Lanai

Michael As the esteemed readership may know, during their stay in the USA, the intrepid newsletter reporters have so far only explored two of the six inhabited Hawaiian islands: Kauai, Maui, Big Island, Oahu, Lanai, and Molokai. They have yet to explore the main island of Oahu (with the capital Honolulu and Waikiki Beach) and the rather secretive Lanai, where only the super-rich and famous are supposedly vacationing. This year, we deemed it necessary to visit both islands, as we do not tolerate any blank spots on our map.

After a five-hour flight from Oakland (across the Bay from San Francisco), a small propeller plane took us from Honolulu to Lanai. Angelika had planned everything perfectly: we would rent a four-wheel-drive Jeep (incidentally, at a fantasy price that could only be enforced on a remote island) and explore the sights along the unpaved roads. We started this on the very first day by maneuvering the toy Jeep (a Jeep Wrangler) somewhat professionally over a road with partly quite deep sand to a shipwreck that had been lying offshore of a secluded beach for decades.

However, a small rain shower broke out the following night. This caught us by surprise, as it hadn't rained a drop in San Francisco since March, as is the case every year. As it turned out the next day, the water that had poured down during the night had transformed all the unpaved roads on the island into a mud fest and, in some parts, even into raging rivers that would have been navigable only with a tank, but certainly not suitable for a show-off Jeep with children's car tires. Instead of following the recommendation to return the Jeep and hang out with a book on the sofa in the hotel lounge, we put on heavy hiking boots and our Gore-Tex jackets, drove the Jeep to the trailheads, parked it, and walked hiking paths on foot.

Part of it was truly adventurous; at times, the paths were two feet underwater, so we had to hack our way through dense undergrowth for hundreds of yards to keep going. But the "Garden of the Gods," a collection of large, round stones on red sand, was really worth enduring this ordeal. In the evening, when we got back to our hotel, we certainly stood out as heroes. Besides three young people covered in a thick layer of mud with mountain bikes, we hadn't met anyone on the trail. As it later turned out, the three had just started working as waiters in one of the luxury resorts after having been recruited from Alaska. One of them mentioned that the evening before, he had served the guitarist "Slash" from the band Guns 'N Roses at the resort restaurant!

Lanai is tiny. There is an airport, two resorts, a hotel, two snack bars, and an inn that doesn't have a liquor license, which is why you can buy wine/beer at a reasonable price in one of two supermarkets and bring it with you —- it will be served at your table without any fuss. If you stay for a week, you have to eat several times at the same inn, whose menus don't even change, which quickly becomes tiresome.

With one exception, there's only typical American junk food, which you hardly find in America anymore (at least not in San Francisco). The resorts have super expensive (and I mean *much* more expensive than in San Francisco, if that tells you anything) restaurants with quite good food, but it's definitely not worth the money. The clientele consists of golf-playing snobs, mainly from the USA and Japan/Korea, all dressed the same: white shorts and polo shirts during the day, and beige slacks and shirts in the evening. The resorts are expensive ($300 a night) and tasteless. You can also rent bungalows with a butler ($2000 per night), which supposedly film stars like to do. We stayed at the "Hotel Lanai" in the "downtown" of Lanai City (estimated population of 3000) at relatively reasonable prices and laughed at the resort clowns, who were also very annoyed because the golf courses were closed due to rain!

A few days later, we tackled the "Munro Trail," an approximately 12 mile long off-road route that winds through Lanai's highest mountain range. Due to fog and rain, the magnificent views were sometimes completely nonexistent or limited to small "windows," but the path dramatically led through clouds that lingered indecisively, unable to decide whether they wanted to rain down on us or not.

In Hawaii, it seems to be quite uncommon, similar to the American mainland, to cover longer distances on foot. So, when we asked the concierge at a super-luxury resort for directions, he noticeably hesitated and implied that while he could explain the way, he couldn't take any responsibility for what might happen to us. I chalked it up to American over-cautiousness, which businesses often display to protect themselves from massive liability claims, and I laughed as I pointed to the heavy German-made hiking boots I had marched in on the elegant hotel lobby across the polished hardwood floor. However, the next day we learned from our hotel manager that the concierge had actually called and expressed concern about the two crazy hikers. Well, well, covering 12 miles on a mountainous route is no small feat, but the fitness-hardened newsletter reporters could certainly handle it!

At the end of the path stood a signpost with the inscription "Exit," which obviously pointed to the country road via an unpaved road. However, we only saw Lanai City on the horizon and chose an old plantation road that seemed to lead there. However, we hadn't anticipated that this road, made of red dust and about 30 feet wide, would branch wildly and lead around insane bends. The hilly plantation landscape, with man-high impassable weeds that had since replaced the original pineapple plants, offered no broad orientation. After trying out several forks that soon led back uphill and away from the country road in wild bends, a slight panic set in, as darkness would fall in two hours (which in Hawaii means it becomes pitch dark in an instant) and we were still about seven miles from Lanai City.

So we walked back to the "Exit" sign and followed the dusty path for about four kilometers until we reached the country road. Due to the impending darkness, we had accelerated our pace to stormtrooper marching speed and, upon reaching the highway, we exhaustedly realized that only about one car passed every five minutes, none of which stopped, even though we were hitchhiking. Finally, a small pickup truck came along, with two Asian boys about 18 years old in the cab, who promptly stopped and offered us a ride in the truck bed. They drove the five remaining miles like lightning and even swung into the semicircular hotel driveway at the end, where we jumped off, thanked them warmly, marched to our room, quickly showered, and made it to our reserved table at the fine restaurant by 7 o'clock. There, we were amazed to find out that one of the boys was working our table as a busboy!

Oahu

Angelika For most people, the island of Oahu is synonymous with Hawaii, which strictly speaking is not true, because only the volcanic island "Big Island" is officially called Hawaii.

The island of Oahu is known for the capital of Hawaii, Honolulu. Then there's the TV series "Magnum" and Waikiki Beach, which is considered the birthplace of surfing, and of course Pearl Harbor, the naval base that is synonymous with the historical event every American knows, even if they live in the remotest corner of America. For those of you who are not history buffs, here's a quick lesson: The Japanese surprisingly attacked Pearl Harbor during World War II, forcing the USA to enter the war. Oahu, more precisely Waikiki, is a mix of Mallorca and Ibiza; only there it's not German and British tourists but Japanese and Americans who flock there.

One hotel complex after another as far as the eye can see, usually fronted by small "see and be seen" sandy beaches. Otherwise, Waikiki consists of numerous "shopping centers" and department stores that primarily cater to Japanese tourists, for whom Hawaii is the closest sunny travel destination. Many things are labeled in Japanese characters. When we went to eat at the brew pub "Gordon Biersch" in Honolulu, the waiter actually handed us a Japanese menu at first. We had a good laugh.

We already suspected that it would be like that in Waikiki, so we booked a small apartment in Kailua (about a 30-minute drive from Waikiki and Honolulu) in a quiet residential area -- a lucky find, as it soon turned out, because the apartment was large and spacious and had a balcony with a view of the ocean. We were practically a stone's throw from the beautiful long sandy beach. "Kailua Beach" is not only considered one of the best swimming beaches -- all year round -- but also a top beach for windsurfing.

Until now, we understood windsurfing to mean strapping a surfboard under your feet with a sail attached to catch the wind. Let me tell you, that is so "out" in Kailua. Every windsurfer here was racing over the sea with a huge parachute-like structure. The windsurfer stands on a surfboard and holds the parachute high in the sky with both arms. Since many beginners also try this at Kailua Beach, we had to be extremely careful not to get run over by one of those giant parachute things. Michael, who usually tries out all sorts of crazy sports, couldn't stop laughing at this type of windsurfing. He said that people might as well screw a propeller to their foreheads because it looks just as "elegant".

The north coast of Oahu, on the other hand, is a paradise for the best surfers in the winter. We have already mentioned that Hawaiian islanders often describe winter and summer by indicating the wave heights during these seasons, due to the consistently stable temperatures year-round. In the winter (approximately October to April), they expect dangerously high waves at many beaches, which only the most experienced surfers and swimmers dare to tackle. In the summer, however, even average swimmers have a chance.

On the north shore of Oahu, it's hard to find a beach during the winter months where swimmers dare to venture into the water. Waves rising to heights of 30 to 40 feet are quite normal. In Hawaii, a sure sign of a great beach or good waves is, confusingly, when countless cars suddenly park haphazardly along the roadside. Among them, there are always a few pickup trucks, as the surfboard fits well in the truck bed. Yes, surfers are indeed a funny bunch.

Despite highways, huge hotel complexes, and typical American chain stores, we found beautiful, secluded spots on Oahu. However, throughout the entire vacation, I was preoccupied with the question of why Americans love their chain stores so much that they can't do without LongDrugs, Safeway supermarkets, Starbucks, and Walgreens even in tropical Oahu. Why does every shopping mall on Oahu have to look the same and offer the same stores? What drives this urge for uniformity?

An "alibi multicultural" neighborhood does exist in Honolulu, however: a so-called "Chinatown," with predominantly Vietnamese restaurants where people stand in line for hours to eat "Pho" soup. Coming from San Francisco, one can only laugh at this, because eating "Pho" there is about as exotic as having a hamburger; you don't need to stand in line for it, and on Geary Street alone, there are surely twenty Pho restaurants.

There is a corner on the island of Oahu that is still completely undeveloped for tourism. Most native Hawaiians live on the "Waianae Coast" and are fighting tooth and nail to prevent the wealthy from coming in and covering the landscape with hotel complexes and golf courses. To our delight, we read in the travel guide that they have been quite successful in this endeavor so far. However, the travel guide warned that there are frequent unpleasant incidents on the Waianae Coast. Rental cars are sometimes broken into, side windows smashed, or tourists robbed and harassed.

That didn't deter us, even though we were easily recognizable as tourists due to our rental car from miles away. We experienced this area as one of the most interesting corners of Oahu. It's quite anarchic there -- everywhere you see people camping illegally on the beach or staying in old VW buses.

Michael and I love trying unusual culinary delights for our palates. So we decided to test traditional Hawaiian cuisine. The peculiar "Poi" mash is as integral to it as rice is to Asian cuisine. It is made from the root of the taro plant. Taro is considered one of the oldest vegetable plants and was the staple food of the Polynesians for millennia. Even today, you can find taro fields all over the Hawaiian Islands. Poi looks like a light brown, gray baby porridge without a strong taste, only slightly sour with mild bitter notes. Naturally, Poi is packed with healthy nutrients and is used as baby food or a gentle diet for those with stomach issues due to its easy digestibility (now you can roughly imagine how it tastes). We ate it with pork and chicken and the cooked green leaves of the taro plant, which resemble spinach but taste even better. While Poi is not exactly one of my favorite foods, I wish taro leaves were available for purchase in San Francisco.

Top product: "Maui Babe"

Angelika I have never introduced a Rundbrief Top Product before, as experienced newsletter readers know. But with the sun screen "Maui Babe," I couldn't hold back any longer. The name itself is brilliant. The product promises an even tan without burning the skin. I believe such a thing is commonly referred to as tanning lotion. However, "Maui Babe" contains no chemicals and is free from artificial dyes. The balm is mixed according to an old family recipe using Hawaiian natural ingredients (including Kona coffee - that can only be good).

I normally wouldn't have tried it because without sunscreen featuring a high SPF, I turn lobster red in minutes. But our neighbor in San Francisco, who is a die-hard Hawaii vacationer and has skin just as sensitive as mine, had raved about it. Additionally, I had recently heard a report that scientists are now experimenting with coffee-based sunscreen. You can also apply regular sunscreen underneath a layer of "Maui Babe" without any problems. I did a self-test on my legs because Michael always teased me about how white they were.

Actually, an elegant brown tone spread over my legs, which I had also applied sunscreen to just to be safe (though don't expect miracles). The skin was smooth and soft and not dried out. However, the cream is very oily, and after applying it, the book I had been reading also got a few stains.

The record of the month

Michael With aging rock musicians, it's a bit of a mixed bag: Paul McCartney, for example, is a bit of a joke. Well, according to my personal theory, the face-lifted vegetarian was always an empty shell, and only John Lennon was the genius behind the Beatles. Cheap Trick? They were good until the end. Mick Jagger? Well, he's okay. Pink Floyd? So-so. The Who? They're alright. And where the hell is Udo Lindenberg? Recently, I saw "Up" by Peter Gabriel on the shelf. Not bad at all for the old chap.

In comparison, it becomes increasingly clear to me how good the music of some carefully selected new bands is these days. A few years ago, the music scene was stagnant. Then suddenly, people like Limp Bizkit came along and turned everything upside down. Nowadays, they are hated in the scene, but I still listen to them. Eminem! An annoying young man, just to my taste. And the Foo Fighters! Recently, I returned to a classic that was released a few years ago: "There Is Nothing Left to Lose" — the album of the month! Whenever I hear "Generator," I want to blast it across the whole city, turning it up so loud that it can be heard all the way to PacBell Stadium.

The new record "One by One" is not for the faint-hearted, because apart from the ballad "Tired," it really rocks. Except for the rather flat opening track, the complex music reminds me a bit of REM. It's best to imagine the band in a tiny club, playing in front of 50 people, where you stumbled in by chance.

By the way, even the definitely sixty-year-old David Letterman (America's Harald Schmidt) is a fan of this band. Another time, I will discuss the phenomenon that in the USA, quite unlike in Germany, even elderly people still wear sneakers and listen to records from rock bands.

The Mysterous Game of Baseball

Michael As I might have mentioned before, Americans engage in strange sports. Baseball is one such case. Today, let's go ober the rules.

Figure 22 shows a typical game situation, taken at Pacbell Stadium in San Francisco, where the frantic newsletter reporter (live!) sat through an entire game and repeatedly pestered his colleagues with questions until he received logical explanations for the seemingly absurd events on the field.

Just take a look at Figure 22. The yellow numbers indicate the player positions. The pink circle on the left in the image is the so-called home plate. Standing there, from right to left, are the man with the bat ("Batter", 2), the catcher with helmet and glove ("Catcher", 3), and the referee, called "Umpire" (4). Further to the right on the field is a second, smaller pink circle where the pitcher (1) stands. Further to the right follows a wide pink area, the so-called "Infield," where four more figures, the so-called infielders (5 to 8), are positioned. And to the right of the infield is the green "Outfield," which occupies the rest of the stadium area.

Basically, baseball works like this: The pitcher (1) throws the ball to the catcher (3), and the batter (2) standing in between tries to hit it with his bat. If he succeeds, he throws the bat away and runs as fast as he can along the white line to the so-called "First Base," marked with a red 1 in illustration 22, which is a white cushion fixed on the ground in the corner. From there, he continues to the red number 2 ("Second Base"), then to the marked "Third Base" with a 3, and finally to the goal, the fourth corner, the "Fourth Base." If he reaches there, the team scores a point.

While the batter is running, the infielders and also four outfielders standing further to the right in the green outfield, armed with giantic gloves, try to catch the ball and return it to the infield. And here's the catch: If the batter is running towards a base and an infielder is waiting there, grinning with the ball in hand, the batter is out of luck — he is "out".

Now you might be wondering: Who actually belongs to which team? Those who have been paying attention know: Everyone belongs to the same team -- except for the batter, who plays for the other team.

The pitcher, the catcher, the infielders, and the outfielders all belong to the defensive team, while the batter is the attacker from the other team. The pitcher tries to throw the ball to the catcher in such a way that the batter cannot hit it with the bat. To do this, he often signals to the catcher with secret signs about how the ball will be thrown: depending on whether he touches his ear or picks his nose, the ball will come high or low, more to the left or right, with a spin or super-fast.

After three successful pitches (strikes), it's over and the batter has to leave. However, the pitcher must throw the ball past the batter to the catcher within a prescribed window, otherwise the ball is considered out. If this happens more than three times, the pitcher is out and the batter is allowed to run to the next base without further ado.

If the batter hits the ball with the bat and the roughly tennis ball-sized sphere rolls into the field (if it goes out of bounds, it doesn't count), panic breaks out, and the fielders immediately do everything they can to catch the ball and return it so that the infielders can cover the bases. This way, one of them can wait, laughing, with the ball in hand for the panting batter to arrive and send him back to the bench.

However, if the batter has one foot on a base bag, no one can put him out. Only when he is running between the bases is he vulnerable, and a catcher positioned on the next base can stop him with the ball. So, for the batter, it's a game of poker. If he sees that he can't make it to the next base, he can simply settle on the current one, and his team can send the next batter into play, like in a pinball game with a multiball feature, in addition to the parked player. This leads to so-called "loaded bases," because each batter is allowed to park on a base. Then it gets exciting, because with each successful hit by the new batter, the parked players can then try to advance to their next base or even all the way to fourth base, for which the attacking team gets one point per player. And this makes the seemingly dull game interesting even during apparent pauses, because even while the catcher is preparing and signaling to the pitcher with secret hand signs how the next ball will come, the parked batters can try to advance to the next base -- if it works out, it's called a "stolen base".

When the batter hits the ball with full force using his bat and it flies into the stands or even out of the stadium, no fielder can catch it. As a result, the batter cannot be stopped and can leisurely run from base to base back to the starting point, scoring a point. This is called a "home run".

But if the batter hits the ball away with the bat and an opposing player catches it without the ball ever touching the ground, the batter is 'out'.

A baseball game consists of 9 rounds, called "innings," each of which has an "upper" and a "lower" half, where one team attacks and the other defends. The points from each inning count, so it might be that the first inning ends 1:2, the second 0:0, the third 4:3, and so on. The team with the most points accumulated from all innings at the end wins. Typically, the games end with scores like 6:8 or 5:6.

The funny thing about baseball is that there are no time limits. The game doesn't last 20 minutes or 1 hour, but rather until the various prescribed plays of the 9 innings are completed. Theoretically, a game could last indefinitely, but typically it ends after 2 to 3 hours.

At the edge of the field (bottom center and left center in illustration 22), you can see boxes drawn on the grass with white lines. These are the designated areas for the First and Third Base Coaches, both assistants to the team manager, who relay secret strategies to the players on the bases. It is apparently considered stylish ("I won't be told what to do!") for the coach not to stand inside the box, but slightly next to it.

Baseball fans are calm and peaceful. Anyone can cheer for their team, no matter where they sit in the stadium; in fact, everyone sits mixed together. My colleague Jeremy even once loudly booed the San Francisco Giants in their own stadium, and the Giants fans sitting around us just laughed. In a German soccer stadium, heads would roll! But just like in hockey or football, Americans strongly identify with their team but would never start fighting or causing trouble. Americans are usually connected to their team since childhood. Since many Americans don't live in the same state their whole lives, it's not uncommon for someone living in San Francisco to cheer for a team from Florida, for example.

The spectators also don't really stay focused. Sometimes someone goes to get a sausage or a beer or chats with their neighbor. Most of the time, you don't miss anything because the game consists of 80% downtime, during which the pitcher prepares or the players return to their positions. The advertising industry takes advantage of this on television by constantly inserting commercials. One of the reasons why soccer will never catch on in the USA is that it cannot be interrupted constantly and predictably.

The TV stations try their best to spice up the sad game with insane statistics. The "hit ratio" of each batter is displayed when their name appears as a subtitle. The value is between 0 and 1, typically 0.638, and indicates the percentage of balls hit by this batter. The given value means that in the current season, he hit 63.8% of all correctly pitched balls (balls outside the strike zone don't count) with the bat and missed or didn't swing at 36.2%.

When the batter steps down, he never takes his bat with him, by the way. Instead, he casually throws the part, which costs several hundred dollars according to the Eastbay catalog, onto the ground, where specially hired bat boys (usually little boys, similar to ball boys in tennis) pick it up and bring it to the team bench.

Due to the inherent boredom of the game, baseball stars used to chew on large wads of chewing tobacco, which they carried around in grotesquely bulging cheeks and regularly spat out streams of brown juice. Since chewing tobacco can cause mouth cancer and baseball players serve as role models for many young people, the stars today ostentatiously chew on huge pieces of gum.

Among the top players, there are noticeably many Mexicans. I was surprised at how many are named "Hernandez" or "Gonzales." The rest are approximately 30% black and 60% white.

Children, students, and women in the USA do not play baseball, but rather softball. The rules are similar; however, the ball is about twice as large and softer. Additionally, it is not thrown from above and from the elbow, as in baseball, but rather from below at hip height.

Since practically everyone grows up with the sport (American football is almost impossible to play at home, even in the foul-free touch football form, due to the high risk of injury), almost everyone knows the incredibly complex baseball rules, of which there are thick volumes beyond those described today. The true fans sit in the stadium with so-called scorecards and record the scores in the individual innings. The whole thing is somehow a mix of chess and handball, with so many strategic moves that it makes your head spin, and a "four-man defense" in soccer seems like child's play in comparison. In all honesty, if I had to pick a sport, I'd probably pick soccer instead.

How we make such great pictures

Michael People keep asking: How do you take such great pictures? Answer: With cheap cameras and a bit of experience. I get frustrated when I hear that yet another vacation photographer buys an expensive camera and, of course, produces equally bad pictures with it. Expensive cameras are useless. Anyone who pays more than 250 euros for an SLR (body), or more than, let's say, 400 euros for a digital camera is throwing their money away. If you don't spend five hours a day taking photos and making a living from it, the additional features are completely unnecessary. I am a big fan of so-called point-and-shoot cameras that produce a 35mm negative and do everything automatically. You can get quite far with them, but the automatic settings fail in situations with difficult lighting. Those who know what they're doing can outsmart and correct them. Today's digital cameras in the aforementioned price range are roughly at this level.

If you want better photos, you need an SLR camera and a few interchangeable lenses. A simple automatic exposure system is sufficient, which selects the correct exposure time for a pre-selected aperture. Program automation is nonsense. Winders (automatic film advance) can be quite practical, but due to the noise they produce, they can also be very disturbing. Spot metering is okay, useful for advanced users. Autofocus is nonsense. If you can't focus your pictures manually, you need glasses. If you're too slow, you need more practice.

To improve the quality of your photos, you need to learn how the aperture relates to shutter speed and depth of field; otherwise, all is lost. You must know that good light includes sunlight that falls as parallel as possible —- it's no coincidence that professionals only work in the early morning hours and laze around for the rest of the day. In poor lighting conditions, the camera simply stays in the bag; it's as simple as that.

And one must understand that in a photo, there is always only one exposure. If the frame includes several zones with different brightness levels, problems arise. The eye can look at a bright beach and simultaneously resolve details in the shadow of a sunshade. However, if you capture such a scene on film, there are two possibilities: Either you expose the beach correctly, but then the shadow becomes so dark that you can't recognize any details. Or you measure the shadow, then you can see the details there, but the beach becomes so glaringly white that you go blind at the sight of the photo. You have to learn to avoid such problem areas or use a flash even in daylight to reduce the discrepancy.

The fastest way to learn is by analyzing the photos immediately after taking them -- digital cameras are ideal for this. It costs nothing to take multiple pictures of the same object with different settings and only keep the best one without deleting it right away. Even with printed photos, it pays off to take many of them. From a roll of 36 exposures, only one or two pictures are really good for us.

If you're making paper prints, you should use an expensive film and opt for the most expensive development service. The quality of a picture is 90% determined by photographic skill during exposure and the development process. The camera equipment only contributes 10%. A professional can produce excellent pictures even with a pinhole camera (a cardboard box with a hole). An amateur will produce only rubbish even with a Nikon F5.

Elections in America

Angelika On November 5th, Americans elected a new Congress and Senate. As you already know, Republicans (the conservative party to which Bush belongs) not only expanded their majority in Congress but also regained control of the Senate. Although with an extremely narrow majority, it's still a victory. For the next two years, we now have to endure not only a Colt-waving President but also live with the rightward shift that has occurred in both political institutions.

Bush naturally puffed up his chest; he will now be able to push through many of his plans with ease, such as the appointment of highly questionable Supreme Court judges. What is particularly tragic is that these judges hold their positions for life and will continue their mischief long after Bush's term in office.

Living in San Francisco, we once again wondered where on earth Republicans get their votes from. Apart from the Republican real estate agent on 24th Street in our neighborhood, who, as previously mentioned, decorates his shop window with pro-Republican slogans and a photo of Ronald Reagan, we only know people who are sickened by Bush's policies.

The Republican election victory is not easy to understand at first glance, because the American economy is stagnant, unemployment numbers are rising, one corporate scandal follows another, and many Americans have lost large portions of their privately saved retirement funds due to the weakened stock market.

Of course, on one hand, Bush is a master at diverting attention from domestic issues with his war rhetoric. However, if you ask me, the real reason for the Republicans' election victory is the Democrats, who have turned into a party of wimps, and the American television news broadcasts. Out of fear of being seen as unpatriotic, Democratic politicians are echoing Bush and standing behind him. There is currently no opposition in America. This angered many liberal voters so much that they gave their votes to independents or Green Party candidates, or they didn't vote at all. Unfortunately, it will probably take another 20 years in America before the Greens rise to become a serious third party.

But why is television partly to blame? American news broadcasts are consistently at the level of tabloid journalism. Even CNN, the news channel that is still considered reputable in many places, is not worth much. No one provides background information or a balanced perspective. American TV stations are firmly in private hands. Independence is a foreign concept there. Additionally, there are huge media conglomerates that usually own multiple channels, which is why viewers are fed the same nonsense everywhere. And, of course, the interests of advertisers must also be taken into account.

However, an estimated 90% of Americans rely on this type of opinion formation. To be well-informed in America, one must turn to newspapers, public radio stations (yes, such things exist here too), or the internet: The New York Times, which you of course know, and The New Yorker (weekly) are among them -- the reports show balance and good research. We also receive a magazine called "The Nation" (www.thenation.com). It is published weekly, is independent, and has existed since 1865. Politically, it can be characterized as left-liberal. It reveals that there is also a left in America. I always study the letters to the editor with interest, look at which state the people live in, and am pleased when I find liberally-minded people in other corners of America.

Recently, I often click on the articles on "salon.com". The publications are only available to read online, but unfortunately, "salon.com" recently ran into financial difficulties, so most articles can now only be accessed by those who pay a monthly fee.

I don't listen to the radio much, but our well-informed acquaintances swear by the public broadcaster NPR (National Public Radio: www.npr.org), which has existed since 1970, or the local station KQED Public Radio (www.kqed.org), which was founded in 1969. Here, the listener gets what they search for in vain on television: journalists who ask tough questions, background reports on crisis situations, and detailed analyses of various political topics.

And since I'm on the topic of politics, I want to quickly report on something that has repeatedly amazed me in recent weeks: American voters find it completely normal to call their respective congressional representatives and senators to express their political opinions. Of course, they call the politician's office and speak with a staff member. I still think it's great. Before the vote in Congress and the Senate regarding a war with Iraq, the representatives received thousands of calls, and the voters articulated how their representative should vote.

Bush vs. Schröder