This is one of my most recent blogs for Psychology Today.

Our nation values leadership, but we do not teach it well.

Colleges place a strong emphasis on leadership, as any high school senior who is filling out applications can tell you. We watch movies and read books about leaders. It borders on a national obsession.

Yet employers see a gaping deficit. The Partnership for 21st Century Skills (p21.org) interviewed thousands of the world’s most respected employers and asked two questions: 1) what are the skills critical to success in the modern workplace and 2) what skills do new hires lack. Of the roughly 100 skills surveyed, “leadership” ranked in the top 10. It also showed the second greatest skill deficit in recent college graduates (second only to “written communication”). Roughly 28% of graduates are described as “deficient” with only a small fraction deemed highly skilled.

If we value and respect leadership so much and it correlates with success in the workplace, why then do we see such a gaping deficit?

Fools come in many forms.

Some join the running of the bulls of Pamplona, dashing down narrow streets chased by angry bulls hoping to gore them.

Others choose base-jumping: climbing tall buildings, bridges and bluffs in order to jump from their heights and parachute to safety.

Still others join the polar bear club and swim in frozen waters in Minnesota on New Years Day.

I am the type of fool that travels to foreign lands and writes a blog that says, “Nothing happens in New Zealand” and thinks that nothing will happen.

The bull runner gets gored, the base-jumped crashes and the polar bear swimmer gets hypothermia.

I got yesterday.

We were still glowing after the triumph of the cockle outing.  We were feeling cocky.

We arrived on the West coast of the South Island.  It is worth noting that few ever come to the West coast.  It is windy and often almost desolate.  The East coast features sun in the summer, swimming with dolphins/seals and most of the interesting cities.

The West coast reaches out to my inner Scotsman.  The beaches are stunning, but deserted.  The trees next to the shore are all twisted from months of the “Barber”: the name the locals give for the winter wind that is cold and cutting.

We arrived in a quirky west coast city called Hokitika.  A village known for its “Wild Food Festival” (featuring items such as sheep brains and insect larvae ice cream and has a cult following) and their driftwood art.  In the city, its beach is lined with odd sculptures made entirely with materials found on the beach.

Cow

All natural materials

Giraffe

I guess this is a giraffe

Since we had eschewed camper-parks so successfully the previous day, we decided to go looking for a place near the beach slightly outside of town.

We drove until we came to a dirt road that headed toward the shore.  We took it.

We came to a parking area with a “No Camping” sign with a tent and a gate next to it.  In New Zealand, they often differentiate between tent camping and campervan camping.  In the latter, you are able to stay almost anywhere since you have a self-contained toilet.  With this in mind, this locale was probably available to us.  We noted this location as an option, but then started to drive through the gate.  The road was now longer dirt, but it was now really loose sand.

You know that feeling that you get when you realize you have made a critical mistake?

Well, mine came 15 seconds before I got stuck in the sand.  Really stuck.

One of the great joys of parenting is discovering (and dealing with) the massive differences in the proclivities and personalities of your progeny.  Sometimes these differences are hard to spot.  In other moments, they come into stark contrast.

The moment we got stuck, Liam left the car to help.  “I will tell you if your wheels are spinning”, “I will tell you which way to go.” “Let me dig out the sand.”

How Can I Help?

Liam is like spicy Thai food.  When you are in the mood for it, it is exactly what you crave.  Yet if you are in a subtler mood and want mild soup, he comes on too strong.

With my 3 ton campervan with poor torque was half buried in sand, Liam’s spicy Thai curry was exactly what I needed.

We dug for 10 minutes and tried to put rocks beneath the tires.  We got out, but got stuck again.  This repeated yet again.  We then got serious about or efforts.

Susie, Wiley, Terrill and Virginia went to collect driftwood for traction.  Terrill and Susie gathered tons.  Virginia was a blaze of activity.  Susie then looked up to see what Wiley had accomplished.

Remember the part about the differences between children?  Well it comes into stark contrast here.  Wiley, Liam’s twin, has not gathered any wood.

He has a bomb.

Yep, this is Wiley helping

It is worth noting that Susie has been reading a book about a Cambodian girl that survived the Khmer Rouge.  I mention this because children in Southeast Asia still die each month from landmine and unexploded ordinance.  The children find bombs or landmines, think they are toys and ignite them – losing limbs or life.

With these visions in her mind, Susie looks to her oldest son and sees this.

Wiley, to his credit, has noticed that it is plastic and is a toy.  [Note: the only discernable word on the plastic toy bomb was “dolphin”.  I do not want to speculate what bizarre anti-marine theme this toy was a part of.]

Susie did not panic.  Not quite.  She used that mother-on-the-verge-of-panic voice.  “Wiley, please put that down.  Do not throw it.  Please do not throw it.”

Losing the calm voice, she added, “Please do NOT throw it!”

Wiley, perplexed at his wonderful mother’s concern.  Put the toy down.

Moments later, Virginia walks up, picks up the bomb, and throws it.

Once Susie calms down, she asks Virginia if she heard the warnings to Wiley.

“Yes.”

“Did you understand them?”

“Yes.”

“Why then did you throw the bomb?”

“I thought you were talking to Wiley . . .”

Back to our stuck vehicle.

We dug.  We flattened.  We laid the rocks and driftwood.

The road crew

Another view of the crew

The fine residents of Hotitika might use these materials for art, but we used them as impromptu building materials.  We packed the sand and laid wood and stone.  We also pushed our elephantine vehicle.

It edged and rocked and moved.  We were free.  After one hour of embarrassing struggle, we were out.  I only needed to back the campervan for a quarter mile and we were out.

We then decided to park in the lot with the “No Camping” sign showing the tent.

We soon forgot the struggles in the sand.  We went to the beach.  We made friends with fishermen and locals.

Fishing for elephant fish

We gathered rocks and made impromptu sculptures.

We also saw a sunset of rare and sublime beauty.

The kids after the work

The happy couple

Kids on the beach

How about this for a view?

After a very late dinner of leftovers, we were readying ourselves for bed as a white bearded man told us we needed to leave.  He was rather dictatorial and unpleasant.  We apologized for being in the wrong place.  We also suggested that he change the signs to make it clearer that overnight parking was forbidden as well.  He dismissed my suggestion.  I think that he enjoys kicking people off.

Oddly enough, the next day we met a wonderful German photographer from whom we bought a few small photographs.  During the course of the conversation, we mentioned where we were and the fact we were kicked out of what we thought was a legal parking lot.  We did not describe the man or the conversation.  We only said roughly where we had been and that a guy had been uncharacteristically rude to us.  He perked up: “Did he have a white beard?”

Turns out that we ran into “that guy”.  You know him.  Every town has one.  This is the person who wants to tell everyone else what to do and lead the people away from their faulty ways.  The only problem is that no one would ever follow that guy.  Even if he were leading the way to a Fire Exit in a blaze. The good news is that Susie and I recognize “that guy”. Middle age is such a blissful relief when you realize when problems belong to other people are not really directed towards you, rather you just happen to be in the way.

Despite all of this, we loved this city.  We have some great photographs from the German and even better memories.

Steve Sir

I have a lot of pictures to share, so you will get fewer words.

This will be picture heavy for several reasons.  First, traveling with Matthew last week stirred my inner shutter bug.  He was a truly talented photographer that saw things that I simply did not.  I have been trying to pick up a few things.

Second, I learned how to crop photos for this blog.

Finally, we had a day that is better described with pictures than words.

Before I describe the day, I want to post a few more from yesterday.

I included an ironic shot of a man wearing a gun-toting shirt taking a picture of a serene buddhist monk.  Susie pointed out that the shirt was too small to read.  Here it is again, in all its misspelled glory.

I guess a good Fierm can help you attain enlightenment. I am not sure what a Fierm is, but Glock makes them too.

When we went to our second temple, I meant to share this shot of the dragons that flank the entry stairs to the temple.

These guys get your attention

When we arrived at the first wat, they had a series of different acts that encourage good luck and merit.  Some people chose to have a monk bless them.  Others wrote their names on a pole that would be propped against the Bodhi tree (the Buddha attained enlightenment while sitting under a bodhi tree – this tree is claimed to be related to that tree).  There is incense to burn or candles to light.

This wat also had birds in wicker cages that you can release to create luck and blessing.  The girls thought that this would be an interesting way to experience the wat authentically in a way that was not too awkward.  They were so excited.  They purchased a cage with 4 birds for $3 and asked me to capture the moment.  I felt pressure because I could see their photographic expectations.  I would capture their radiant faces (each dappled in sun) as the looked upward at the 4 birds – each in full flight and easily recognizable in the picture.  I knew it would be tough and I would only get one shot.  I prepared and asked them for a count.

In the meantime, Terrill was attempting to discern the nature of the lock.  She found it, opened it, and four very small and VERY fast birds were in the next county before I knew they had left.

So the perfect picture did not happen, but I am not the sole owner of the failure.

Here is a picture before we all blew it.

This is going to be absolutely magic . . . OOPS

OK, I can now move on to a spectacular day today.

We went to the Bang Kub Elephant Camp.  Chiang Mai, Thailand is famous for its elephants, which is one of the reasons we are here (you will learn about another tomorrow – I am quite excited).  Once we got here, we learned that all elephant experiences are not created equal.  Most involve one hour of riding in a wooden saddle on elephants that are often rundown and ill-treated.

These elephants were healthy, but note the saddle in the back

Our camp is committed to healthy and happy elephants.  The elephants were once a huge part of the teak lumber trade, but once the forests were essentially cleared out, they lost their jobs and their human advocates.  The animals suffered for years until tourism filled the gap.

Our tour was an all-day affair.  We learned commands in a tribal mountain language for 30 minutes, including a quiz.  We learned to feed them (they eat between 450 and 650 pounds of food each day).  We then learned to mount and dismount them.  There are two mounting methods.

From the side:

Wiley scaling his pachyderm

From the front:

Susie on her way up. I will tell you her determination was not matched with grace.

There is just one way down – sliding down the face:

Jaloon means "head down"

Our trainer elephant is named “Real Man” in Thai.  He is just 12 and recently returned from 5 years of training school.  He will live to be 80-100, so he is just an adolescent.

We trained in steering the elephants by ourselves and in pairs.

I am not completely sure how well we did.  Each of us would have moments when our commands and the gentle kicks behind the ears would steer the massive beasts like a car.

Real Man would then spot some bamboo or loose grass and we would suddenly feel like we had no more control than that we command over the weather.

We ended the morning session with Real Man putting each of our hats back on our heads.

I'll take a 7 and 5/8th, thank you

And a thumbs up to you too Real Man!

Here we are after our morning training session.   Yes, they required the stylish denim outfits.

Can we keep him? I will feed him and love him and clean up after him!

At lunch, we compared notes and ate.  We followed lunch with an hour hike through the jungle followed by an hour splashing in the river.

Perhaps the most special aspect of the morning was the fact that two of our cows were recent moms with children in tow – a one year old girl and a 4 month old boy.  They were ridiculously cute and playful.

Here are some picture from the hike.

The one year old attacks the log

"Look ma, no trunk!"

If she can make it . . .

Tad harder than I thought - little help mommy?!?

Gracias, mi madre!

I hope you appreciate that each of us is on our own animal here.

Our favorite mother riding a proud mother of the little one

Completely under control - unless we are not.

Wave for the camera!

We then ended up in a river where we washed our elephants.  As you might guess, this became a huge water fight.  What you might not expect is the fact that the elephants started it, especially Real Man and his confederate Virginia.

Virginia has a loaded elephant and she is not afraid to use it!

Terrill and "Monk" in the foreground as Real Man sprays behind Terrill's left shoulder

Liam evading attack

This shot shows you the scale - remember, Real Man is only 12.

So you get out of the bath, feeling fresh.  What is your next move.  Rolling around in the dust?  Me too.

Lets get that pesky 'clean' off ourselves!

Right before we dismounted, we had to walk down off a 3+ foot ledge.  This ledge became a preferred spot for scratching sides, backs and – er – other areas.  My guy (the sire of all the calves) needed to scratch himself.  A professional baseball player would be proud.

If you think this view is odd, let me assure you that my position was odder.

Today was the event Susie most looked forward to.  Tomorrow is mine!  See you then.

Steve Sir