And, before starting any of the current things, you'll note another cryptic label at the top of this year's letter. For those in the know, it is of course the addition of my URL. For those not yet fully tuned to what I believe is this century's equivalent of the Gutenberg Bible, it is the World Wide Web (WWW). What that label signifies is essentially a key and pointer into part of my electronic file cabinets, accessible from anywhere in the world by anyone able to get into the Internet. Further, once going to my "home page," the browser can follow my pointers on to my trip pages (all 32 years of them), or wander through other sites significant to me: Brown, the Church of the Advent, MIT, Iggy S.B. Iguana (yes, the iguana I found in the string bean patch on my third floor balcony five years ago has his own home page, with a camera pointing at him - every fifteen minutes the world gets a fresh picture of Iggy).

Another novelty due to the Web: I put the first draft of the present letter up on its site as soon as I began it; those with WWW access and interest have been able to see how these annual missives evolve: first the notes from daily postcards home when I'm traveling; then, a chronologic list of all the events from the year, harvested from a calendar program; then, bit by bit, connecting narrative, judicious editing, clear conclusions are tacked on, and voila - this annual letter.

Before the trip, however, I had occasion for the most serious discussions yet with a number of people whose judgment I value about the direction the Church - and especially the Anglican manifestation of it- is taking. Though I am really troubled by the many innovations, amendments of the eternal Word, desertions of doctrine & discipline, anthropocentric worship practices, etc., I continue a loving son of the tradition into which I was born and ordained. A meeting of like-minded clergy late last year demonstrates something of the chaos: half of these clerics have left the Anglican communion and gone on to breakaway bodies dedicated to the traditions, or affiliated themselves with Orthodoxy or Rome. Perhaps the overwhelming majority of my fellow Anglicans will desert the Church; I'm staying.

It seems all of my value centers are going through similar convolutions: what people in the church call aggiornamento those in the business world have been calling re-engineering (although this discipline's major guru here at MIT has lately been decrying the organizational turmoil occasioned by wholesale downsizing; seems employers have to spend substantial sums replacing all the surplused people, once they find their business won't work as well without trained people).

The year-end drill a year ago continued pretty much as customary: Christmass celebration with family in Needham, with Advent staff, then with Jessica, first Mass of Christmass on 24th, followed by collation at the rectory. Now the pattern changes a bit - no trip home for refreshment before coming back to the Church for Christmass Day Mass: as the flight from Boston departing at 7:00 am was the beginning of an international trip, I had to be at the airport at 5:00. So this year's trip begins with one of the most tedious days of the year, from the rectory to Logan in the wee hours of the morning. The discomfort was exacerbated a bit during the Miami-Belize leg: two pre-teen brothers had apparently had little more sleep than I, turned our row into a battle zone. The battle ended with one glomping his bubble gum into the hair of the other; unfortunately the scissors of my Swiss army knife were the only remedy for the disaster. Happily, had a turkey dinner to replace that which I had missed at home.

As my first attempt at written reaction to Belize, the following thumbnail came right after return from the trip; expansion follows. Belize is one of the dirtiest (with Cairo), poorest (with Calcutta), most corrupt (with DC), most unsafe (with Rio), least resourceful (with Tombuctoo) places I've visited. At the same time, the interlude as a guest of the Mayan indians in their village of San Miguel was one of the holiest episodes in my travels, analogous to the visit to the farmhouse in eastern Bhutan. The flora, fauna, and animal life in the rainforest are spectacular; my substantial weight gain attests to an excellent and varied gastronomy.

The Cays (islands) dot the second largest barrier reef in the world, magnificent for snorkeling, thus the destination of most tourists. For the intrepid, I'd recommend following my experience of homebasing in Belize City (little to recommend it in itself, but it is central), then use the five private bus lines for slow but fascinating local routes to everywhere in Belize (the most distant being Punta Gorda in the South, 200 mi from BZE, 9 hours via bus over half paved, half dirt road, for $US11). Climate: extremely humid, low 68f (20c), high 105f (40c); rain almost every day (only at night!).

Government among the best money can buy; economy near dead: no native resources. Electricity & phone among the most expensive in world, as all power is imported. Unemployment >25%, government laying off police & EMT's to help the economy. None who have good fortune to get external higher education ever return to Belize. How's that for a thumbnail?

Though I was wiped out with fatigue from Logan, was able to sleep a bit after getting the chewing gum disaster undone, found it rather inconceivable to go from climbing over snow, slush, and ice to get into a cab in Boston, now stepping out of another cab in front of the Fort Street Guest House in Belize City, quickly ensconced in "Bogey's Bungalow" (each of the six guest rooms of this century-old home -one of the few to survive frequent hurricanes - having its distinctive label) where I reveled in the 78F heat. Decided to get into the local scene as soon as a two-day sleep deficit could be undone.

The first trip I've taken without a detailed itinerary worked well. It is so difficult to get used to having no obligation, that I can do as much or as little as I wish. Like everywhere British, Belize was closed tight on Boxing Day. Downtown Belize is a fascinating juxtaposition of British and Hispanic cultures. Could not ask for better attention than all the staff at Fort Street showed me. The routine was for coffee delivered to room in the morning, then breakfast on the verandah. The staff, not being used to three-week guests, treat me like a member of the family. Belize is poor, suffers from having wished to be independent, without the capital to do so. The public in general is so sad and lifeless.

Bright in the morning, took the first of many local bus trips, this one , full of picturesque local people, to San Ignacio at the western border with Guatemala. All of the intercity busses in Belize are surplused school busses from the USA, peddled to Belize when safety standards promulgated in the States made the busses unusable. After this trip on an archaic bus into the primitive Mayan interior of Belize, it was amusing to be greeted at the Maya Lodge with the inquiry whether I'd like a guest account on their internet site! Turns out I was the first to use the WWW service to book with the Maya Lodge, though they're now seeing as much as half of their inquiries being made at their Web site.

Off on another bus the next day to the Guatemalan border, where it had been arranged for a guide to meet me and two other Yanks for our visit to Belem, one of the most impressive Mayan sites, of whose ten square miles only a small portion has been excavated. There was an excellent tour guide, who carried on with narrative facts and illustrations about the Mayan culture for the whole day, punctuated with a really neat picnic luncheon. There continues to be tension at the Guatemala/Belize border due to the Guatemalan rebels.

New Year's day I spent solo, wandering in a jungle/botanical excursion around San Ignacio. Throughout my trip, the sun favored me, with humid 90F mitigated by constant soft breeze. Though I had been thinking to fly down to Punta Gorda in the south of Belize, the locals convinced me to take the nine-hour bus down, for real exposure to the land and people.

Though the convenience of potable water and hot showers give some advantage to Belize City by comparison with the bush, it's quite without cultural or aesthetic attraction. Thus the Toledo district down south, with Mayan indian villages, is an enticing destination. And what names of the villages we passed: Pharmacia, Dangriga, Placencia, with mile after mile of orange groves. After overnighting in a rather primitive hotel, "Chet's Place," went to the farmers' market, where I was introduced to the Mayan who would be my host in their village of San Miguel (so named by the natives when they fled from Guatemala forty years before, after the patron saint of their church back home). The majority of older folks speak no English nor Spanish, only Mayan.

After three hours further into the jungle, I was let off the bus so I could walk a few miles to the Lubaantum ruins, not yet generally accessed by tourists. On the way, felt itching on my legs, looked down to notice I had stepped onto an ant hill, was so glad I had brought along a can of Cutter's bug spray, dispatched the ants. Once at Lubaantum, a delightful chap came out of the jungle, introduced himself as the caretaker, gave me an insightful tour. Having twice slipped and fallen into mud, I was quite a sight as I entered the village of San Miguel.

The arrangement in the Mayan village, pioneered by the Toledo district Ecotourism Association (TEA): a house has been built, identical to that occupied by the natives, for their guests (the visitors' water is boiled, however). Each meal is taken with a different family in the village, with at least one member speaking English.

The first evening being the feast of the Epiphany, was invited to an unprecedented event; a Pentecostal church service, conducted totally in Mayan. So glad I had my cassette along to record this spectacle!

Vicente & Pablo, brothers who headed up the TEA venture, are truly committed to the preservation of their native traditions and heritage. This by contrast with the Belizian government, which has contracted with foreigners, allowing them to create a multi-million dollar "Mayan experience" for the tourists. The natives receive less than one percent of the hundreds paid by the tourists daily for this Walt Disney-style experience, rather than all of the few dollars they charge people such as me willing to put up with a bit of discomfort in order to have the authentic experience. I've not been an environmental/ecological fanatic, but abuse such as I saw throughout Belize is getting me there.

Further, the government has made a contract with southeast Asian businessmen for the latter to log the hardwood virgin forests which are in the Mayan indians' territory, stripping the forests bald (as is being done in Brazil) and leaving nothing for ecological repair or sustenance of the natives. Of course, the government functionaries who are selling out to the foreigners are retiring in comfort to their condos in Florida; the Mayans are left worse off than before.

Was wakened my first morning in the village at 5:30 am for breakfast with another family, 3-hour trek through the jungle (constantly slipping and falling in the mud, excruciating humidity and heat), being introduced to all the plants and herbs used for traditional medicine) finally coming to a deep cave for exploration. That done, was brought out to an icy spring for a swim, then onto a canoe for the return trip to the village. What a trip!

After a much needed siesta, a tour of the village, followed by supper with a family of 8 children, of whom the youngest at 3 weeks is named David (have some suspicion the name changes to please the latest guest). To bed early, collapsed from fatigue. The next morning, up at 7:30 for breakfast, a kid came in a truck to take me to the bus stop; we ran out of gas; had quite a walk to the bus stop. On the bus up to Belmopan, a Mayan passenger had a dispute with the conductor, finished by punching him in the neck; the conductor came back with a one-meter machete, was going to whack the passenger, who was saved by being tossed out the window of the bus. Nothing like local color!

Talked on the bus from Belmopan (50 miles inland, to which the capital of Belize moved after the umpteenth leveling of Belize City by hurricane) with a local who had spent three years training to become an EMT and after a week on the job was just laid off by the state as part of their economy move. As there is no alternative employer in Belize for EMT's, the kid has no hope for supporting his family, as legal unskilled labor jobs are inadequate for supporting an individual. The taxi from the Z Line bus terminal took me first to Shantytown to find a young lady suffering from an overdose of drugs, to transport her with her family to the hospital. So good to be back at Fort Street, like coming home after the trip to the country. It was really severe cold one night (60F, 15C), but it was gratifying to learn that records are being broken with snowstorms in the USA.

Once returned from the south, had much reflection on the tragedy that seems to be unfolding in Belize at the present time. I became aware of this when I noticed that everybody is poor, that unemployment is greater than 30%, that although the ordinary worker makes only $75 a week, the prices for food and for clothing are the same or even higher than in the USA. This makes for a personal poverty, which is the (?) cause/result of a social poverty, a spiritual poverty, and a government poverty. From what everyone tells me (privately, when nobody's listening), the bureaucrats and elected officials end up being rich, with condos in Florida, etc. In the same time, they lay off the EMT's, tourist police and schoolteachers with no unemployment insurance, abandon public works and the maintenance of roadways, etc. There is a rampant, pervasive racism afoot here; the Blacks, Hispanics, Mayans, and Mulattos seem almost incapable of talking with each other. Gangs of unemployed Black teens are terrorizing everyone (including their own neighborhoods).

Though the capital has moved to Belmopan, Belize continues as the center of business and power. A few of the original colonial buildings remain; else, it's a motley bunch of corrugated tin and weather-beaten wood. In Belize, the foreigners are increasing the difficulties of the locals. It is evident that the government is in the pocket of the businessmen. With all that, I was refreshed by a visit to the Zoo of Belize - what an ecstasy to see the animals and birds of Belize in their own habitat. Also, finally, I must recognize the good will of everyone with whom I've come in contact during the vacation - the people at Fort Street and Maya Mountain, and especially Vincent and Jose at the San Miguel village - these two gentle and proud representatives of their country. Finally I suggest that everyone visit Belize and these kind people, before the country disappears. I hope many will get to meet the Mayans before they are exploited out of existence.

To get up to the Cays, I was able to avoid the tourists by riding up aboard the Triple J, a speedboat used primarily by the native workers on their way up to Cay Caulker, 1.5 hours from Belize City, and to San Pedro on Ambergris Cay. Unique phenomenon here: expecting big tourism boom in the 80's, a large stock of tourist accommodations were build. However, airline service there is only enough to fill half of the rooms. The next day, bussed up to Shipyard (a Mennonite community), where a few hours in canoe led to the ruins of Lammanai, which was occupied up until the end of the classic period, 900 AD At Lammanai, where only 70 of the 700 structures have been excavated, Belize is doing a careful, slow, controlled program of excavating Mayan ruins, so they can preserve the history. Iggy, our mascot iguana at MIT, will be distressed to learn that they've started an iguana breeding program at the Belize Zoo to promote use of iguana as a food source, for which it has been renamed as jungle chicken. I should note that I ate very well at Belize, a mixture of Tex/Mex, Mayan, Oriental, etc. I think I gained about 15 pounds in the three weeks.

Back to what turned out to be the snowing-est winter on record in Boston, I was quickly longing for the insufferable heat and humidity of the rainforest. Dental work, performance appraisal at MIT, Co-op governance matters at home, continuing turmoil at Church - normal life. There was a punctuation with a tour at Nick's Comedy with Jessica and Diney. The Co-op had been struggling with balloon payments on mortgages for the fourteen years since we've been going; we were most fortunate (largely thanks to a resident who is a professional in mortgage matters) to get a fixed 25-year mortgage at a substantially lower rate than we had been playing. So, that concern is put to bed for the remainder of the Co-op's life; we're now so healthy that we have a few years' worth of applicants, are taking no more applications for the foreseeable future.

Then, following the rigors and discipline of Lent, got on to the Easter joys. Though the courts were not yet done with the Parish, the Diocese and communicants evolved a governance structure which perhaps addresses most of the alleged abuses of the former system. I continue with doubt, however, that the former "corrupt" group is being replaced by perfection; rather, one mode of weakness is substituting for another mode. Doubts to the contrary notwithstanding, we are all human, aren't we? It distressed many that the Rector of the Advent, having withstood the assaults by his adversaries on the parish's corporation through their three years of court battles with him and the diocese, decided to leave for S. Thomas's Fifth Avenue, just as parish life was getting back to a semblance of normalcy. Oh well, out of adversity... We've been most fortunate to have landed as a two-year interim at the Advent a priest who had his own battle scars from ecclesiastical battles in Washington, is bringing a non-partisan (unless being pro-Christ and pro-Mary is partisan) focus to us.

Have had opportunity to minister to people within the parish with whom I've been close for decades: one, undergoing her sixth hip operation, was armed with medicine beyond that of any hospital, appears to be coming back stronger than ever; another, in the twilight years, has ever-decreasing contact with day-to-day events, finds visits by me and other of his long-term friends to be reassuring reminders that he is a valuable person.

Brown has been coming up less than stellar for me this year. Though I was appointed Secretary of my class and continue happily involved with the alumni interviewing of applicants (one of the most hope- and energy-giving activities I have), I was singularly distressed to learn that my 30-year career as a volunteer fund raiser for the university - both as a phonothon leader and as head class agent - came to an abrupt end. Seems that the new management of the Annual Fund (non-alumni, I might point out) determined that people below a certain gift level weren't worth phone calls from their classmates; further, people who were giving below that level were not adequate to do the calling. Oh well, times change....

Through the course of the year, several key people in the information systems group at MIT left for opportunities and challenges outside the Institute. I had been unaware that this high velocity turnover often characterizes organizations which are going through reengineering. One unanticipated benefit for me of the blurring of lines of authority and reporting relationships is that I've been able to take on some initiatives that formerly might not have sailed through the chain of command. As one thing led to another, got involved with rationalizing the e-mail lists of the IS organization, then with the smoothing of the mail delivery process; this led to my exposure to another administrative group, which made me aware there was an advocacy group for support staff at the Institute . When I attended a meeting of this latter group, I noted that I was at MIT for six years before I even heard of the support group's existence. Need I tell you that I was appointed to the group, named co-chair of their publicity/public relations committee? Of course, I'll learn :)

Similarly, I had noted concern about the lack of long-range planning for the United Way campaign at MIT; am now on the campaign's new steering committee. We have found e-mail to have been a substantial help in communicating among campaign staff and volunteers. Both of these Institute-wide activities are most helpful, as they give a larger vision of what is happening at the Institute, beyond the local matters involved with reengineering. When I asked whether a fun IS-wide event might be a tonic for morale in the midst of all the Re-E turmoil, found myself deeply involved in putting together a barbecue for 240 people. Much effort, but what food!!

At the end of April Jessica and Claudine went to Belgium for the happy event of the marriage of Jessica's cousin. Then, at one of the visits Jessica and I made out to Needham, Mum asked where I was planning to visit this year-end. I noted it would probably be VietNam, Cambodia, and Laos. She asked (mostly kidding), "Are you taking Jessica with you?" Jessica answered, "Papa never takes me with him on any of his trips." In self-defense, I noted that Jessica's travels were almost always to Europe to visit her cousins and other relatives and that she had little interest in my destinations. She replied that she had always been fascinated with Indochina. So, I asked if she wanted to join me on this trip. Many long and careful conversations later, we decided we would do the trip together. E-mail and WWW contact with classmates, Vietnamese tourists & experts & natives, and extensive study led us to conclude we'd leave Cambodia alone for now: a recent returnee from there noted that, when the U.S. State Department notes there has been some difficulty for tourists, they are obliquely referencing the slitting of two tourists' throats.

Our largest source of information have been the publications and on-line information of the Lonely Planet group. Those folk, based in Australia, have arranged the neat juxtaposition of printed matter and electronic propagation: their guidebooks are revised every few years; in between, they encourage tourists who have visited their destinations to post to their website observations about them. Thus, we're reading of experiences as recently as two weeks ago by people who have been touring where Jessica and I will soon be. We've arranged only our flights from and to the States, with a few days booked in a hotel. We'll have learned within a few weeks if all we've been hearing about the smooth sailing for adventuresome and resourceful tourists is true.

Jessica (a nurse, remember?) expressed concern about whether I was still up to the rigors of exotic travel; I submitted to a stress test, am apparently in better shape than with a similar test a decade ago - let's hear it again for the dropping of tobacco and alcohol. However, I did note that, if we brought along all of the medicines, medical appliances and potions and antidotes she wanted, we'd have room for nothing else and doubtless be busted at the border as drug runners. She has cut back a bit there. We went to a presentation about third-world travel at Cambridge Center for Adult Education by a young lady who had been in VietNam, Peru, Nepal, Morocco, etc. Though the speaker brought no surprises, Jessica was reassured to learn that her father was not alone in his enthusiasm for creative traveling.

Because Jessica has to work for a few days after Christmass, I'll be leaving early (!) Christmass morning following Midnight Mass, getting through Seoul into Saigon 34 hours later, hopefully finding a nice place for us so that, a few days later when I go to the airport at Saigon to pick up Jessica, I'll have our initial living all set! Our rough plans are to get acquainted with Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), then travel down to the waterways of the Mekong Delta, return to Saigon for boarding the Reunification Express - a 34-hour train up to Hanoi. Along the way, we look to punctuate the journey with day-long interludes at Hue, Dalat, etc., etc. Once in Hanoi, we're eager to get up to the ocean caves above the city. If we're lucky and resourceful, we hope to be able to fly over to Vientiane for an interlude in Laos before return via Hong Kong. You now see what I meant when I noted at the beginning of this letter that, "I can be off to what portends to be one of the most exciting of my annual trips."

With all the aging, illness, and turmoil, aren't we fortunate that this season forces us again to focus on the pure joy of the coming of new life, the birth of hope, the dawning of redemption! The very best wishes to you and all for a Merry Christmass and a Happy New Year!