Do you have Klout or are you just a Klouchebag?
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When it first became popular, social networking site
Twitter had a simple purpose, which was encapsulated in its tagline,
‘What are you doing?’ However, after aiding revolutions in the
Middle-East, becoming the sounding board for everyone to post their
opinions on everything, and giving celebrities a new platform to break
controversies, Twitter seems to have lost its simple personality. This
is reflected in its current tagline, ‘Find out what’s happening right
now, with the people and organisations you care about’.
The difference between the two reveals a lot about how social networking has changed in recent times. Responding to the earlier tagline is a voluntary act, whereas the current tagline is meant to tease — if you are not on our site, you are missing out on being in the ‘happening’ place. And now, to measure who the stars are in this ‘happening’ world is an online tool called Klout. It connects to Twitter, Facebook, Google and a host of other social services to measure how much influence you wield, giving you a Klout score out of 100. Influence is measured in terms of the number of posts you create, how many responses you get, the number of followers you have (especially ones with high Klout scores of their own), and other unknown factors that the proprietary Klout algorithm uses. Until recently, a Klout score was simply something social media junkies bragged about — the undisputed king of Klout world was Justin Bieber with a perfect score of 100. But there was outrage when Wired published a story featuring a marketing executive who lost out on a job because of his low Klout score. The story went on to talk about how people with high Klout scores were getting Audis to test drive, better rooms in some hotels, and preferential treatment by airlines. All because people with high Klout scores are more likely to talk about their experience and what they say would reach a larger number of people on social networks. Klout, along with marketing and sales reps, has effectively created an elite class among users of social networks. Like the elite of the real world, the virtual elites too have to yap and indulge in ‘I like your status, you like mine’ games. Social networking is no longer about expressing the things you genuinely care about. It’s about boosting a score to get material rewards. There is a loud grumble on the internet. In response to Klout, Tom Scott, a programmer, built Klouchebag, an online service that measures ‘the standard of asshattery’. Visit klouchebag.com and enter your Twitter username to calculate your score. Klouchebag measures asshattery based on the ARSE rating system. “Anger: profanity and rage; Retweets: please RTs, no or constant retweeting; Social Apps: every useless checkin on foursquare or its horrible brethren. English Usage: if you use EXCLAMATION MARKS OMG!!! or no capitals at all, this’ll be quite high.” If you are offended by the tags Klouchebag gave you, Scott has a piece of advice, “This is about as scientific as Klout’s own measurements — which is to say, it’s pretty much a crapshoot. You are probably a lovely person. Although you might want to cut down on the swearing a bit.” And in case you were wondering. Justin Bieber scored a 50, which translates to only ‘a bit of a douchebag’. |
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Do you have Klout or are you just a Klouchebag?
Misty highlands, where you can lose yourself In the dense forests of Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, experiences the cloak of mystery that surrounds the area
Misty highlands, where you can lose yourself
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In the dense forests of Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, experiences the cloak of mystery that surrounds the area
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In a few minutes, we will meet Michael Jackson.”
I woke up with a start. We were on our way to Cameron Highlands from the incredibly hot Kuala Lumpur. As a finale that was only befitting of the hectic KL leg of our trip, we were asked to check out of our hotel at 8.30am — abnormally early enough to send us journalists into a tizzy. So tired were we that when we eventually managed to check out and troop into the bus, we drew the curtains, kicked off our shoes, adjusted the AC vents and went off to sleep — until our guide’s voice, promising a meeting with the late pop star, crackled on the microphone and woke us up. Cameron Highlands is about 200 kilometers away from Kuala Lumpur. While driving up the long and winding roads, our guide Liza made an interesting suggestion. “Cover your belly button with bandages,” she said, waving a Handiplast. “It might sound funny, but you won’t feel motion sickness,” she continued with a straight face, despite our sniggers and laughs. While this lead to a slew of jokes on how someone new to Indian roads would need to have his entire body plastered, a couple of us turned around in our seats and discreetly sealed our belly buttons. We were not on puking terms yet, we decided. Right before reaching Cameron Highlands, we met a group of aboriginals at their bamboo houses, happy to pose for our cameras. “Look at him,” said Liza, pointing to a man dressed in nothing but a loin cloth. The resemblance was uncanny. It was Jackson himself, minus all the surgeries. This man is even called ‘Michael’ in these quarters. I tried to strike up a conversation with ‘Michael’ — essentially one-sided, since he didn’t understand my questions. He did, however, immediately understand when I said ‘photo’, while pointing to my camera. While he posed like a seasoned professional, it took me three attempts to get a passable picture. “Oh,” he exclaimed when I showed him the picture. We flashed each other the thumbs up sign before departing. The Jim Thompson mystery In terms of attracting Indian tourists, Cameron Highlands might lose out when pitted against the extremely popular Genting Highlands and Malacca. But the hill station is far from being a pristine piece of land waiting to be discovered. Driving up towards Ringlet and passing by vast expanses of tea plantations, I spotted a Marrybrown and even a Starbucks. Aside from a continuous cool breeze, nothing about Cameron Highlands really made me feel like I was at a hill station. The weather so far, had been pleasant but not cold, and the roads were dotted with several well-known restaurants and supermarkets. But, just as we stopped at an Indian Malay restaurant for lunch, dark clouds hovered above us, eclipsing the sun. As the mist started to roll in and a chill set in, it started drizzling, making this the perfect setting for a Shutter Island-like film. We clutched our shawls and jackets tighter and entered the restaurant. It was here, over steaming hot white rice and chapatis, that Liza shared the story of American businessman Jim Thompson, who has been credited with reviving the Thai Silk industry in the 1950s and 60s. In 1967, on Easter Sunday, Thompson went for a walk into the jungle and never returned. This lead to an intensive search operation during which the police combed the forest for any trace of Thompson. But neither he nor his body was ever found. Speculations and theories about Thompson’s puzzling disappearance abound even today — some even wonder whether he planned his own disappearance. The aboriginals have their own theory. “They believe that the spirit of the jungle took Thompson away,” Liza explained. And as if in agreement, at this point the drizzle turned into a furious downpour. Salad bowl of Malaysia Cameron Highlands is popular for its fresh vegetables and fruits, especially strawberries, and has earned the tag ‘the salad bowl of Malaysia’. We stopped at the popular Kea Farm in Tanah Rata. Fresh fruits, vegetables and honey are sold at a cheaper rate here. The people of Cameron Highlands take their strawberries very seriously, as is evident at the Farm’s stalls. Pencils, umbrellas, chopping boards and key chains with pictures of strawberries are sold like hot cakes. At a restaurant in the Farm, even the tablecloths are red in colour. Strawberry juice, strawberries dipped in chocolate, dried strawberries and jams are all on offer. At dusk, we checked into the Strawberry Park hotel. The hotel’s restaurant, Jim Thompson Terrace, overlooked the bungalow where Thompson last stayed before disappearing into the jungle. Throughout dinner, my thoughts kept going back to Thompson and that fateful day. Can we go to the bungalow, I asked Liza. “No. It’s private property now,” she said. Back in my room, I resolved to get up early and go for a walk. The next morning, at around 6.30, I walked within the Park’s premises with no one but the cold breeze for company. I stopped at a spot where I could see the bungalow miles away, on top of a hill. I fished out my camera and zoomed in for a good click. Suddenly a chilly mist descended on me and the lens of my camera fogged up. In spite of several attempts, I felt restrained from getting a good picture of the bungalow.  I was perplexed. Where did the mist suddenly come from? What happened to Thompson? Are the aboriginals right in believing in the spirit of the jungle? Shivering, I hurried back to the warm comfort of my room, leaving the breeze and the swirling mist behind.  |
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Rhinos move to live another day Populating Dudhwa, a national park in UP, with the one-horned rhinoceros from Assam, has turned out to be one of the best examples of relocation of an endangered species,
Rhinos move to live another day
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Populating Dudhwa, a national park in UP, with the one-horned
rhinoceros from Assam, has turned out to be one of the best examples of
relocation of an endangered species,
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Unlike tigers, whose footprint is spread across India, rhinos could only be found along the Brahmaputra valley in northern Assam and West Bengal. And of the entire population of rhinos, 70% are in one sanctuary: Kaziranga. Now we were on our way to the only other place which harbours the one-horned rhino, thanks to their relocation. The Terai region in UP used to be a stunningly beautiful mosaic of blue and green: rivers, swamps, lakes, grasslands and dense Sal forests. But over a period of time, poachers and the timber mafia have left their mark. We first passed through the Kishanpur Wildlife Sanctuary outside Dudhwa, which was slushy with unseasonal rains. There, we saw an old rhino that had wandered across from Nepal, maybe pushed out from the herd that he once ruled. “There are no other rhinos here,” said Sonu, our guide. Gazing at the forlorn rhino, he continued, “Saab, Kishanpur is completely cut off from Dudhwa. So even if this rhino attempts to get to where the other rhinos are, he would get poached on the way. His days are numbered.” Saviour of Dudhwa Dudhwa, where we went the next day, was established as a national park for protecting deer in 1977, as half of the world’s critically- endangered deer population lives here. It is the only sanctuary where five different species of deer co-exist. Sadly, their numbers have decreased over the years – a decade back, there were herds of 100; now, they barely touch 40. And once you lose deer, you lose the tiger. Dudhwa, like the rhinos it now harbours, has had a second wind, however, thanks to the efforts of one of the most controversial figures in Indian conservation, Billy Arjan Singh. Billy was a hunter who had a change of heart after he looked into the eyes of a leopard he had killed. Just as non-believers become fanatics after they turn believers, hunters too become passionate about conservation after they are converted. Almost single-handedly, Billy fought for the protection of this unique forest and all that dwelt in it, which led to several run-ins with the powers that be. He became controversial for introducing hand-reared leopards and tigers back into the wild, though his experiments were invariably successful. His film, The Leopard that Changed its Spots, is a wonderful account of how he re-introduced a leopardess named Harriet into the forests of Dudhwa. Billy also took a tiger named Tara back to the wild. He would train these predators to hunt under supervision, before releasing them into their natural habitat, where only the fittest survive. Setting an example “Don’t look for the tiger,” Manoj Sharma, an expert naturalist, admonished us as we went trekking into the forest, “because if you do, chances are you will miss a hundred other species: birds, insects, animals, trees and flowers.” The Sal tree, for instance, harbours lakhs of termites in its deep ridges, and these in turn attract a host of woodpeckers — seven different species in all. In fact, this sanctuary is also a bird-watchers’ paradise: of the 400 species of birds found here, we counted as many as 96 in just two days. Finally, on an elephant-ride through a forest path in Dudhwa, lush with grass as tall as the elephant itself, we chanced upon what we had come to see. It was a rhino with a new-born calf. We left feeling convinced that all was well with the relocated rhinos here. In Dudhwa, the rhinos are in an enclosure spanning hectares of grasslands, a replica of the rhino habitat you find in Kaziranga and Manas. This is well-guarded, for rhinos are a prime target of poachers for their prized horns. Visitors too are allowed only sparingly, only on elephant-back in the buffer areas. The rhinos now feel at home in this habitat which has been preserved for decadeswithout human encroachment. Despite the example of Dudhwa, however, relocation continues to be vehemently opposed by conservationists. The Gujarat government has refused to allow translocation of the endangered Asiatic Lions to Madhya Pradesh, on the grounds that MP doesn’t have enough of a prey-base for the lions, or protection from poachers. Is this because of a genuine environmental concern for lions, or fear of losing Gujarat’s Pride, I wonder.   |
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The royal caretaker The octogenarian caretaker of the Maharaja's lodge, now part of a heritage hotel in Udaipur, bridges the past and the present,
The royal caretaker
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The octogenarian caretaker of the Maharaja's lodge, now part of a
heritage hotel in Udaipur, bridges the past and the present,
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Roop Singh is an old man. He has a bright smile and a
quick sense of humour. His 81 years are evident as he guides us around
the Bara Mahal (the old hunting lodge of the Maharana of Udaipur), his
walking stick echoing as he leads us to what used to serve as the
Maharana’s bedroom. All that remains is a miniature panorama — palaces,
lodges, rivers, animals, trees and plantations — that covers the four
walls from ceiling to floor. Singh points out to the tigers in the
picture. “Now, there’s only one tiger left,” he says, his handlebar
moustache bristling. “Me”.
They call it the Lake City, Udaipur. On my three-day visit, ensconced in the opulent lap of Oberoi’s Udaivilas on the banks of Lake Pichola, Singh serves as a touching reminder of an illustrious past. In the lap of luxury From the first floor of the Bara Mahal, the caretaker of the lodge points to where the royal family now lives. “All the royal land has been given to big resorts,” he says, his gesture encompassing every resort visible from Lake Pichola. Udaipur was once the capital of the erstwhile Mewar kingdom. Today, it is a city of resorts. It’s easy to get swept up in this luxury. How can you not feel like royalty when your every need is attended to: a chauffeur picks us up at the airport in a BMW, the housekeeping staff in the morning is different from the people attending to our room in the evening, one person takes us on a tour of the grounds, a different one brings us the breakfast scroll and yet another brings us breakfast. By contrast, Singh spends most of his day in the Bara Mahal, with only peacocks, deer and wild boar from the hotel’s conservatory for company. Occasionally, he receives visitors, those who find time to tear themselves away from their private pools and hammocks to indulge in a bit of sightseeing. The 81-year-old caretaker has also been a tourist guide for over 40 years. He’s always smiling, even when talking about the past, a time when the hunting lodge was actually used during shikar. Singh conspiratorially tells us a story from the past, one I suspect he has told many times before: During the freedom struggle, the then Maharana of Udaipur vowed not to eat from his sone ki thali till India gained independence. Post August 15, 1947, Jawaharlal Nehru personally offered him food on a golden plate. The touching gesture had political undertones. Nehru wanted the state of Mewar, and the Maharana signed it away to the government of India. And the other city On Singh’s advice, we visit parts of the city that he promises will not be bustling with tourists. One of these is the Hathipole market. Here, row upon row of shops sell everything — from scarves, silver jewellery, footwear and bandhani to fresh fruit juices, sweets and pickles. It’s a smorgasbord of colour and smells — and history. Hidden in one of these lanes are Udaipur’s brass bands. Jaipur and Udaipur are popular wedding destinations and Hathipole has an entire street dedicated to all things wedding-related — cards, lights, jewellery, clothes and music. The bands’ vehicles are painted in vibrant colours and look like Carnival floats. In stark contrast are the instruments, many of them old and dull but still in use. The older band members are hesitant to talk, the younger ones are eager. They tell us tales of how band members get together at old godowns to practise and how their song selection depends on popular Bollywood ‘item numbers’. These non-touristy streets also reveal a little about the people of Udaipur. They love their scooters here. Everywhere we turn, we find a Bajaj scooter, in different stages of ruin but still in use. One shop owner’s Vespa occupies pride of place in his empty shop. Rajasthan is known for being colourful and vibrant, and this is reflected in the clothes, footwear, jewellery and on the walls of Udaipur. Graffiti on the walls here takes the form of wall paintings, of kings and queens, of royal subjects, of gods and goddesses, and of hunting expeditions of yore. l_joanna@dnaindia.net Visit www.oberoihotels.com for information on Udaivilas |
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Doing it like the French Sabira Coelho’s first month in Paris confirmed some cliches — and broke others
Doing it like the French
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Sabira Coelho’s first month in Paris confirmed some cliches — and broke others
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I sobbed giant tears at the airport and dribbled snot as I boarded the flight that would take me to Paris for a year. The French hippie who had been doing rounds of the Himalayan footsteps gave me a comforting hug in the check-in line, telling me that “zat ze cheeze naan in France” was better than in India. I sat back in the airplane picturing images of bereted Frenchman running across streets wielding baguettes , wearing their signature red striped t-shirts. I remember fearing the snobbery that French people seem renowned for, in the face of my lack of accepted French etiquette, particularly while dining. I expected women to be dressed à la mode. I thought their version of food would consist of smelly cheese, snails and frog legs. As for the city, I expected everything to be spotlessly clean, the sun to shine constantly and for accordions to soundtrack my life as I walked down the streets. A few years on, it’s hard to recollect my preconceptions. French people, particularly Parisians, speak English comfortably, albeit with a charming accent. They’re welcoming and often excited to talk about India and keen to understand more about topics such as Gandhi, castes and Indian religion. They always keep a polite distance that threw me off, coming as I did from a country where two people can be declared ‘good friends’ after a couple of encounters. The ‘bisous’, a French custom of greeting all with a kiss on each cheek, threw me off many times. I came to dread greeting people for fear of messing up. In France, etiquette is a rule, not a virtue, extending to personal relationships. I had to remember to always say good day, good bye, and bon appetit. Pyjamas anywhere outside the house are completely unacceptable. They like their baguettes and wine as much as is rumoured. Sighting people on smoke-breaks isn’t though, and the streets remain lined with cigarette butts. The streets aren’t always clean and the weather can be as miserable as England’s. Accordion players haunt the metros and popular public squares, but they’re there mostly for the tourists. Silence reigns mostly, so different from India where people talk, dogs bark and cars honk constantly. Once you scratch the cultural surface, clichés melt away. When their customs become second nature, you realise you’ve integrated. But then, when you least expect it, there are the occasional awkward bisous to remind you where you come from. |
Say Oink to enter this museum Germany’s Schweine Museum has over 52,000 exhibits of the fascinating animal,
Say Oink to enter this museum
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Germany’s Schweine Museum has over 52,000 exhibits of the fascinating animal,
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The pig is worshipped by many, but only someone crazed can dedicate an entire museum to it. Erika Wilhelmer is an apt example. She was so fascinated by pigs that she used Stuttgart’s former slaughterhouse to build the Schweine Museum in Germany. The 52,000 exhibits in this curious building include over 2,000 piggy banks, massive bronze and silver sculptures of the animal to Easter eggs and underwear with pigs printed and painted on them. Adding to the palpable amusement are pigs riding bikes, some dressed in bikinis and a special section where they are shown making love. The idea for the museum is said to have started taking root two decades ago, when someone gave Wilhelmer a pig-related gift. She was fascinated instantly. “And once people got to know of my love for pigs, I invariably got such gifts on every occasion. In no time, I had a huge collection and so I thought it was best to open a museum dedicated exclusively to the animal,” adds Wilhelmer, who wears a pig pendant and a bracelet of pigs having sex. Ever since the museum opened two years ago, the collection has only grown. Visitors keep sending pig-related articles. “I have such a huge collection in the warehouse that I can open another pig museum,” says a proud Wilhelmer. That could only be good news since one can never have enough of the pigs at the Schweine Museum. And you don’t need to be eating slices of pork in the museum’s adjacent beer garden to be saying this.   |
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Take your furry friends along A few precautions are all you need to ensure your pet has a good journey,
Take your furry friends along
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A few precautions are all you need to ensure your pet has a good journey,
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The car should be well-ventilated and windows should be rolled down just so much that the pet cannot jump out of the window. Temperature is of utmost importance for dogs who are warm-blooded animals. If your car is not an air-conditioned one, then carry coolers or water sprayers that can be used to keep the pet’s face and body cool. Also, take sufficient number of breaks so that they can relieve itself. Carry sanitizer and extra pair of clothes for yourself as certain dogs like boxers drool a lot and mess everything around. Meals should be kept very light throughout the journey so that the pet does not get overexcited. Food should be given at least 2-3 hours prior to the start of the journey. The focus should be on a fiber-rich diet and you can carry light foodstuffs like biscuits and Glucon-D so that they remain hydrated. Especially when travelling with big dogs, half an hour breaks post meals should be taken before commencing the journey. Cats tend to be very hyper animals so mild travel sedatives can be given to them under a veterinarian’s description. Even in case of excessively hyper dogs, these anti-anxiety drugs can be administered as in their excitement they often cause injuries to themselves. Nowadays, pet accessories like pet carriers and detachable seat belts are available that make your journey comfortable. If birds or cats are kept in cages during the journey, it is advisable to keep the cages covered so that they don’t get to see a lot; this keeps their excitement under control. In case you are travelling with more than one pet, take the necessary measures to make sure that they don’t injure each other. Keep their nails clipped, use belts etc. In case of air travel, check with the airline you are flying with for their rules and policies regarding pets. Most of their pens are designed bearing in mind a certain size. Dogs with Brachycephalic syndrome (pugs, boxers, bulldogs) are at a risk of getting choked or have respiratory ailments so check with a vet before taking them along. Heart and blood pressure checkups are mandatory for older dogs as they are more vulnerable to cardiac arrests due to their age. Also check the hotel policy on pets before you book one for your stay. |
‘goes bush’ in Australia’s Kangaroo Island and discovers that she wants to live her life like the koala bears — in a hammock in the midst of verdant nature
Isle of the Wild
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‘goes bush’ in Australia’s Kangaroo Island and discovers
that she wants to live her life like the koala bears — in a hammock in
the midst of verdant nature
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Kangaroo Island in South Australia is an unrivalled
triumph of nature — a five-star nature park of eloquent eco-diversity.
Isolated from the mainland, the impact of European settlements hasn’t
been much and the island retains more than half its native vegetation.
The surf-pounded cliffs, sweeps of sand and rocky inlets make it the
perfect place to lie back for a few days. But the book I’m planning to
read never makes it out of my bag, for at every stage of the journey I’m
confronted with opportunities to “go bush” and observe animals and
birds as they are meant to be seen — in their natural habitat.
A colony of fur seals at play on a white sandy beach at Seal Bay is first on the agenda. Standing on the beach, watching the fur seals bask, jostle and canoodle, lost in the loveliness of the scene and each other; I feel like a voyeur intruding on a personal tableau, the outsider seeking permission to linger just a little while longer by this ocean of Eden. At Admiral Arch, the feeling of over-familiarity grows once more, as we watch packs of sea lions and fur seals return home from overnight fishing expeditions. Tracking the wild Many creatures of the wild tend to shelter in the day and emerge only at night, so to increase our chances of sighting wildlife, we hire a tracker. Our impatience receives a firm chiding. “If you wish to see animals in a hurry, go to a zoo.” This apart, he proves to be a valuable resource as he points out little things that might otherwise go unnoticed — like the sublime turquoise colour that results when the surf washes over the white sands of the beaches we drive past. We follow his finger as he points to distant trees, revealing tiny spots that turn into koala bears as we draw closer. The tracker says, “You spend your life running after things, just so that at the end of your days you can do what the koala does all his life. Relax in a hammock in the midst of verdant nature.” There is an acute sense of saving the planet and a responsibility to conservation that pervades Kangaroo Island. Every monitor lizard that crosses our path seems to mutter — “conserve” under his breath. When we make tracks into the bush, we are greeted with signs instructing us to clean our boots before we venture in too deep, lest our rubber soles carry some root fungus that could be a potential exterminator of native plants. We walk softly along the path, looking for kangaroos and wallabies, hawks, emu, cassowaries and wedge-tailed eagles. The tracker brings us to understand the importance of being respectful of all we see. “Without conservation, these animals and plants would die out, and without these valuable companions, the journey to Kangaroo Island would be a lonelier one,” he says. The closest kangaroos are about 20 feet away. They are clearly used to being given the top spot in the evolutionary chain here, and are unruffled by my presence as they go about their daily business — eating and playing. But when they see me raise my camera to shoot, they stand stock still, as if playing a game of shadows. The locals are game for any kind of exploration or adventure — an exemplary model for travellers of any sort. We are invited to join them and fish for our own lunch. Snapper or salmon anyone? Nature at its best The beaches here are a delight. The water on Vivonne Bay for instance whacks the long, curved, sandy coastline with cheeky audacity. On the empty beaches, you can hear the lascivious song of the sea, punctuated by the cry of a pelican or the call of a shore-waddling bird. The only footprints visible on the sandy strip are those of tiny penguins coming home to roost. Sunset is best viewed reclining upon the unique cliff- top formations at Kirkpatrick Point called the Remarkable Rocks. Walking amid these granite lichen covered giants that look like figures from our deepest subconscious, or perhaps like characters in a Dali painting, we contemplate once more the power that is nature and the fragility of human life. At night, amid the sound of the waves and the call of little penguins, we stumble out of bed and go for guided walks by torchlight. But every paradise must have its snakes. “How does one make a livelihood in this Eden?” I ask. The guide chuckles, “The farmers work the land, some also showcase it to people travelling through. Some invest in quad bikes, others create luxury resorts — all to create smoother infrastructure from which to experience the island. The result of living amid this exceptional ecosystem is also a thriving visual culture, with an estimated 10% of the island’s population engaged with different art forms — from painting to installation.” “The sin,” he says pointing expansively in the direction of the sea, “is not in having everything, but in failing to recognize it.” In the distance a chatty yellow- tailed black cockatoo shrieks her approval. |
BERKSHIRE FILM FEST
The Berkshire International Film
Festival (BIFF) features movie
screenings of documentaries,
features, short films and films
by students. The event serves as
an effective platform for filmmakers,
producers, actors and
other artists behind the camera.
There are also panel discussions
and special events for audience
interactions. In its seven years,
BIFF has established itself as a
leading film festival that attracts
people from across the world.
May 31- June 3
Great Barrington,
Massachusetts
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