17 April 1999
Copyright, 1999, Max K. Goff, all rights reserved
 
I remember a laundry in Amsterdam -- the first time I went there was last summer, I think.  And I went in again last fall.  Sometimes I have to have laundry done when I'm on the road, and while I can simply have the hotel take the laundry for me, sometimes I enjoy going into a community and doing it myself, simply to learn something about the community.  I've done it in Munich.  I've done it in Paris.  And last summer I did it in Amsterdam.

The particular laundry was a few blocks from the hotel where I was staying, which was just a stones throw from the train station in central Amsterdam.  It was run by a gentleman of unknown origin; his English simply wasn't good enough to facilitate a conversation.  I'd guess Asian, but precisely where I cannot say.  It doesn't matter.  He did a fine job for me when I went in the second time and hired him to do my laundry for me.  And he was patient the first time when I insisted upon doing my own laundry despite the fact that he had copious help there in his store to provide such services at no extra charge.  But that first time, I learned something.

On the wall next to the folding bench in the laundry, the proprietor had taped various paper currencies from around the world.  I think it was a matter of some pride for the fellow.  Just as many small businesses in the U.S. frame their first dollar for proud display, this gentleman had posted a section of his wall, probably 4 feet wide by 2 feet high, with currencies from around the globe.  And it was a bill on that wall that taught me the lesson.

As I was folding my laundry that first time, I spotted a bill on the wall that looked very much like the image of a bill I was handed in Dubai on my recent trip, when I exchanged dollars for dirhams.  It looked like this:
 






I was stunned the first time I saw the bill on the wall of that laundry in Amsterdam.  I laughed.  It appeared to me to be a "Zero" in value.  Of course I didn't actually believe it had a value of $0 in whatever denomination it happened to be; I assumed it was from a character set that had different representations for digits.  But the idea of a "Zero Dollar Bill" struck me as being kind of funny.  So I laughed.

I went back to that laundry again last fall, primarily to get my laundry done again, but also to see that Zero Dollar Bill and to show it to a fellow evangelist from Sun.  And it was then that it occurred to me that a Zero Dollar Bill is really quite valuable -- it's good for the things money can't buy.

In Dubai I was reminded of those thoughts I'd had in Amsterdam.  And having finally decoded the message (what appears to be a "0" on the above bill is simply Arabic for the "5" digit), I realized it was high time I shared my discovery.

The things of most value are free.  What has always been true in a spiritual sense is the ultimate truth in cyberspace, and that basic law of the net is fundamentally changing the nature of capitalism.  It's not easy to wrap one's brain around the idea of giving away valuable "stuff" as a viable business model for those of us schooled in the pre-Browser age.  And yet, that is the nature of competition in this brave new world.  So much of the net is free and more of the net is adopting free as the only viable approach to market share.  Free email.  Free efax numbers.  Free web sites.  Free PCs.  Free long distance calls.  This phenomenon, when coupled with the realization the information technology is becoming geometrically more pervasive in virtually every aspect of human activities, how can it not turn economies worldwide completely upside down?  I believe there is an idea here whose time has come when it comes to educating those of us having some difficulty adjusting to the rules of this new game:

The Zero Dollar Bill  -- Good for those things money can't buy.


Once again the juxtaposition of cities on my speaking venue gave richer insight into each.   The journey began at JFK, an 8pm flight to Zurich.  From there, a 1pm leg to Dubai, an additional 6.5 hours.  All together, some 16 hours in transit.  I'm sorry to say I've gotten used to it.  Simply going to Europe now would be a breeze.  After that last trip back from Singapore - 26 hours in transit - I feel like quite the seasoned traveler.  It was evening in Dubai when I got there.  Warm, a bit breezy, and nothing like I'd imagined the Middle East to be in terms of architecture.  Driving from the airport to the hotel reminded me of coming into Las Vegas at night.  Dubai, like Las Vegas, is well lit, colorful, and very new.

The U.A.E. leadership made the conscious decision to build a city devoted to commerce.  The successful result is quite impressive.   Lots of new buildings and well kept highways cluttered with late model European and Japanese cars.  Ten years tax free is the draw for businesses to come to this port town.  There's a Shopping Festival every year that celebrates the virtues of consumption.  Without a dependency on oil, which is so common in that part of the world, Dubai has become the Singapore of its region without a clear geographical advantage.  I was told that 85% or more of the residents of Dubai are non-U.A.E. nationals, and I believe it.  English was common.

Cairo, on the other hand, is as mystical as  the ancient sediment that covers the banks of the Nile.  Poverty is evident, as is air pollution, tattered vehicles, and total traffic chaos.  On the drive from Cairo to Giza (to see the pyramids, a must when going to Cairo), the number of English/Arabic signs thinned considerably and for a portion of the journey, it was strictly Arabic.  Dusty.  Hot.  Arabic.

Cairo moves in on you.  I don't know if I can find the words to describe my feelings there.  It's romance in the same way that perspiration is romance.  The ancient soul of the city breathes the thick air and listens to the music of the never ending honky prone traffic, and tastes the apple sweet pipe smoke from beneath bedouin tents while Arabic scale music tempts western sensibilities.  Cairo moves in on you, like the sand blowing past the pyramids and onto the sidewalks of nearby Giza.  It moves in on you.

I didn't darken the doorways of  Internet cafes on this trip.  It was a choice between working out and surfing the net and I chose the former.  I made a commitment to myself to not lose what I'd gained while on the road.  And so I worked out.  It was hard; much harder than it is here.  My body clock objected loudly every time I did a push-up or pumped a weight or ran on a tread mill.  But I did manage to maintain what I'd gained.  And now I can move on.

The audiences in both towns were receptive to our messages and just as eager to hear anti-Micro$oft rhetoric.  I think Mr. Gates and company have peaked; the message has gotten out.  Developers are seeking viable alternatives.  To that extent, we're changing the world and making history with these journeys.  And as difficult as it sometimes feels, that thought keeps me going.  That and the inspiration from  cities like Cairo.  And Dubai. 


 
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