled this week?)

What happens to all the toys that are just discarded? After a toy’s season has passed and a child loses interest, where does it go to its long home? When I was a child, I wanted all the same action figures and new toys that most every child wanted. But, looking back, I think the toys I appreciated most and enjoyed most were the simple LEGOs or wooden toys (Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys, etc.) that stimulated my imagination. For years, I enjoyed these toys (long after generations of the latest toy had passed its prime).

I don’t think it’s just nostalgia. I wonder if we, as adults, forget that a child doesn’t need a toy that is so fancy and elaborate that there is no need to ascribe any imagination to it. It seems that many toys are so complex that all the play is “explained.”

Beyond this; what are we teaching children about the experience of joy and pleasure? That it is something to be enjoyed in this one thing—and then discarded after a time in favour of something new with more lights and colours? How does this translate life outlook and decisions? I need more and more shiny things; I’ll enjoy this person for a while but then I’ll need someone new; all the discarded parts of my life will just go away—they weren’t well made to begin with and someone else can deal with the debris.

Maybe that’s digging a bit deeper than reality; but—just a thought.

Because of my liberal leanings

I have just found out that my weblog is blocked from Internet users in China. However, so is all kinds of stuff; so I’m not so concerned.

Wait; in fact, I am concerned. What is on my site that someone should not be able to make a personal decision to see? There is nothing obscene or revolutionary; there is nothing to incite violence or civic disorder. Why am I shut off from communication with a large portion of my fellow humans? I’m miffed.

Human violence

Man kills for any excuse, for any excuse whatsoever. Hindus can kill Mohammedans, Mohammedans can kill Hindus, Christians can kill Mohammedans, and Buddhists…and so on and so forth. And for what? For abstract doctrines, principles–and nobody is ready to live for those doctrines and everybody is ready to kill others for those same doctrines. If somebody insults the Bible, the Christian is ready to kill you, and if you ask him, “Are you living your Bible?” he will say, “It is very difficult.” He is not interested in living it, nobody is interested in living it; but if it comes to killing, then everybody becomes very much interested.
—Osho

Solution for JVC Everio

The kind folks at Apple pointed me to a program that re-encodes video into other formats. It’s called VisualHub and it seems to have mostly solved my issue with the funky JVC file format. I thought it was going to take days to re-encode the video into something that Final Cut would recognise; however, after just a few hours of work this morning, all the video is sitting on my external hard drive. I ended up, for simplicity’s sake, saving it all as PAL DV; at this setting, the files were processed faster than real time (on my MacBook Pro).

JVC GZ-HD7 Field Report

For the past several weeks, I’ve used the JVC HD Everio (GZ-HD7) to record the experiences of the Xtreme Team in the Czech Republic. On previous teams, I had used either the Canon GL-1 or a Panasonic DVX-100A to cover the team. Here are some brief thoughts on my experience with this camera.

On paper, this looks like a keen little unit. It packs a lot of technology into a small package (this is important for something that one has to carry continuously for weeks at a time and was a primary consideration when I chose a camera). However, in practice (for what I was using it for) there were many shortcomings. First, this was a decisive moment sort of trip; unfortunately the camera is basically a little computer with a lens and, like a computer, it takes some time to boot up prior to operation. There were many instances where the shot was gone by the time the camera was operational. (I could not just leave the camera on all the time either, it seemed to eat batteries as well.) Secondly, it’s basically an auto-everything unit; however, the auto-exposure wasn’t very intelligent. There were a lot of associated ills to this. The auto white balance was confused by mixed lighting and the WB presets never seemed to quite be on target. Also, the dynamic range was atrocious; highlights were consistently blown out and shadow detail was almost non-existent. It also has very poor low-light performance. So, it’s no good in daylight because of the dynamic range issues and it’s no good in low indoor light (worse than most “consumer” DV cameras made in recent years). Again, in the particular situation I was using it for (which was fast changing documentary style shooting), it was poorly suited.

Basically, it needs controlled lighting or overcast days for good imagery. In some situations it would have been helpful to use manual exposure; I can tell where the exposure should be set for a scene. However, telling the camera where that exposure should be is another matter. To change either the shutter speed or aperture requires a couple presses of awkwardly placed buttons and a dial on the back of the camera (one has to take the camera away from one’s eye or make a separate motion that moves the camera away from a position of filming to make changes). Again, there were many times when I was trying to adjust exposure and the shot was lost.

Another feature that looks good on paper is the ability to shoot stills. This would be a great boon if it were not for the fact that the exposure is almost always wrong and the pictures look worse than images from a mobile phone (I honestly don’t think there was one image from the camera that I would consider usable). After a few days of trying this, I went home and picked up my five year old Sony camera (far far superior images and control over the process of making them).

There is no headphone output which…is somewhat inexplicable.

The optical image stabilisation seems to have no effect whatsoever; this is very important on a camera with almost no mass (it’s physically impossible to hold the camera steady). I did have a camera bracket that helped somewhat. But, still, there are many shots that are unusable because of shake. I’m not sure how critical I can really be here. We keep asking for smaller and lighter. However, the trade-of there is shaky images. I have used other small cameras though that have rather good stabilisation.

Then we come to the big issue that I should have anticipated from the start. I used the external DVD burner to backup files from the camera. This, on the surface, looks like a tidy little system for archiving footage in the field for later editing. No more tedious capturing of footage in post. Everything is already stored as distinct data files for the computer to access. However, my computer can’t access them; or, rather, I can open the files in QuickTime, but Final Cut doesn’t know what to do with them. For some reason, JVC decided to use some proprietary file format rather than a standardised one. So, in order to edit them, I have to re-encode them into another video format. This takes about five minutes for every one minute of video, which, of course, rather negates the time I would have saved capturing footage. There is also some related issue with the interlaced video; it seems especially interlaced. It’s as if someone thought that interlacing might be a really artistic way of interpreting motion and cranked the thing up a couple notches.

A word of advice: Do things simply and well. I should have chosen a not really the coolest latest thing on the scene camera that would have fit the task without fuss. (In that respect, I think the Panasonic DVX cameras are just about the best DV cameras ever made; yes, they are bigger and heavier. However, the image quality is actually better and they get the shot. The most important thing is actually getting the image onto tape. I’d rather have the shot on tape with a few less pixels to count that miss it with the coolest camera around.)

This points to a larger concern with how devoted we are to the latest and greatest gadget (photographers are especially prone to this malady). My film camera that was designed 50 years ago may not have all the neat features of something just off the shelf, but I know how to use it intuitively and can make pictures with it. Features and pixels are irrelevant if the photo is missed or poorly made because the “interface” gets in the way.