Holiday Cheer

About this time sixteen years ago, Worldwide and I were embarking on our belated honeymoon. We flew from Skopje to Vienna, spent a few days drinking punsch and seeing the sights, and then took an overnight train to Venice, where we spent the better part of a week.

At the airport (I think) Worldwide bought the Holiday issue of a magazine called the Economist, which I had never heard of. Not long after, I was deep into articles comparing the internet with electricity and analysis of the political unrest in Madagascar. I loved everything about it: the scope of the coverage; the economics; the wry British humor; and the succinct writing style.

When we returned to Skopje, we found a bookstore that carried it, and every Saturday, on our way to the Green market, we would pick up the latest edition. I became a subscriber when we returned to DC, and have been ever since.

I don't read every article (although I did from 1997-2009), but I can confidently say that I have read more than 90% of everything published in the last 16 years. I downloaded the current holiday issue this morning, and very much enjoyed the look back at World War 1 on the centennial of its beginning and the selection of the Country of the year, which just legalized gay marriage and cannabis, and whose president reportedly drives a Volkswagen Beetle to work. I'm looking forward to reading about the real Ozymandias and Indian mothers-in-law, and to another year of news and insight. It's not cheap, and it takes an investment of your time, but it has definitely changed the way I look at finance and economics and at the same time helped me become far more attuned to what's happening around the world.

Talking Turkey

My first week in Belgrade, I went to dinner with my predecessor and his wife. They took me to their favorite Italian restaurant, just a few blocks from their--now my--apartment. I add a thin crust pizza that was in every way, unremarkable. Nothing to complain about, but that is a low bar in the pizzasphere.

I soon realized that TripAdvisor is a useful tool for identifying local restaurants, and I noticed that the aforementioned restaurant was ranked #27 in the city. Not bad, and, given its proximity, worth another try. I went back this summer, and had a delicious dinner, some sort of bruschetta and an entree since forgotten, both specials. I went back a couple of months later and had a very forgettable ravioli dish off the menu.

So is it a good restaurant or not? I was not sure. Last night, I went back with a colleague. Our waiter described the specials in excellent english, but he had a problem with one of the entrees. "It's a roast lamb over a--what is it--not rice, but similar. You know the stuff you make bread with."

"Jecham" he asked the pizza chef in the open kitchen. Shrug.

It sounded like some sort of dumpling or spaetzle, and I ordered it. He came back with his phone as we were enjoying a roast lamb over risotto, but instead of rice, made with barley. That was the word he didn't know. I've never heard of using barley to make bread, but Wikipedia indicates that it was one of its first uses in ancient Egypt.

Anyway, my conclusion about the restaurant is that you should focus on the specials, and that bringing your smartphone is a good idea. When Worldwide and I lived in Paris in 1995, I bought a big dictionary to carry in my backpack because my pocket version didn't have all the fish in the sea. Now there is a better way.

Megan's List

I've been following Megan McArdle for over a decade, and it's been nice to watch her go from amateur blogger to Bloomberg celebrity. Like me, she loves kitchen gadgets, and, as much as I enjoy her insight into the business world, there is no entry I look forward to more than her holiday gift guide. The Gs picked out "unitaskers" for me at Williams Sonoma last year, earning bemused looks from the clerk, who didn't enjoy the pejorative assertion of the term. Nevertheless, I love my strawberry huller, and I use it often during the summer. And the oxo peeler is something I really miss here. Bee Wilson has a long encomium to the recent technological progress in vegetable peelers that reinforces what I learned by accident twenty years ago, when I bought the vegetable peeler that, pound for pound, may have contributed more to my quality of life, than anything else in my kitchen.

She's more of a baker than I am, but I've been coveting the Vitamix and the Breville toaster oven. We have pedestrian versions of both that I can't wait to break, but I'm not just going to toss while they still do the job. I've also been toying with the idea of both a pressure cooker and a slow cooker, but I've held out, just because they can't quite seem to make the leap in my mind to deserving a dedicated counterspace. But the combo? Hmm.

And a salt pig looks like something I might wonder how I ever did without. Can't wait for the holidays!

When the Music is Here...

Another serendipitous moment of shuffle play goodness last night as i was cooking dinner. I can't think of a song that is more evocative of young love--the good part and the bad.

Thanksgiving menu

Back from a delightful week at home with the fam and Josie and the Pussycats. Saw the OG cheer at a JV game, Worldwide and the BG in a performance of Drood at the local church, and enjoyed a roller skating birthday party for the BG, where I won a free soda in the Cha Cha slide competition with my slick moves on the hardwood. The dog is still terrified of me, and it is a great feeling to know that I can make her cower with just a stern look--several times, a stern word and a hard stare was successful in keeping her from jumping excitedly into Worldwide's lap.

The Thanksgiving menu came off nicely, and I managed to get everything plated more or less in accordance with the 4:00 time we had agreed upon. The BG was too ill too eat anything, so some of the vegetarian options were ignored, but they were prepared with love, and I trust that the large tranche of leftovers in the refrigerator is slowly depreciating.

I used the dry brine from dadcooksdinner, and I made the three stuffings and the cranberry sauce the day before. The OG made a delicious peanut butter chocolate pie with a crust of pounded wafer cookies to complement my traditional dessert. In retrospect, I wouldn't change a thing.

Thanksgiving Menu 2013

• Grilled Dry-brined turkey (cut up like a chicken)
• Bread stuffing (actually stale soft pretzels) with dried cranberries, celery and apples (Veg)
• Sausage and cornbread stuffing (Joy of Cooking)
• Vegetarian Sausage and Cornbread Stuffing (using Morningstar maple patties)
• Green Beans
• Mashed potatoes
• Drip pan turkey gravy with bacon fat
• vegetarian gravy (flour, butter, vegetable stock)
• Tossed green salad with dried cranberries and toasted pecans
• Garlic knots (using store bought pizza dough)
• Cranberry Sauce
• Pumpkin Pie
• Peanut butter chocolate pie
• Chocolate Milk shakes

I also made a couple of pies with the leftovers--filling deep dish pie crusts with turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce and gravy, topped with mashed potatoes. They are in some ways better than the sum of their parts.

November Books

The Big Necessity: The Unmentionable World of Human Waste and Why It Matters

Rose George

Acclaimed as “extraordinary” (The New York Times) and “a classic” (Los Angeles Times), The Big Necessity is on its way to removing the taboo on bodily waste—something common to all and as natural as breathing. We prefer not to talk about it, but we should—even those of us who take care of our business in pristine, sanitary conditions. Disease spread by waste kills more people worldwide every year than any other single cause of death. Even in America, nearly two million people have no access to an indoor toilet. Yet the subject remains unmentionable.

Moving from the underground sewers of Paris, London, and New York (an infrastructure disaster waiting to happen) to an Indian slum where ten toilets are shared by 60,000 people, The Big Necessity breaks the silence, revealing everything that matters about how people do—and don’t—deal with their own waste. With razor-sharp wit and crusading urgency, mixing levity with gravity, Rose George has turned the subject we like to avoid into a cause with the most serious of consequences.

Note; Enjoyable look at the cultural and scientific aspects of the production and disposal of human waste. Interesting throughout.

Consider the Lobster: And Other Essays

David Foster Wallace

Do lobsters feel pain? Did Franz Kafka have a funny bone? What is John Updike's deal, anyway? And what happens when adult video starlets meet their fans in person? David Foster Wallace answers these questions and more in essays that are also enthralling narrative adventures. Whether covering the three-ring circus of a vicious presidential race, plunging into the wars between dictionary writers, or confronting the World's Largest Lobster Cooker at the annual Maine Lobster Festival, Wallace projects a quality of thought that is uniquely his and a voice as powerful and distinct as any in American letters.

Note; Fresh and beautiful writing about random topics in everyday life. A pleasure to read.

Fragments

Heraclitus

In the sixth century b.c.-twenty-five hundred years before Einstein-Heraclitus of Ephesus declared that energy is the essence of matter, that everything becomes energy in flux, in relativity. His great book, On Nature, the world's first coherent philosophical treatise and touchstone for Plato, Aristotle, and Marcus Aurelius, has long been lost to history-but its surviving fragments have for thousands of years tantalized our greatest thinkers, from Montaigne to Nietzsche, Heidegger to Jung. Now, acclaimed poet Brooks Haxton presents a powerful free-verse translation of all 130 surviving fragments of the teachings of Heraclitus, with the ancient Greek originals beautifully reproduced en face.

Note; Really short. Deep though. Like life.

Low Life: Lures and Snares of Old New York

Luc Sante

From opium dens to the Bowery's suicide saloons, this lively, learned work of outlaw urban history ushers readers through the dark heart of New York City in the years between 1840 and 1919. "A systematic, well-researched historical account of . . . corruption, vice, and miscellaneous mayhem . . . well-crafted and tightly written. 

Note: Fascinating account of New York in the 19th Century. Unbelievably chaotic, corrupt and violent.

Sleights of Mind: What the neuroscience of magic reveals about our brains

Susana Martinez-Conde, Stephen L. Macknik, Sandra Blakeslee, 

What can magic tell us about ourselves and our daily lives? If you subtly change the subject during an uncomfortable conversation, did you know you're using attentional 'misdirection', a core technique of magic? And if you've ever bought an expensive item you'd sworn never to buy, you were probably unaware that the salesperson was, like an accomplished magician, a master at creating the 'illusion of choice'. Leading neuroscientists Stephen Macknik and Susana Martinez-Conde meet with magicians from all over the world to explain how the magician's art sheds light on consciousness, memory, attention, and belief. As the founders of the new discipline of NeuroMagic, they combine cutting-edge scientific research with startling insights into the tricks of the magic trade. By understanding how magic manipulates the processes in our brains, we can better understand how we work - in fields from law and education to marketing, health and psychology - for good and for ill.

Note: We are easily duped; and hard-wired for it, too.

Dear Life

Alice Munro

Alice Munro captures the essence of life in her brilliant new collection of stories. Moments of change, chance encounters, the twist of fate that leads a person to a new way of thinking or being: the stories in Dear Life build to form a radiant, indelible portrait of just how dangerous and strange ordinary life can be.

Note: Deceptively simple; always surprising.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

October Books

Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Someone Who?s Been There

Cheryl Strayed

Life can be hard: your lover cheats on you, you lose a family member, you can't pay the bills. But it can be pretty great, too: you've had the hottest sex of your life, you get that plum job, you muster the courage to write your novel. Everyday across the world, people go through the full and glorious gamut of life - but sometimes, a little advice is needed.

For several years, thousands turned to Cheryl Strayed, a then-anonymous internet Agony Aunt. But unlike most Agony Aunts, this one's advice was spun from genuine compassion and informed by a wealth of personal experience - experience that was sometimes tragic and sometimes tender, often hilarious and often heartbreaking. Having successfully battled her own demons while hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed sat down to answer the letters of the frightened, the anxious, the confused; and with each gem-like correspondence - of which the best are collected in this volume - she proved to be the perfect guide for those who had got a little lost in life.

Note

Fresh voice shows us how bad some people have it, and how much people tend to overstate their problems and delude themselves into making bad decisions. A little twee at times, but the writing is precise and beautiful, and the author knows the suffering of her readers firsthand.

Is Paris Burning

Dominique Lapierre, Larry Collins

From the bestselling author of The City of Joy comes the dramatic story of the Allied liberation of Paris. Is Paris Burning? reconstructs the network of fateful events--the drama, the fervor, and the triumph--that heralded one of the most dramatic episodes of our time. This bestseller about 1944 Paris is timed to meet the demand for Dominique Lapierre books that will be generated by the March release of his compelling new Warner hardcover, Beyond Love.

Note

Exhaustively researched blend of history and anecdotes shows the fog of war as the Germans try to hold Paris while a shaky alliance of Americans, Gaullists and Communists work their own angles. Incredibly lucky that the German in charge did not blow up all the bridges and palaces as he was ordered.

Pulphead: Essays

John Jeremiah Sullivan

In Pulphead, John Jeremiah Sullivan takes us on an exhilarating tour of our popular, unpopular, and at times completely forgotten culture. Simultaneously channeling the gonzo energy of Hunter S. Thompson and the wit and insight of Joan Didion, Sullivan shows us—with a laidback, erudite Southern charm that’s all his own—how we really (no, really) live now. 

In his native Kentucky, Sullivan introduces us to Constantine Rafinesque, a nineteenth-century polymath genius who concocted a dense, fantastical prehistory of the New World. Back in modern times, Sullivan takes us to the Ozarks for a Christian rock festival; to Florida to meet the alumni and straggling refugees of MTV’s Real World, who’ve generated their own self-perpetuating economy of minor celebrity; and all across the South on the trail of the blues. He takes us to Indiana to investigate the formative years of Michael Jackson and Axl Rose and then to the Gulf Coast in the wake of Katrina—and back again as its residents confront the BP oil spill. 

Gradually, a unifying narrative emerges, a story about this country that we’ve never heard told this way. It’s like a fun-house hall-of-mirrors tour: Sullivan shows us who we are in ways we’ve never imagined to be true. Of course we don’t know whether to laugh or cry when faced with this reflection—it’s our inevitable sob-guffaws that attest to the power of Sullivan’s work.

Note

Beautifully written collection of essays on modern culture and Americana. The stories of Michael Jackson and Axl Rose stand out; Insightful and fascinating, with freakish touches

This Is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life

David Foster Wallace

Only once did David Foster Wallace give a public talk on his views on life, during a commencement address given in 2005 at Kenyon College. The speech is reprinted for the first time in book form in THIS IS WATER. How does one keep from going through their comfortable, prosperous adult life unconsciously? How do we get ourselves out of the foreground of our thoughts and achieve compassion? The speech captures Wallace's electric intellect as well as his grace in attention to others. After his death, it became a treasured piece of writing reprinted in The Wall Street Journal and the London Times, commented on endlessly in blogs, and emailed from friend to friend.

and the London Times, commented on endlessly in blogs, and emailed from friend to friend.Writing with his one-of-a-kind blend of causal humor, exacting intellect, and practical philosophy, David Foster Wallace probes the challenges of daily living and offers advice that renews us with every reading.

Note

Beautiful, heartfelt commencement speech about the need to see things for what they are, or might be, rather than through the lens of solipsism. Not really a book, but it’s my list.

The Sports Gene: Inside the Science of Extraordinary Athletic Performance

David Epstein

In high school, I wondered whether the Jamaican Americans who made our track team so successful might carry some special speed gene from their tiny island. In college, I ran against Kenyans, and wondered whether endurance genes might have traveled with them from East Africa. At the same time, I began to notice that a training group on my team could consist of five men who run next to one another, stride for stride, day after day, and nonetheless turn out five entirely different runners. How could this be?

We all knew a star athlete in high school. The one who made it look so easy. He was the starting quarterback and shortstop; she was the all-state point guard and high-jumper. Naturals. Or were they?

The debate is as old as physical competition. Are stars like Usain Bolt, Michael Phelps, and Serena Williams genetic freaks put on Earth to dominate their respective sports? Or are they simply normal people who overcame their biological limits through sheer force of will and obsessive training?
The truth is far messier than a simple dichotomy between nature and nurture. In the decade since the sequencing of the human genome, researchers have slowly begun to uncover how the relationship between biological endowments and a competitor's training environment affects athleticism. Sports scientists have gradually entered the era of modern genetic research.

In this controversial and engaging exploration of athletic success, Sports Illustrated senior writer David Epstein tackles the great nature vs. nurture debate and traces how far science has come in solving this great riddle. He investigates the so-called 10,000-hour rule to uncover whether rigorous and consistent practice from a young age is the only route to athletic excellence.

Along the way, Epstein dispels many of our perceptions about why top athletes excel. He shows why some skills that we assume are innate, like the bullet-fast reactions of a baseball or cricket batter, are not, and why other characteristics that we assume are entirely voluntary, like an athlete's will to train, might in fact have important genetic components.

This subject necessarily involves digging deep into sensitive topics like race and gender. Epstein explores controversial questions such as:

• Are black athletes genetically predetermined to dominate both sprinting and distance running, and are their abilities influenced by Africa's geography?
• Are there genetic reasons to separate male and female athletes in competition?
• Should we test the genes of young children to determine if they are destined for stardom?
• Can genetic testing determine who is at risk of injury, brain damage, or even death on the field?

Through on-the-ground reporting from below the equator and above the Arctic Circle, revealing conversations with leading scientists and Olympic champions, and interviews with athletes who have rare genetic mutations or physical traits, Epstein forces us to rethink the very nature of athleticism.

Note

Genetic advantages are huge in sports; basketball players have long arms; marathon runners are short; Finnish cross country skiing legend’s body did naturally what Lance Armstrong did with chemistry. 10,000 hours will not get you to the top.

An Intimate History of Humanity

Theodore Zeldin

"This internationally acclaimed investigation of emotions and personal relationships shows how people, past and present, escape from loneliness, fear and aimlessness, find new forms of affection and adventure, can avoid being prisoners of their memories or mistakes."

Note

Society has changed over the years; people, not so much.