Thursday, November 21, 2013

Vracar

Vracar is the name of my neighborhood in the WC. I haven't thought much about it, except that I like it--the environs, that is. That's why, although I'm thinking about moving into a new apartment--that's right, it looks like my time here might be extended a little--I want to stay here. The office is close; I can walk downtown, and the green market is just around the corner.

Yesterday, our efficient, overqualified receptionist sent me some listings to check out. When I ran them through Google translate (which I have found incredibly useful BTW, but that's another story), I noticed that the location was listed as "Sorcerer."

I asked about that, and was informed that it was more or less accurate, although one of my more erudite colleagues suggested that "medicine man" was more accurate. Here is Wikipedia:
Name Vračar (derived from Serbian word vrač meaning the 'medicine man', 'healer') was mentioned for the first time in 1495 in Turkish documents. In 1560 it is mentioned as the Christian village outside the fortress of Kalemegdan with 17 houses. It is believed this village is the place where in 1595 the Turkish grand vizier Sinan Pasha burned at the stake the remains of Saint Sava, a major Serbian saint, to pacify and punish a rebellious population.
Where else would a Wizards fan live?

Monday, November 18, 2013

Fueled by Randomness

When I'm making dinner, I like to listen to my music on shuffle--I know that I'll like what I hear, and I also know that I'm likely to hear something that I have completely forgotten about. Sometimes those songs are powerful reminders of times and places gone by--equally indelible and forgotten. Leonard Cohen said it much better: "I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel. I don't think of you that often."

The wonderful logic of randomness means that sometimes patterns emerge--a series of songs that doesn't seem possible by chance, but of course, is.

Last night was all about the OG. We've had a long history with music. I introduced her to Stax, Motown and Hip Hop, and now she is my connection to the pop music of today. I used to sing loudly along with Nelly to obscure the profanity, and now she does the same with Kanye.

Last night, over the course of about an hour, five songs came up, four of which have a direct connection to the OG; the other, possibly the best song ever written about a newborn.

The first was "Hello Anastasia" a reimagined version of the rap at the beginning of Len's Cryptik Souls Crew that I wrote about changing diapers in 1999.

The second was an a cappella version of "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" that the OG recorded in 2005.

Next was "Marie's Wedding." Not the Wiggles version, which the OG loved to watch over and over in 2003, but the Chieftains.

And finally, Bettye Lavette's "Before the Money Came," the high point of my best concert experience ever, in January 2011, where the OG and I sat in the front row of the ArtsCenter in Carrboro with homemade signs, and the OG spoke directly with the singer, who capped her encore performance of the song with a rousing "Anna, the money finally came!" as she exited the stage, holding our sign high above her head.

As I was eating dinner, I decided to create a post about this tomorrow, and I jotted down all of the songs I could think of that have a special place in our relationship; songs we listened to on long trips; on the drive to the Waldorf School in Olympia; with the Ipod jacked for two sets of headphones on the way to Kimo; everywhere. I figured I had better write them down lest they not fade away.

Clash: Pressure Drop; Police on My Back
Juliana Hatfield: Spin the Bottle
Nelly: Hot in Herre
Lloyd Cole: My Alibi
Kurtis Blow: Rappin Basketball
Johnny Clegg; Cruel, Crazy, Beautiful World
Prince: 1999
Peggy Lee: Hallelujah, I Love Him So
Barenaked Ladies: Testing 1,2,3
They Might be Giants: Put Your Hand Inside the Puppethead; Number Three
Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama
Dobie Gray: Drift Away
Men Without Hats: Safety Dance
Fountains of Wayne: Peace and Love

I'm sure I'm forgetting a few, but when I look at the list, every song is rooted somewhere in place and time. That's precious. Lucky for you child, you look like your mama.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

System Failure

I predicted, like many did, that there would be a problem with the implementation of the health care exchanges. One of the main reasons that IT projects fail in government is a top down approach to planning and design that is both suboptimal and incredibly risky. There is just too much unpredictability in the system to think that you can figure out what works on paper and then make it a reality.

My boy Arnold Kling, who saw this coming long before I did, makes this point in a very concise and insightful way:
the deeper answer is that when we look at Kayak and Amazon, we are seeing the survivors that emerged from an intense tournament. In this tournament, thousands of competing firms fell by the wayside. Competitors tried many different business models, web site designs, business cultures, and so on.
Healthcare.gov did not emerge from this sort of competition. It came about because Congress passed a law.
Central to my approach to economics, and that of other economists who are variously called Austrians or market-oriented economists or Smith-Hayek economists or what have you, is the respect that we have for the evolutionary process by which markets produce innovation and excellence. My sense is that what divides us from pundits like Brooks and Shields, and even from most economists, is the credit that we assign to market evolution rather than elite expertise as a process for solving problems.
I have seen similar mistakes throughout my career in government, and nobody ever seems to learn. Yes they passed a law, but they didn't have to implement it with central planning and disinterested consultants who get paid whatever the outcome. Maybe some of the states we'll step up to show the way forward, but the system is not in a good place right now, and this may be irreparable.

Haut Cuisine

I have written before about Kalemegdan, the fortress at the confluence of the Danube and Sava rivers, sort of the Battery Park of Belgrade. What I didn't tell you is that there is also a nice looking restaurant up there, and although Tyler Cowen says you shouldn't eat in a restaurant that trades on its location, I think he tends to underestimate the value of some of those externalities (he says for example, that you should avoid places where people are having fun, since clearly they are not there for the food.).

It's about an hour walk from my apartment, including the length of the Knez Mihailova, a pedestrian zone filled with cafes and shops and cafes, with a few charming spots to sit and have a coffee and a cigarette.

Yesterday was, I suspect, the last day of fall, sunny and 50, and I left the house around 1, thinking that I would get there before later in the afternoon, when the restaurant might be busy (since, as everyone knows,  that is the proper time for lunch).

I got there about 2, and, indeed the restaurant was not crowded, although there were a few tables. The hostess seated me in the conservatory with a nice view (too cold for the terrace), and the waiter brought me an English menu.

One of the reasons that I had decided to do this is that the restaurant is running an Orient Express promotion, featuring the cuisine of a different country on the famed Paris to Istanbul journey each week. This wee's stop was France, and as good as duck a l'orange sounded, I just wasn't feeling it today. I was in the mood for comfort food, and, from the main menu, a blend of European and Serbian gourmet selections, I chose some ajvar to start, followed by an appetizer of red wine risotto with duck breast and an entree of local sausage with baked beans and roasted potatoes. I had a tiny glass of apricot brandy with my salad (as is customary) and one of red wine with my meal.

I paid the check ($32) and noticed that the restaurant was now full, including an enormous wedding party. I'd definitely recommend it as a destination, but I'm not so serious about food that the experience wouldn't have been improved by some pleasant conversation. Definitely worth a visit.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Literally a Metaphor

My boy, Johnson serves up a great column on an oft-misused word.  Since most words are, by their very nature, metaphors (e.g. "clean" as a verb refers to an effort to produce a state of tidiness), they require a leap from reality to comprehension, and "literally" must be taken to mean "not figuratively or allegorically" if it is to be properly understood. The word itself is a metaphor.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

It's Getting Hot in Here....

It is quite warm in my office. I opened the window this morning, and I'm still baking, in a light cotton sweater and a t-shirt.

A colleague told me that he would show me how to turn the radiator in my office down. When he went to do so, he noticed that it was off.

He told me that there is central heating in Belgrade, and that the heat is part of the fees that everyone pays for utilities--i.e. you get the temperature that the government decides is right for you.

"Everybody keeps their windows open in Belgrade in winter," he told me.

Not sure that is the best way to do it.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

A New Theory on How Your Brain Works

Fascinating article in the Atlantic about how the four different cognitive regions of the brain contribute to personality. It's a little more complex than the System 1 and System 2 set out by Daniel Kahneman, which is reason to both reject and embrace it; I buy the idea that neural function is complicated, but part of me needs a simple, more elegant answer.

Anyway, it's fun, and there's a free personality test.  It would appear that I am a "situational stimulator," which means I plan ahead, but have a hard time adapting on the fly. That doesn't sound quite right, although I need to account for confirmation bias, I suppose.



Monday, November 11, 2013

Zemun

I had tried to visit Zemun earlier this summer, enticed by the promise of fish restaurants, a charming village and an Austro-Hungarian tower with a killer view. I took the 83 bus from Slavija Square to the end of the line, and when I got off, looked around at a bunch of nondescript stores selling auto parts.

I retraced my steps along the main road for about 45 minutes, until I was back in the main part of town, but I still didn't really see anything of note. I was about to give up, when I saw the river, and what looked like  a small park a few hundred metres away. I followed it, and soon discovered the walkway that follows the river, along with what looked like a few restaurants on the horizon.

I found the village, and wondered around the cobblestone streets, but I didn't find the tower, nor did I stop to eat at any of the cafes, as that was scheduled to come after the tower. After about an hour, I found myself, back in the area where the bus had dropped me off, and I called it a day. Not entirely unsuccessful, but disappointing nonetheless. And as I recall, it was very hot.

My colleague Milan asked me yesterday to join him, his wife and their 8 month old baby, Simona on a walk through Zemun, where Biljana grew up, and they now live. As I stared out the window of my apartment, watching the rain beat down, I wasn't sure that this sounded like such a great idea. "Still on?" I texted. "Sure," he answered. "Bring your umbrella."

Great. I walked over to the main square and waited for the bus. I had arranged to meet the Nikolic family at the post office, which was right in the heart of town. I got there a few minutes early, but Milan arrived shortly after, and we met Biljana and Simona at the car, which was chock full of all the necessary paraphenalia.

The sun came out a little and we strolled along the Danube, chatting about, what else, the baby, who went through the procession of "pick me up," "put me down," "feed me," "I hate my life" "this is the best day ever" familiar to all parents.

After about 45 minutes, mother and daughter left us, and Milan and I climbed up to the tower, built to commemorate the spot where a brave Austro-Hungarian held off the Ottomans. Yep, that's it. Nice view

After that, we went to a well-known restaurant, Sharan, and had a nice lunch of fish soup and an entree, fried perch with pindzhur for me, and smoked trout for Milan.

When I had asked the waiter to recommend something, the key decision point appeared to be fresh vs. saafter the meal, which was new to me.

lt water fish, a distinction that was confusing to me. We also enjoyed the Serbian tradition of a glass of rakia to start and a glass of white wine

After lunch, we walked the twenty minutes back to Milan's new apartment (Grandma lives upstairs) and had a coffee and some cookies, while Simona
struggled to figure out how to crawl, which was alternately frustrating and fascinating.

The Nikolic family was then scheduled to meet someone else for coffee, and invited me along, but I decided to head for home. They dropped me back on the main street, just as the bus was pulling up. Perfect.

Friday, November 8, 2013

R.I.P. Blockbuster

I had forgotten how huge it was, and how it was a part or everybody's daily life. I was never a hardcore user, but I had a card in my wallet for almost twenty years. The economics and logistics of renting videocassettes will be harder to explain to future generations, I suspect, than the record store. I'm glad it's gone, but it's worth noting.

http://www.grantland.com/blog/hollywood-prospectus/post/_/id/91969/blockbuster-video-1985-2013

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

All Around the World, Same Song

One of the nice things about the power surge in Cairo that fried my hard drive and rendered me musicless in 2005 was that I discovered podcasts. And my favorite is the old school funk and hip hop show out of Mcgill known as WeFunk, which airs from Midnight-two a.m. on Friday nights.

The latest show has been waiting for me on Saturday mornings before I head off to the CSA, the YMCA or SpinMasters, and I've discovered a host of great music thanks to the knowledge of Professor Groove and D.J. Static.

I always try to support the annual funding drive, and this year, I asked for a special shout-out. My boys did not disappoint me.


Monday, November 4, 2013

Going Back to Skopje

Worldwide and I spent 1997-1999 in Skopje, our first experience in international development and a harbinger of what would follow over the next fifteen years. I was eager to return, to see my dear friend Nena, who is now running the judiciary strengthening project that was nurtured by my office, but also to see the changes to the cityscape. I had read about these efforts in the Economist last year, and I was curious to see for myself. "You won't believe it," more than one of my colleagues told me.

I looked into a bus trip, but the length of the trip, along with a cheap fare available on Air Serbia (The airline formally known as Jat) persuaded me that plan was the preferred method of transportation.

I took the always reliable A1 bus from Slavija Square to the airport on Friday afternoon, and by 3:30 I was on the tarmac at Alexander the Great Airport. Nena met me, and we stopped at a new hotel for lunch, the first in a never-ending series of meals and snacks. The restaurant was decked out like a hunting lodge, with various animal skins, and it also featured an impressive selection of local wines, the results of privatization efforts in the industry.

But I was thirsty for a Skopsko, and, because I had eaten the ham and cucumber sandwich provided on the flight, I wasn't hungry for anything more than some appetizers.

After lunch, we stopped at the Ramstore, a slick new supermarket and shopping mall. I remember how thrilled we were when the Greek Supermarket opened in 1998. You've come a long way, baby.

Then it was back to Nena's new apartment, for conversation, and a lovely dinner of salmon and salad. I learned about the status of friends and colleagues, of which a surprising number had moved on to new lives or locations.

I was still a little jet lagged from my whirlwind trip to Gananoque, so it was early to bed. The following morning, we went out for chocolate croissants and espresso at a local cafe, which, like virtually everything i saw, had not been there in 1999.

After that, we parked in the Trgovski Centar in the main square, and from the first floor, I rode the escalator that had not worked for one day during my two prior years there. Then it was out into the main square, where the small plaque in the pavement that commemorated Mother Teresa's birth, has been replaced with something a little more grandiose, a gigantic statue of, who else, Alexander the Great. But it did not end there; not hardly. The national hero was flanked by huge statues of his mother and father, as well as just about everyone who could be deemed a hero of the Republic.


Many of the government buildings in the area have also been replaced with garish, baroque edifices, and a walk across the old stone bridge afforded an excellent view of the new Stonebridge hotel (note the picture of the hard working businessman, and his, um, assistant on the home page), as well as one of  the three replicas of Noah's Ark that have been placed along the Vardar River.

From there, we visited the National Museum of Macedonia, a museum consisting almost entirely of huge paintings and mannequins detailing the struggle against the Ottomans, and, to a lesser extent, its time as part of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. One would think, after visiting, that the Krucevo republic, 10 days of short lived independence from the Ottomans in 1903, was the most important thing in the history of the region. The mannequins, despite the struggles they were embroiled in, were all extremely well dressed and good looking.


From the museum we walked through the old town, which looked more or less the same, and I bought some Parachute Cookies to bring to lunch at Nena's mother's later. We also stopped at the Green Market to pick up a few things that Olivera had asked her
daughter to get.

After that, it was up to Vodno, the mountain we had hiked so many Saturdays. The rustic trail has been paved over, and you can now take a funicular from the parking lot up to the Millenium cross, which seems to
have been built to remind Albanians that they remain a minority.

We had a cup of tea at the hiker's hut  and walked around a little, noting the trail to Matka, a monastery a few miles away that we had visited many times.

Then we took the funicula back down and drove to Olivera's apartment, the place that Nena had originally moved to in the early 2000s. She laid out a spread of stuffed grape leaves, pindzhur, salad and roast pork, complemented by Rakia and local red wine.

After lunch, we walked around Skopje some more, admiring the new pedestrian zone, the monument to
Mother Teresa and the many new cafes and restaurants. The new buildings, including the huge arch, were ablaze with light. We enjoyed a cup of Spanish-style cocoa in the Caffe di Roma, and finished off the evening with a whiskey at the Irish pub, which every major city in the region now seems to have.

The following day we drove out to Matka in the morning, and I noticed that a restaurant and hotel has now been added to the facility, and that it was hosting a wedding party. From
there it was back to Skopje for a lunch of delicious grilled beef liver and pork, washed down with a cold Lasko, which is apparently angling to become the country's most popular beer.

Then back to the airport and home, buoyed by the warmth of good friends and by the information that Nena's daughter, who we knew as a 13 year-old lover of Gran Prix racing and the Backstreet Boys, but now a Harvard graduate and London-based World Bank economist, will be coming to Belgrade in December to begin a consultancy with the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development.