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Hokupa'a Homes Video from HokupaaHomes on Vimeo.
Hawaii Kai's New Luxury Enclave
Nestled in a tranquil setting, Hokupa'a offers Kama'aina homes that provide seamless indoor/outdoor living with beautiful views of the Golf Course and Koko Head. Offering 14 Single Family residences and two floor plans (2,278 and 2,339 sq. ft.) that both feature:
- 4 Bedrooms
- 3 Bathrooms
- Two-Story 2 Car Garage
- Studio Becker Cabinetry
- Miele appliances
Hokupa'a is being built by Maryl Group Construction and the 14 private luxury residences will be the first new homes built in Hawaii Kai in over 10 years.
From the architectural design, to the quality of craftsmanship, our Oahu-based Hokupa'a team is focused on creating neighborhoods that are designed to cultivate connected life experiences. Believing that decisions made are not just for today; the choices made will leave a legacy for those who follow and create new footprints.
Contact the Sales Team
(808) 739-4191
Olomana Heights: Your Mauka Property Awaits from GreeneWaters Info on Vimeo.
Imagine you're Home
Olomana Heights offers home sites on 64 acres of agricultural land with pristine panoramic ocean and mountains views, surrounded by miles of conservation land with hiking and biking trails. Incredible views of the majestic Koolau Mountains on the Windward Side of Oahu make the Olomana Heights area one of the best, most secluded, serene places to live on Oahu. Freedom to adventure, freedom to build the house you want, Olomana Heights is an ideal location with possibilities limited only by your imagination.
Your Pathway to Adventure
At Olomana Heights, there is a sense of wonder and excitement for homeowners who are environmental enthusiasts, enjoy tranquility and relish adventure. It is these things that make a house into a home, that inspire us to pay attention, that make life special.
Olomana Heights is perfect for those who enjoy nature and the great outdoors as well as the peach and tranquility the setting provides.
Contact the Sales Team
(808) 738-8989


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Back in December, Australian beauty Margot Robbie married her British beau Tom Ackerly in a super secret ceremony in Byron Bay.
Wearing her mother's 30-year-old wedding dress, she was papped looking relaxed and happy chatting to her nephew before the nuptials.
Just 5 months later, the 26-year-old swapped roles to be bridesmaid for her model friend Julia Koenig. This time, the Suicide Squad star wowed in a floral Zimmermann dress with lace trim. Margot and one other bridesmaid teamed their dresses with simple nude heels and flowers in their hair.
Bride or bridesmaid, Margot definitely knows how to set a trend!

subset: commoncrawl


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JOTON Paints
JOTON Company, started in 1996, has developed as one of the pioneers in paint and related coating production in Viet Nam. With application of the update scientific achievements on materials, we have met variety demands of customers in the fields such as architecture, construction, industry, traffic, marine etc. with new kinds of paint and coating.
With skilled staffs and workers, and professional managers, the three factories in Industrial Zones, the subsidiary companies in the big cities in Viet Nam, the laboratory conformed to ISO/IEC 17025:2005 and Standard, Rule of Viet Nam Register, the Quality Management System conformed to ISO 9001:2008, Joton can manufacture kinds of high quality paint conformed to Japanese Industrial Standard (JIS) with stability maintenance of their quality. In present, JOTON's operation is through out of Viet Nam.


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The SEC Joins Growing Alphabet Soup of Regulators Interested in Policing Data Security
And it just got even more crowded in the alphabet soup of data security enforcement. It's the Securities and Exchange Commission's turn to be on cybersecurity patrol. On the heels of a court decision upholding the Federal Trade Commission's authority to enforce data security, the SEC has announced plans to launch more than 50 cybersecurity exams. The exams are designed to assess cybersecurity preparedness in the securities industry. Experts suggest there is more to come, and that the SEC's exam could easily be tweaked for other industries.
Could the SEC's pending involvement in policing information security practices create even more of a burden on your compliance efforts? Well, yes…and no. According to Karen Evans, who previously worked at the Office for Management and Budget, "It shouldn't be a burden if a firm is practicing good information security assurance and risk management."
But for those who haven't thoroughly assessed their risk and created a strong foundation for HIPAA-HITECH compliance, the move by the SEC signals another source for potential punitive actions that could significantly impact your organization's reputation and bottom line.
Have a look for yourself and notice how eerily closely the SEC exam lines up with HIPAA requirements. And let us know what you think about this development by joining the conversation in our LinkedIn group.
Bob Chaput
Latest posts by Bob Chaput (see all)
- HIPAA Risk Analysis Tip – Part 5 – Questions & Answers from May 3rd Conversation with Former OCR Director Leon Rodriguez - June 5, 2017
- HIPAA Risk Analysis Tip – Part 4 – Questions & Answers from May 3rd Conversation with Former OCR Director Leon Rodriguez - May 29, 2017
- HIPAA Risk Analysis Tip – Part 3 – Questions & Answers from May 3rd Conversation with Former OCR Director Leon Rodriguez - May 21, 2017


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A Light From Within Holistic Yoga Program
Highland Park | Website
This event occurred in the past.
Map | Find Parking
Join Miguel Latronica, ERYT and Mary Farhi, MD, in this riveting 8-week holistic excursion to explore the many aspects of yoga, meditation and integrative health. Additional support during the series include Farhi's 8-week webinar that you may watch live or at another time. No prior yoga experience or level of flexibility is necessary.


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Friday, January 20, 2012
Vintage Fridays: Gene Stephens, 1961 Topps #102
At first blush, his O's tenure was underwhelming. Gene batted .238/.327/.373 with 5 homers and 11 RBI in 227 plate appearances in 1960, and dipped to .190/.347/.224 with a pair of RBI in 72 trips to the plate the following year before being traded. But the five homers he hit in his first half-season in Charm City are more than he hit in all but one full season elsewise (9, 1958). Stephens had one of his biggest hits as an Oriole just a week after joining the team. On June 17, 1960, Detroit's Frank Lary had blanked the Birds for 6 innings and was protecting a 1-0 lead when Brooks Robinson led off the seventh with a triple. The runner had to hold on a grounder to first base by pinch hitter Bob Boyd, which brought up the pitcher's spot in the order. Manager Paul Richards called upon Gene to pinch-hit for Jerry Walker, and the outfielder responded with a go-ahead two-run home run. The O's pushed across another run and held on for a 3-1 win. It was the third and final pinch homer of Stephens' career. Incredibly, his first longball as a pinch-hitter also came off of Lary, on August 28, 1956. Even better, it was an inside-the-park job! Frank Lary was probably not a Gene Stephens fan; in their 28 meetings, the outfielder batted .308 and slugged .731, adding a pair of doubles and a third home run to his couple of pinch homers. Not bad work for someone with 37 career home runs.
Tags: 1961 topps, gene stephens, vintage fridays
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Posted by Prefect on December 27, 2016, at 17:19:04
In reply to Re: What you think of research on long term SSRI use » Prefect, posted by SLS on December 27, 2016, at 16:31:43
Other drugs? None.
My entire mother's side have mental illness-OCD, GAD, and panic disorder. No bipolarity.
This started in 1997 right after what appeared to be a hepatitis of unknown origin (tested negative for all pathogens) and no jaundice.
From 1997 to 2004 I was convinced I had chronic fatigue syndrome (main symptom was brainfog and inability to concentrate), so I just took 25mg of Luvox (doc who put me on it assumed CFS is a sleep disorder and said low dose SSRI increases restorative deep sleep). The drug didn't do much, I sort of learned to live with the symptoms.
2004 I developed agoraphobia so bumped up Luvox to 50 mg
2013 I tapered down to 40 mg over a 2 month period to see what happens and agoraphobia came back with a vengeance. 50 mg no longer worked so I bumped it up to 100 mg
Last April got divorced (my condition unfortunately makes me challenging partner) and got 50% custody of my 2 year old. Disruption to my sleep on days I have him is likely the reason my derealization/brain fog/anxiety is getting worse again.
So I wouldn't say I'm treatment resistant. I'm not sure what I have, or I would take the drug. Where Luvox falls in with quagmire is just by chance and an original false diagnosis.
So far I've only tried augmentation supplements these last couple of months because I've promised myself to try something new every week, because the stakes are getting higher.
Since 3-4 weeks ago Magnesium L-Threonine - No significant improvement
Since 2 weeks ago 1000 mg Vit D - No significant improvement
About a week ago - Ginger root tea for anti-inflammatory properties (not bad actually, but wearing off again)
Today I started Tyrosine - Didn't make a difference (wouldn't it right away if I'm dopamine deficient?)
Today I also started Zinc supplementation.
In a couple of days I may try nicotine gum.
I'm desperate.
BTW I was a heavy smoker in 1997 and quit smoking the week I came down with this thing that year.
That's funny my latest family doctor;s been talking about putting me on Pristique.
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/20161215/msgs/1093707.html


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Part I : Settling into the Ride
After three days of running around Dharamshala I've finally got all my gear. All together it weighs about 20 kilos: clothes, camera equipment, notebooks, first aid, hash, spark plugs, tools, tire tubes, clutch cables and other spare parts for the inevitable breakdowns in the middle of nowhere. I've fit it all into two old rucksacks and strapped them into the bars on either side of the wheel. This weight makes the bike drive wobbly as it accelerates, but once it gains speed things even out.
It took awhile to get the balance just right, but now things are set. The luggage is finally strapped to the 350cc Royal Enfield.
I go into the toilet to put on my riding gear: padded trousers, an armored jacket with burn holes in the sleeves, steel-toed boots, Gortex gloves, a keffiyeh to tie around my face for dust. Then I walk up the hill and lean on my bike waiting for M-.
After a few minutes she emerges from her dance studio, followed by friends and family.
I grow impatient as they take pictures. The monsoonal clouds above are beginning to sprinkle and we need to get going.
I put my helmet on and kick-start the engine, revving it loudly to signal my eagerness. Its roar is thunderous and clean, the result of substantial last-minute maintenance at various mechanics around Dharamshala, who banged and ratcheted it into working condition, for now.
I rev the engine as M- gives her sister one last hug goodbye. She climbs on her bike and together we ride away waving, watching our lives in Dharamshala recede in the rearview mirror.
From now on it will only be the two of us, alone for thousands of kilometers through the high-altitude deserts and mountains of Northern India.
It begins to rain as we pull into a petrol station for our first fill up.
"Rain's not a good start," I say, pulling on my riding poncho.
"For Tibetans it's good luck if it rains at the beginning of a trip," M- says.
Tibetans are like that. If something unfortunate happens, it's good luck. If you step in dog shit: good luck. If you undergo hardships at the beginning of a journey: good luck. When bad things happen it means some of your bad karma has finally ripened and you don't have to deal with it anymore.
With our tanks sloshing full we ride back into the downpour. The rain doesn't last long. Soon an opaque sun appears through the overcast and the glistening highway grows steadily drier.
Indian highways are some of the world's most unfriendly. They are narrow, lawless, absurdly crowed affairs, full of cows and suicidally impatient drivers. Wanting to avoid the busy ones as best we can, we opt for the scenic route to Dalhousie, veering off the Kangra-Jammu highway and onto a bumpy orange dirt road that we have mostly to ourselves for nearly a hundred kilometers.
From time to time, enormous, iridescently-colored Tata trucks, decorated like a mobile shrines, with deity stickers all over the windshield and tassels swinging and jangling around the giant back wheels, round the corners honking melodious horns. Sometimes they are filled with dirt and bricks, other times with families and rucksacks.
The road winds us through forests and over hills of orange clay. M- rides in front of me: back wheel wiggling, scarf ribboning behind her like a flag of rebellion.
We pass through a rhododendron forest, past ghost-faced Langur monkeys chewing on the flowers. Cows of course are all over the road, and occasionally we must pull to the side to allow a shepherd and his flocks to pass.
This is my first long motorcycle journey and many of its sensations are new to me.
It feels I'm on a chair hovering through space, the world warping around me, the faces of schoolchildren and villages blurring by.
Vehicles close you off from the world, but on a motorcycle you are within the elements, part of the mixture of humidity and sun and air. Every part of the body undergoes the changes in atmosphere. The steam and the dust penetrate my clothes and touch my skin.
As I ride, I wonder what sort of transformations will my mind undergo during these thousands of kilometers.
I left my iPod behind so that I can be alone with my thoughts most of the journey. For now, it is mostly idle, thoughtlessly aware, hovering, numb as I bump down the road and honk around sharp corners. At other times it feels like I am an alien observer in another's body, my automatic hands clutching and braking and accelerating of their own accord.
And now I am singing Hank Williams songs and reciting poems aloud.
It is only day one.
We reach Kashmir tomorrow evening.
Part II : Kashmir
To enter the Kashmir Valley from the south you must pass through the Jawarhal Tunnel, a rugged 1.77-mile hole between Banih?l and Qazigund that looks carved out by hammers and picks.
The one-lane tunnel is damp and feebly lit and a little frightening, especially on a motorcycle with bats flying overhead and vehicles with one headlight honking past in the bleary darkness, but these hazards make the journey all the more refreshing when the Kashmir Valley washes over you on the other side, with its cool air, valleys full of gleaming rice paddies and snow-capped mountains.
The ascent into the valley is gorgeous and relaxing, and as we pass through the first small town the initial signs of Kashmiri culture begin to appear.
The first thing I notice are the beards, the long, straight, black beards that announce an Islamosphere, accompanied by a sudden scarcity of women and large wooden houses full of broken windows and rain-warped planks, whose balconies are draped with drying burqas and kurtas and Angry Birds t-shirts.
The aroma of mutton and burning plastic assails us as we ride through the bazaar.
Soon we are back in the countryside, with the delicious air washing over me as I ride, air far cooler and fresher and sweeter than the dusty Punjabi heat we'd been experiencing the past two days.
This appreciation of the climate does not last long – my attention must return to the highway and the endless task of overtaking giant trucks around hairpin curves.
Cars and motorcycles will sometimes line up behind these giant trucks for half a kilometer, right wheels in the opposing lane as they peek around the side, choking in their clouds of black smoke. Then, the moment the road straightens enough to see a long stretch of empty highway, the drivers will all accelerate wildly, expanding across the highway and racing forward, overtaking one another until a car appears in the distance, at which point the line recedes back into its lane to await the next opportunity.
And then there are the traffic jams, sometimes hours-long, which we always manage to squeeze past, bumping through ditches over stones and sliding between stalled cars to the front of the jam, where often the cause will be a dozing cow or some man banging on his truck with a wrench.
Shortly before Srinagar it begins to rain, a light drizzle that escorts us into the city. At the first intersection a man rolls up beside us on a scooter and suggests that we follow him to his hotel.
We ignore him, but quickly realize we know nothing of Srinagar and have no idea where to go or stay. I turn to the man, who has been repeating the line "Nice room. Good price. Come." for minutes now, and negotiate a room for 400 rupees.
"Follow me," he shouts as he takes off across the intersection.
When the light turns green we follow him along a channel towards Dal Lake, where he leads us to a shoreline neighborhood across the street from a row of dilapidated houseboats.
The promised room is, of course, non-existent – but he does offer an overpriced room on one of the houseboats.
We put our helmets back on and kickstart the engines, only to realize we haven't the slightest clue of where to go.
We remove our helmets and threaten to leave. The man begins discounting the price, cringing each time we demand something more economical. When the price is finally agreed he leads M- off to have a look at the room while I wait by the bikes.
I light a cigarette and watch the houseboats sway and creak against their moorings. They are far larger than I imagined. Some are over 40 meters, but many of those in my line of vision are so old and busted up that they've already half-sunk into the water. Some consist only of a wooden roof sticking out of the water.
I wait, leaning against my motorcycle, smoking.
A few old men in white skullcaps amble by, staring at me like those paintings with eyes that follow you around a room.
The call to prayer suddenly fills the air, scaring bats into the sky and inspiring every dog in Srinagar to begin howling.
As I light another cigarette the power suddenly returns and the lake bursts into light; radios that had been left running hours ago suddenly join the maddening symphony of dogs and muezzins.
M- appears on the dock, waving for me to come down.
I hop over the missing dock planks and onto deck to find that the dilapidated exterior was highly misleading: within is an impressive display of ostentatious luxury, with ornately-woven pashmina carpets, creamy silk curtains that sway over the doorways and a grand dining room filled with chairs upholstered in velvet.
It is an environment that makes me feel suddenly filthy and impoverished. I drop my luggage in the room, remove my wet, stinky motorcycle clothes and blacken the sink washing the oil and road grime from my hands.
I turn on the shower spout. It coughs out cold dirty water. I decide to delay my shower yet another day.
Instead I put on some okay-smelling clothes and stroll out onto the balcony at the back of the boat, where cushions have been laid out for lakeside idleness. The balustrades overlooking the lake have flowers, leaping fish and storks carved into them, and the water, now still as a mirror, reflects the night sky and the thousand little lights that twinkle from the other houseboats.
We order cinnamon and cardamom tea.
Two ducks race across the lake and take flight into the darkness.
A shikari rows our way. The boatman draws up his heart-shaped oar and calls, "Chocolate? Apple juice? Orchid seeds? Saffron?" and drifts back into the darkness.
To the left and right, neighboring vessels extend out alongside ours, with balconies like ours that reach out over the dark water like ramparts over an abyss. They are full of large Indian families, all sprawled out over the cushions in their pajamas, miniature battery-powered disco lights twirling above them as they snap flash-blinding photographs of themselves with smartphones.
A crane swoops down and lands on the black sky, wavering it into ripples.
I sip my tea.
It is the perfect conclusion to a long day of riding.
Part III: Ladakhi Cham
As we climb the steep hill leading up to Lama Yuru monastery, music begins to fill the air.
It's mostly drums: methodical, meditative drumbeats that steadily increase their tempo as we climb, a beat that vibrates the rib cage and seems to slow the pulse. It becomes louder and louder and above, and the gleaming white monastery grows larger and larger.
Then little monks begin to appear. With their shaved heads, maroon robes and tanned Himalayan faces, they seem almost indistinguishable from one another, like the shattered pieces of a single idea. They hurry around the hill in groups, none of them taller than four feet.
Climbing higher, the barren peaks of Ladakh begin to rise behind the monastery and the source of the music and frantic activity finally appears.
At the center of the monastery courtyard stands a monk in robes so thick and enormous that he looks like a giant. He wears a mask the size of a leatherback sea turtle, depicting a screaming red-faced deity with a goatee of fire and a crown of laughing human skulls. In one hand he grips a giant hooked sword; in the other, a skull fragment of a dead Lama. He is standing over a miniature red corpse on what looks like a sacrificial pillar.
Behind him, monks in tall red hats shaped like mohawks are blowing flatulent groans out of a seven-foot horn. Beyond them, the crowd: hundreds of Ladakhis looking down from the rooftops or sitting on the ground in their dusty chupas. Some swing mani wheels, some finger wooden malas and pray with their eyes closed, others watch, engrossed.
There are also about a dozen tourists in North Face jackets and sunglasses on the other side of the courtyard, their faces pale with sunscreen, each with an expensive new camera hanging from around their necks.
In a riot of cymbals and gong clangs the giant suddenly resumes his dance, twirling and stumbling to a choreographed rhythm, his meter-long sword gripped tightly in his hand as he dances around the alter.
More deities spin out from the curtains that hang over the monastery's entrance, each with its own fierce individual expression.
Every minute or so the doors give birth to another, who spins into the courtyard and stumbles beautifully into rhythm with the drums, which tame and guide him around the yard until a circle is formed around the central, towering deity.
The drums continue with urgency and doom as we make our way through the crowd, looking for an empty spot. We sit in the gray dirt at the edge of the courtyard, a few feet away from a monk wearing what looks like a black sombrero with white pentacles on the bill.
The monks dance by, covering us with their kicked-up dust. Some of them are now wearing horns or antlers, dancing as though drunk and about to fall, spinning one way and then the other, sometimes skipping forward with twisted, kick-out feet.
Behind us, a group of Ladakhi women are mumbling om mani padme hum, rocking back and forth with their eyes closed.
Lost in the dance, an hour or so goes by before I wake again to my surroundings.
Immediately I notice the foreigners on the other side of the courtyard. They are a different sort than the rugged travelers I usually encounter on the road in India. They are package tourists, uniformly isolated themselves from the crowd.
I watch one of them very closely. With his back to the dance, he crouches down feet away from a group of praying Ladakhis, scoots back and forth and left and right for composition, snaps a photo, scrutinizes it in the viewfinder and stands up to search for another subject.
The Ladakhis do their best to disregard the intrusion.
I wonder, however, if the man understands what he is doing.
He edges along the crowd until he spots a monk banging on a drum.
Immediately his camera lifts to his face. He approaches, snapping the shutter. The monk gives him a sidelong glance, seemingly annoyed, but continues drumming.
When the man is done checking the image he turns around to find me crouched a few feet away. I lift my camera, zoom in on his startled face and begin snapping. Bewildered, he assumes he's in my way and looks around behind him only to realize that he is the subject. He tries to relax, to ignore me, but his discomfort is obvious. I move closer, my lens aimed at him like a spotlight, isolating him in the camera's gaze.
He pretends to watch the dance, continually glancing my way to see if I'm still there.
Eventually I cap the lens and return to my seat beside M-, who now has a baby in her lap, a little Ladakhi infant with mascara on its eyes and a black tikka on its forehead.
The Cham dance, which began at sunrise, lasts until sunset, at which point the giant chops apart the body on the alter and tosses its mangled red clumps to the outstretched hands of the eager crowd.
After a circumambulation around the gompa, spinning prayer wheels along the way, we walk down the hill in the twilight to the highway where our motorcycles are parked and throw black tarps over them.
Tomorrow, we ride east again.
Part IV: Moonland
11:07 p.m. — Walking in a flashlight beam along the mani wall outside Lamayuru.
The mani wall is about four feet high, four feet wide, made of stacked stones and covered with flat slates on which 'Om Mani Padme Hum' is carved in Tibetan script over and over again.
The wall seems endless.
We've already been walking for twenty minutes and there's no end in sight. Om Mani Padme Hum, Om Mani Padme Hum, over and over again to eternity.
It must have taken lifetimes to build such a wall…
As we walk, the darkness around us is absolute.
There are no lights in the faraway village, no cars on the road, no rivers nearby, no streams, no wind, no plants, no insects, no moon, no life. The surrounding mountains are black and dead, indistinguishable from the black space above them except that they hide the stars.
Everything is silent.
M- and I walk through this darkness for almost an hour, sometimes switching off the flashlight to fully soak it in. We walk until it seems we've gone too far, that no matter how far we walk the mani wall will never end.
We decide to turn back.
Somewhere along the way I say, You go ahead, and step aside to urinate.
"Be careful," M- says. "They believe deities live in the ground near a mani wall and that if you pee on their homes they'll curse you."
I step a little more to the side of the road and continue to pee.
The following morning we strap our gear to the bikes and resume the ride. Soon we enter an area that looks like the surface of a yellow moon.
The shapes of the rocks, formed from eons of almost no rain and endless wind, are impossible not to stare at as I ride, not easy to do on such winding, bumpy roads. So I ride very slowly, trying to take it in.
Around two mountains, down dozens of switchbacks to the clean, white-blue Indus, we ride from one strange uninhabited expanse to another. We pass through stark and steep mountains, through narrow gorges and wide canyons, through wastelands of sculpted stone.
On one isolated stretch we come upon a crew of dusty Ladakhis hunched over with handbrooms, sweeping dirt off the highway.
As I ride on, I watch M- in my rearview mirror. She stops to talk with them. I pull over and wait for her to ride up.
"Why are they sweeping the highway?"
"The Dalai Lama is visiting a village near here in a few days."
"So they sweep the highway?"
"Yes, they sweep it because he is coming."
"But as soon they sweep it it gets covered in dust again."
"All the same, they sweep."
We ride on. We ride on and on, hour after hour, lost in the landscape.
All of it together is almost enough to make me forget my ongoing motorcycle problem, but as soon as we begin climbing to altitudes over 4,000 meters, the problem reasserts itself. My motor begins powering down until little gas can get to the engine, at which point it can't accelerate out of first gear and goes no faster than 6 miles an hour, a leisurely bicycling speed. I have no idea how to fix it and the nearest mechanic is more than 160 kilometers away.
This is only one of the many problems we've encountered over the last few days: flat tires, broken spokes, scorched spark plugs, a broken headlight, a broken taillight, continuous internal electrical problems. The shoddy welding on the luggage racks is also beginning to come apart.
Still, nothing deters us. Nothing can darken our mood. Whatever happens, all we need do is look around at the land and we are refreshed.
We ride on under the clear sky through air as dry as chalk, making the lips crack and the hands become reptilian. At times we pull to the side of the road and cut the engines, just to hear the silence, a silence so deep and vast it swallows the mind. Sometimes we scream out over the canyons, listening to our voices echo back from many directions.
Then we continue the ride.
As my sun- and wind-burned hands grip the handlebars, I try to imagine what this alien land must have looked like to those who first wandered here millennia ago. What restlessness could have driven them to such an empty, celestial place?
Back in Mulbeck, a monk told us that during winter the temperature can drop to -60? Celsius. What do you do in such weather? M- asked him. I stay in my room day and night, he said. In bed, under blankets, with no electricity and no stove for heating.
For those seeking to withdraw from the world, there are few more isolated places.
Daydreaming, I notice too late the loose gravel on the road as I round a steep switchback and my bike slips out from under me, catching my foot in the luggage rack. I land on my stomach, my helmet smacks the gravel and with the bike on top of me I slide to a stop.
The first thing I realize is the gasoline spilling out. I cut the engine and try to crawl out from under the bike, but it's impossible. The enormous weight is entirely on my ankle and the bike won't budge. I can't even to lift my head to see if any cars are coming. On the ground where I am, pinned like an insect, gasoline leaking all over me, it would be easy for a car to round the curve and run me over. I groan and strain with all my strength, but the bike is too heavy.
Suddenly, I hear M-'s frightened voice shout Joshua! and a car door open and shut. The bike lifts off me and I roll over to find M- above me and a stranger walking the bike to the side of the road.
M- helps me up and I limp over to my motorcycle to check my leg. My ankle is bruised and some of my toes are bleeding, but I can still operate the footbrake without too much pain.
Ten minutes later we're back on the road, my ankle throbbing as we drive the few miles left to Basgo gompa, an ancient monastery isolated on a hill overlooking the vast and barren valley. There being no doctor until Leh, it is useless to fret over my ankle.
M- helps me limp up the hill.
Within, the complex seems abandoned – just wind passing over the stone staircases, not a soul in sight. We circle the old, deteriorated stupas and walk the empty corridors seeing no one until we enter the gompa, where we find a lone child monk banging a drum and chanting prayers loudly to himself below a 10-meter statue of Maitreya Buddha.
After about ten minutes he stops drumming, bows his head to the ground towards Maitreya and asks us to pay the gompa maintenance fee.
A few minutes later, after speaking with the groundskeeper in the larger gompa, we find out the boy lives there alone. A boy lives in each of the two gompas, the groundskeeper tells us. Together, they have two thousand-year-old monasteries, as well as the nearby fortress, all to themselves…
We crawl on our motorcycles and ride on.
Part V: The Nubra Valley
Atop the rocky outcrop above Hunder stands a temple whose heavy wooden doors have been sealed shut, with a silk ribbon run through the handles.
Below, a white river plunges out of a cliff and crashes into a sluice, which steers it alongside the mountain and pours into to the canals that feed the oasis village below. Otherwise, the surrounding valley is desolate: a sea of sand dunes enclosed by steep peaks.
After a moment's hesitation (is it sealed for a reason?) we untie the ribbon and push open the temple's heavy doors. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness.
Enthroned before us is a giant, golden Maitreya Buddha. His face slowly becomes distinguishable in the darkness. The blissful eyes, the Mona Lisa smile.
It's eerie to open a sealed door onto such a presence.
M- begins to prostrate while I make my way along the muraled walls, whose images tell a story I don't fully understand. Some I recognize as tantric deities, their faces dark with age, blackened by the butter candles kept burning at the feet of nearby Maitreya. I edge along the paintings in the dim light, along the artists' strange vision, full of wrathful deities in a wrathful land.
Exiting the temple, the sky blinds me.
I crouch outside sweating among the rocks while M- has finishes her circumambulations, then together we ride back down to the meadow where we pitched our tent two days ago.
M- crawls inside for a nap while I traipse off barefoot through the forest looking for a place to use the toilet. I end up just squatting in the open air beneath a tree, using my hand and some water from a nearby stream.
Back at the tent I lie in the grass and begin writing.
Soon I notice two little girls have crawled over the nearby fence: our regular afternoon visitors, the two Muslim sisters – one dark, one albino – who come to eavesdrop on us a few times a day. They approach carefully, secretly, giggling and hiding in the wildflowers whenever we wave to them.
M- finally lures them over with candy (they know she has it; that's why they've come) but when they get close to us all they do is stand and grin.
The Buddhist family who owns this meadow told us a little about community in this half-Muslim, half-Buddhist village.
We asked if there were ever any tensions. No, they said, never. In a few days when all the Buddhist families leave for Leh to attend the Dalai Lama's Kalachakra initiation, the Muslims will tend to their fields, feed their animals and guard their homes from thieves.
The ezan sounds from the nearby mosque. The little girls hurry away.
Three days later we are marooned in Khardung under grey clouds, waiting for another biker to pass by with an extra spark plug. The high altitude riding over the past few days has charred all five of our spares.
The road is empty.
Nobody is coming.
Nobody is going.
It is the only road out of this valley and it is dead because of a landslide yesterday about 20 kilometers up road near Khardung La.
To make things worse, M- is feeling ill. Plus she is mad at me.
So I drink chai while she lies in bed.
I smoke and watch women out in the fields tending their crops. I watch old men circumambulate the deteriorated stupas topped with yak skulls. I smoke a joint, and wander down to have a closer look. I go until I reach the edge of the gorge beyond the village. There, I simply stare at the mountains.
They are surreal. Each exudes a different persona. The closest, just beyond the gorge separating us, is ill-formed, like an evolving, fetal creature, or like a mountain in the process of devolving into a puddle. To its left are red and orange mountains, and beyond them, a yellow and kingly one, the largest in the view. Beyond that is a range of black, snow-capped peaks.
I light another joint and continue to stare.
Meanwhile, my ears notice the nearby streams, the little foot-wide arteries that direct snow melt through the fields to every corner of the col. They flow by every home and in between every crop. Without them, nothing here would be alive.
so much depends
a red wheel
glazed with rain
beside the white
Never in my life have I seen so clearly the importance of water.
I blink my eyes again at the mountains.
We wake the next morning to find a dozen Royal Enfields parked outside the homestay next to ours. Finally, bikers. And finally, a spare spark plug, which they let us have.
I plug it in while M- scratches at the charred ones with her nailfile, washing them with gasoline. We are about to go up and over Khardung La pass, the world's highest motorable pass, and we might need them. I kickstart the engine and rev it; it flutters and gives a clean roar. Then we are off.
Things go wonderfully, but not for long. Slowly, my bike begins powering down until it barely goes at all, with no chance it will make it to the top.
We manage to reach the first military checkpoint, which guards the beginning of the pass road. Luckily, it has been closed off due to another landslide and there are plenty of idle truck drivers around to ask for assistance. None of them speak English, so M- does the inquiring.
Within twenty minutes she's found an empty load truck willing to take both of our bikes to the top for 500 rupees.
We drive the bikes over and wait for the truck to back onto an incline, then ramp them up and onto its metal bed.
The men get to work entangling the bikes in a web of yellow straps. I watch them, knowing that there's no way this is going to work. The road over the pass is one of the worst I've ever been on, full of potholes and avalanched stones and rushing streams, with loose scree above and paths chopped through perpetually expanding and melting glaciers. We already came over that road on the way into Nubra and I know that the bikes will bang around so violently that they will be damaged.
"Should we ride in the back with them?" I ask M-.
"I'm up for it," she says, ignoring the obvious danger of such an endeavor and instead being quite enthusiastic about riding in an open truck bed because of the possibility that she'll be out in the open snow.
An hour later, word spreads that the pass will soon open.
We crawl into the truck and stand near our bikes, but a military officer orders us to get down. It's too dangerous, he says. Not long ago some people riding in the back of a truck were killed by falling rocks and now it is forbidden.
M- rides with the truck carrying our bikes. I ride in the truck behind it. It doesn't take long before the bikes have jerked and jumped out of their original positions. I watch them, knowing soon something terrible will happen. I am so worried that I barely notice the two men I am riding with. M-'s bike begins sliding down onto its side, then a big bump sends mine leaping against the wall, bending the right handlebar back onto itself.
"Stop!" I shout.
I leap down from the truck and run up to M-'s window.
"The bikes are being thrown everywhere. They can't make it like this. We have to ride back there with them."
It takes awhile for the driver to strap them down again. He doesn't look very happy about it. We wedge ourselves between the bikes, wearing our helmets to protect us from falling rocks, and get going.
It is a lot rougher than I had imagined. Entwined in the web of straps, we must use every ounce of our altitude-enfeebled strength to keep the bikes from jumping around and being damaged. And then there's our own bodies to worry about. And our brains, which begin to throb as we climb higher into the atmosphere, up over the snow line, where tiny snowflakes begin to swirl in the air.
"Snow!" M- shouts, opening her mouth to the sky to catch some on her tongue.
I'm too busy to watch her for long.
I can barely breathe. Each time I must strain to hold the bike up I start heaving, unable to catch my breath. As my clarity begins to deteriorate, my head starts womping and my vision darkens. My ears began to ring. It feels I could white out at any moment, but we still have a long way to go.
The road only grows worse. It is narrow, often barely wide enough for a single vehicle, and has no guardrails. Some stretches are no more than a hacked-open path through a glacier, with a steep plummeting drop-off to the left. I keep my eyes on the rocks above, overloaded with ice and fresh snowfall.
It feels there could be another landslide at any moment.
I am beginning to plan accordingly, thinking of how best M- and I can leap out of the truck should we begin sliding over the edge.
To make things worse, there is traffic.
In theory, the pass is only supposed to be open to one-way at any given time, allowing vehicles to make their way over these dangerous roads without getting stuck in landslide-prone areas because of a jam. In practice, this rule isn't well regulated, meaning at bottlenecks both lanes come to a standstill, unable to go forward or reverse.
We stop and go, stop and go, inching past other large trucks with our wheels near the ledge. As we inch along, we must often pause on some of the most dangerous stretches of narrow road.
Nearing the final stretch, we pass a broke-down SUV parked on a slope within inches of the ledge. A Ladakhi family is standing outside it, the snow swirling around them, bundled in whatever extra clothes and blankets they could find in the cab. The patriarch, wrapped in a loose-fitting blue robe, shouts up at us in Hindi as we pass: "Water! Do you have any water?"
But our water is too hard to reach and before we can even try our driver has already moved too far on, a millipede of cars following and honking behind us.
When finally we reach the pass the driver, without hesitation, backs up onto a pile of stones and snow, then, without a word, jumps up and begins unstrapping the bikes. There is a one-foot drop between the truck bed and the snowy boulders we'd backed onto, but somehow we wrestle the bikes down and guide them over to the road.
The damage, at first glance, seems bad. One of my handle bars is bent around into the other, and M-'s clutch handle has broken off. But soon she figures out how to make the broken clutch work, and I bend my handlebar back into a workable position and we're off again on our way down the pass to Leh.
Part VI: Kalachakra
I bump around the tent with my hands trying to find my phone when the alarm goes off at 6 a.m. I shut it off, remove my sleep mask and earplugs, and unzip the tent flap to find two monks crouched outside beside our motorcycles eating breakfast.
At the makeshift tent restaurant we're camped a few feet away from, a dozen or so Ladakhis are quietly eating fried bread and chickpeas. Behind them, along the gravel road beyond a stone wall, a crowd of tens of thousands is making their way towards the field where the Dalai Lama's Kalachakra initiation is about to begin. The field is almost a mile way, but I can still hear the guttural prayers of thousands of monks over its loudspeakers.
M- is still asleep.
I crawl out of the tent, look at the people on the wood and brick stools of the restaurant, then put on a shirt and sandals and go looking for a place to use the toilet.
Over the past few days of camping, toilet-related searches have been constant. The closest facility requires me to walk almost a mile, wait twenty minutes in line to pass through security at the Kalachakra grounds, walk fifteen minutes through the crowd, wait in line at the toilets, then come all the way back. So I, like everyone else in this tent village, go to the fields.
But there's a problem: we've been camping here for days and the fields have begun to fill up. The one nearest our tent has a constant flow of people ducking in and out. It's usually empty this time of the morning though, so this is when I make my move.
I hop the fence and sneak carefully through the grass, avoiding the fresh dollops and wind-blown squares of used toilet paper, then climb another fence and tiptoe along the trees towards the tall grass, where I squat to do my business.
As I squat, a man rises from behind some nearby bushes, pulls up his pants and hurries off. Another man creeps along the stone wall and lowers out of sight. A woman's head appears above the wall. She begins to climb over, but then sees me and backs away.
When I get back to the tent, M- is still sleeping. Eager to get to the Kalachakra grounds, I wolf down breakfast and return to the tent. She tells me to go along, that she might come later.
I get my radio, water and snacks together, then smoke a joint and plunge into the river of pilgrims. At the entrance to the Kalachakra grounds, the river lets off a tributary of foreigners towards our own special entrance. From there, a roped-off walkway leads us through the Ladakhi upper class VIPs, then through thousands of monks and nuns before reaching the foreigner section.
In contrast to the chaos of the Ladaki areas, the foreigner section is almost utterly sedate. Nobody is talking. No children are being chased. There are no picnics. The space between those seated on the ground or in foldable chairs (only present in the foreign section) is about two feet, in contrast to the claustrophobic two inches of space permitted to the masses outside the roped off, heavily guarded foreigner zone. This doesn't apply to the Koreans, however, who are all squeezed together on tiny stools at the back of the crowd, some wearing surgical masks, some holding sun umbrellas, together forming little school-like units trying their best to be not too much in anyone's way.
Tour companies with names like Bodhi Tours and Nirvana Holidays sent scouts before dawn to lay tarps down for their clients, reserving some 20-30 square feet of unoccupied space for wealthy tourists who will never even show up. I walk up and sit on one of these tarps near the front, not far from the raised stage where dozens of geshes and reincarnate Lamas wrapped in golden robes are seated on the floor around the central throne reserved for the Dalai Lama.
As I sit and wait, I look around.
Beside me, a large group of Brazilians (they have a flag above them) are meditating. Not far away, three Africans are prostrating towards the throne. A group of Chinese wearing white gloves are sipping from little teacups. A half-dozen dreadlocked Spaniards saunter up and sit cross-legged in the nearby grass.
I close my eyes and hear English, Italian, German, Spanish, Japanese and French. When the Italians talk about the Buddha and the Sangha, it sounds like they are talking about the Gouda and lasagna. Behind me, an obese American women dressed in Tibetan clothes is telling uninterested strangers about her son, Tenzin.
In the background, the mass of monks continue their guttural chant. A wave suddenly sweeps through the crowd – people begin looking around, standing up; some rush towards the back fence with their cameras. The whine of pungi-like flutes, drums and gong clangs fills the air, and I stand to see at the far back of the crowd a golden-curtained umbrella held aloft on a pole above a heavily secured entourage moving through the people. It can only mean one thing: the Dalai Lama is approaching.
All around me people begin prostrating while others hold their cameras high in the air. The curtained umbrella hovers over the Dalai Lama like a ghost as he waves and blesses his way through the mass of over 150,000. He moves almost in slow motion, parting the crowd until he reaches the stage and, after ambling to each corner to wave, climbs onto his giant, raised, jeweled throne.
Moments later, a scream pierces the air – a female scream, half pained, half orgasmic – and on the giant stage television screens, a women appears, rushing towards the Dalai Lama's throne. When the police stop her, she throws herself to the ground and begins prostrating. Over the radio, an interpreter explains: "We have a trance… The trance appears to be Palden Lhamo, ancient protector deity of Tibet, who has seized this woman to pay her respects to His Holiness at the beginning of the Kalachakra empowerment." She prostrates until she passes out and is carried away.
Minutes later a man goes into trance and shouts his way towards the stage to begin prostrating. The interpreter explains, "This man has also gone into a trance. He says he is Nyenchen Tanglha – another protector deity of Tibet – who has come to pay his respects."
Speakers follow: first, an emissary from the Ladakhi community, then a Kasmiri Muslim leader, then Richard Gere (?), who speaks on behalf of "all foreigners." After that, the teachings begin.
Hours later I walk through the dusty tent city back to our camp to find M- sprawled out in the grass, listening to the teachings over the radio. After lunch, we gather our dirty clothes in a bag, strap it to the motorcycle and ride off towards the nearby river to bathe and wash our clothes.
Part VII: The Road South
It's unusual to see a woman riding a motorcycle in this country, much less a heavy Royal Enfield.
During this entire trip, everywhere heads have turned to watch M- ride by. Wherever we wander, she is our ambassador, our interpreter. All I need do is stand behind her, holding my helmet, watching as her charm melts whomever we meet, inspiring them to help us in some way.
From the boys running this luxury camp resort on the shores of Pangong Lake, an eye-blue body of water that lies on the border between India and Tibet, her electricity has garnered us free food over the last two days. We're not staying at the boys' camp (we're camped on the water about a half-mile away) yet seeing her and learning she speaks Hindi has inspired them to appear at our tent door around mealtimes to invite us to come eat alongside the wealthy Indian tourists who pay them $80 a night for tent and board.
So we eat these free meals and camp under the full moon on the shore of the lake for three days, and on the fourth day set out over Chang La Pass (at 17,590 feet, the third highest motorable road in the world) on our way to the Leh-Manali highway.
My luggage rack, which I'd had welded back together a week before, judders apart on the way and I have to jerry-rig it back together with some rope and scrap wood I find on the ground near Karu.
The next eight hours are spent riding as fast as our motorcycles can carry us, only occasionally pausing to urinate or admire the rock formations. We ride over Taglang pass (17,480 ft) and as far south as Pang, an encampment of parachute tents that we reach as the dusklight turns the surrounding canyonlands ochre. We pitch our camp on the plateau above the tents and set off the next morning at 5 a.m.
After climbing Lachalung Pass (16,598 ft), the cliffs grow steeper, the mountains blacker, the roads more dangerous. As we descend, weeds and shrubs begin to replace the grey scree, and trees start appearing alongside the streams.
After a month of nothing but desiccated high-altitude desert, such greenery causes a new energy to surge through me.
Then, some 20 miles from the military checkpoint guarding the Himachal Pradesh border, we run into our last major challenge. As we round the corner of a narrow switchback we find the route half-blocked by a landslide, which has loosened a waterfall over the road, flooding it three feet deep and creating a river that rushes down the road a half mile before plunging off the cliff.
Traffic is already backed up for nearly a kilometer.
When we finally squeeze through to the front we find a giant lorry stuck tire-deep in the river.
We watch as it reverses and attempts to accelerate over some sub-aquatic obstacle, but whatever is hidden beneath the water is simply impassable. The lorry reverses and rams, reverses and rams, over and over again.
As the traffic accumulates and crowds gather to watch this spectacle, my mind begins to drift towards the issue of how the hell we're going to ride through such a river. I trudge through the water in my riding boots, feeling my way around for large boulders, holes and other potential obstacles. When I come the stuck lorry, I kneel down and reach my leg out to feel around underwater for what's obstructing its path. My boot bumps over some jagged stones and then slides off the edge of a boulder straight down about a foot and a half. This is what the truck is trying to ramp over, and what we will have to ride off of if we go down.
The image of being pushed down by the river and trapped under the bike beneath the water comes to mind, and I begin looking around for alternative paths. But there are none. And there is no other road out of Ladakh besides the road we came in on through Kashmir, hundreds of miles in the other direction.
I walk back through the river to M- and we plot our course. If we plan on getting through before nightfall we would have to park our bikes at the front of the traffic and take off as soon as the truck clears the road. But after that? Who knew. Our only strategy was haste.
Assuming I'd get wet on the sprint through the river, I sit my camera bag and other valuables on a rock on the other side, to collect once I get across.
The lorry continues its dance with the boulder while the drivers on our side of the river – Ladakhi chauffeurs of vans and buses full of Buddhist pilgrims returning home from the Kalachakra – grow increasingly incensed. On the other side, about two-dozen husky Punjabis are standing beside their giant trucks.
Inevitably, these two groups begin shouting at each another until one of the Ladakhi drivers pulls his minibus forward and blocks the road, demanding that the lorry abandon its hopeless endeavor and back away so that smaller vehicles can try to get through. He begins directing other minibuses to pull behind him, strengthening the blockade, and in retaliation the Punjabis do the same, thus making the road completely impassable to anyone. Even if someone were to make it across the river, which for the moment still seems unlikely, it would be impossible to pass the roadblock on either side.
They keep shouting at one another, cursing, honking, shaking their fists.
I crouch on a boulder in the middle of the river, smoke a cigarette and watch the water divide and recollect around me. As I crouch, an American couple on bicycles pedals up, surveys the idiocy, lifts their bikes onto their shoulders and steps gingerly from rock to rock across to the other side.
"Looks like the tortoise will win the race," I say.
"Great day to have a bike," the man says. "And now the road will be empty!"
About an hour later — at a point I am no longer paying any attention, but rather just sitting there numb on my rock watching the water swirl around me — the truck, with the help of many groaning shirtless men pushing and tugging on ropes, finally climbs over the boulder.
I run across the river shouting to M- "Let's go! We gotta go!" and hop on my bike.
Twenty or so other motorcycles kick-start their engines. Whoever gets to the river first might get through, otherwise another lorry might pull up and clog the route again.
The moment the truck clears the river I take off – the first off the line – with my boots down to kick me upright again should I begin to fall. I know if I stop the current will drag me over so I accelerate blindly through the rushing water, bouncing over boulders, the river knee-deep, my muffler gurgling, rooster tails of water flying on either side.
And I would have made it. I would have made it all the way through had not another motorcycle come racing towards me in the opposing direction, making me veer to avoid him. As I do my bike drops over the edge of the boulder that the truck had been stuck on and bottoms out, pinning me in the middle of the river as the rushing water pushes me sideways, nearly pulling me down as I strain to keep the bike upright.
I look at the expressionless men witnessing my struggle from the riverbank.
"A push! A push! I need a push!" I shout, but none of them moves. I look around to find M- a few yards behind me, a man on each side of her motorcycle, knee-deep in the stream, valiantly helping to push her through.
I accelerate, but the wheel just spins, unable to make contact with the rocks. People begin shouting at me in various languages, but nobody helps. I stand and pull up on the handlebars and rock and jump until the wheel catches and the bike rockets forward, scooping me up with it. I am bouncing around like a ragdoll across the boulders towards the shallows on the opposite bank. Once I reach ankle-deep water, I park my bike and run over to collect the things I'd left on the rock.
By the time I get back on my bike M- has already rode past. I motor up to meet her.
"We did it!" she shouts, giving me a high five. "What a rush!"
For the rest of the ride to Keylong, we have the road entirely to ourselves and I ride with a freshness that can only be brought about when you pass through such a nerve-wracking trial.
During such moments there are no distractions of the mind, no thoughts of the past, no desire for any future; the present is as sharp as a knife.


text:
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|Title of event
|Organizing innovation
|Organising (SIGs)
|Modelling & Management of Engineering Processes SIG
|Workshop chairs
|Bernard Yannou, Claudia Eckert, Kilian Gericke
The Modelling and Managing of Engineering Processes Special Interest Group aims to support industry in understanding, modelling and running design processes by bringing together a community of design researchers and interacting with industry by identifying research challenges and working together to resolve them.
The product development process of complex engineering products typically involves the collaboration of hundreds of experts often located across the world over a period of several months or years. Delivering these products depends on effective and efficient product development processes.
Product development projects are interdisciplinary endeavours involving different business functions and departments. Thus, a design process interacts with other processes within a company.
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Participants of this workshop will be invited. If you wish to participate but have not yet been invited, please contact one of the workshop chairs.


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CanuHanyu / Nihongogo / Rasa Bahasa
Education Services Australia asked 2and2 to design a suite of mobile language learning apps that would take the toil out of vocabulary memorisation.
2and2 answered the challenge by creating the award winning apps CanUHanyu (Chinese), NihongoGo (Japanese) and Rasa Bahasa (Indonesian) that gamify language learning practise so it becomes fun, engaging and effective.
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These apps have been designed so that they easy and fun to use and have been featured in Apple's Best New Education Apps in 2014. They have been widely adopted in schools and have been successfully integrated into teaching programs. They have been designed so that students or teachers can build their own study sets to tailor learning to an individual's needs.


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Keele Research Repository
Explore the Repository
Abdul-Masih, M, Prsa, A, Conroy, K, Bloemen, S, Boyajian, T, Doyle, LR, Johnston, C, Kostov, V, Latham, DW, Matijevic, G, Shporer, A and Southworth, J (2016) Kepler Eclipsing Binary Stars. Viii. Identification Of False Positive Eclipsing Binaries And Re-extraction Of New Light Curves. Astronomical Journal, 151 (4). ISSN 1538-3881
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Official URL: http://dx.doi/org/10.3847/0004-6256/151/4/101
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|© American Astronomical Society, IOP Publishing. Publisher PDF This is the final published version of the article Abdul-Masih, M. et al., 2016. KEPLER ECLIPSING BINARY STARS. VIII. IDENTIFICATION OF FALSE POSITIVE ECLIPSING BINARIES AND RE-EXTRACTION OF NEW LIGHT CURVES. The Astronomical Journal, 151(4), p.101. It first appeared online via IOP Publishing at http://dx.doi.org/10.3847/0004-6256/151/4/101 - please refer to any applicable terms of use of the publisher.
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|binaries, eclipsing, catalogs, methods, analytical, data analysis, statistical, techniques, photometric
|Q Science > QB Astronomy
Q Science > QC Physics
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|01 Nov 2016 14:41
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Published: 2017-11-14 17:53
Last Updated: 2017-11-14 19:23
Alwaleed Bin Talal, a Saudi Arabian billionaire, has reportedly put his two luxury hotels up for sale in Lebanon.
The Four Seasons and Moevenpick hotels in Beirut are currently on sale through a Lebanese commercial bank, which was commissioned to find buyers, according to the Lebanese Daily Star newspaper.
Earlier this month, Alwaleed Bin Talal was arrested among dozens of Saudi figures who are currently under investigation from a new anti-corruption Saudi committee.
"It sends a message to everyone within the kingdom that MBS has a direction he intends to pursue, so you better bend the knee," said H.A. Hellyer, an analyst with the Washington-based Atlantic Council referring to Mohammed Bin Salman
"Bending the knee isn't simply bending the knee; it's bending the knee as far as he wants," he added.
Saudi Prince Mohammed, who vowed to combat corruption on all levels, will head the new anti-corruption committee. The committee was given extensive powers to investigate cases, as well as issue arrest orders and travel restrictions, and freeze assets.


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Zack Snyder Shows Off Aquaman Footage From 'Justice League'
But we are still getting treats from the director himself from the film, recently he shared a photo of a behind-the-scenes look at the film, which included Batman, getting the colourist treatment. Now he has shared some footage, albeit not yet completed, of Jason Momoa's Aquaman in his underwater realm of Atlantis swimming towards a statue of what is speculated as being Atlan - the Dead King of Atlantis.
Snyder posted the video on to his Twitter with the caption of "Working on my birthday," showing off the nearly completed footage. Check out the video down below.
Working on my birthday 🎉 pic.twitter.com/tLidlUrcyn— Zack Snyder (@ZackSnyder) March 2, 2017
While the visual effects are not done yet, we do get a good sense of what type of atmosphere and environmental features they are crafting for Atlantis and the underwater realm surrounding it.
Fueled by his restored faith in humanity and inspired by Superman's selfless act, Bruce Wayne enlists the help of his newfound ally, Diana Prince, to face an even greater enemy. Together, Batman and Wonder Woman work quickly to find and recruit a team of metahumans to stand against this newly awakened threat. But despite the formation of this unprecedented league of heroes—Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg and The Flash—it may already be too late to save the planet from an assault of catastrophic proportions.
Justice League is directed by Zack Snyder and stars Henry Cavill as Clark Kent/Superman, Ben Affleck as Bruce Wayne/Batman, Gal Gadot as Diana Prince/Wonder Woman, Ezra Miller as Barry Allen/The Flash, Jason Momoa as Arthur Curry/Aquaman, Ray Fisher as Victor Stone/Cyborg, Amy Adams as Lois Lane, Jesse Eisenberg as Lex Luthor, Jeremy Irons as Alfred Pennyworth, J.K. Simmons as Commissioner James Gordon, Amber Heard as Mera, and Willem Dafoe as Vulko,
Justice League hits theaters November 17, 2017.
Source: Zack Snyder
(Updated to reflect current information)
Source: Zack Snyder
(Updated to reflect current information)


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Name *
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Current Software
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Automation is a major perk of using Mercury Medical, what manual process are you spending time and money on?
What is your specialty as a service bureau?
Assist us in personalizing your demo, any additional comments?


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Tonto National Forest Planning
By Mark Spencer
As the Tonto national Forest enters the next phase of the forest planning process, APA members help fulfill our mission as "The voice of General Aviation in Arizona!"
To many, the Forest Service planning process is a mystery, but thanks to RAF's Ron Normandeau, the curtain has been pulled back on this process. Ron dedicates many personal hours to helping RAF state liaisons around the country understand the process, as well as reviewing many of the published documents and reports that the FS generates though this process, oftentimes working with the state liaison, and others, to generate a response. In fact, that's exactly what Ron did recently concerning the Tonto's recently released Draft Assessment. With an understanding of overall FS recreational aviation policy, and a few hours of effort, Ron and I worked together to generate a ten page response to the Draft Assessment. Our response focused on two chapters, 5) Recreation and 8) Aviation Facilities. Some of our review simply corrected errors in the report, especially related to the Red Creek airstrip, and other comments brought the Draft Assessment up to date relating to the extensive partnering the aviation community and Tonto have engaged in over the last 4 years.
Alongside the review effort, APA and RAF members, including APA board members David Dunteman, Andrew Vogeney, Rick Bosshardt, President Tommy Thomason, and Executive Director Jim Timm, made sure that every one of the recent Tonto "Needs for Change" planning meetings were attended. While we are very pleased with the path of the Tonto, it is important to let them know that we, as stakeholders in these public lands, are interested in the process and final outcome. The final plan will guide a particular forest for the next two or three decades, and sitting on the sidelines is not a wise move if one cares about their interests in the use and enjoyment of these lands. I was privileged to fly into the Grapevine airstrip along with Carl Guilliams, with transportation provided by a FS member to the Tonto Basin planning meeting. Rick Bosshardt reported that the Phoenix meeting was well attended by multiple stakeholders, some of whom were surprised at the level of volunteer efforts put forth by the aviation community. Our real desire at these various meetings is to be the friendliest people in attendance, offering positive input while understanding the various demands on these lands by a plethora of users. Tonto Chief Planner, Kenna Belsky, commented that the aviation community really impressed them with our dedication, and in particular, the kindness of one of our members, who turned out to be none other than Jim Timm. Thanks for representing Arizona pilots so well, Jim!


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Did you already hear about digital health, and more specifically e-health and m-health? We can assert that this new trend is taking the digital world by storm.
E-health is all digital supports related to healthcare, and M-health refers to health apps. Nowadays, these are major players when it comes to data collection and medical care. Thanks to social networks and mobile apps, sharing knowledge about its condition or illness is becoming more and more huge and useful. E-Health first emerged in the United States, and is promptly growing in France.
What are the major issues of e-health and m-health on their users and the medical sector?
A community of online sharing…
Since the beginning of the Internet, health system is undergoing substantial changes. People used to physically consult a healthcare professional. Now, we consider that almost 60 % of them use internet to inquire about their health.
These networks allow us to ask ourselves about a subject concerning health while remaining anonymous. We can now see on the same platform health experts and patients who exchange on healthcare, and this interaction is to the benefit of each party, the professionals and users. The expert gives a hand by sharing his knowledge and expertise and the user finds the immediate answers he was looking for.
These kind of social networks, such as www.curetogether.com and www.23andme.com, hide massive data which can influence the medical research. All profiles and testimonies of users leave a fingerprint on sites by forming a solid, credible and useful base by all the actors of healthcare sector. This trend was already observed in the United-States on the www.patientslikeme.com site which brings together more than 400 000 Internet users. People affected by specific diseases gather on this social networks to be able to share details about their condition, their illness, their treatment or, sometimes, tips that could be useful.
According to Professor Bruno STRASSER, a science historian at the University of Geneva (UNIGE), this patients' community has already allowed to detect the ineffectiveness of a new medicine against the Lou Gehrig syndrome (degeneration muscular disease). It happened thanks to feedbacks of users using the treatment. It is generally acknowledged that within the Healthcare sector can have positive effects on the biomedical research due to the active involvement of the Internet users.
E-health is not the only digital support in the Healthcare sector to share instantaneous information.
… Surrounded by apps and connected objects
The new digital trend goes on m-health. Nowadays, people are more and more connected on their smartphone.
In January 2015, a study carried out by Odoxa asserted that 1 French out of 3 possesses a connected appliances allowing to record physiological and physical measures.
This kind of apps is more and more used. The study " Santé connectée : le digital au cœur du nouvel écosystème de santé " (meaning "Connected health : the digital at the heart of the new ecosystem of health") highlighted that more than 24% of people, having a smartphone and/or a tablet, has already used Health apps. This result increase by 40% compared with the data of 2014. These health apps can take several forms either as a sport coach, a dietary coach or as a medical record. For example, the Stava apps allows users to run while being accompanied by a fictitious sport coach. It records the sports performances and the progress realized against previous training.
The App boosts users to improve their results and to foster the practice of a regular activity. Other apps called "medical apps" stock multitude of personal medical information such as the weight or the heartbeat. This is the case of Apple. Apple leaned on the idea of storage to develop an App dedicated to the health. This App, called Health Kit, offers to users the possibility to store their whole medical record such as the nutritional diet, sport activity, medical treatments or physical and morphological characteristics. This kind of Apps allows to users to monitor in real time their health status. The e-health and the m-health are beneficial for users, thanks to the storage of personal data, the practice of a regular sport activity or a daily follow-up of their state of health.
Big data for the Health sector
The full data set by users on the Apps or on patients' networks establishes a database called "Big Data". These data is handled and stored in a different ways according to companies. Since 2015, Apple partnered with IBM to increase its storage capacity and to analyse data stemming from the Healthkit Apps. IBM, thanks to its computer Watson, can synthesize these data forthwith. Those analyses, very coveted by the Healthcare sector, remain, at the moment, the property of IBM and Apple. The real destination of medical data, coming from networks or from Apps, remain unknown. Professionally, a doctor is kept under the medical secrecy. Information revealed by the patient remains private and confidential between the doctor and his patient.
What about Apps and networks? The conditions of data protection are usually lightly read by users who necessarily have to give their consent before being able to use the App. The risk is the current owners of these medical personal data pass on or sell this information to companies which could have an excessive use behind the back of users. The ethical issues of Big Data remain with uncertainties.


text: The interior of this store is very long, but also very narrow. So narrow, in fact, that I had to turn to the side and squeeze my way to the washroom past the customers at the register. I pity the patrons who choose to sit at the tables next to the register--they get no privacy, and often closer look at the other customers than they would prefer.


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Jim Speers
Tiffany's Kyoto
29 July - 31 August 2000
Jim Speers may be known for his lightboxes, but in the last year or so he has moved from creating discrete objects to creating environmental, like the huge perspex pavilion he made for his 1999 United Foods show at Waikato Museum of Art and History.
Speers describes Tiffany's Kyoto as, 'a fantasy exterior/interior, a place you imagine yourself being—your personality extended by taste in every direction, from the surfaces you touch to the air that you breathe'. Speers' glass partitions, mirror wall, fairy-lit tree, plywood origami sculpture, sea of pristine white oil barrels, and looped Western soundtrack offer a distilled, refined, almost religious atmosphere. Perhaps the piece recalls the Museum of Modern Art's sculpture garden, which most visitors experience from the safety of the foyer, as framed, mediated by glass. Perhaps the title suggests the mandarin Tiffany's shop window displays of Gene Moore relayed through Asian affluence.
For Stella Brennan, the project conjures up 'the glamour of international winter, the winter they dress for on catwalks'. Speers, currently Hodgkins Fellow at Otago University, would approve. He likes his works to court associations you can't quite put your finger on, trapping you in the moment before you name it and nail it.


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Video: interview with Christer Björkman & Sarah Dawn Finer
LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM – Celebrations for the 60th anniversary of the Eurovision Song Contest are really hitting up as the rehearsals are underway and the final preparations for tomorrow's shows are really gearing up. Today we met Christer Björkman & Sarah Dawn Finer at the SVT HD studio at K West Hotel & Spa where they allowed us to film an interview at their rented studio in the hotel premises. Enjoy the amazing Mr. Melodifestivalen and of course the one and only Lynda Woodruff.


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All inclusive tour Chambord, Blois and Cheverny from Tours
- See the 3 major highlights of the Loire Valley
- Enjoy a French-style lunch at a local domain
- Learn how to pair wine and food
- Departure from Tours Tourist Office
Discover the castles of Blois, Cheverny and Chambord, three highlights of the Loire Valley listed at the World Heritage by the UNESCO. This fully inclusive one day tour includes the entrance fees to the castles, an expert guide to show you around and a French lunch with local food and wines near Cheverny.
In the morning, guided tour of the castle of Blois, former 13th century fortress. The castle of Blois is famous for its magnificent courtyard built around 4 buildings from 4 different eras: the 13th wing, the gothic 15th century wing built by king Louis XII, the 16th century Renaissance wing built by King Francis I, the classical 17th wing built by Gaston d'Orleans, brother of king Louis XIII. Your tour guide will take you through the Renaissance wing: guards room, queen Catherine de Medici's private apartments, king Henry III's private apartments, where took part the assassination of the duke de guise, one of the most tragic events in the French history.
At lunch, you will be welcome in a charming domain for a guided tour with wine tasting (Cheverny and Cour Cheverny wines) and enjoy a typical meal.
The afternoon starts with a visit of the castle of Cheverny. Privately owned and built in the 17th century, the chateau de Cheverny is located in an estate that has been owned by the same family since the 13th century. It is famous for its collection of furniture and tapestries making it the homiest castle in the Loire Valley. You will also be impressed by the amazing pack of 80 hunting dogs, visible every day.
Later in the afternoon, you will head to the castle of Chambord. Probably the most spectacular castle in the Loire Valley, with its 426 rooms, 282 fireplaces, 77 staircases, it was built in 1519 by king Francis I as a hunting lodge. It is situated in a huge walled 10000 acre large forest, making it the size of Paris. Your tour guide will take you through the king's apartments, the terraces and will show and climb the amazing double helix staircase, possibly attributed to Leoanardo Da Vinci.
At around 6 pm and after a1-hour drive you will be back to the Tours tourism office.
- Transportation in 8 seats minibus
- English speaking guide
- Entrance tickets and guided tour of the Chateaux of Blois, Cheverny and Chambord
- Guided tour and wine tasting lunch at a local domain (Cheverny and Cour Cheverny wines)
- Personal expenses
- Accommodation
- Train tickets
- Children (0-3): free
- Please bring a baby seat
- Children (3-12): reduced
Tourist Office of Tours, 78-82 Rue Bernard Palissy, 37000 Tours
Meet your guide in front of the Tourist Office of Tours 15 minutes before departure.
- We recommend to wear comfortable shoes
- Alternative option is available for people with allergies or food intolerances
- From March 1st to December 23rd 2018
Tuesday and Friday
Departure at 9.00am
Return at 6.00pm
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12/04/2018 : Antique Hunting Weekends for 2018
After successful visits to Malvern and Macclesfield in 2017, Partridge Media would like to present to you two more breaks for 2018. These weekend breaks are a fantastic chance to spend time with expert auctioneer and valuer Adam Partridge of BBCs Flog It!, who will be on hand to offer advice on buying and selling antiques. Included is a 2 night stay in a hotel with dinner, bed and breakfast, visits to a selection of antique shops and fairs, tours of local historic attractions, coach hire and admissions, after dinner talks and an appraisal session. Contact email@example.com or 01625 431788


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The key to successful innovation is being able to draw the line between how much time to spend maintaining and improving existing products and how much to spend on developing totally new ideas.
Past News ReleasesRSS
Santa Clara, CA (PRWEB) September 01, 2015
The CTO Forum, a premier organization for senior technology and business leaders, today announced the release of a new white paper that explores tools and best practices that decision makers in CTO organizations must pursue in order to fuel disruptive innovation within large otherwise conservative corporations. The white paper was developed to help senior technology leaders navigate the most effective course for their enterprise's R&D and product development in an increasingly competitive global marketplace.
Historically, too many Fortune-ranked firms have been unable to sustain their financial and industry standing and this decline has ultimately contributed to significant economic upheaval with global impact. In today's environment of rapid change and constant uncertainty incremental advances are no longer enough, and only brilliant innovation can propel an organization to the forefront of an industry.
The white paper titled "Fueling Corporate Innovation" provides a mechanism for developing a laser focus on how to restructure the CTO function for pursuing disruptive innovation. It explores the best approaches on how to determine what constitutes smart innovation, how to maintain a balance between research and development and the requirement of the marketplace, and how to go about focusing on and leveraging innovation without remaining too conservative.
"The key to successful innovation is being able to draw the line between how much time to spend maintaining and improving existing products and how much to spend on developing totally new ideas," said Basheer Janjua, Founder and President of the CTO Forum. "We believe that finding and maintaining the right balance creates the proper environment for disruptive innovation within the organizations."
To download a complimentary copy of the white paper, visit http://www.ctoforum.org


text: The first women's long arm spring suit from Matuse is named after the Greek goddess of the hunt known for her strength and beauty. So big ups and happy hunting to all the goddess surfers in the house. Best fits: 5'5"-5'7", 125-140 lbs.Tip: It's often better to chose a suit that's a bit large, than one that may fit too tight. The item "Matuse Womens Wetsuit Artemis LS Spring 2mm NWT Ladies Size 8 Retail $250" is in sale since Tuesday, June 20, 2017. This item is in the category "Sporting Goods\Water Sports\Wetsuits & Drysuits\Wetsuits\Women". The seller is "cali-surf-culture" and is located in Redondo Beach, California. This item can be shipped to United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Denmark, Romania, Slovakia, Bulgaria, Czech republic, Finland, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Estonia, Australia, Greece, Portugal, Cyprus, Slovenia, Japan, China, Sweden, South Korea, Indonesia, Taiwan, South africa, Thailand, Belgium, France, Hong Kong, Ireland, Netherlands, Poland, Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria, Russian federation, Israel, Mexico, New Zealand, Philippines, Singapore, Switzerland, Norway, Saudi arabia, Ukraine, United arab emirates, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain, Croatia, Malaysia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Costa rica, Dominican republic, Panama, Trinidad and tobago, Guatemala, El salvador, Honduras, Jamaica.


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Service Times
Sunday mornings at 9:00 and 10:30am
For Children
For Children
- Ages 3 thru 5th grade - Kids Adventure Klub (aka Sunday School) available during both services from September thru May.
- Newborn through age 3 - Staffed nursery available all morning
Between Gages Lake and Route 120 on Hunt Club
749 S. Hunt Club Rd. Gurnee IL 60031
Click here for google maps


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We are pleased to announce that the cast of Power Rangers Dino Super Charge will be attending Power Morphicon! Brennan Mejia, James Davies, Yoshi Sudarso, Michael Taber, Camille Hyde, Davi Santos, and Claire Blackwelder.
Saturday, August 13th
- PRDSC Cast Free Signings ticket handout – Line starts at 6am tickets handed out starting at 9am- till done
- PRDSC Panel – 11:00pm-12:00pm
- PRDSC Cast Free Signings – 1:00pm-2:00pm & 4:00pm-5:00pm
Click on the above images to learn more about them!
They will only be attending on Saturday (August 13th) with two signing times. Tickets will be available at 8am on Saturday.
Register for Power Morphicon today!


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Warm Up - Instructors that find themselves intimidated by hard-to-memorize warm up routines be glad to know the formula for this track is about as basic as it gets. Halfway through the masterclass video Emma Barry asks a nearly silent crowd "Is there anybody out there?" It's yet another love song warm-up. 'Nuff said.We've been reviewing releases for the last couple years now, and if there's any one thing we don't do is pull punches. Here's our bottom line:
Squats - We've yet to see a squat song run less than five minutes, and this release is no exception. Clocking in at a looong 5:52, you've got to turn the dial way back to release #45 to find a longer squat sequence. That means there's plenty of time to grind out the over 100 squats in this track, nearly half of which are singles!
Chest - Three working sets punctuated by single+half combo sequences populate this monster track from multi-talented French artist Bob Sinclar. Instructors better bring their A-game to the launch: The post-break "party" sequence is tough to execute, and even harder to cue. As a side note, C+C Music Factory fans will immediately recognize riffs sampled straight off Gonna Make You Sweat, which also happens to feature "Everybody Dance Now" as its song subtitle.
Back & Hamstrings - If you happen to be a fan of deadlifts, this is the track for you. With two breaks and limited overhead work we'll give this workout a two on a scale of five for difficulty. Looking to go up on your weights? Consider this your personal invitation...
Triceps - Up to this point - and even to halfway through this track - release 62 threatened to leave us wanting for something new. Not that Tricep Pullovers are anything new, but we haven't had 'em in awhile - and after four tracks of "same ol', same ol'" we'll take it. A nice standing extension combo sequence finished off with tricep pushups completes a quirky, yet effective, Gwen Stefani track. Instructors, take extra care with this one - these quick transitions might be tough for newbies and older participants. Video note: Elbows, please (y'all know who you are!)
Biceps - Lights out, folks. It's Evanescence time, and it's got an angry sound. At 3:32 it's also the shortest track in the biceps arsenal, so grab an extra plate. And don't forget to crank the volume up a bit before you hit 'play'...
Lunges - When Paul Davis crooned out the original vocals for this Barry Manilow ballad back in 1977, little did he know that nearly thirty years later Belgian duo Danger Hardcore Team (aka "Dance. House. Trance." or "D.H.T.") would transform it into a dance tune that would then become the musical framework for an exercise class. But sure enough, here it is: The BodyPump 62 lunge track, complete with backward-stepping lunges right off the bench. Leave the bar on the floor, folks - it's plenty hard without it.
Shoulders - When the BodyPump 62 Sizzler hinted at the return of a move named after a certain California governor - a move, we might add, that hasn't been seen since the early BodyPump 40's series - it was with obvious anticipation that we spun up this track. The fact that it's a remake of one of our favorite bicep tracks (BodyPump 43, to be exact), only sweetened the deal. To be honest though, we're totally clueless as to who in the world "Motivo" is or why the song is named The Power of Bhangra 2003. But it doesn't matter. The routine works, and in the end that's what matters most.
Abs - Justin. As in, Justin case you didn't get enough on the last release... here he is again. To be sure, this really was/is a big worldwide hit. We're just not big JT fans. That said, we do like the side plank maneuver as a core workout, and this routine serves up plenty of that. Not to mention some nifty leg extensions and a healthy dose of crunches.
Cool Down Stretch - When was the last time track #10 was the highlight of your workout? Eh, wait - let us rephrase that... When was the last time track #10 was the musical highlight of your workout? Believe it or not, Hinder's Lips Of An Angel rocks us more than all other nine tracks combined. Maybe it's the classic rock sound, or just the fact that we've had enough dance music for one session. Whatever the case, this is one track we can sink our teeth into. Pity it comes at the end.
Music - Like we pointed out on the 61 review, a "playable" release to us is one that sounds just as good on the iPod as it does in class. Like most instructors, we spend a lot of time listening to our music, so playability matters. The problem we see with release 62 is that it has less musical variety than those of the recent past, so unless you like the dance-type genres that dominate this release you just might find yourself mixing in some older tracks to keep it interesting. And that's why we've got to lower the boom on this one with a C- for the playlist. Sorry, guys.And there it is, our review of BodyPump 62. Were we too tough on them, or right on the money? Click the Comments link below and let us know what you think!
Workout Routine - Sooner or later it had to happen. We all know the bar got raised pretty high these last several releases. It's not all bad here - we got our tricep pullovers back, along with our beloved Arnold press and the side plank. Innovative? Not really. It's nice though, and certainly worth at least a C+.
Instructor Video - Instructors who skip right to the masterclass as soon as they pop in the DVD miss an exceptionally well-done introductory sequence by Glen Ostargaard and Susan Tolj. There's a reason this video appears before the masterclass - it's important. If you're an instructor who prides yourself on high-quality technical execution - rather than simply shouting out reams of chorey at your class - then you'll want to set aside an extra 15 minutes or so to take in this virtual goldmine of information. It's easy to watch, too; shot against a white background with minimal props and clear lettering, these instructional videos are light years beyond those of the 40's (and even 50's) series. Excellent work, and well worth a solid A both for content and technical execution (lighting and camera work). As a side note, we particularly like the clothing selections by the presenters this time around - they're more representative of what real-world instructors use than the speedo-type outfits of the past few videos.
- On 22 June, 2007, said...
Hello and welcome back. We have really missed your posts and especially your reviews of the new BP releases. You are not alone in detesting the love-song warm-ups. They are not engaging and, quite frankly, boring. They leave many of us cold. I truly wonder if the choreographers are listening to this feedback. If they were, why have we gotten so many of these slushy warm-up tracks?
Also, the transitions in recent warm-ups have been annoying. Several participants have asked why we have so many "stops" in the music. After all, how many times can you re-set and roll your shoulders?
Keep up the good work!
- On 22 June, 2007, said...
"You're right on the money." Excellent review, as usually. These Glen's warmups truly stink, every single one of them. Backward stepping lunges of the bench: NO, thank you (safety issue - watch out your ankles). Abs: no more hovers, please! (And no more Justin as well...)
- On 23 June, 2007, Tim said...
nah a bit tough! i like the warmup, nice song.
the chest and tricep track music didn't do it for me, but made up for it with the intensity. those two are not easy tracks.
all the other tracks were fine I thought.
i give it a B :)
- On 23 June, 2007, Susan said...
Bhangra is Punjabi dance music. Very popular in Europe and with some Hip Hop artists for sampling. Check out Missy Elliot's Get YR Freak On.
- On 26 June, 2007, said...
Interesting review, Craig. I don't mind the music on this one, though I am certainly not among JT's fans, either. It's nothing I would choose to listen to if not teaching Pump, but I guess it's what I have come to expect. The cooldown is OK, but is so retro that it takes me back to high school more than I'd like. As far as the techno, at least it's somewhat familiar (lunges.) I'm just relieved not to have a song that I find too offensive to use.
On the workout side, I actually think this is one of the toughest releases we've had for a long time, with the notable exception of track 4. Love the addition of the pullovers. The only thing I really find objectionable is the fast backward stepping lunges off the bench. Too fast to keep the form, IMHO. After those have hammered my hip flexors, I find the abs very tough, too. Perhaps its just differences in cross-training, etc., but I'm no lazy Pumper, and I had to work up to this one. I'm using those baby plates for the should track. :(
- On 26 June, 2007, said...
c- is generous I have done the release five times as an instructor and every time I have had differculty getting into it, music is slack and class members have been quite anti it saying bring back the old ones - So I'm doing just that 62 sucks
ps. shoulders to Bhangari I don't think so!
- On 27 June, 2007, Blogger said...
I don't think the music is that bad, but agree No More Justin Timberlake!!! I also think the workout is a good one. My shoulders are screaming by the time I am done. I also like the tricep pullovers and the long side planks. Too many times the side planks are way too short to be effective but not this time. My classes are split 50/50, either loving it or hating it. Overall, I would give it a "B"
- On 30 July, 2007, said...
I loved the squat track on 62-thought was quite a nice summary energetic type tune.Kicked the class off in a nice style.
Now i confess it took a little time for me to getto like the triceps track-mainly down to
the timing on the tricep track and the whole starting at the forehead thing did not help too much....but this tune has seriously grown on me.I would like to know what other release tricep pullovers have been on though (ive only got 50-62 so dont know the forties).And the lunges-completely glad everyone else seems to think this is a tough release lunge wise.....
- On 17 August, 2007, said...
I know I'm late to this discussion but if anyone is listening please please please put to rest the warmup love songs. Let's be frank - the last thing I want to be reminded of when I start a workout is how good or bad my love life is and the sappy frankly wimpy songs should be retired. The warmup song in 61 was simply depressing. I know it was supposed to be inspirational -the whole you have to kiss a lot of toads before you find your Prince/Princess but is that really the warmup mood that Les Mills is trying to achieve? (and BP61 focused mainly on the toads not the Prince!)