[Author’s note: one outcome of my computer courses is that I was able to recover material that otherwise may have been lost. For example, I was able to rig up a 5-1/4” floppy drive. In case you think that is primitive, remember I was using them when you thought a computer was a background prop on Star Trek. I don’t run out and convert my entire system as soon as somebody announces a new disk size.]
Here is a warehouse full of used monitors that were donated for free. I drove over to look at them for Dickens, and decided against moving them. My reasoning is that not only are larger monitors available cheaply, these new flat-screen monitors are just too convenient to ignore. Nobody wants to get stuck with a pile of old tube models. Still trying to get you something. I see I was a big consumer of databases as far back as 1988. The song words seem to be in that format. I found a document from 1992 that describes a hike I made on the mountains north of Caracas. Here are the first paragraphs, notice the differences in my writing style after 13 years. The forward, not included here, explains that the style is somewhat awkward because it was meant to be used on a then current Spanish translation software package. Notice the speed typing and lack of any spellchecker in Venezuela at that time. I believe the computer was a stripped down Tandy FD 1100, which cost at least a thousand dollars back then. (It was eventually stolen in Venezuela.)
I received much information and "malinformacion" about the Humbolt Hotel. This beautiful structure is situated on a mountain to the north or Caracas, Venezuala. It stands about 40 storeys tall. It cost millions and millions. And it is abandoned. The city of Caracas is on a flat valley about one mile wide and many miles long east to west. Whoever planned this was undoubtedly a real estate agent.
The mountain mentioned is part of a chain that forms the Carribean coast along the top edge of South America. The mountain passes are the only route to the coast from the towns and cities in the interior. There is no direct road to the seashore from Caracas, since visitors to the beach must travel around the mountain range. The nearest such place is about 15 miles away. A tunnel through the mountain is no likely to be constructed. The reason I've heard is because the mountains are volcanic. By the way, the mountain chain extends eastward, finally forming the island of Trinidad.
There are dozens of wild explanations for the Humbolt. Some people say it was built in 1955. Others say 1965. Still others say the construction took all ten years between. It depends on who you talk to. I am curious why it is closed. It is no good to ask around. Every version is different. Among the reasons I've heard are failed election promises, defective standards on the cable car (teleferico), and insufficient bribes paid to government officials.
The cable car (teleferico) problem appears at first to make the most sense. Yet, even that creates more questions than answers. How could a cable car no make money? Especially in this instance, because it would be a monopoly. My guess is the whole situation is a study of corruption on an unbelievable scale. Except for a helicopter, there is no other easy way to get to the hotel. My opinion is that only a totally corrupt system and a totally complacent population could allow such a monument to remain in plain view of one fifth of the residents in the country for thirty years, with the possible exception of Edmonton, Alberta.
There is no reliable source of information. If anyone knows the true story, they are no talking. Or no can talk, if you get my drift. The most recent rumor is that the state governor is fixing it up. (Any minor government official who has that amount of money must have fixed many things in his time.) I decided to climb the mountain and have a look for myself. It should be easy to see if there is any evidence of workmen or building material at the site, or near the top. I am not a mountaineer, so I must find a road.
What happens next will give you some insight into the Spanish character and language. I would bet money the service roads exist. Yet everyone we asked said there were no service roads. Remember that Spanish is a language that seems (to me) to fail when trying to describe exact details. This means there is some discrepancy whether we are being told the roads do no exist, or whether we are being told we no can walk up the roads, or whether they simply do no know if there is a road but no want to admit it. This sorry attitude alone will prevent Venezuala from ever being an efficient country. We have these kind of people in America. They are called liars.
The total number of people questioned is around a dozen or fifteen. Fourteen Spanish speakers say there is no road, one German says there is. Therefore, I conclude there is a road. Can you imagine having a medical emergency in such a city! The logical first task is to locate that road.
On March 2, 1996 I walked with a friend to the base of the mountain. The mountains are apparently named ""Avila"". We stopped accross from a deep canyon separating two mountains. There are no good maps, signs or people who know the names of the mountains, although the mountains can be seen from every major part of Caracas. The Humbolt is an easy sight and is situated on the west peak. We saw an old sign saying ""Pico Oriente"" and ""Pico Occidente"", so I will refer to the mountains as ""East Peak"" and ""West Peak"" if necessary.
From where we stopped, I was able to discern three or four unnatural ridges of tree lines angling upward at about 15 degrees. There are also transmission towers about 2/3 of the way up the mountain. Also, there are electricity lines. The vegetation covers the mountains completely to the top. The mountains are steep but not rugged. All these factors strongly indicate the presence of at least one service road. If the road exists, I estimate it should take about two hours to reach the top.
The rest of the record tells how I got around half the way up the mountain after being given the wrong directions by the local “expert”, a travel agent who thought I was going to rent a helicopter through him. “All you have to do is get eight people to share.” If I did that, I remember thinking, who needs him? They (him and his staff) actually, if I recall, gave me the directions to the wrong bloody mountain, something that would eventually not surprise me about Venezuela. [Got that? The WRONG friggin’ mountain!] The next day I politely inquired about these directions and he finally admitted that he had never actually been there or arranged any tours to the place. I never did get up there in the next four years. I may not be athletic, folks, but at twice your age I was still hiking up mountains in Venezuela.
; That was also about the time I noticed that it became rare to meet people my own demographics [who were] traveling. Now, the reason is obvious, but back then I found it strange. Would not people turning forty give anything to get out of the routine and have an adventure? The common point was a mortgage. Anyone who signed a mortgage at 25 was at 50 a completely un-traveled moronic nincompoop, did I catch any of you in that group? They had a house, but wasted a life paying for it. Their one consolation seems to be knowledge that however wrong they have been, they are in the majority.
I noted that in 1996, passenger airliners cost $400 a pound and (this was only months before I left the company) that I challenged the ‘50/50’ rule for answering calls. This referred to the next department over who insisted that everything was equal if our department answered half the incoming calls. I maintained it was not equal, and they argued it was. They backed off quickly when I suggested a money test. I’ll pay you a dollar every time you answer a call that is for me, and vice versa. We should break even, correct? Even when faced with such facts, phone company people cannot admit they are wrong. I used to work beside men who would tell people to call back in an hour knowing they were off shift in thirty minutes.
Since I intend to get most of my writings on disk, I won’t duplicate much of it here. I see I predicted that good jobs “will be at a premium in 2005”. I was inside the pyramid at Chichen Itza in Mexico in 1986 when an earthquake occurred. I felt nothing, I had crawled up the passageway into the center of the pyramid and did not find out about the tremor until hours later when I crawled back out. At that point, I felt queasy because I somehow knew something was wrong while I was inside. There is mention that every major law concerning Human Rights in Canada was passed by judicial rather than parliamentary procedures. The real treat will be those 5.25 inch floppies. There just don’t seem to be enough of them [as I know I originally had a lot more than are there today].
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