Handle Always With Care, But Never Make Blanket Prohibitions

I try to look periodically at Orwell's “Politics and the English Language” and I've shared it with many colleagues over the years. I used to have a small card with the basic rules taped to my desk, but I know them by heart now:

(i) Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
(ii) Never use a long word where a short one will do.
(iii) If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
(iv) Never use the passive where you can use the active.
(v) Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
(vi) Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

Now the Economist's Johnson blog points out that the man himself used the passive voice in the selfsame essay, and that perhaps he might have been a little dictatorial in his blanket prohibitions. Moreover, the escape hatch provided by number 6 might be a little too small. The author suggests some edits:

i) Avoid using metaphors, similes, or other figures of speech which you are used to seeing in print. Think of fresh ones wherever you can.
(ii) Prefer short words to long ones.
(iii) Try cutting a lot of your word-count, especially those words that add little extra meaning.
(iv) Don’t over-use the passive voice. And whether passive or active, be clear who did what to whom.
(v) Prefer everyday English to foreign, scientific or jargon words.
(vi) Good writing is no place for the tyrant. Never say “never” and always avoid “always”, or at the least handle them with care. Overusing such words is an invitation for critics to hold you to your own impossible standard.

 It sacrifices poetry for clarity, but it makes sense. Of course, it can always be improved.

July Books

The Mismeasure of Man‎

Stephen Jay Gould - 1996 - Psychology

When published in 1981, The Mismeasure of Man was immediately hailed as a masterwork, the ringing answer to those who would classify people, rank them according to their supposed genetic gifts and limits.

Yet the idea of biology as destiny dies hard, as witness the attention devoted to The Bell Curve, whose arguments are here so effectively anticipated and thoroughly undermined. In this edition, Stephen Jay Gould has written a substantial new introduction telling how and why he wrote the book and tracing the subsequent history of the controversy on innateness right through The Bell Curve. Further, he has added five essays on questions of The Bell Curve in particular and on race, racism, and biological determinism in general. These additions strengthen the book's claim to be, as Leo J. Kamin of Princeton University has said, "a major contribution toward deflating pseudo-biological 'explanations' of our present social woes."

Note: Generally interesting, rather polemic look at attempts to measure intelligence and the dangers of confirmation bias. A little mathy at times, and overlong as well. Did not enjoy this nearly as much as I had expected, especially given my experience with other works by the same author.

"Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!": Adventures of a Curious Character

‎Richard P. Feynman - 2010 - Biography & Autobiography - 

The outrageous exploits of one of this century's greatest scientific minds and a legendary American original.

In this phenomenal national bestseller, the Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard P. Feynman recounts in his inimitable voice his adventures trading ideas on atomic physics with Einstein and Bohr and ideas on gambling with Nick the Greek, painting a naked female toreador, accompanying a ballet on his bongo drums and much else of an eyebrow-raising and hilarious nature.
 

Note: Enjoyable, if a little self-congratulatory stories from one of the twentieth century's most interesting people. Brainstormed with Einstein, mixed with showgirls. Lots of humblebragging as well, before the term had even been invented.

The Man In The Iron Mask‎

Alexandre Dumas - 

Who was the man in the iron mask? Why did he wear a mask? Why was he imprisoned and who imprisoned him? Nobody knows. His identity was a mystery when he lived and more than two and a half centuries later, he is still shrouded in mystery.  

Note: Swashbuckling 16th century adventure that moves right along, although it goes in unexpected directions that seem to defy logic at times. Less of the eponymous character than I expected.

Ready For a Brand New Beat: How "Dancing in the Street" Became the Anthem ...

‎Mark Kurlansky - 2013 – 

Can a song change a nation? In 1964, Marvin Gaye, record producer William “Mickey” Stevenson, and Motown songwriter Ivy Jo Hunter wrote “Dancing in the Street.” The song was recorded at Motown’s Hitsville USA Studio by Martha and the Vandellas, with lead singer Martha Reeves arranging her own vocals. Released on July 31, the song was supposed to be an upbeat dance recording—a precursor to disco, and a song about the joyousness of dance. But events overtook it, and the song became one of the icons of American pop culture.

The Beatles had landed in the U.S. in early 1964. By the summer, the sixties were in full swing. The summer of 1964 was the Mississippi Freedom Summer, the Berkeley Free Speech Movement, the beginning of the Vietnam War, the passage of the Civil Rights Act, and the lead-up to a dramatic election. As the country grew more radicalized in those few months, “Dancing in the Street” gained currency as an activist anthem. The song took on new meanings, multiple meanings, for many different groups that were all changing as the country changed.

Told by the writer who is legendary for finding the big story in unlikely places, Ready for a Brand New Beat chronicles that extraordinary summer of 1964 and showcases the momentous role that a simple song about dancing played in history.
 

Note: Attempt to connect a song to a protest movement seems a little stretched. But it's Motown, so I'll let it slide.

A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius: A Memoir Based on a True Story‎

Dave Eggers - 2013 - A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is the moving memoir of a college senior who, in the space of five weeks, loses both of his parents to cancer and inherits his eight-year-old brother. Here is an exhilarating debut that manages to be simultaneously hilarious and wildly inventive as well as a deeply heartfelt story of the love that holds a family together.
 

Note: Sad, funny, beautifully written story. A little self-indulgent at times, but what would you expect from someone who auditioned ironically for the Real World, San Francisco in the early nineties, and was sad when he wasn’t selected. Not what it seems to be. More Generation X than family memoir.

A Guide to the Serbian Mentality‎

Momo Kapor - 2011 -  

Note: Charming series of short essays about the Serbian character and life in Belgrade. Especially funny if you live here, recommended nonetheless

The 5 Elements of Effective Thinking

‎Edward B. Burger, Michael Starbird - 2012 - 

The 5 Elements of Effective Thinking presents practical, lively, and inspiring ways for you to become more successful through better thinking. The idea is simple: You can learn how to think far better by adopting specific strategies. Brilliant people aren't a special breed--they just use their minds differently. By using the straightforward and thought-provoking techniques in The 5 Elements of Effective Thinking, you will regularly find imaginative solutions to difficult challenges, and you will discover new ways of looking at your world and yourself--revealing previously hidden opportunities.

The book offers real-life stories, explicit action items, and concrete methods that allow you to attain a deeper understanding of any issue, exploit the power of failure as a step toward success, develop a habit of creating probing questions, see the world of ideas as an ever-flowing stream of thought, and embrace the uplifting reality that we are all capable of change. No matter who you are, the practical mind-sets introduced in the book will empower you to realize any goal in a more creative, intelligent, and effective manner. Filled with engaging examples that unlock truths about thinking in every walk of life, The 5 Elements of Effective Thinking is written for all who want to reach their fullest potential--including students, parents, teachers, businesspeople, professionals, athletes, artists, leaders, and lifelong learners.

Whenever you are stuck, need a new idea, or want to learn and grow, The 5 Elements of Effective Thinking will inspire and guide you on your way.

 

 Note: Understand simple things deeply, fail, ask questions, have ideas, embrace change. ^shrug^

Dead Serbs, Part II

Next stop in the pantheon of national heroes is Petar II Petrović-Njegoš, who graces the 20 dinar note (about 20 cents). His wikipedia page describes him as a prince, bishop, philosopher and poet, responsible for the secularization of Montenegro in the early nineteenth century. Known as the "Montenegrin Shakespeare"He also seems to have brought the rule-of-law to its "feuding clan chiefs."

He is especially known for the epic poem, The Mountain Wreath, about the execution of Montenegrins who had converted to Islam. Cited with approval by Radovan Karadzic, the poem has since been removed from the Bosnian school curriculum.

Montenegrins also stopped wearing the fez during his reign, which seems to me, to have been his greatest achievement.

Slow Month in Belgrade

So slow, that my project got a nice article in Politika, the daily paper, and even a photo. Pre-haircut, though.

40 degrees in the WC today. That's 104 for those of you who refuse to go along with the rest of the world. Yikes.

On the recommendation of a colleague, I sought and read Momo Kapor's "A Guide to the Serbian Mentality" over the weekend. It's a series of charming essays about the national character and life in Belgrade. One of the things he reminded me of was the national aversion to drafts. He mentioned how taxicabs will actually take the handles off of the windows so that you cannot roll them down. This is something we saw frequently in Macedonia, but the company we use here has a modern fleet, so I haven't been able to observe the phenomenon. I wonder if they are removing the fuse, or if they have moved on. I will have to check.

Update

Here is a translation of the article from Politika.

Smokin' That Tuna, Serbian Style

I wrote last month about my visit to the Mercator, Slovenia's answer to Whole Foods. One of the things I found there was smoked salmon, from Montenegro. It was more or less the same as the smoked salmon I buy from time to time at the Harris Teeter, which is to say, delicious.

I was thinking about getting some more last week, when I saw this package in the same display case. Smoked tuna, I thought. That's weird. It sounds delicious, and yet I've never seen it before. Let's give it a try. The packet, which had four thin slices, was about 400 dinars--4 bucks.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do  with it, but I was thinking of pasta.  I had a couple of very ripe tomatoes and some fresh fettucine in the fridge, so I decided on a garlic and oil inspired pasta salad.

When I opened the package, I noticed that information on the back was written in all of the EU languages. It must be from Italy, I thought. It sounds like something an Italian would do. But then I thought about all my visits to Italy and Italian restaurant meals: I couldn't recall ever seeing smoked tuna on the menu. I looked at the label more closely and there it was: "proizvod od Srbija"--smoked tuna from landlocked Serbia. Hmm. Here goes nothing.

  I cooked the pasta, reserving a cup of the cooking water, doused the noodles in cold water, and put them in the fridge. Then I sauteed 4 minced cloves of garlic in about 1/3 cup of olive oil, adding a generous pinch of red pepper flakes for the last thirty seconds. I added the reserved pasta water and cooked the mix for about 5 minutes, until the water was about half gone. I tossed the sauce with the pasta, the diced tomatoes and some shredded parmesan, along with the tuna, which I chopped into bite-size pieces, and some lemon juice.

The result was very nice, even better for breakfast this morning--I hadn't allowed it to cool sufficiently last night . The smoked tuna was everything that you would expect from a Serbian smoked tuna, which is to say, not much. But I bet I buy it again. I wish I had bought some parsley at the farmers market, where it is plentiful. Maybe next time.

Lloyd in Belgrade

I wrote a few years ago about meeting Lloyd Cole, the finest songwriter of my generation, in Dublin, and the role his music has played in the soundtrack of my life. I won't go over that again, although I quite enjoyed rereading that piece from 2008. Your mileage may vary, of course. Since that time, I've taken the OG to one of his concerts, seen him twice in Chapel Hill and enjoyed the birthday card the OG made for me two years ago, which featured Impossible Girl as the backing track

Anyway, Lloyd has a new album. Standards, which came out last month, and although I'm not as keen on it as other recent efforts (I really like Antidepressant and Music in a Foreign Language), it is excellent nonetheless, and I am happy to be among the listeners who financed its production. It's gotten good reviews. Women's Studies and Period Piece are the best songs on the record, in my view (you can stream them both at the album link), and the latter is interesting because the video features Lloyd's son playing a young Lloyd, which is kind of cool. It's also nice to hear him name check Chic on Kids Today (I can't think of anyone who could make "dig it" sound less hip. G Lo, maybe).

He's touring Europe in support of the record, and I was delighted to learn that he'll be coming to the WC for a show on Friday October 4th. If you were contemplating a visit that would be an excellent weekend to do it.

The end of jobs

My boy Matt Yglesias weighs in that the recent uptick in manufacturing jobs, is by no means the harbinger of a return to the golden age. Check out the long view:



Then you get an even more pessimistic take in a review of Jaron Lanier's book, Who Owns the Future:

A country that has made its self-definition utterly dependent on the ubiquity of paying work now has an insufficient number of jobs. This is not short-term economic cyclicality; labor-force participation has dropped, fairly steadily, for decades. Capital-biased technological change contracts industry after industry. The most powerful, most profitable companies now employ a tiny fraction of the workers that similarly sized enterprises once did.

The author goes on to remind us that social capital ultimately protects us, not cops, and that, as events in Egypt, Turkey and elsewhere suggest, when the people get angry because the social contract of a livelihood in return for work done is eroding, the results are not pretty.

I count myself among the technological optimists disparaged in the essay, and I find it hard to envision a populist scenario where an angry mob storms the Google campus; but I am less confident at the moment, thinking about the Occupy movements in a new way and envisioning the rise of a party more determined to tax the wealthy and redistribute the gains from technology more equitably.

A Revolutionary New Way to Chop Parsley

I just got very excited about a Slate video entitled "A Revolutionary New Way to Chop Parsley." Embarrassing, I know, but fascinating nonetheless. A revelation, if not a revolution.

Ljubenica

I had a watermelon and feta salad at Watts grocery a couple of summers ago, and really enjoyed it. The ljubenica (watermelons) are in season here now, and I've been having a slice with breakfast every morning. Born in Africa, introduced to Europe by the Moors in the 13th century, according to Wikipedia, they are sweeter than the Harris Teeter variety, with more seeds.

Last night, I decided to try a similar take on pasta salad. I cooked some tortellini*  and when it was done, ran it under cold water and put it in the fridge. Then I crumbled some blue cheese into a bowl, and added a couple of slices of watermelon, cut into cubes, seeds removed. I mixed a little olive oil and red wine vinegar together, and then tossed it with the pasta, fruit and cheese. Sprinkled some salt and pepper on top, and put it back in the fridge for about 20 minutes.

The saltiness of the blue cheese blends very nicely with the sweetness of the watermelon and the acidity of the vinegar. I wish I had my herb garden at hand, as I would have liked to sprinkle some chopped fresh mint over it, but I'm not complaining. I'm looking forward to my lunch of leftovers. I bet it's even better today.

* My tortellini was stuffed with prosciutto. I don't think cheese tortellini would complement the blue cheese. I'd probably use something like rotini next time, but this is what I had.

Why is the Pace of Change So Slow Sometimes?

Great article by Atul Gawande, Mr Checklist, in the New Yorker about the unpredictable pace of change: about how anesthesia went viral, but antiseptic measures were much slower to, er, spread. I like the idea that you need to visit someone seven times before they will pay attention to what you're saying. I'm going to build it into all of my future project plans.

I subscribe to the New Yorker, but I was directed here via the Browser, to which I am now, for $12, a year, a subscriber.

The Whole Kit and Caboodle

I was writing an email on Friday about how I wanted to handle a particular transaction as a one-off, so that with one stroke, we would transfer some IT equipment to our partner. "I want to address the software licenses," I wrote, so that when it's ready to go, we can transfer the whole kit and caboodle."

What had I just written? That was Grandma Anna speak from the 1970s, and it's not party of my vocabulary. We used to think it was cute, but I don't think I've heard, let alone used the phrase in thirty years. Should I replace it with "enchilada?" "one and done?" "plug and play?"

It's a real term, though. Maybe 2-13 is the year to bring back the caboodle.

Promocija!

Yesterday, I made my weekly trip to Vero, the Greek supermarket that is about 20 minutes walk from my apartment. The aisles are filled with young, attractive women offering a taste of this or that, or advice on how to get your glasses to sparkle just so.

I was planning on laundry and needed detergent, so I asked the girl in the "Vanish" lab coat for something to "chistenje ove" I said, pointing at my t-shirt. She gave me a jug of Vanish. "There is a promotion," she told me in Serbian. Tell the lady at checkout that you bought our product."

I had no intention of doing so, but after I had bought my groceries, another woman at a counter against the window called me over. "You bought Vanish," she said. "You can choose between one of our two promotional items," indicating a mini-frisbee or a plastic fan.

My lucky day.

Cars in Belgrade

Yesterday, as I was walking up my street from Greennet, the cafe where I have finally found good coffee beans for sale, I thought it might be fun to do an inventory of the cars parked on my block. Unfortunately as I played Simon (fiat, skoda, opel, fiat skoda, opel, hyundai...) the list got too long for me to remember. So this morning, I went back and made a short film, which is embedded in this post. You also get a quick look at the hotel where I stayed the first two weeks  I was here, and at one of the many streetcars that comprise the city's excellent public transportation network.

I was hoping to see a Yugo, the car that was supposed to herald the end of the North American auto industry back in the early eighties, but no luck, I did, however, run into one on my trip to the farmers market later in the morning (Watermelon!), and I snapped this picture.

It's funny. I was talking about the Yugo with some of my colleagues the other day, and the car has the same reputation locally. My IT expert told me this joke:

A guy walks into an auto shop. He says to the mechanic, "Can I get some new windshield wiper blades for my Yugo?" The mechanic looks at the car, thinks about it for a second, and then he says: "Deal."

That's gold, Jerry. Gold.

It's all meat, you dope

The green market  near my apartment is sort of a courtyard of metal stalls ringed by more permanent structures--some with doors that you walk through, some that pull up so that you can walk into the place when it's open and others with a more ticket-window type set up, where everything is behind glass.

One of these places is a shawarma place--no tables, just a grill an oven and a fridge behind the counter. I went there for the first time last week (it is very close to my fitness center, so I can pick up dinner post-workout) and I enjoyed practicing my Serbian with the three young people behind the counter, whose only English seemed to be "big or small."

I ordered a small falafel sandwich and a large chicken shawarma, planning to take the leftovers for lunch the following day. While I was waiting, another customer ordered a "lahma sendvic." That's right, I remembered, lahma is beef.

So yesterday, I went back, determined to do better, and to try the beef. Before I left work, I looked up "lahma" on Google translate to make sure I had it right. Nothing. But when I looked up meat and "meso" came up, I figured I was ready to go.

It was the same crew, and I ordered my chicken shawarma without incident, but when I ordered a small meso to go along with it, the guy just looked at me: "It's all meso." he said. Do you want "june?"

I looked at him, clueless.

"Moo." he said

Bingo. That was the damn dog's name.

Turns out that "lahma" is the arabic for beef. The place is lebanese, so their lahma sendvic on the menu is authentic. Nothing like a third language to complicate things.

I'll get it next time. I had no problem with my toppings though, paradaiz (tomatoes), hummus (hummus), luk (onions), persun (parsley and lutica (hot sauce).

Keeping Up With the Times

The twenty first century brought all kinds of problems to the nomenclature of dates: Was it twenty oh one or two thousand one? The aughties? Please. And it doesn't seem to have resolved itself, even as we put the digits (my suggestion for the first decade of the millenium--which surprisingly never got off the ground) behind us.

Here in the WC, the year is Two Thirteen. At first that bothered me--it just sounded wrong--but now I love it. It's brief, clean and it tells you everything you need to know. Spread the word. It's how I am going to refer to the year for the rest of  my life, unless I live to 135, in which case, I'll go back to the future and use twenty one hundred. Looking forward to it. 

Summer Ball With the OG

For obvious reasons, the OG and I have a relationship with the Washington basketball club. We used to mark Michael Jordan's stop when we were at Gallery Place on our daily red line commute from Tenleytown to Union Station in 2001. We also saw the Wizards play the Sonics in Seattle in 2004, and we went to a few games in DC when we were home from Cairo visiting family during the Pharaonic era (2005-2009).

She follows a bunch of the players on Twitter, and she's even exchanged correspondence with  a couple, my favorite being when Shelvin Mack (the second round selection from a couple of years ago, no longer with the team) identified Rashard Lewis as the funniest Wizard, in response to her question.

We sat courtside for a preseason game last year in Charlotte, and she may be the only teenager still rocking Agent 0's jersey. Most nights during the season, I'll record the game, and we'll sit down to watch it in the basement around 8:30, and then talk about it at the breakfast table in the morning.

It's our thing, and I love it. I was delighted to send her the following message this morning after reading the recap of last night's summer league game, in which third year disappointments Jan Vesely (from the Czech republic and former star of Partizan Belgrade) and Chris Singleton showed signs of fulfilling the potential that has been hoped for, but unrealized since 2011:

Czech Jesus made six jumpers last night and Chris SinglePoint had ten rebounds. Why must they torture us?

That short message contains at least three jokes that only she and I are in on. Not a lot of 13 year old girls following the woeful Wizards, let alone the NBA Summer League. But the OG is on it

What's Good for the Goose

As we were walking up to a meeting yesterday, I asked my colleague, who has been coughing, about his recent visit to the doctor. "First, he thought it was bronchitis," he told me, "now he says it's just a cold."

"My grandmother would give you some goose grease to rub on your neck," I told him.

"Mine too," he said.

I paused. Grandma Anna"s longstanding belief in the palliative power of goose fat has been a joke in our family forever, but I've never met anyone else who had ever heard of such a thing.

"My grandmother's family is Irish," I told my colleague.

"Mine's from Voivodina," he said. "But a goose is a goose,"

I am sad to report that the repository of all truth known as Wikipedia does not have an entry for either "goose grease" or "goose fat."

Update
The ridiculously improbable Goose Fat Information Service states that although geese have been a key part of the European economy since the fall of Rome in the 5th century, the use of the fat for medicinal purposes is a "modern" development from the 1930s, which is consistent with my grandmother's timeline. I'll have to tease her about those newfangled remedies.

Gnocchi in Parmesan Cream Sauce with Smoked Salmon and Baby Spinach

One thing there is no shortage of in the WC is gnocchi--usually made from potatoes. I forgot to check if it is local, but even the mini-markets stock it. I've made it twice now, and, having just polished off Saturday night's leftovers for lunch today, I have the urge to share.

I knew that I was going to cook it Saturday night, but wan't sure how. Then I remembered all of the baby spinach I had in the fridge (50 cents will get you 300 grams at the market, and 300 grams is a lot more spinach than you would expect) and I was also intrigued by a small piece of smoked salmon from Montenegro that I had bought that day at the Super Vero, the big Greek supermarket that is about 15 minutes walk from my apartment.

While the water was boiling, I made a roux out of equal parts butter and flour (about 2 tbs, I'm guessing). I actually sauteed a couple of cloves of minced garlic for a minute in the butter before I added the flour. I cooked the roux over low heat for about five minutes and then I added enough of the long-life milk that my predecessors had left to fill the pan. I whisked it together, and after about 5 minutes simmer, I threw in a bunch of chopped spinach, the smoked salmon cut into morsels, and a good quantity of red pepper flakes. Two minutes later I took the pan off the heat and stirred in a handful of shaved parmesan. I tossed that with the gnocchi, and it was dinner time.

I had no idea

For worse: he was in it for himself. He wanted to be famous. He was a fantasist — extravagantly reinventing his own background. He was a liar — flatly denying in parliament that he had ever petitioned Peel for a job. He was an egregious flatterer and a shameless sponger. He was a potboiling novelist and an occasional plagiarist. As a young man, he was involved in a disreputable if not outright fraudulent scheme to pump shares in non-existent mines, and there’s even a charge of petty theft to answer (he made off with the chancellor’s robe worn by Pitt). ...

His main interest in entering parliament in the first place was not to serve his fellow man, but to enjoy an MP’s immunity from arrest so as to avoid debtor’s jail.

From a review of two recent biographies of Disraeli. According to Wikipedia he was seen by some members of his own party as a visionary statesman; by others as a charlatan.

Dead Serbs Part 1

I thought it might be fun to look into the history of the people whose portraits grace the local currency. We'll start with the ridiculous 10 dinar note, which is worth slightly less than a dime. The dude rocking the sweet cravate and the porn stache is Vuk Stefanović Karadžić (cyrillic Вук Стефановић Караџић) 1787-1864. He was a philoloigist (the study of language from historical sources) considered to be the major reformer of the Serbian language. He is also celebrated  for his collections of songs, fairy tales, and riddles, and is known in some circles as the father of Serbian folklore.

According to his Wikipedia page he is also noteworthy for introducing "a rich terminology on body parts (from head to toes) into the literary language." I have no idea what that means. Maybe I can ask my colleagues on Monday.

July 12

I hope you are all enjoying the chance to celebrate the anniversary of the independence of Kiribati and Sao Tome and Principe from the colonial yoke of Great Britain and Portugal respectively. Both in my lifetime, by the way, which says something about the shadow of colonialism and the number of candles on my cake.

Had Wikipedia been around in 1965, my parents might have known that today is the feast day of Jason of Tarsus, one of the lesser known disciples mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles--a disciple of Paul who hung out, as I did, near Thessaloniki, though at the beginning of different millennia. Forgive me, but he was an unusual saint.

If they had known, perhaps Young Jeezy and I would have swapped names, or he would have been named Salmon, Horatio or Elian, and the world would be a different place.

This was waiting for me on my desk this morning. I'll open it when we have our cake this afternoon.

Update
It was a polo shirt and a bottle of Brion. The scent of good times.

Egypt, Part II

So the president didn't get a chance to heed my advice, and though we have yet to meet the new boss, he looks like he may be strangely familiar. Today's New York Times has two interesting articles on the subject: the first suggests that the gas shortages and power cuts that, er, fueled the protests, were orchestrated by Brotherhood opponents and Mubarak cronies; the second calls for the abolition of the position of the president and the adoption of a European parliamentary system as a catalyst for a more inclusive government and a wider debate. I'm always certain that the existence of  a conspiracy theory is all the proof you need, but the elimination of a national leadership position makes a lot of sense. Throw some separation of church and state into the new Constitution and you might actually be on to something. Once again though, I am not optimistic. It's too much fun to talk about the Game of Thrones.

Top 5 abandoned classics

I have finished one, two and four, and though I have not abandoned the other two, I have taken them off the shelf in the library and put them back:

1. Catch 22
2. Lord of the Rings
3. Ulysses
4. Moby Dick
5. Atlas Shrugged

Link to full story is below, but there is not much more to it. Catch 22 is the only surprise, but I just checked, and it is also over 500 pages, so length looks like a contributing factor in abandonment. Duh.

http://www.goodreads.com/blog/show/424-what-makes-you-put-down-a-book

What's in Prince's Fridge?

I can't think of anyone offhand about whom I'd be more curious. And the answer does not disappoint: kimchi, yak milk, 18 kinds of mustard and five pounds of Dunkaroos.

He wouldn't allow a photographer, but the illustrator did an excellent job.

The whole story is here

Hot Prshut

There is no shortage of pork in the WC, and one of the readily available products is a cured, thinly sliced ham called prshut, which bears a remarkable resemblance to its Italian cousin, the more vowel-laden prosciutto.  I've been using it quite a bit to season pasta and risotto dishes, and have been quite pleased with the results.

Similar to prshut, but a little more bacon like, is pancetta, which is also widely avilable, although it doesn't seem to have a Serbian name (though Wikipedia claims it is also indigenous to Croatia and Slovenia), so it may come from the other side of the Adriatic.

The former occupiers of my apartment had left a tin of anchovies, and I made a delicious sauce for ravioli the other night by crisping up the pancetta in a frying pan, sauteeing some chopped garlic in olive oil for a minute or two, adding the anchovies, and then returning the crumbled pancetta to the sauce after the anchovies had melted away. It was very nice.

Too much pork for just one fork, won't you pass that apple pie?

The Scent of Brion

This morning I had decided to walk up to Kalemegdan, the park at the confluence of the Danube and the Sava. I didn't understand that the fortress, rebuilt by Justininan in 535 and the park were different, but now I do. The fortress itself is pretty dilapidated--not much besides a few walls and some stones, but the view is beautiful. It's at the end of the Knez Mihailova, a long pedestrian street that has lots of cafes and stores, as well as men playing the accordion.

On the way back, I decided to stop into the Tourist center. Last week I had gone looking for a museum dedicated to the good old days of Yugoslavia (there was an article about it in the newspaper in the hotel). I had gotten the address wrong, mixing kniez mihailova with kniez milosha, and I figured the folks at the tourist center could tell me where to find it.

I asked the lady about a museum dedicated to the "good old days of yugoslavia."

"It's next door," she told me.

Bingo. that was the damn dog's name.

I went next door, and sure enough, Zhive et Zhivot (life and living, I think) was right there. although it could have been advertised a little better. I've walked by it half a dozen times.

The first floor had a couple of Zastavas, as well as some clothes from the sixties, and an encomium to the yugoslav passport, the most widely accepted around the world in those days. The second floor had some sports jerseys (Drazen Petrovic, among others) as well as a little cafe, which featured the exact same coffee can I swiped from our landlord in Skopje in 1997.

 The third floor was dedicated to the sounds and smells of the good old days. One of the smells was a cologne called Brion, which was described as the scent of the "serious working man."

When we lived in Skopje, I got my hair cut at an old school barber shop. After shaving my neck with a straight razor, the barber would douse me in a foul smelling cologne. At first I contemplated telling him to skip it, but, over time, I grew to enjoy coming home to my woman once in a while smelling like a man should.

I never got a look at what cologne my barber was using, but now I know. That smell is unforgettable. The scent of good old times.

July 4th Part II

What better way to cap my Fourth of July in the WC than Chinese Takeout? I had noticed the restaurant in the neighbourhood, and I asked my colleague about it. "It's Serbian Chinese food," he told me. So last night, at about 7:30, I walked over. "Imate Li jelovnink engleski?" I asked a very Serbian looking guy in a dirty white apron. "I speak english," he said. "Chicken curry?" I asked hopefully, having seen an online translation of the menu. "Spicy?" he asked. "Absoludno."

Here is the menu. It's like none I've ever seen.

* CHINESE FOOD - chicken, veal or pork - with peanuts and vegetables (hot) - With almonds and vegetables (hot) - With hazelnuts and vegetables (hot) - In Sichuan sauce (spicy) - Chicken with sesame seeds and shrimp chips - With prezilukom - Royal chicken in sweet and sour sauce - With vegetables, bamboo shoots and kin. mushrooms into strips - The sweet and sour sauce with pineapple (tomato sauce) - Chinese cabbage with Chinese mushrooms - With green peppers on the rhomboid - red-hot frying pan - With cashew nuts - The curry sauce - The oyster sauce - With the hot pepper - Chicken Wings - mushrooms in soy sauce - pork noodles - Fried pork slices - Breaded veal
* MEALS WITHOUT MEAT - Tofu cheese with vegetables - Vegetables without Meat - Rice vermicelli (noodles) - rolls with vegetables - Potatoes in curry sauce * SOUPS - hot and sour soup - With vegetables in sauce neljutom * MARINE SPECIALTIES - salmon or shrimp - With cashew nuts - The curry sauce - With vegetables in soy sauce - In Sichuan sauce - The sweet-sour-hot sauce - In tomato sauce
* FISH, SQUID - With cashew nuts - The curry sauce - The sweet-sour-hot sauce - With vegetables in soy sauce - In Sichuan sauce - In tomato sauce * SALADS - Seaweed salad - Sesame Salad vitamin * RICE - White wedding - Rice with eggs - Rice with vegetables and ham - Rice in curry * DESERT - Fried banana with chocolate or honey - Fried pineapple with chocolate or honey - Breaded apples with chocolate or honey * GRILL - Hamburger - Stuffed Burger - Pizza burger - Gourmet Burger - Maxi burger - Ćevapi - Sis Kebab - Gourmet shish - A small cheeseburger - A cheeseburger - Sausages - Rolled white - Chicken - Chicken Drumstick - White hat - Chips * SANDWICHES - Hot Dogs - Ham sandwich - Ham sandwich - SANDWICH STANDARD (sour cream, cheese, ham, seasonal vegetables) - Sirloin Sandwich - Beef sandwich - Tuna sandwich - SANDWICH BLACK-WHITE (cream, cheese, sausage, ham, mushrooms, egg, seasonal salad) * PIROŠKE - Ham - Cullen - Sirloin - Prosciutto - BLACK - WHITE * OMELET - Omelet - ham, cheese - Omelette - mushrooms, cheese - Omelet - ham, cheese - 1 Breakfast (2 eggs, 2 sausages, dishes, freshly baked somun) - Breakfast 2 (2 eggs, 2 sausage, crushed cheese, dishes, freshly baked somun) * POSNO - Hake meal (hake fillet, potato salad, olives, lemon, somun) - Tuna meal (tuna, potato salad, olives, lemon, somun) * PIZZA - 32cm, 42cm, 52cm - MARGARITA (peeled, cheese, oregano, olives) - Vesuvio (peeled, cheese, ham, oregano, olives) - FUNGHI (peeled, cheese, mushrooms, oregano, olives) - VEGETARIAN (peeled, cheese, mushrooms, oregano, seasoned vegetables, olives) - CAPRICIOSSA (peeled, cheese, mushrooms, ham, oregano, olives) - NAPOLI (peeled, cheese, ham, egg, mushrooms, oregano, olives) - Opera (peeled, cheese, tuna, capers, olives) - MEXICO (peeled, cheese, sausage, pepperoni, oregano, olives) - Pepperoni (peeled, cheese, pepperoni, fefroni, oregano, olives) - Serbian (peeled, cheese, ham, ham, egg, sour cream, oregano, olives) - BLACK - WHITE (peeled, cheese, sausage, ham, egg, mushrooms, bacon, oregano, olives) - Quatre Stagioni (peeled, cheese, sausage, ham, egg, mushrooms, bacon, oregano, olives) - FERDINAND (peeled, cheese, beef ham, egg, mushrooms, oregano, olives) * SWEET PANCAKES - CREAM - Jam (apricot, rose hip, strawberry) - SNIKERS (Nutella, peanut, caramel, chocolate) - MARS (Nutella, almond, caramel, chocolate) - BOLERO (Nutella, cashews, caramel, chocolate) - Serio (Nutella, cherry, caramel, chocolate) * SALTY PANCAKES - Ham, cheese, sour cream, ketchup - Prosciutto, cheese, sour cream, ketchup - Sirloin, cheese, sour cream, ketchup - Cullen, cheese, sour cream, ketchup - Beef ham, cheese, sour cream, ketchup - 

Like the menu, the chicken curry was singular--chicken and cabbage in a peppery sauce. It wasn't too spicy, and it wasn't bad. I've got leftovers in my lunchbox today, and I'm actually looking forward to them. But maybe I'll try a piroshke next time.

July 4th

If you work for the U.S. government, today is a holiday. Otherwise it's just another chtvertak. I made a three part plan for a walking excursion--two parts shopping and one part culture. I had been meaning to visit the ethnographic museum (I'm a big fan of the Balkan get-ups of the 19th century), and I was also in search of good coffee and a pan that I can use in the oven. On the coffee side, you can buy decent espresso, but I figured that there had to be some place with barrels of beans, who could adjust their grinders for the foreigner. This is what we had done in Skopje and Cairo, and I enjoyed my regular visits to local merchants.

I located the ethnographic museum on the Internet--it is downtown, not far from the Kalmegdan, probably about a 30 minute walk. Then I entered "coffee beans" "belgrade" into my search box, and it looked like a place called Koffein, about ten minutes away from the museum, had the stuff.

That left only the pan. Although my furnished apartment has everything I could ask for, it does not have a baking pan, or anything that might serve as one. There is an aluminum pot that I can use, but it's too small for most things, so I've been baking chicken and making french fries with aluminum foil. I could ask the landlady for help, but she's been so accommodating thus far that I don't want to ask for anything more.

I've seen some high-end stuff downtown, but there's something troubling about buying a $50 pan in a developing country, at least for me anyway. But I stumbled on someone's blog post about Metalac,a holdover from Yugoslavia, and how she loved their painted ovenware. I found the Metalac internet site and identified a merchant in the same neighbourhood as the museum and the coffee place. I had a plan.

I wrote the addresses down and headed off. In the wonderful tradition of countries that have thrown off the yoke of communism and gone back to the old street names, but for whom change comes slowly, the addresses were:

• 13 Students Square
• 65 Czar Dusan
• 3 Stefan the Despot

I found my way pretty easily to the museum, and although I had to, um, circumnavigate the square, it was right there all the time. I paid my 150 dinars ($1.50) and went inside. The museum was two floors of exhibits

of typical costumes of the different regions and a look at life in days gone by. Well worth the buck fifty. The gift shop was closed, but after I tried the door, a lady appeared and opened it up. I bought a little knit purse with a long string so that Worldwide will never lose her glasses again and a small earthenware pot. The woman had said hello to me when we went in, but when I asked her if I could put this in the oven, she looked at me like the family dog when you try to reason with her. "Mozhem da je stavem vo forno?" I asked, trying the Macedonian with some Serbian pronouns sprinkled in. "Da da" she replied. I'll ask my colleagues tomorrow if I got the word for oven right, but I'm reasonably confident, and, besides it was only 3 bucks, Poppin' tags!

It took me about 15 minutes to get to the coffee place, and they had the good stuff, although it wasn't cheap, about $7 for a half pound. We're in Starbucks territory here, but if it's good I'll go back. We will see tomorrow morning.








I continued up to the corner where Czar Dusan meets the Despot Stefan and #3 was about six blocks up. It was a small shop, with everything out of reach--just like in the good old days--but the stuff was handsome and inexpensive. I bought this pan for about $13, and if I like it, I might buy a big old stock pot to bring home.

After that, I decided that, since it was the Fourth of July, I should get a pleiskavica for lunch. There is an old cobblestone street called Skadarska that is lined with restaurants, and I decided to check there. But the restaurants were all empty, even though it was 12:30, so I decided to wander over to the Knieza Mihailova, the pedestrian zone, where the beautiful people in the WC like to drink coffee and stare into space.

I found a fast food joint with two ladies, one on the grill, the other at the register. "Izvolite?" one asked me, literally "what is your will" but the "can I help you of Serbian.. "Zhelam jedna pleiskavica," I said, and she rang it up, along with the tall Jelen I selected from the cooler. Less than three bucks for a big burger and a can of beer (well good god almighty, which way do I steer?). There was a tray of fixins, and she asked what I wanted. "Obichen," I said (the usual). She shrugged. "Shta e normalen?" I tried again. Same shrug. So I went with ketchup, mustard, onions and cabbage, eschewing the mayonnaise and cucumbers. Not bad. A delicious roll, but the meat had an odd consistency to it, and the cabbage didn't add anything. But I enjoyed it nonetheless, and it was fun to check a few things off of my list.

Egypt, Once More, With Feeling

It pains me to see what's happening in Egypt; as exciting as it may be to see the people rise up against a clueless autocrat, it has a real impact on everyday life. People are dying, but they are also losing their jobs as the country shuts down and people are afraid to visit.

The Muslim Brotherhood used religious tradition and anti-Mubarak sentiment as a springboard to power, and I initially had the same hope for them that I had for AK in Turkey (an optimism that turned out to be a little bit off base, it seems). I can't claim to really understand the issues--I lived a life of privilege in Cairo for four years--but if I had to advise MoMo, this is what I would tell him:

• You need to be honest. Transition to democracy and prosperity is going to take awhile, and you need to explain that, while at the same time making people feel optimistic about the future;
• You need to make things easier and better for tourists. Why are the pyramids and the Egyptian museum so poorly kept, badly signed and full of disagreeable people? You hold all the aces in the travel game. Put out your damn cigarette and make some bets.
• Be a real democracy. Stop trying to make end runs around the constitution and don't be afraid to give up power when the people like someone else's ideas better. 
• End religious intolerance and discrimination against women. Right now.
• Make kids learn English. All of them. The Germans seemed to have managed to hold on to their identity. You can too.
• End fuel subsidies. Give money to poor people instead. Buy a few more subway cars for the Cairo metro. I rode it every day for four years.

You're welcome.

Nevertheless, I am not an optimist. When you are asking people to give up power, and another coup looks like the best available option, I feel a little queasy. But after seeing the courtesy with which motorists treat pedestrians in Belgrade, I do think that you could tame Cairo's traffic. You might even make a little money while you're at it.

Found in Translation

Heretofore, my only experience with Google translate was a very funny game on the Coverville podcast where someone would run the lyrics of a well known song through the program into another language and then run it back, with the contestant then having to figure out that "quizzical emotions indoors/ I know not of their nature/ yet definitive/I wonder" were the first two lines of what famous rock song.

Did you get it?

So obviously I didn't think much of it.

But I've been using it to translate local news articles, and I've found it to be pretty useful. You don't need to be perfect to understand what the Vice President means when he says:

Serbia needs to be modernized, and that must not be afraid of change.
He stressed that he will not evaluate ministers from other parties, but it will indicate Dacic and Dinkic the poor results in certain areas of life.

And no doubt it's getting better all the time, just like the chess and Jeopardy playing machines.

NB, I made up the example above, but then I decided to try it. I actually found a Serbian translation of the song and ran it back into English. It's pretty recognizable

I feel inside (I can not explain it) 

It's some kind (can not explain) 
I'm cold and hot (can not explain) 
Yeah, in my soul, yeah (I can not explain)

I said (I can not explain) 
Now it is good, yes, but (I can not explain)

Spinning in my head and I was moping 
What did you say, well, maybe it's true 
dream strange dreams, again and again 
I know what it means, but

I can not explain 
I think it comes to love 
I'm trying to tell you 
when I'm sad