For information on Ontario meetings, please contact Svatka Hermanek: shermanek@schulich.yorku.ca or Bruce Weber: tel. 416-203-0911 or Paul Webb: tel. 416-694-8259.

Meetings are held on the third Friday of January, March, May, September and November. Usually at the Woodsworth Co-op, Penthouse, 133, Wilton Street in downtown Toronto at 8.00 p.m.

Back in September last year, you may recall us reporting that Ryanair were proposing to make in-flight entertainment available on its flights. Passengers were to be charged £5 ($9.48) to access films, cartoons and tv shows on portable lap top type units. Ryanair Chief Executive Michael O'Leary who said in September the units would become “as common as the in-flight magazine”. These have been on trial since November and are about to be abandoned. “It was lack of demand. They decided not to follow it any further,” a Ryanair spokeswoman said. Ryanair said it had not lost any money on the system, which was on trial in only five planes before making a significant investment. The latest money making wheeze is to have in-flight gambling. Watch this space!

News comes of Ryanair selling a brand of water called Blue Rock water, which costs £1.85 for a 500 ml. Reports state that this special Ryanair water isn't from a pure mountain stream or highland spring – it is just carbonated tap water. To purchase the same water from Thames Water i.e. turn on the tap costs 0.06p per litre. The only difference between turning on the tap in any London home and Ryanair's Blue Rock is that the sparkling version has been carbonated at a water treatment works in Beckton, East London, before being bottled and labelled. While the label does not claim to be genuine spring water, neither does it make it clear that it is tap water. Britvic, which 'makes' Blue Rock, made exclusively for Ryanair, claimed the brand was about to be replaced by a new product called Pennine Spring, sourced from a natural spring in Huddersfield.

Due to bereavement in Christina's family, we regret to say that Texas meetings have stopped pending further notice. If you have time to spare and would like to take over Texas meetings, please contact the Beetle on: beetle@globetrotters.co.uk

Every September the annual Open House London event takes place and this year the dates are 17th & 18th September 2005. Over 500 buildings are opening their doors to everyone and turning the capital into a living architectural exhibition. And it's absolutely free! Last year, the Beetle and Padmassana braved the cold autumn air and set off to see if we could get to go inside the famous Gherkin – the tall, glass clad bullet shaped building. It could have been the early hour, or the lack of copious amounts of coffee, but coffee, we could see the gherkin but could we find it? It took an age to get there! By the time we got there, around 9.45am, the queues were breathtakingly long, as Padmassana's photos show.

So, instead, we went to the Bank of England and we joined a guided tour there. It was excellent! Believe it or not, the site of the Bank of England, which has been located in Threadneedle Street since 1734, covers a massive 3 ½ acres – who would have thought it! We moved down a very majestic staircase to some beautiful state rooms downstairs and through the gardens and up again to the rooms that are used to hold meetings with visiting officials to discuss monetary policy. The tour ended in the Bank's museum which is fascinating and includes a gold bullion bar, encased in bullet proof glass, of course, which Padmassana had a go at lifting through the specially designed hole for people to touch the bar. You can visit the museum any time and it is free of charge. The museum is open Monday to Friday, 10.00 – 17.00, Christmas Eve, 10.00 – 13.00 but is closed at weekends and on Public and Bank Holidays.

After the Bank of England tour, we visited one of the livery companies near Smithfield market and after a fry up at the Beetle's favourite 24/7 greasy spoon café, we headed up to St Pancras and joined a tour run by Arups, the consulting engineers responsible for building the new ST Pancras train staton which is to be the new home of the Eurostar as well as a new and upgraded train station for regional trains.

All photos are by Padmassana. We are looking forward to this year's Open House and maybe this time we'll be better organised to go and visit the Gherkin!

If you'd like more information about this years' event, then take a look at the official website, which also runs other architectural tours during the year: https://www.openhouselondon.org.uk/

Trade Aid is a UK based charity aimed at poverty alleviation in Southern Tanzania by creating educational and employment opportunities for the local community and assisting in the development of a sustainable tourist industry in Mikindani. As part of this, Trade Aid take on volunteers to work with the local community. Tim Crouch is one of these volunteers and her he writes about his experiences in the beautiful coastal town of Mikindani. For more information on the work that Trade carries out, see: http://www.tradeaiduk.org/

As the sun sets over Mikindani, the smoke sits in the valley and the sounds rise; after another day in paradise I can't help thinking about the overload heaped upon my senses whilst in Tanzania. The sights can always be captured by camera and many of the most delicious smells can be recreated in the kitchen buts it's the sounds that make Mikindani so special and it's the noises that will stick most in the mind. Words can only scratch the surface of the overload Mikindani places upon the sense of hearing.

The day always starts early in Mikindani and with it so do the sounds. At first light you hear the scraping, scratching noise of women sweeping, invariably just out side your door, a sound that rarely stops before it has accomplished its two aims of cleaning the street and waking Mikindani's inhabitants. Only after this sweeping has woken them up, do the cockerels start to crow. Being in Mikindani, you are never far away from some livestock, be it cows, goats or chicken and so you never feel far away from the farmyard. There is a theory circulating Trade Aid in Tanzania that animals in Tanzania are bred not for their meat (there can be none more gristly on earth) but for their capacity to break eardrums.

The first real human voices come following the early morning school bell, a rock hit against the redundant rim of an old car wheel signifies the children's long and noisy walk up the hill to school. During the day office work is accompanied by the dulcet tones of the women next door calling their various kids for various reasons from various corners of Mikindani. When the children finish school in the afternoon, again accompanied by a ring of the school “bell”, the noise starts off as a distant cheer and culminates in a crescendo of young voices shouting their delight at returning home after a hard day in the classroom. This shouting just puts them in the mood for some more shouting when the games start during the afternoon, a din that doesn't stop until early evening when again the various mamas call their various offspring this time purely for the reason of feeding time.

As you walk out to the road you are hit by the same diesel fumes encountered the world over but the amount of noise produced by such a tiny volume of traffic is a phenomenon unique to East Africa. The combination of decrepit engines and wildly elaborate horns produces a sound that will eclipse anything produced in a New York traffic jam.

As we sit down to dinner the call to prayer from the mosque chimes in for the fourth and therefore penultimate time that day. After dinner we walk down the hill with the food for the dog, the fourth resident of the Trade Aid house to the sound of his whimpering at the smell of the leftovers we are carrying. Just as we lay in bed trying to get to sleep the women of Mikindani have one last blast this time to round up the men of the town before allowing all of us to slip off until the next day when the sensory overload will start all over again. I for one will miss it like crazy.

Which countries are represented by these flags? For the answers, see at the end of the eNews.

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Mistake, mistake, mistake – How could I have made such a stupid mistake. At our late lunch stop I had changed from boots to sandals, strong sandals, the problem was not with the footwear but with my brain which seemed to have gone into non thinking mode as the day started to turn to twilight. We had been walking fast, through thick rain forest and crossing and re-crossing rivers or maybe even the same river. The last few Kilometres of the twenty seven from our jump into the jungle to the 'Yawanawa' village, our guides had decided to make what was a two day trek into one. Why? I have no idea, unless it was too see how we would make out. My legs felt like lead pillars as I walked in the river my sandals acting like buckets holding my down feet, like walking in treacle, my heart pounded loudly with each stride as I tried to keep up with 'Yawanawa' Indian ahead, who was starting to disappear in the dusk. The tribe had warned us that the rain forest was very dangerous at night and they would always be back in the village by nightfall! Just as I thought I could go no further and dusk started to turn to darkness, I saw a figure on the shore about a hundred metres away waving me on. I staggered up to Adam Baines, for that's who it was, as he said “Well done Tony we have made it” and we shook hands. Months of politicking in the urban jungle, then many adventures on the way to our final destination, the 'Yawanawa' village of Novo Esperanca – At last we had arrived or nearly, the last hurdle or just about the last straw, was about seventy steps cut in to the steep river bank leading up to the village.

The 'Yawanawa' were early risers, the queue for the bathroom or in this case the river started at 0415 hours for the women and then the men from about 0445 hours. Breakfast consisted of something from the day before, usually highly salted and difficult to keep down as the sun started to kiss the village roofs of the 'Yawanawa'.

Adam and I stayed in the village main hut, a sort of Pub with no beer or village hall, were the tribe met either to eat with the chief or discus tribal policies or problems. This hut had one large interior room with a double bed and a hammock, I had the hammock after a discussion that I'm not sure if I won or lost!? There was also a kitchen, or should I say a small room that contained a medium size gas bottled refrigerator, used if any medicine had been air dropped to the tribe and needed to be kept cold and a large jug of water with a tin bowl. We had a special treat one night, when the chief switched the fridge on for a couple of hours and we had a mug of cold water that tasted as good as any cold beer I have ever tasted.

These Indigenous people had five different ways of sustaining themselves,' in the depth of this green paradise.

The hunters split the area around the village into seven parts and one part was never hunted on for seven years. They hunted and ate, monkeys, deer, wild pig, various birds and some things I did not want to know the name of. Fruit and fish were also part of their main diet. These people were just about to experiment with having one field for various vegetables.

The two ways they made some money was with 'Aveda', a Canadian firm that bought Uruku off the 'Yawanawa' for the making of their expensive and famous make up, sold in top shops like 'Harvey Nichols' both here, France and in North America. The second way was with tapping the rubber and making it into a sort of vegetable leather used in bags of all types and also sold in quality shops in the worlds fashionable capitols.

The children had half a day of school and half a day of learning how to work like their parents, in whatever was their speciality. The best hunters or fisherman got the best and most desirable woman as wives. I asked why no one seemed to wear glasses or have bad hearing? – The answer was simple nobody would marry anyone with those problems and therefore they were bred out – Survival of the fittest! Adam's words echoed round my brain, “Lucky you were born in London Tony”.

The money the village made enabled them to have huts made out of planks but in the same traditional design but better fitting than the log version.

The tribe lived by some simple rules of the live and let live sort. Laziness was a major sin because it let down a people that had to pull together to survive. Daime was taken once every six weeks, the drug that keeps your head in order, or tidies the files of your mind. The last execution had been fifty years ago and everyone in the tribe had to watch over the age of twelve. The idea being, that when the 'Yawanawa' voted the death sentence, the tribe would know the horror of execution and think carefully before voting for death.

These people gathered on the large veranda of the main house in the evening to eat with the chief, play cards on the only table in the village, with a solitary candle lighting the game. Saturday night would be dance night and they would dance until dawn of the next day. A ghetto blaster run by a car battery, (that had been charged by a solar panel), in one of the huts again lit by one candle, would explode sound into the night frightening off any sort of animal, reptile or even insect far away from the village.

Antonio looked after the canoes and water transport; the tribe would have its own specialists just as we do in our world. The Chief himself would deal with the outside world business. The Marriage with outsiders was not encouraged, The 'Yawanawa' did not want Aids to in filter the village and also when a non Indian married one of their girls, they tended to take the bride out of the tribal area to live.

As the time came to leave this green paradise, I thought had it been worth all the problems in the urban jungle, difficulties of permissions, of hopes being raised and dashed and then raised again. The answer of course was a big yes. Staying with 'Yawanawa' even though for a short time taught me so much not just about the tribe but about myself as well. Everything is possible, with determination, tenacity, time and a belief in yourself, even when others say that your idea is impossibility.

Last December, the Beetle visited Indonesia. Apart from diving I took a trip to Java from Sulawesi and saw the Borobodur Temple (amongst other things). I stayed a few days in Yogyakarta, a name I shall forever have problems pronouncing and hired a car and driver for US 30 for the day which seemed a pretty efficient way of getting around. Much to the initial annoyance of my driver, we gave lifts to anyone (especially older people) carrying huge bundles and had the freedom to stop wherever I fancied and see out of the way things, and some really were out of the way! Mr Azim, my very patient driver looked after me well, as well as driving like he was trying to break the world land speed record and he made Yogyakarta to the Borobodur in just 40 minutes! Using public transport, it is possible to go by bus or minibus from Yogyakarta to the town of Muntilan, change at the terminal here to another bus for Borobudur. Note that the bus station at Borobudur is 1km away from the temple though it is possible to walk. Alternatively, you can go on one of many guided tours on mini buses to Yogyakarta.

It seemed to be the time of year when schools make their annual school trip outings. There must have been several hundred school children, lounging around, larking about, and taking lots and lots of photos! I found out, by talking with many of the groups that they came mainly from Sumatra and other parts of Java and they were absolutely delightful, as curious about me as I was about them. I got many tips on places to go on my travels and invites to family homes, which was very kind.

This was just one day after the horrific tsunami and there was a muted respect and appreciation for the events that were just starting to unfold, but at the same time, it was a holiday and the school children were having a whale of a time.

The Beetle was pretty much the only non Indonesian visitor on that day and the school children's main task seem to be to detract me from seeing the Borobodur at all, but I didn't mind. It was a lot of fun lining up, arms round the girls' shoulders, smiling broadly for the multitude of cameras that were bought out, just one more, just one more they'd say. And the boys, shyly jostling to see who could stand closest and arms held just above my shoulders, thinking I would not see them or feel them as long as they were not resting on me. They were funny adolescent youngsters. And then there was the name and signature signing in their little notebooks. I thought the whole thing was most odd, but a wonderful way to meet Indonesian people and my entire 4 hours spent there consisted of photo posing, though I got my own back and asked other people to pose for me, notebook signing and having simple English conversations. It was a lot of fun, though I kind of wished I'd had a little more of a chance to see a bit more of the Borobodur!

Ok, about the Borobodur: It is thought to have been built between the end of the seventh and beginning of the eighth century A.D. For about a century and a half it was the spiritual centre of Buddhism in Java and then it was lost until its rediscovery in the eighteenth century. The temples are set in beautifully manicured gardens and are said to be composed of 55,000 square meters of lava-rock is erected on a hill in the form of a stepped-pyramid of six rectangular storeys, three circular terraces and a central stupa forming the summit. The whole structure is in the form of a lotus, the sacred flower of Buddha. For each direction there are ninety-two Dhyani Buddha statues and 1,460 relief scenes. The lowest level has 160 reliefs depicting cause and effect; the middle level contains various stories of the Buddha's life from the Jataka Tales; the highest level has no reliefs or decorations whatsoever but has a balcony, square in shape with round walls: a circle without beginning or end. Here is the place of the ninety-two Vajrasattvas or Dhyani Buddhas tucked into small stupas. Each of these statues has a mudra (hand gesture) indicating one of the five directions: east, with the mudra of calling the earth to witness; south, with the hand position of blessing; west, with the gesture of meditation; north, the mudra of fearlessness; and the centre with the gesture of teaching.

You are supposed to wander around the galleries and terraces always turning to the left and keeping the main structure to the right but I noticed that none of the school children observed this tradition. In total, Borobodur represents the ten levels of a Bodhisattva's life which he or she must develop to become a Buddha or an awakened one.

Early morning is the best time to visit Javanese temples, Borobudur included. The gate opens at 6 am, around sunrise. The view of the surrounding volcanoes and the Bukit Menoreh range to the south is clearest at dawn, although morning mists sometimes obscure the view until 8 am. Visitors must walk 500 meters to the base of the hill then climb a series of steps to reach the temple foot. To see all the reliefs one must walk more than 2 km (1.25 mile) around the four galleries and climb several flights of steps. The minimum amount of time needed at the Site is 1.5 hours.

All in all, it was a highly enjoyable day out and I thoroughly recommend it.