Open Maps and LocalWiki teamed up to map Antarctica. The maps were crowd sourced by volunteers around the world. Palmer Station is among their first maps. Check it out, here.
Palmer Station is a scientific research station located on Anvers Island off the western coast of the Antarctic Peninsula, operated by the US Antarctic Program.
The majority of the science research conducted at Palmer Station revolves around marine biology. The station also houses year-round monitoring equipment for global seismic, atmospheric, and UV-monitoring networks, as well as a site for the study of heliophysics. Palmer also hosts a radio receiver that studies lightning over the Western Hemisphere.
Other research is conducted from the research vessel (R/V) Laurence M. Gould. Science cruises cover physical oceanography, marine geology, and marine biology. The ship also carries field parties to sites around the Antarctic Peninsula to study glaciology, geology, and paleontology. Palmer Station also hosts an IRLP (Internet Radio Linking Project) Amateur Radio node #8838 for ham radio communications.”- Wiki
The operating area around Palmer Station includes several prominent islands, each classified under the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Madrid Protocol). Examples include the minimally regulated Torgersen Island and the highly restricted Litchfield Island.
It’s really a problem, this thing about hope. Cause it’s true…it’s true that our options are limited and that our cities are disgracefully designed when it comes to using fuel and that destructive ways of living are very skilfully linked to tangles of profit and power in the world and we don’t have very much time. Even the most conscientious person, the most hopeful person, is going to have trouble making significant change.
And Gus Speth, the former dean of Yale Law School, says, “All we have to do destroy the planet’s climate ecosystem and leave a ruined world for our children and grandchildren is to keep doing exactly what we are doing today.”
This is a problem. And here’s the problem - well, there’s lots of problems. The one I want to talk about in particular is this: that we are utilitarians. That is to say, we judge the rightness or wrongness of our acts by their consequences. When we think we cannot have good consequences to our acts, we completely abandon morality. So, we have a situation where on the one hand, you could be hopeful. But if you lose hope, you fall into this abyss which is despair, which is the abdication of moral responsibility.
What I want to point out to you is that that also is a fallacy - that’s a fallacy of false dichotomy. Because between hope and despair is this very broad landscape, and we call it integrity. Integrity. Acting in the way you believe in. Doing what’s right because you believe it’s right. Finding a way that your actions and your values integrate. And that’s, I think, what we’re called to do in these very dangerous times
…What does it mean for particulars?… We can choose to refuse to allow ourselves to allow ourselves to be used as instruments of destruction. I am not going to allow you to use me to wreck the world. I refuse to do what I don’t believe in.”
—Kathleen Dean Moore at SFU on our moral obligation to the future and to children to expend extraordinary effort reducing or reversing the harms of climate change.
The other day I realized that “interactive” anything is the wrong word. Interactive makes you imagine people sitting with their hands on controls, some kind of gamelike thing. The right word is “unfinished.” Think of cultural products, or art works, or the people who use them even, as being unfinished. Permanently unfinished. We come from a cultural heritage that says things have a “nature,” and that this nature is fixed and describable. We find more and more that this idea is insupportable - the “nature” of something is not by any means singular, and depends on where and when you find it, and what you want it for.
This has to do with civic engagement, too, I think. Cities, towns, run in a way that’s interactive - that’s where the sense of something gamelike creeps in. What if cities were, on the other hand, unfinished without the public’s hand in shaping them?
Students on Ice Antarctic Youth Expedition 2011, Day 3 part 1 December 28th, 2011, 5:20pm, on our Buenos Aires - Ushuaia flight
"Well, we’ve crossed into summer."
That’s what my seatmate Arnold told me as we drifted out of sleep and into Buenos Aires, and the sunlight started to stream into the cabin as people around us lifted their window shutters. Today I have come farther South than I’ve ever travelled before. I’m in South America. Buenos Aires was a barrage on the senses. The baggage claim area opened into the exit, packed with people, and we snaked our carts piled with luggage out into the sun. The first thing I could smell was thick smoky air, and second, humidity on our skin.
I was torn between listening to our tour guide, Alicia, and looking out the window, but I found a balance staring out, observing the city, while listening to her voice in the bus - almost like an extra layer of history and richness, superimposed upon what I was seeing. Alicia had a lovely voice. it was careful but informal, leaving off the “g” in words like “being” and pronouncing the silent one in words like “high.” She told us how Buenos Aires had begun a humble, precarious city on the harbour of the Rio de la Plata (we flew over it, its width was unbelievable). There were no resources in the land to build a community, to create other jobs. It was a difficult time as the natives tried to fight for the land. Argentina is a mosaic now, its culture having been informed by many years of borrowed European traditions - many of its citizens are descendants of Italians or the Spanish. Buenos Aires was the last Spanish-founded city in all of South America.
Alicia told us that the city is home to a couple million people, with many more millions living in the outskirts of town. Argentines prefer not to drive so much, partly because they are notoriously naughty drivers - Alicia’s words, not mine. There are 40,00 taxis (they’re black, yellow and everywhere) and 10,000 local buses. Cyclists weave in and out of traffic and most Argentines walk, finding any of a hundred excuses to stop for coffee. Alicia said they can’t imagine not stopping and enjoying their meals. In the city, many of the buildings further back are residential, tall, thin and flat, with roofs shaped like Tetris puzzle pieces. Closer, on either side of the road, are the poorer areas of town. They looked like buildings constructed out of popsicle sticks and string, skeletons of the city.
Some of the more public buildings - the bank, the theatre - are ornate and formal. The early 20th century was a rich period for Argentinian architecture. We also visited La Recoleta Cemetery in the city, before heading off to a hotel to meet the American contingent and have our first proper expedition briefing.
Eva Perron’s grave (top) and stained glass (bottom) at La Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires, courtesy of Alisha Fredriksson
Trees line the squares - thick, leafy groves of them, and some palm trees. Surprisingly, none of those trees are native to Argentina; they’ve all been imported and planted. The only natural vegetation is the green grass. In my head, the reel turns back almost like an archive or microfilm of what it must have been like without those trees - a flat, sunny expanse of green and sky. The bottle trees are mossy green, and this is because they store vast amounts of water and eventually assume the shape of bottles - sometimes they’re called drunk trees.
Alicia said the Argentine people are fairly easy going, but as a young country having known economic hardship, it’s still finding its place. At the beginning, when we had just entered Buenos Aires, I was struck by all the graffiti, words I couldn’t understand, painted on the cement walls lining the highways. What caught my eye was that a couple minutes later I saw someone painting in this very same style under a bridge, slapping bright yellow paint on top of the grey. Was he painting his way across the city? Alicia explained later that the people were finding their voice and sometimes used graffiti as a way to express their message - it isn’t regarded as vandalism as it might be in our cities.
From my journal entry for the expedition website the morning of December 29th, at our hotel in Ushuaia:
She was talking about how it’s easy to live in Buenos Aires, as if the city itself smooths the path. An 80-year-old could go back to university now and start a new career. She said, “Perhaps that’s the magic of the city. It allows everyone to find a way.” Later, as we were pulling away from Hotel Las Americanas in downtown Buenos Aires where we had our first expedition briefing, she said that when Argentines are travelling to other places, they often tell each other to keep their mind in the place they are - “Keep your stories where your feet are touching the earth,” they say. Don’t let your mind wander anywhere else. We are part of the places where we find ourselves. Alicia was talking about the history of the city as we drove along the 9th of July avenue from the airport to the hotel, near the end of our visit, and she told us, “You’re part of its history now.”
TEDx events by the numbers: January
- 77 TEDx events happened around the world
- 67 cities hosted one or more TEDx events
- 29 countries hosted one or more TEDx events
TEDx by the numbers: All time
- 3190 TEDx events have happened around the world
- 800 cities around the world have hosted one or more TEDx event
- 126 countries have hosted one or more TEDx events —
And, as of January 5th, 2012 - 7 continents have hosted TEDx events!