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Sometimes life is so packed with activities that it's difficult to adequately report in my occasional blogs. That is my feeling about this past week in Detroit.

Columbus, Georgia, is the place I spent the first two decades of life, where I attended public school. But my real "ties to the land", my "roots", are actually to the forty-acre "country place" over the stateline in Alabama across the Chattahoochee River from Columbus. It's somewhat bittersweet to visit the place, since the memories of my departed parents are everywhere. But there's still a smell, a legacy, a longing to hold onto the past, that I feel every time I visit, which is only once or twice a year.

I lived in the San Francisco area from 1975-85, specifically in Marin County, the beautiful landscape north of the city over the Golden Gate Bridge. During my last five years in Marin, I lived in the rural community of Woodacre, which satisfied the country boy in me, while I was only a forty-five minute drive from the big city of San Francisco. I loved it.

Visiting Sweden is a pleasure. I have some very close friends there, having met some of them over forty years. My first trip to Sweden was in 1970, after having studied in Germany for a year. This was the second year of my 3 & 1/2 year absence from the USA, until the Vietnam War and the draft were over, allowing me to safely return in December of 1972. I have no regrets about avoiding the Vietnam War. It's just a shame that American politicians are considered unpatriotic if they point out that the whole war in Vietnam was a mistake, not unlike our more recent Iraq War folly. Though the draft board sent an induction notice to my parents around 1971, my parents honestly replied that they didn't know where I was. Because I was never "served" with a formal draft notice, I technically broke no laws, though my intention during those years was clearly to avoid being drafted into fighting in the Vietnam War.

Sweden hasn't been in a war for over two hundred years. (I believe the last war was with Norway. Sweden lost when a giant snowstorm stopped the Swedish army from pushing through Norway with the goal of having Sweden reach from the Baltic Sea to the North Sea.) It has a tradition of neutrality, similar to Switzerland. Unlike Switzerland, Sweden has a tradition of accepting political refugees from around the world. Thus, like Canada, Sweden readily accepted American military deserters during the Vietnam War. More recently, in the past year Sweden has accepted fifty thousand refugees from the war in Syria. (I haven't heard of the USA accepting any.)

The owner of the Seven-Eleven on the street level below Christian's apartment is from "Kurdistan." I didn't need to ask if he was a refugee. Kurdistan, located in the northern part of Iraq, is a country that doesn't officially exist, similar to "Pashtunistan," on the borderlands of Afghanistan and Pakistan. The disintegration of the current Iraqi government in Baghdad, following the withdrawal of the American military, gives the Kurds their best chance ever of establishing an independent country of their own. Kurds, numbering over thirty million, are the largest nationality in the world without their own country.

Since I was last in Sweden, there has been a noticeable increase in the number of beggars on the streets. I was told that most of them are from Rumania. My German friends complained about the "Rumanian mafia" which has supposedly caused an increase in crime among a population unaccustomed to the crime levels that exist in the USA and elsewhere. (Violent crimes in the states are many times more numerous in the USA than in Germany or Sweden.) Sweden lost its innocence when prime minister Olaf Palmer was murdered on the street in Stockholm in the late1980's by a deranged Yugoslav immigrant. Prior to that time, the prime minister and other Swedish government officials had walked the streets without bodyguards, just like any ordinary Swedish citizen.

Because Sweden did not fight on either side in World War II (notwithstanding their having been forced by the Nazi's to allow the German army to use the Swedish railways to reach and invade Norway), Sweden's industry and infrastructure were fully intact after the war, leading to the "Swedish miracle," the industrial expansion that gave the world Volvo and Saab automobiles and aircraft engines, IKEA, and amazing films, actresses, and musicians. Sweden is rich in natural resources, comprised of a large area with only eight million people.

Sweden has no native petroleum resources, unlike Norway, which is awash in oil wealth from its oil platforms in the North Sea. It's amazing how conservation-aware the country is. Despite being such a rich country, Swedes recycle and conserve energy much more rigorously than Americans do. For example, escalators in public buildings only turn on when someone steps on them. Lights in public bathrooms are off until someone entering triggers the automatic sensor that turns the lights on. Most toilets offer a dual mode flush choice, heavy and light, simply by a swivel button on top of the toilet bowl mechanism. I don't understand why America doesn't institute such simple, but inexpensive conservation technologies.

Of course, in a relatively small country such as Sweden, the population is more unified. Swedes see themselves as a small country surrounded by giants (Russia, Germany, France, the USA, etc.). Perhaps they work harder to support the public welfare as an expression of shared national pride. Sweden is second only to Germany, in my experience, in terms of well-maintained residences and public spaces.

But all is not perfect in the Swedish paradise. For the last eight years, the Swedish government has been led by the right-wing party. Elections will occur this Fall, at which time it's hoped (by my friends) that the left-leaning Social Democratic party will assume power again. The right wing party espouses philosophies similar to our American right, insofar as during the last eight years, there has been a privatization within the healthcare and transportation industries. In years past, when comparing the Swedish healthcare and public transportation systems to the American ones, I thought they were much better. But the governing rightist party wanted to introduce more "competition" through privatization. The results of this American-style reform has unfortunately been predictable. In healthcare, the fee-for-service model has resulted in increased billing and excessive prescribed procedures, raising overall costs without improving outcomes, trending toward the American model where we pay twice as much for healthcare as the rest of the world, while ranking from 17^th to 37^th in comparison with other countries with universal healthcare.

In the public transport sector, the centralized rail system was divided up to give jurisdiction to the different Swedish states. According to one of my friends, the different rail companies don't work well together, resulting in a worsening of rail service. (Of course, the Swedish public transportation is still far more extensive than the limited American system, which requires practically everyone to own a car.) I'm reminded of the breakup in the USA of "Ma Bell", the telephone monopoly that previously existed before deregulation. As a result, we now have inferior cellular service compared with Europe, due to different phone companies (AT&T, Sprint, T-Mobile, etc.) setting up competitive networks incompatible with each other, requiring different telephone models to access their different networks, which they enforce by requiring restrictive long service contracts. Is American telephone service cheaper than under the Ma Bell monopoly? Perhaps…Inferior? Definitely!

Swedes pay the highest tax rates in the world. For their taxes, they get universal healthcare, free university education, an extensive eldercare system, inexpensive public transportation, and more. I think that Americans who add up what we pay for regular (relatively low) taxes, plus what we pay for private healthcare, higher education costs, private nursing home care, etc., probably pay more for these necessities of modern life than Swedes do through their higher taxes.

Apart from the differences between Sweden and the USA, there are many similarities. I find the lifestyles to be very similar. The average Swede and average American enjoy a similar high level of comfort, access to technology, and many leisure opportunities. (This doesn't apply to the higher percentage of poverty-stricken underclass in the US.) Swedes and Americans are similarly friendly, generous, and hospitable. Apart from the politics, there exists a great affection and sense of shared values between our two countries.

When I was in Germany last week, I spoke German practically the whole time, since my American friends attending our reunion speak the language as well or better than I do. It's harder to practice Swedish than German, since Swedes almost universally speak excellent English. Swedish television runs all American movies and shows with subtitles, rather than synchronization, as is done in Germany. Thus, every night the Swedish population has an English lesson, hearing the English dialogue while reading the Swedish language translation below. Indeed, I've experienced the politeness of the Swedes, such that in the company of eight or ten Swedes, they would all speak English with me and with each other just for my sake. Several times, I said, "Let me practice my Swedish with you." However, when a relationship exists primarily in one language, it's very hard to change to the other language. For example, Christian and I have always spoken English together. Practically the only time I spoke Swedish with him was when we were visiting his parents in the eldercare facility. Even then, both his parents tried to speak English with me (with limited success), just because of that habit of Swedes assuming that very few foreigners are adept at speaking their language.

I've mentioned in previous blogs that Stockholm is one of my favorite cities in the world. It's a great walking city. Though I was there only five days in all this time, I made it a point to revisit the old city, located on one of the many islands on which the city is built. I walked among the old buildings dating from the 17^th and 18th centuries, including the royal palace and several old cathedrals. While the historic sections of many German cities destroyed during the war were often rebuilt to look exactly as they had prior to the war, it's nice to realize that the old buildings in Stockholm are the original ones, never having suffered from the ravages of war.

In contrast to the brutal destruction going on in Syria and Iraq, the terrorism plaguing Afghanistan and Pakistan, and the aftermaths of the genocides recently occurring in the Balkans and in Central Africa, it's very nice to be in a peaceful place like Sweden, where almost everyone lives very well indeed. Last but not least, it's wonderful to be able to drop into the lives of my good friends there. I hope to continue to do so as often as I can possibly arrange it.

This is a blog for those readers with an interest in technology, specifically, the cutting edge of new technology in the development of alternative energy.

In April 1969, I made what, in retrospect, was the biggest transformational step of my life. I left the USA for a "junior year abroad" in Kiel, Germany. I ended up staying out of the country for three and a half years. When I finally returned, I wasn't satisfied living in Georgia, Alabama, or Florida any more. Within a year of returning from Europe, I moved to California to study Indian music there, and I never returned to the South to live.

That leads to the second biggest transformational step, which was defined by my first (of many subsequent) trips to India in 1971. The experience of living in such a totally different culture, along with my discovery of my love for Indian music, changed me forever. My love of world music and my passion for travel were initiated by that first overland trip from Europe to India.

I'm writing this blog from Germany on the occasion of another reunion of the friends I met on that first trip to Kiel, Germany. It's amazing that the friendships initiated during those years have endured so long. We started meeting every two years over a decade ago. The last reunion in Kiel was in 2008. At our reunion in Reno, Nevada, in 2011, Susan said, "You guys are getting so old, that you better start meeting every year." In 2012, we met in Tuscany, Italy. In 2013, we met on the island of Poros, Greece. Now, here we are again in Germany. Next year in 2015, we hope to meet in Salt Lake City.

As I traveled to Germany this time, from Detroit, Michigan, I reflected on how easy it was for me this time compared with that first trip back in 1969. Then, I might as well have been traveling to the moon. I knew nothing about where I was going. I didn't speak the language. I didn't know anyone there. I put up a brave front, but deep down I was terrified by my insecurity and ignorance. Now, I just get on the plane and get out at the destination, reconnect with old friends, and feel secure speaking the language. What a difference forty-five years has made!

We call ourselves the KOF's…the Kieler Old Farts. Our initial meeting this week was at a Greek restaurant in Kiel. Not every one of the KOF's attends every reunion. One good friend was in attendance this week that I've seen only a couple of times since the early seventies. We were thirteen people at that dinner. One notable feature was that the Greek-born waitress took all of our orders remembering them without writing anything down…very impressive. We kept the restaurant open until after midnight, despite their normal closing time of eleven. This was enabled, no doubt due to our Greek member Dimitrios, as well as the fact that we continued to order beer, wine, ouzo, and metaxa to fuel the conversations.

One day was spent driving around Kiel looking at the old locations of where we had lived and socialized. Of particular interest was the site of a former old house where many KOF's had lived. The house had long ago been razed and replaced with a modern apartment building. There was no sign remaining of our previous lives there. The realization is that in forty more years, after we're all gone, there will likely be no remaining signs of us either!

Some of us had the chance to visit the new biomass conversion factory conceived and realized by my old friend, that "captain of industry" Per. I will devote a future blog to his groundbreaking work when I receive the photos taken by my friend David. (The battery on my camera had given out by the time we got there.) For now, suffice it to say that I've made a connection with a potential US partner for development of a similar project in Detroit, a city that is starving for new development projects.

I spent an interesting evening in Hamburg (a city of several million) with Dimitrios at a celebration for the Greek ambassador who is leaving her German diplomatic post after five years. Dimitrios knew her personally, and received two engraved invitations. The celebration was in a stunning pre-war mansion in the ritzy part of Hamburg next to the river. We arrived as the only guests not wearing suits and ties. It was surreal, being surrounded by diplomats, government officials, and mysterious strangers. It had all the trappings of a movie set or a mystery novel, where certain roles were being played to the hilt, such as the Greek orthodox priest in full regalia, and the military officer wearing all his medals. The speeches could have been written for a movie as well. I got a little drunk after four glasses of wine (plus hors d'oevres), and I felt like I was playing the role of being a German, not wanting to stand out as an American. In a noisy crowd I could speak German well enough that I wouldn't be immediately pegged as an American, as long as I didn't say too much.

The first German that I befriended in 1969 was Gert. I heard Debussy and Ravel emanating from the piano in the student residence where I lived, and found Gert playing music by these two favorite composers of mine. It was together with Gert that I made my first overland backpacking trip to India and Afghanistan in 1971. Gert remained in India, and afterwards Nepal, for most of the years ever since. He founded a music school in Nepal and continues to travel there twice a year. Now, I'm visiting him at his new home in a rural area west of Kiel in the state Schleswig-Holstein. The landscape is totally flat, similar to Holland, with dikes protecting the low land from the sea and potentially overflowing rivers.

Gert studied tabla (hand drums) in India for many years. He's also a virtuoso pianist and gourmet cook. In his house he plays a fantastic Fazioli grand piano, an incredible instrument and worthy competitor to Steinway. We've improvised together, gone sightseeing in the region, and eaten fantastic meals. Gert is my original model of a "lifestyle artist." Wherever he has lived (which includes Kiel, Berlin, Bombay, and Bhaktapur Nepal), he has found the best food, sights, and decorations for his impeccably furnished living quarters.

As my blog-readers know, I try to observe, compare, and contrast the foreign cultures I visit with our American culture. Here are a few of my observations on some of the outstanding aspects of German culture:

• Germany is in my experience the cleanest (ordentlich und sauber) country in the world in terms of the lack of visible garbage and the consummate care with which people take care of their houses and yards.
• I have not seen a single electric line. They are all buried underground. Besides making a much cleaner appearance, Germany is not subject to the power outages and expensive repairs necessary after every hurricane, tornado, and snowstorm that damages our primitive American electric grid.
• There are absolutely no billboards and commercial signs to disturb the views along the roads. What a difference that makes in how beautiful the towns and villages look! In the US, only Hawaii has had the wisdom to realize how much our unfettered advertisements degrade our visual landscapes.
• Germany is a world leader in alternative energy, especially solar and wind. They are phasing out nuclear power, following the Fukushima disaster. Per explains that it depends on the mentality of the people. Germans realize that resources (such as petroleum) are limited and thus will become more expensive in the future.   Americans, by way of contrast, believe that we are the richest country in the world with unlimited resources, and that our unlimited purchasing power allows us to acquire whatever we don't possess natively. Therefore, our cars can be huge, we can leave our lights on all the time, we can waste electricity, gasoline, and water our whole lives without consequences.

  

• Germany has confronted the sordid chapters of its history better than any other country I can think of, with the exception of South Africa. Germany has paid reparations to holocaust survivors. The Holocaust Museum in Berlin takes an unflinching view of the cruelty of the Nazis, as well as the existence of historic anti-Jewish sentiment for centuries before. My German friends are very aware of what their parents or grandparents did during World War II. We've had interesting discussions, which have reminded me that we Americans have not been as pro-active in confronting our native racism, as evidenced by the current anti-immigrant sentiment within a large part of society, as well as the racism expressed against Obama and African-Americans in general by the enduring white supremacists, such as the so-called libertarian "patriots" that are against everything the government does.
• The German government supports its culture. I heard that the municipality of Berlin spends more on the arts than the US government spends for our whole country. Certainly, Germany's symphonies, ballets, and opera companies are among the best in the world. They are a source of national pride, equal to the pride in their soccer team currently competing in Brazil. They will meet the US team next week and are favored by the odds-makers.
• Last but not least, I think Germany has the best most delicious varieties of bread of any country I've visited. The cheese, sausage, beer, and wine selections are excellent as well. After all, Germany is bounded by France, Belgium, Holland, Denmark, and Switzerland…all countries famous for their culinary traditions. The German palette is more sophisticated than the American, due to the wider variety of foods and traditions. By contrast, the American food and drink palette is "basic" and simple.

Ultimately, it's the friends one has that make any place attractive. This applies to Sweden and India as much as Germany, the three countries where I've spent extended periods of time. Being hosted by local friends gives one a much better impression of a culture than one could ever obtain as a common tourist. Speaking the language helps immensely as well. I would probably enjoy many countries, given similar circumstances. But for me, seeing old friends is certainly the best aspect of foreign travel.

This coming week, I'll be visiting Sweden. Stockholm is a mere hour's flight away, just like flying from Reno to Las Vegas.

This blog is about a remarkable cousin who lives in a wonderful place. Seventy-six-year-old cousin Dick is actually my wife Susan's firstcousin. We have met each other infrequently over the years. Dick and his wife Julie visited us in Reno once. And Susan and I visited Dick and Julie twice in their previous home near the coastal community of Mendocino, California. Dick is a retired psychologist/counselor/high school principal. He shows no sign of slowing down with age, which is what inspires me to write this blog about him.

For the last few years, Dick has lived on Whidbey Island, a sixty-mile-long island in the Puget Sound, just north of Seattle, Washington. The shuttle-bus trip from the Seattle airport takes about two hours, including a fifteen-minute ferry ride from the mainland to the island. The many islands, bays, natural harbors, and verdant vegetation surrounding the Puget Sound reminded me of the Stockholm archipelago (which contains 22,000 islands!).

One remarkable thing about where Dick lives is the sense of total safety and security. Dick and Julie only lock their house when they leave for an extended period of time. Their house remains generally unlocked. Dick likes collecting sporty cars. He currently owns four. He doesn't hesitate to leave the car keys in the garages with his cars. He reasons that it would be relatively difficult for a car thief to manage to drive a stolen car off the island via the ferry without being observed. Dick let me drive us around the island in his yellow convertible Toyota Spyder, a sporty muscle car that Toyota ceased manufacturing a decade ago. Also, Dick's house is in a rural part of the island with mostly only local traffic. The result is a lovely part of the USA that harkens back to the days when most people (at least those not living in big anonymous cities) saw no reason to lock their doors.

The Whidbey Island community embodies the charms of small towns, where most of the local residents know each other by name or at least by sight. Dick and I walked into a local restaurant just as they were closing following their lunch hour. Dick knew the waitress by name and prevailed on her to request that the kitchen stay open past their scheduled closing long enough to serve us. We had delicious crab cakes from crabs harvested locally in the nearby Puget Sound, as good as any that I had eaten in Baltimore featuring Chesapeake Bay crabs, which were the best in my culinary memory heretofore.

Besides locally harvested seafood, Whidbey Island is home to excellent art galleries featuring works by local artists. There is an annual music festival in honor of the famous Belgian jazz guitarist Django Reinhart. Whale watching is a local pastime. Home gardens must be protected from the wild deer, which have no natural enemies on the island, since hunting is not allowed. Though the island offers the relative peace and isolation one would expect living on any island, the teaming metropolis of Seattle is easily accessible, such that Whidbey Island residents would not experience the isolation ("Island Fever") commonly experienced by residents of more isolated islands, such as Hawaii.

Cousin Dick offers a great model for thriving at an advanced age. His morning exercise ritual consists of an extended stretching session consisting of yoga-inspired stretches and exercises. He is able to do at least twenty-five push-ups. (I won't say how many I'm capable of, but it's definitely fewer than twenty-five.)

Dick is the only person I know that reads the daily New York Times newspaper more thoroughly than I do. He even cuts out articles, highlighting key parts for later reference, and to share them with wife Julie and their two adult daughters. Dick is at an age at which he avoids inexpensive wines. We drank very well during our visit.

Of particular interest to me is Dick's desire to explore cities. As we arrived on our visit, he was negotiating to rent a room in Seattle for this coming summer, to spend several days a week exploring the restaurants, shops, bookstores, markets, concerts, clubs, and any other attractions that are only available in a large city. He likes to walk, and Seattle is apparently pedestrian-friendly. I share Dick's attraction to the charms of a large city. However, the only inner-city that I ever lived in for an extended time was in Stockholm, Sweden, which remains my favorite city in my limited urban experiences.

Dick expressed to me that at this point in his life, he doesn't intend to live in any one place for more that five years. (He and Julie lived in Mendocino for many years, where Dick worked as a high school principal and as a court-appointed psychological counselor.) He's been on Whidbey Island for three years already, and so he's beginning to contemplate his next move. (I suggested Reno to him. He likes Reno's climate compared with rainy Washington.) At the age of seventy-six, the concept of fulfilling one's "bucket list" gains ever more relevance.

We had such a good time visiting with Dick and his family, that we all resolved that we should visit each other more often. One possibility mentioned was that we might fly north again in September at the time of the Django Guitarfest. However, it turns out that Dick will not be at home at that time, due to the fact that he's been offered the opportunity to house-sit for friends in Berkley, California, for three weeks in September. "…And who would turn down the possibility for free accommodations for three weeks in the San Francisco area in September!"

As I observe myself getting older (now sixty-five), I find myself appreciating family and friends more than ever. I especially appreciate good role models from people older than I am. One's parents serve, for better or worse, as our first role models. Despite my parents' faults, I feel luckier than many people I know, for the relationship with them and my extended family. But they weren't the best role models in their later years. When anthropologists comment on locales such as the Hunza Valley, where the world's longest lifespans are found, they typically comment that those survivors beyond one hundred years are in amazing physical condition, compared with the typical elderly in the US. Congratulations cousin Dick for your being in such great shape on the other side of seventy-five. I hope I'll be in half as good shape as you are when I'm your age. Thanks for the inspirational role modeling!

As we traveled across the Denali Highway, the 105 mile dirt road through this incredible wilderness, with higher elevation came fresh snow.