Using our earlier post about Sarawak’s headhunting history, I hope everyone will find the humor in this sign, seen in Kuching.

My ID: 26 December 1986 into San Francisco International

United Airlines (flight number unknown)

IDing into SFO

My Initial Descent into the West Coast came on a post-Christmas family vacation at the tender age of 7. We flew to San Francisco—my first long plane ride—and my first several hours on the West Coast were spent trying to make my ears un-pop from the airplane. I tried holding my breath, sneezing, chewing gum…nothing seemed to work.

A few hours after MyID; ears still clogged

Within a few hours, I had seen my first palm tree and my first sunset over a body of water. A few days later, we drove down the coast, and it was really the most beautiful site I had ever seen. Well, the train track that hugged the Pacific coastline, anyway. See, at that time I was fascinated by trains, planes, and little else. My only other recollection of that trip was that I apparently, according to the family albums, got in trouble in Knott’s Berry Farm for kicking Snoopy in the ass.

Getting disciplined by Snoopy

As far as cultural differences, well, it’s difficult to really evaluate that when you’re 7. Fortunately, I would have many other times to get back and learn about everything we plan to share with you in this space as we move forward.

There has been quite a debate in recent years over Ghana’s long history of importing second-hand goods from Europe, and more prominently, the United States. Last Fall, the nation’s government implemented a total ban on the importation of second-hand refrigerators and air conditioners due to their negative environmental impacts, which caused a stir in leaving more than 15,000 people jobless.

Many a business has been made in Ghana from breaking down and redistributing products like these—sound cards from trashed computers and alternators and other parts from abandoned cars are among the most immediately useful and sellable. The problem is that the non-useful parts of these machines are then burned in giant bonfires, from which lead, arsenic and mercury have steadily seeped into neighborhood water supplies.

This debate is likely not to end anytime soon, but it has a particularly interesting angle in the apparel sector. (For the record, Ghana’s government banned the resale of “unhygienic” items like underwear, handkerchiefs and mattresses in 2011). There are plenty of tailors in the country who are upset that boatloads of useless-in-America shirts (“John Edwards 2008” campaign shirts were in particular abundance) make it difficult for them to compete from a pricing standpoint. Even the clothes that are higher-end, which have long been passed from first-world countries to here—can spark debate.

See, there is a common myth in Ghana that no citizen of a developed country would wear the clothes of an obruni wawu (“dead white man”), and so the clothes sent here all came from obrunis. This is not true, of course (perhaps Ghanaians should listen to American rapper Macklemore’s hit song introducing second-hand thrift shopping as something cool in pop culture), and good quality clothes here can be scored as a result: stylish t-shirts for two or three cedi (USD$1-$1.50), designer jeans for about 10 cedi (USD$5), and so on.

There is no doubt that second-hand goods from developed countries will continue to be part of Ghana’s economy, the question is just exactly how much.

These stickers and signs you see all over the place make me laugh…

1) They are better looking than you: Tall and blond, short and brunette…doesn’t matter. People here are presentable.

2) And yet they are humble about it: Gloating just isn’t a big part of the culture.

3) They are confident and assertive: The concept of I-can-do-anything-if-I-work-for-it is understood here from an early age. But as per #2, they aren’t cocky about it.

4) They ride their bikes everywhere: There are 10,000km of bike lanes here, in a country the size of a thumb tack on the map. This means that basically every single street in the country has bike lanes, on both sides!

5) So they are probably fitter than you: Cycling tends to have that effect.

6) They are more tolerant than you: Nobody cares if you’re gay. Or you smoke marijuana. Or you’re “ethnic”. Just do you.

7) They understand moderation more than you do: People love to drink here. They just don’t drink to the point that they are stumbling all over themselves.

8) They understand other cultures better than you do: You can drive to about five different countries, which speak different languages, in less time than it takes you to share this post with all of your friends.

9) They like flowers: Yes, ladies. Flowers are dirt cheap here. He has no excuse not to show up at your door with a colorful and fragrant bouquet of tulips.

Never know when they might get you!

All around the world, this weekend is one of celebration. But while most of the world dances the weekend away for Carnival, the town of Ivrea, at the base of the Alps in northern Italy, has a different method: pelting each other with oranges.

The annual Battle of the Oranges is the largest food fight in Italy–an organized battle of nine groups “competing” with each other by throwing oranges. Joey Phoenix of MyPublicHoliday.com has an excellent writeup of the battle, which I am showcasing below for you to enjoy.

The Battle of the Oranges get serious ’round here!

The Battle of the Oranges, Ivrea, Italy

(by Joey Phoenix; MyPublicHoliday.com)

In February of each year in the small town of Ivrea, in the north of Italy, something extraordinary happens. Corresponding with the end of the beautiful Italian Carnival season, an event occurs that leaves many people cowering in fear and stringing up nets to protect themselves. What is this that makes people so frightened that they hide in their homes, or so overwhelmed by temporary madness that they don masks and head into the fray?

It is a festival known as the Battle of the Oranges.

For weeks before the festival you can see thousands of crates being brought into the town center to be used in the events. Store owners and local businesses begin stringing up nets in order to protect their windows from the wayward throws of participants. Other bystanders purchase red scarves to wear around their head. This head garment is a symbol universally recognized as a protective measure, as the wearer of the red scarf does not wish to be struck by fruit.

Participants organize into a number of groups that war against each other in the town center during the battle. There are nine neighborhoods in Ivrea, and thus the teams are comprised of regions. Each participant pays €120 to enter, and this entry fee goes into the cleanup that occurs each night after the battle, readying it for the onslaught the following day.

For three days everything that moves, except those that are wearing red scarves (but even they are not impervious to the accidentally misguided orange), becomes a target for the Aranceri, or orange throwers. Brave men stand on top of carts, the less intrepid few duck behind them. But for this short period of time, the town center is a sea of orange as flying spherical fruits become projectiles. The event falls on the three days preceding Fat Tuesday. Although it is a fun celebration, it has a reputation for being slightly violent. Many of the group members wear masks to protect their head and faces. Coming out of the battle with a black eye or a broken nose is not an unlikely event.

The Battle of the Oranges has its origins in legend. Supposedly, the daughter of a miller named Violetta was once threatened with rape by a duke who was exercising his, at the time, legal rights over her. It was on Violetta’s wedding night to another man, but instead of surrendering herself to the brutal law, she decapitated the duke. Afterwards, the people, taking her defiance as a revolutionary symbol, charged the castle and established their liberation from their cruel overlords.

Each year, a young woman is elected to play the part of Violetta, and the people commemorate their freedom from the tyrants by becoming the Aranceri. These “orange handlers” are separated into two groups. The first of which become the “tyrants”, and stand in carts. The other half remain on foot, symbolizing the “revolutionaries.” The oranges are the weapons thrown back and forth. No one is quite certain as to where the usage of the orange originated, because they are not even grown indigenously. Some sources declare that the orange is meant to represent the decapitated head of the duke, or his removed testicles. But no one is quite certain. The original plant life thrown at tyrants were beans, as the poor serfs would throw them back at the lords who had given them the paltry vegetables.

Although spectators are not allowed to take part in the festivities, anyone from anywhere in the world can participate in the Battle of the Oranges as long as they pay the entry fee and aren’t afraid to get nailed by a few oranges. So, if you’re interested in the commemoration of a people declaring freedom, and the rising up of citizens against their cruel governments, then enter the Battaglia delle Arance. It is one of the only places in the world where you will have a legal right to throw large spherical fruits with astounding speed at perfect strangers. It’s not only legal, it’s encouraged.

In Ivrea, during the Battle of the Oranges, people completely lose themselves. It is a festival  that’s both dangerous and exciting – and everybody in the town comes out to watch.