On planes and seeing the world

With a giant hat tip to Andrew Sullivan, whose Mental Health Break posts have connected me with so many beautiful, contemplative videos over the past several years, here are two more pieces that are sweeping in scope and imagination.  Also, for aesthetic purposes, though I am posting this on January 9, I am going to back-date it to December, before I left for Istanbul, because I did not have any new entries that month and I am a little neurotic about that.



Heliotropes (2010) from Michael Langan on Vimeo.

The quirks that make the world go 'round

I spent some time, a couple of weeks ago, skimming this forum, where an American novelist had asked for help from foreigners to identify quirks that might stand out to first time visitors to the United States.  The cascade of responses are at times blatantly stereotypical (frequent laments about guns, portion sizes, loud voices, and car culture) but, for the most part, subtle and quite fascinating.  I had no idea, for instance, that Americans are often perceived as broadly friendly and smiley, almost to a fault.

As many posters point out, the vast size of the US leads to a wide variety of regional differences.  Similarly, the concept of what is unusual differs greatly depending on where a foreigner is from.  On this bright, sunny afternoon of my favorite holiday, I am grateful for the intricate web of customs, settings, and attitudes that make America (and every other country) so enthrallingly unique.  It simultaneously makes the world an infinitely more interesting place to explore and helps reinforce the comfortable, deeply ingrained sense of home that comes from being among familiar surroundings.

Happy Thanksgiving.  Below are some excerpted observations, ranging in tone from wondrous to bemused to pure, unadulterated snark.

I was startled to find out that "God Save the Queen" has alternate lyrics.

In general, the scale of things is boggling to Europeans for a while and continues to be boggling in small ways for a long time. Fridges are HUGE compared to upright or under-the-counter European fridges. The default size for milk is the gallon, not the pint. Endless agonizing choices in the supermarket -- which of these 30 types of canned beans do I want now? Roads that feel twice as wide as they should be. Bank lobbies the size of railway stations.

Cities where streets follow a grid. And almost all streets allow cars. As a European I'm accustomed to look for the city center; a place where there are no cars, where streets are meandering, where there are terraces to sit outside and have a coffee. A place that's amenable to walking, to hanging out and enjoying the atmosphere. I did not find such a space in the american cities I've been to. And it prevented me from enjoying the place.

You don't need to drive far from a major city like SF to reach endless expanse of nature. Amazing.

That they probably have the best customer service culture in the world, but can rapidly descend into being the most aggressive if challenged.

I would also reiterate that customer service people here must be super well trained or something, because they are uniformly pleasant and helpful. Every person seems to take a lot of pride in their work, the US is definitely a very strongly work-centric culture. People seem to talk a lot more about slacking off, than actually slack off.

"Uh huh" is an appropriate response to "thank you"

The blatant patriotism displayed by Americans is disconcerting to Britons. There are Stars & Stripes everywhere and it's seen as perfectly normal to display the flag on your home.... The flying of the Cross of St George is more usually associated with right-wing sympathy to the British National Party than a display of patriotism or national pride.

Everyone complains bitterly about the suckitude of government and is suspicious of it but they all follow the rules anyway even if nobody is watching.

A readiness to order pizza at 10 p.m. although one has had a full meal at 6:30.

People ask "How are you?" as a casual greeting, but no one really cares how you are. He feels like it's too personal of a question to ask a stranger and doesn't like the insincerity of it.

People will often say "we should get together" or "you should come over sometime for dinner" but don't actually mean it, they just say it to be polite.

General ignorance about other places and cultures, and how awful many native English speakers are at reading/writing/speaking their one and only language, yet have little tolerance for non-native speakers who may speak several other languages.

When Americans kid one another, they will wait a few seconds and then let the kidee know that they were just kidding. Every time. This shocked me for a while.

Saying "hil-ar-i-ous" out loud instead of laughing.

 American drivers are far more likely to stop and let a pedestrian cross the road, even when there is no marked crossing. Possibly due to the novelty of seeing someone on foot.

Striking up conversation with strangers, smiling at strangers, sharing stories and knowing/ empathizing looks with strangers. This also throws me for a loop, especially all the smiles and random hellos. Cheerfulness is an indefeasible social onus. On the other hand, people in the U.S. are in my experience very polite when it comes to staring (i.e. not doing it).

Americans are social optimists. They assume all interactions will be pleasant until they are not.

On the upside, the readiness of American people to explain something to you or show you how some weird contraption or gadget works - things simple to a american but that a european might have never seen - without seemingly poke fun or look down at you is very heart warming. So, lack of cynicism and apparent moral generosity are the greatest American qualities as far as I'm concerned.

People not realizing that a lot of the rest of the world puts the day first then the month, so when I first got here someone asked me if we had 17 months in Australia when they saw my drivers license.

I have been introduced to people from as wider ranging places as India, Mexico, Trinidad and Italy with what seemed the assumption as we were all from this strange place called "overseas" we'd all know each other or have something in common.

Everything is new. I'd never experienced a physical craving for old buildings before visiting the US! Possibly related: I got the impression that 'the past' is more recent in the US, events in living memory are seen as 'historic'.

The silly warnings on products to prevent lawsuits.
Lawyers have much more cultural cachet than in almost any other country. The idea that lawyers are on a par with doctors as far as people with high-class occupations

There are so many straight lines on maps in the US. When I first came here as a kid (while my parents were in graduate school), we studied the US map in school and I remember being astounded that it literally looked like someone had used a ruler to mark off the state boundaries. Most other places have much more irregular edges.

Paradoxically, although you guys have this disgustingly puritanical attitude to alcohol, when I go into an American bar and ask for a shot of scotch I get a major shot of scotch. I love the way you just put a glass down and fill it instead of measuring a miserly 1/6 or 1/4 gill shot via an optic.

The comparative difference in pickpocketing / theft. In Europe, you leave a bag somewhere, or your wallet at a bar, and you'll just never see it again. People just seem to have their eyes open for an easy score; and someone will have spied it and grabbed it no question. In the U.S. its very likely that someone will turn it in, or figure out a way to return it.

Organized chaos

Unfortunately, I don’t often have the opportunity to listen to Public Radio International’s The World, which airs locally Monday - Thursday on WAMU at 8 pm.  The program features an hour of in depth reporting about global topics – both current events and interest pieces, like NPR’s newsmagazines.  I try to tune in when I’m alone at home, often while making and eating dinner.

Last night’s broadcast featured a brief profile of a new art form springing up in post-revolution Tunisia called collaborative painting.  One artist starts a painting, and up to five others join in.  Anyone can jump in at any time, and all are free to paint over anything that has already been painted.  Described in the piece as organized chaos, the exercise often results in a work of art that could have easily been produced by a sole artist.  This ability of an organically evolving group effort to mimic the talent of an individual is fascinating.

Over the past several days, I’ve been reconsidering my desire to go to Egypt, Jordan, and Israel next spring or fall in favor of a possible trip to Tunisia.  That swing through the Middle East is still exceptionally appealing, but Egypt has some significant issues to work out related to the role of the military in civilian government that seem farther from resolution than I thought and some suggest that Jordan may be teetering on the brink.  Tunisia, on the other hand, held laudably open and non-violent elections last month.

I do not fear traveling to countries working through the aftermath of the Arab Spring and, indeed, am doubly excited by the prospect of observing the birth and growing pains of fresh democracy.  Ongoing violence and civil unrest, however, is likely best avoided.

Give me a day

I have no particular reason for cobbling together a blog post right now other than the fact that I had no idea that this great song had words and wanted to share.  The theme to Garrison Keillor's The Writer's Almanac is actually a Scandinavian folk song titled "Ge Mig En Dag."  I find it soothingly beautiful.  It just feels like the redeeming side of 6:36 am, evoking the sun cresting above the horizon, heralding the fresh possibility of a new day.

Two pumpkins

Fall is in the air.  Two pumpkins: one from a can off the shelf at Safeway, one from a roadside stand just down the road from Sugarloaf Mountain in rural Maryland.  The former we made into homemade ice cream, which is now chilling in the freezer.  The latter, I carved into this sky-gazer of a jack-o-lantern.  Happy belated Halloween!

A form of historic preservation

One of the more hilarious examples of adaptive reuse in DC is this old, pre-Civil War residence, located in what is now Chinatown (itself a shell of its past authenticity).  In the mid 1800's, Mary Surratt ran a boarding house in this building.  The conspirators in the Lincoln assassination, including Surratt's son and John Wilkes Booth, met frequently at the boarding house to plot the murder.  Since Surratt and the conspirators were promptly hung, I suppose that opened the door for the building's new owners to take over: Wok n Roll, a greasy Chinese restaurant.  Although it is amusing to imagine Wok n Roll been dishing up General Tso's Chicken circa 1870, I imagine there were several owners in the interim.

To commemorate the building's historic nature, there is a fading bronze plaque hanging on the outside wall.  Beneath the garish blue awning.  And next to the front door, adorned with credit card logos and Zagat decals.

Hello, Mr. Anderson

On a recent trip to New York to visit Tom, he, Jimmy, and I were sitting in this underground PATH station, waiting for a train back to Jersey City.  For some reason this shot reminds of The Matrix.  I think it may be the austere repeating patterns, fading into the distance with a sense of infinity.  The utter lack of people in the station, combined, I think, with the fluorescent lighting, also makes it feel like the middle of the night.  But it was actually the middle of a bright, sunny afternoon.  Later on, we played mini-golf on a pier in front of the Manhattan skyline, watched a play about sometimes-lesbian female rockstars, got caught in a spontaneous summer downpour, ate a Mexican feast, and visited the famous, crowded McSorley's tavern.  Just another day's exploration.

For love of country?

Sadly (for the sake of my education), I am not writing about this book.  That would require actually having read it in college when assigned to do so as part of the ARHU curriculum, which definitely did not occur.

Instead, the tale of something refreshing I recently discovered:  I stumbled on the challenge.gov site a couple of weeks ago, following a link in a friend's gchat status.  On it, the government offers challenges that address some area of public need, ranging from creating video PSAs to developing a more energy efficient lightbulb.  The competition is open to all and winners receive cash prizes.

I would imagine that, among those with the skills to create some sort of worthwhile innovation, this website is widely known.  Never having heard of it before, though, I was kind of shocked that the big, creaky, slow moving federal government was capable of producing such a fresh, nimble-seeming collection of opportunities to change the world.  This strikes me as exactly the sort of thing we should be doing, and makes me wonder if this crowd-sourcing-for-smart-people model could hold promise for other types of societal and organizational needs.

Many of our nation's most creative, ingenious people have no inherent interest in public sector work, often justifiably so.  In my opinion, increasing their engagement and capitalizing on their many talents can only be a good thing for the country.

"The ball is tipped, and there you are..."

I don't know how any Maryland fan could not feel giddy at this news, that the annual Alumni Game at Midnight Madness will feature the likes of Juan Dixon, Steve Blake, Byron Mouton, and Chris Wilcox.  A large chunk of the 2002 National Title team, back on the court together?  Seems too good to be true.

That team (and its earlier iterations from the preceding couple of years) helped me, and so many other kids my age, fall deeply in love with Terps basketball just in time for college applications.  Intrigued by the start of the Mark Turgeon era and watching the soccer game on campus earlier that evening, I was already planning to attend Midnight Madness this year (it's even at midnight again!).  But this absolutely seals the deal.

I'm excited for the upcoming season, even though the prevailing wisdom says that we are going to have a rocky time of it.  Although I will always love and miss Gary Williams, the uncertainty and energy surrounding the new direction of this team is actually quite exhilarating.

Watching the world go by

Standing outside of the food court at BWI, overlooking several bustling gates and occasional planes gliding past on the runway below, I was struck by the magnificence of the airport and all that it represents, both functionally and culturally.  Airports capture the broad spectrum of travel and appeal to the subtle, sweeping emotions better than other transportation hubs - the dingy bus terminal or highway rest stop or even the grand train station - can.  Each, influenced by factors as varied as size, location, time of day, weather, and season, has a perpetually shifting character distinctly its own. Listen to this Michael Giacchino piece from the Lost soundtrack while gazing at these concourses, tarmacs, and cabins and try to tell me your imagination doesn't start to fly with possibility.

Baltimore-Washington International Airport

National Airport

Bradley International Airport (Hartford, CT)

BWI at dawn

Plane at the gate, BWI

Jorge Chávez Int'l Airport, Domestic Terminal, 2:30 am (Lima, Peru)

Alfredo Rodríguez Ballón International Airport (Arequipa, Peru)

Disembarking via staircase (Arequipa, Peru)

High above the mountains, en route to Anchorage

Ted Stephens Int'l Airport (Anchorage, AK)

All the joys of traveling

These three videos, titled Move, Learn, and Eat, capture three of my favorite things about traveling: the excitement of soaking in fresh new places, the unique way traveling inspires me to learn about history in a way no textbook ever has, and devouring delicious, local foods, obviously.  Created by three friends traveling around the globe for more than a month and posted on Vimeo by director Rick Mereki, the films provide glimpses of 11 different countries and were commissioned by STA Travel Australia.

If nothing else, it really makes me want to travel (not that I needed any extra motivation).


MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.


LEARN from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.


EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

Ice cream cones for everyone

One of my co-workers forwarded me a link to this great photo gallery.  The artist, Peter Funch, calls his project "Babel Tales."  Over the course of several years, Funch would stand in the same location in New York City for weeks at a time, photographing hundreds of passers-by against the same backdrop.  Later, he superimposed individual scenes on top of each other, combining the real images to create a surreal scene.

So, instead of the mix of tourists, street vendors, and businesspeople that you might expect to see populating a shot of Times Square at any given hour, Funch presents a series of images featuring only crouching photographers, or only people posing for pictures.  Similarly, streets become filled with chefs, dog-walkers, or people dressed in white.  From the description of the project on Funch's website:

His uncanny work raises questions of reality contra fiction and challenges our notion of photography as being a depiction of a certain moment in time.

This is a particularly fascinating concept to me, since I value photography (and, for that matter, blogging) for precisely this reason.  Pictures and blog posts can preserve feelings and emotions that memory would otherwise allow to fade away. Funch's work counters this idea with fantastical scenes that you would normally associate only with the movies.  Except his images are actually, at least somewhat, real.  Viewing the gallery is thought provoking and vaguely unsettling but, overarchingly, very, very cool.

 

© Peter Funch 2011

I signed near Bill Clinton

One of the most enduring benefits of travel is the way in which in tends to open your eyes to the world.  Visiting new places and seeing how the people there live helps to give context and face to otherwise impersonal news stories.  I cannot, for instance, read a story about the plight of a group of people in Africa without thinking about my friends in Zonkizizwe.  Similarly, where before I probably would have hardly glanced at this Washington Post article on a recent surge in sectarian violence in Belfast, I now find it somewhat haunting.  I think about Bobby, our Catholic cab driver and tour guide, and about the little boy and girl, playing soccer in front of a giant, graphic mural in one of the Protestant neighborhoods, giggling and arguing over who would kick the ball next.

A soaring "peace wall," 11 meters high and more than five kilometers long, separates the areas of Belfast where the Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods directly intersect.  Gates in the wall close every evening, in an effort to keep small incidents from flaring up into a more serious situation that could threaten the stability of the peace.  As illustrated by this latest riot, even with these precautions and after more than a decade of peace, tensions remain quite high.

A trip to Garyland

It has been an eventful year for Maryland athletics.  When Ralph Friedgen was fired last December, I was not pleased.  But, after learning more about his contractual situation, I came to understand why the university did it.  I am still not wholly comfortable with the execution of his dismissal, but I like most of what I've seen from Coach Randy Edsall so far and am excited for the upcoming season.

My feelings about Gary Williams are different, and a good deal more complicated.  As the legendary, longtime Maryland men’s basketball team’s head coach, he has always had my undying and unequivocal love and support.  Further, not that anyone could have conceivably been seriously discussing firing him, but I’m glad that he decided to leave on his own terms.  Clearly, no Terps fan could honestly claim to be fully satisfied with the team’s performance of late.  Some translated this frustration into a grumbling anti-Gary stance.  I always opted, instead, to believe that if anyone could lead Maryland back to college basketball’s elite, it was Gary Williams.

Why he chose that day in May to abruptly retire is as much a mystery as why I’ve not found inspiration to write about it until now.  The search process that followed was dizzying and, at times, maddening, but I find myself very pleased with Mark Turgeon so far, and even cautiously eager to see what he brings to the table in the years to come.  Increasingly, I am at peace with Gary’s decision to move on.

Many have put together tributes and appreciations of him far more memorable and poignant than what I am capable of doing here.  So instead, I’ll just all of the things I love and will miss most about Gary Williams.

ONE. Coaches are responsible for motivating athletes and pushing them to accomplish great feats.  In my opinion, no one did this better than Gary, stomping up and down the sideline, face red and sweat-soaked, throwing his jacket and hollering strings of curse words that could be heard up in the student section (and, often, clearly lip-read on TV).  People say he was a great X’s and O’s coach.  I’m sure this is true, but I’m in no position to assess that.  But I do know that his unbridled emotion and unapologetic passion was infectious – reflected in his players and fans alike.  And the thought of him joyfully jumping around after a particularly big victory gives me chills.

TWO. Learning the words to the Gary Williams Song as a freshman and all of the glorious AIM away messages it provided over the years (“If I were a girl, I’d be his ho.”)

THREE. I’ve heard Comcast Center referred to as The House that Gary Built, but I think that his impact has actually been much broader.  It is true - many of Maryland’s 27 varsity sports teams have been remarkably successful over the past decade and a half, including traditional powers like lacrosse and men’s soccer, as well as new ones, such as wrestling.  Concurrently, and just as importantly, the academic standards of the institution have skyrocketed, with Maryland now widely recognized as a Top 20 public research university.  Much of the school’s rise can be attributed to Gary Williams.  Not just because of the national interest generated by the final fours and national championship, but also due to his tireless advocacy and fundraising for his alma mater.  The entire campus owes Gary an almost incalculable debt of gratitude.

FOUR. The hilariousness of seeing Gary coach in pre-season tournaments on a tropical island somewhere, clad in casual polos or colorful Hawaiian shirts utterly incongruous with the scowl on his face.

FIVE. Always straightforward, Gary never shied from speaking his mind.  This permeated his post-game interviews and, especially, his conduct on the recruiting trail.  Some have been particularly critical of Gary’s recruiting over the years, as high profile local talent left the DC/Baltimore area and won big elsewhere.  But, after pulling the program up from its crippled, NCAA-sanctioned state in the late 80’s, Gary can hardly be blamed for finding some of the sleaziness in college basketball unpalatable.  I always admired his honesty.

SIX. The fact that even Maryland fans’ favorite villain, Coach K, deeply respected Gary, counted him as a close friend, and frequently said so.

SEVEN. There’s a reason why all students loved Gary Williams – why even those from out of state, with no history of rooting for the program, quickly developed deep ties with their head coach.  Gary always cared deeply about the students.  You could often read his mood based on the intensity and tenor of his iconic fist pump to the student section (it usually registered somewhere between simply fired-up and defiantly so).  In his post-game interviews with Johnny Holliday, Gary was always quick to thank the crowd - particularly the students - for their support and, on those dismaying occasions where appropriate, he was blunt about criticizing fans for not showing up (both literally and figuratively).

EIGHT. The moments of unexpected wit and humor that would sneak into most of his interviews.

NINE. Gary Williams was a constant.  Since graduating four years ago, most of my connections to campus have gradually dissolved – fellow students have moved on, former co-workers have changed positions, professors have long since forgotten my name.  The institution that I remember so fondly does not really remember me.  Watching Gary Williams coach was a bridge to the past, for me and, I suspect, many others who have graduated over the past two decades.  As much as the rest of my life has changed since college, having Gary on the sidelines as a stoic, sweaty constant has been exceptionally comforting to me.  I have little doubt that I will soon come to love Mark Turgeon, particularly if he manages to build a consistently successful program.  But part of me is always going to miss Gary Williams, and be nostalgic for the era of both Maryland basketball and, less directly, my life that he represents.

An innovative new restaurant, and two bright red tomatoes

I saw this article in the Washington Post on Friday and it made me instantly hungry.  Tucked in with a Lowest Price gas station near U Street is, apparently, a delicious restaurant.  Fast Gourmet was founded by brothers Juan and Manuel Olivera.  They picked the gas station site because they didn't have the money to rent a more conventional space.  It's an entertaining, feel-good article and, as the someone interviewed for the story points out, is something you would expect more from a place like Brooklyn than D.C.  Hopefully an indication of more great things to come from the D.C. food scene.  I rarely visit the U Street area, but this might just be a good reason to plan a journey.

Another note on food - I walked to the farmers' market for the first time in at least a month today and was pleasantly surprised by the bustle of activity.  In addition to the year-round staples and the holdover apples from last fall, there were herbs, lettuces, and strawberries everywhere.  I bought some garlic scapes - spindly green stalks that grow out of the top of garlic bulbs - with which I plan to make some pesto.  I'm seemingly incapable of visiting the farmers' market without buying goat cheese and a baguette, but today I augmented those old stand-bys with a tub of sugar snap peas, a pint of fresh chocolate milk, and two tomatoes - the reddest, most enticing I've seen since, well, last summer.  Phenomenal.

Chasing elusive victories

Last night’s announcement was as unexpected as it was momentous.  After a lazy Sunday spent watching movies and eating Chipotle and chocolate chip cookies, I was sitting in bed, minutes away from going to sleep, when Sarah sent me a gchat message: “something ridiculous is about to go down, I think.”  Turning on the TV around 10:30, I soon became aware of two things, only one of which was a new revelation: Osama bin Laden was rumored to be dead and Wolf Blitzer is best viewed on mute.

Leading up to and immediately following Obama’s brief, confident speech, many – both on TV and among my friends – began to speculate about the implications of the strike, for al Qaeda, for national security, and for the 2012 presidential election.  The latter, to me, seems particularly silly to contemplate, since that circus is more than a year and a half away.  All of the rest will become clearer with time.

Also interesting to me has been the joyous reaction to this news.  I remarked to Maggie last night, after seeing video footage of the giddy mob gathering outside the White House, that I thought it would be fun to be down there.  She thought it might be kind of strange to be celebrating someone’s death, which I agree with, to an extent.  Andrew Sullivan pointed me toward a nice piece by Russell Arben Fox, capturing pointedly the moral dilemma that bin Laden’s death presents.

The moral plane of the universe is not somehow improved by the killing of a man. “Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he is overthrown”–the author of Proverbs had it right.

I believe all that….but I still think he deserved it.

I agree wholeheartedly.  Osama bin Laden was a malevolent mass murderer.  He directly and brutally attacked our country on 9/11 and has continued to orchestrate appalling acts of terrorism all around the world.  Aside from callously ripping apart thousands of families, his actions have baited our country into two quagmire wars, provoked reprehensible and inexcusable backlashes against Muslims, and severely battered our national psyche.  That that monster is dead should be a cause for celebration, if only of the fact that he can no longer wreak such suffering on the world.

Eugene Robinson of The Washington Post powerfully evokes his memories from 9/11, and makes a similar argument.

Triumphalism and unapologetic patriotism are in order….

In the days to come, there will be time to consider the nuanced implications of Osama bin Laden’s demise at the hands of the CIA. Will anti-American anger threaten to send unstable Pakistan out of control? Will al-Qaeda’s younger, more decentralized leadership feel not bereft but empowered? In a few days or weeks, I might care. But not now….

We got the son of a bitch.  Well done.

In these times of unconventional warfare, we have few signature battles with which to define our progress.  We always win, because no group or nation can match our military power, yet we also perpetually lose, because it is close to impossible to defeat an ideology, embodied by a shadowy, decentralized network of radical extremists.  Iraq and Afghanistan have featured a decade of murky skirmishes and offensives, and neither conflict will end cleanly with the surrender of a rival, as in World War II.  True victory is elusive.

This is why yesterday’s raid was so important.  In a way, Osama bin Laden was the sole-remaining, widely recognized face of our enemy.  Killing him may or may not ultimately make our country safer, but it has been enormously cathartic for the American people.  Crowds in DC and New York and around the nation took to the streets last night because we are not going to get the euphoria of a VJ Day, and everyone knows it.  So if shooting a diabolical terrorist brings even a small sense of closure to some of the cruel injustices of the past decade, I consider that a worthy cause.

Sprucing up a spring sandwich

Save maybe for a few slices of a perfectly ripe avocado, I've decided recently that delicious bread may have more power to improve a sandwich than any other standalone ingredient.  I don't know why this comes as such a revelation to me, seeing as how I have always been a sucker for a crusty, freshly baked baguette.

This train of thought started about a month ago, while preparing Kevin's birthday dinner.  We were serving a trio of sliders: crab cakes, marinated grilled chicken, and stuffed lamb burgers.  While shopping, I started thinking about different ways to create small buns, since regular hamburger buns were too large.  Loaves of pita bread seemed like an obvious choice for the lamb burgers, but I couldn't find small ones, so we just ended up eating everything on sliced dinner rolls, which worked out ok.

More recently, I grilled up some chicken, marinated in buffalo sauce, with the intention of eating it like a burger.  Instead, I found myself craving one of the Trader Joe's handmade tortillas sitting in the fridge.  We had several leftover from a fajita dinner and I had been devouring them plain, warmed up nicely in a hot skillet.  So I ended up shredding the grilled chicken, dousing it with more buffalo sauce, and wrapping it up in a tortilla with lettuce, tomato, red onion, and a drizzle of blue cheese dressing.  As an added bonus, the one piece of chicken made enough for two wraps, so I got to eat a second while lying to myself that it was an equivalent amount of food.

And just this weekend, Joe, Kevin, and I got a craving for deli subs.  Instead of one of the pre-packaged, sort of soft sub rolls, we bought a baguette from Safeway and cut it into thirds.  It made a perfect sandwich roll.  The next day, I repeated the process with some of the leftover turkey, along with tomatoes, goat cheese, and arugula from the farmers' market.

We may have cut down, recently, on the practice of devouring loaves of bread, dunked in olive oil, before dinner every night, but it seems I have craftily identified another way to ingest my regular quota of delicious carbohydrates.

Drawing with crayons on eggs

Managed to find some time this afternoon, in between church, the farmers' market, mowing the lawn, and preparing for family dinner to indulge in an Easter favorite of mine: dyeing eggs.  I particularly like drawing on them with crayon beforehand (so much so that I made a special trip to CVS to buy a pack of Crayolas for almost $3), because of all of the creativity it inspires.

Until relatively recently, I lacked the context to celebrate Easter for religious reasons.  Dyeing eggs has always featured prominently in my understanding of this holiday and it continues to do so.  I find it comfortingly childish and, admittedly, really fun.  Moreover, the bright colors and happy spirit of the whole exercise seems in keeping with everyone's joyful mood on this day.  The challenge now, I guess, will be to eat a dozen hard boiled eggs in the next few days before they go bad.

Happy Easter!

THREE anniversaries

I can't believe I missed this one.  Not counting the test runs of the prototype Enterprise, yesterday was also the 30th anniversary of the first space shuttle flight.  Columbia, the first of NASA's fleet, began its first orbital test flight on April 12, 1981.

Now that the shuttle program is winding down, NASA has announced (also yesterday) the final resting places of each of the three remaining shuttles and the Enterprise.  The lucky museums will get an iconic piece of American and world history - a vehicle whose image has been synonymous with space travel for longer than my entire lifetime and whose adventures have been inspiring a generation of children and adults alike.

The Smithsonian's Air and Space Museum (my favorite) will get Discovery, NASA's oldest surviving shuttle and its most accomplished.  It has flown the most missions, ferried numerous luminaries to space, and led the return to flying after both the Challenger and Columbia tragedies.  Ever since I saw it blast off from afar in Florida one time, I've had a soft spot for Atlantis, but this is very exciting news nonetheless.  Discovery is the fleet's unofficial flagship, in a way.  It has already been retired and, in a year or so, anyone will be able to visit it - to touch a piece of history, to stand closer to outer space than we may ever physically get, and to dream.

Two notable anniversaries

Today marks a pair of momentous anniversaries, each recalling a very different period of history, yet both, in a way, reinforcing the power of human spirit and innovation.

On this day in 1861, 150 years ago, Confederate soldiers in South Carolina fired the first shots of the Civil War.  After the state seceded, Union troops barricaded themselves in Fort Sumter, on an island in the mouth of Charleston’s harbor, and Confederate forces attacked.  What followed was a bloody, protracted, four year slog over slavery and the intersecting authority of the states and the federal government.  Over 620,000 Americans died in this conflict – roughly the same number of casualties as in all other wars combined – and they were fighting over the preservation of both our country and, indirectly, our brand of representative democracy.

Abraham Lincoln expressed the gravity of the stakes most famously in his Gettysburg Address:

...that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Another eloquent paean to the triumph of American democracy comes from Sullivan Ballou’s well-known letter to his wife, Sarah.  Ballou, a major of the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteers in the Union army, expresses the emotions he is feeling on the eve of a major battle, and captures heartrendingly his conflicting loves of family and country.  The version below comes from Ken Burns’ seminal documentary, The Civil War, and is set to Jay Ungar's beautiful musical piece "Ashokan Farewell."  Its poignancy drives me to tears.

Both Ballou and Lincoln would likely be saddened by some of the anti-government rhetoric saturating the nation these days.  I have no issue with people who believe in the efficacy of conservative, market-based solutions to our country’s problems, but we must never cast our government itself as an antagonist.  So much has been sacrificed in the building of this institution and every American should live with an abiding sense of reverence for the system – this nation that we have struggled to develop and maintain - even when we may disagree over specific actions and policies.

Exactly a century after Fort Sumter, 50 years ago, Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin became the first human in space.  Until seeing Google’s “doodle” banner today, I had no idea these dates coincided.  A very cool side-note, this website tells you when satellites will be passing overhead in the night sky wherever you live – apparently this week is an excellent time to spot the International Space Station.  Where the Civil War was, in some ways, a test of the durability of one of humanity’s most important developments in civil and political philosophy, Gagarin’s spaceflight was a showcase of ingenuity and innovation.  Though set, at the time, against the grim backdrop of the Cold War, we can now celebrate this milestone for what it was – our first breach of the final frontier of human exploration.

That both of these important events came at times of great tension and conflict is, perhaps, no coincidence.  For better or for worse, it seems that much of our greatest progress has been born out of necessity, during times of danger.  With that in mind, when confronted by tough situations, we can, I suppose, only aspire to do right by our forebears and hope that the lens of history views us kindly.

The sky is falling

A lot has been happening lately, and little of it is particularly encouraging.  My seeming inability, of late, to formulate blog posts about current events has been a fueled by a combination of laziness and oversaturation.  Listening to NPR and reading the news every day makes it feel like there is little new to be said.  But, looking back at my blog sometime in the future, I’d like to at least pay homage to this tumultuous period of world history, depressing as it is.

One of the primary reasons the world feels like it’s falling apart is Japan.  A 9.0 earthquake there last month triggered a tsunami that decimated the coastline, killed tens of thousands of people, and crippled the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant.  The facility has been hovering in various stages of meltdown for weeks, forcing large scale evacuations of the surrounding area and releasing radioactive material into the sea.  Sarah, whose opinion I trust on all things nuclear, feels that this disaster will wind up being worse than Chernobyl, most acutely because we simply do not know what exactly is being released into the environment.  The common radioactive iodine has a very short half-life, and will dissipate in a matter of days.  But if other, more enduring radioactive elements are being released into the sea, they could stick around for decades, wreaking as yet unpredictable havoc on the seafood industry and, more generally, human health.

Domestically, the federal government appears to be on the verge of shutting down.  Not only is this bad for the workers who will be, in essence, temporarily unemployed, it is bad for the economy on so many different levels.  Federal government contracts are affected.  People won’t be getting their paychecks and won’t have as much money to spend.  Tourism, especially in a place like DC, is severely hampered.  Yet instead of continuing to work on a compromise, as midnight ticks closer, Harry Reid and John Boehner have spent the afternoon squabbling over the source of the impasse.  Also, the Republican 2012 presidential primary field looks to be a mix of crazy, crazier, and opportunistic fools that abandon principle pander to the far right.  And the long term deficit is going to swallow our country whole if we do not confront it in a mature way, something Obama has, so far, proven unwilling to touch and many Republicans only pretend to care about, by exempting defense spending and revenue generation from the conversation.

One bright spot has been the empowering revolutions across the Middle East.  Although it will, unfortunately, prevent me from traveling there for some time, watching the people of Tunisia and Egypt rise up peacefully to demand democracy was heartwarming.  It’s fascinating to watch the spread of these movements across the region, and to observe the differing reactions of each regime.  Unfortunately, this too has been dragged down, of late, by the violence of Col. Gaddafi in Libya and the resulting Western military intervention.  I support the cause, in theory at least, but cannot help feeling wary of getting involved in yet another war.  I hope the Obama administration’s rhetoric on this issue proves true, and that the Gaddafi regime collapses soon enough to avoid a long, protracted commitment of US forces there.  We really can't afford it, financially, psychologically or, perhaps most importantly, from a national image standpoint in the Middle East.

There is so much that’s good and beautiful in the world, but, at times, I have trouble focusing on it through all of the raucous, worrying trouble that we face.

"But I wouldn't miss it for the world"

My sentimental nature aside, it speaks, I think, to the filmmaking genius of Pixar that I can't so much as think about Toy Story without feeling an emotional pang.  That trilogy illustrates so perfectly the nuanced, sometimes alarming process of growing up and, in fact, tracks quite well with the chronology of my life.  It debuted when I was in elementary school as a cool movie about toys and friendship and wrapped up during my mid-20's, playing well with my growing sense of nostalgia for the passing years.

The video below is a tribute to 25 years of Pixar animation.  There are several films in there that I have not seen but, bolstered by the Toy Story clips, those that I have made watching this a heart-warming, poignant way to spend five minutes.

A busy March

I've had a hectic month, with several deadlines at work and commitments on the weekends.  The world has been busy lately too, and I've been following the events of the Middle East, North Africa, and Japan with a mixture of awe, sadness, and fascination.  I want to put voice to some of these thoughts, and hope to in the coming days.  But first, an update on my own adventures.

I just got back from a long weekend in Ireland.  Reminiscent of my 2009 jaunt to Germany, this trip cropped up very quickly.  Spurred by a cheap plane ticket and the flexibility of having just finished a project at work, I booked the trip a mere week before leaving.  After some hectic, cursory planning and a serendipitous encounter at a DC bar, Jimmy, Dan, Dave, and I set off for Ireland.

Our first stop was Belfast, the largest city in the North, which is still a part of the United Kingdom but, after many years of discord and violence, is largely at peace with the Republic of Ireland in the south.  Similar to Berlin and Dresden, Belfast is packed with very interesting, recent history.  It is also a lively, young city, with a large university and eclectic restaurants near our hostel.

While there, we took a black cab tour of the sectarian neighborhoods to learn more about the political history of the region.  Our driver, Bobby, showed us several murals, some more recent than others, and the 5 km long, 11 m high peace wall, which still divides the Catholic neighborhoods from the Protestant ones and helps to ensure that no small incident sparks a renewed escalation of tensions.

I often think about religion's place in world history, and how much strife it seems to have caused.  But I'm not convinced that blaming religion is the answer.  Granted, religion represents a powerful aspect of life over which to disagree, but The Troubles in Ireland were as much about nationalism as they were faith.  People, particularly when confronted with intolerant leaders, are remarkably good at finding reasons to dislike others for their differences.  It is important, then, that we constantly work to control the darker sides of our human nature and embrace the things that bring us together, rather than tear us apart.  Things like... Guinness.

We did lots of sampling of Guinness in a wide variety of friendly pubs, warm with richly colored wood and occasional live music.  Before leaving Belfast, we rented a car and drove (again, on the wrong side of the road) around the northern Antrim Coast, viewing small towns, nature, a castle, a scary rope bridge, and lots of spray painted sheep.  In Dublin, we hit most of the main tourist destinations and did a lot of walking, as evidenced by my still-achy legs.

Maybe my favorite thing about the trip, though, was the time spent with good friends.  I really do enjoy traveling alone, especially for the chance to set my own pace and take photos without holding anyone up.  But there is nothing better than cherishing the company of people you like - gathered around a comfy pub table, crammed into a small European rental car, hiking over rolling green hills - together laughing and exploring the wonders of an unfamiliar place.

Sylvia Poggioli's sign-off

One of the few highlights of last week’s dreaded Winter Membership Campaign on WAMU was Kai Ryssdal reading a list of his top ten favorite things about public radio. It was one of those pre-recorded spots by national personalities, meant to pry the money out of your wallet, that ended with the Marketplace host saying “and here’s how you donate” before transitioning abruptly into Caryn Mathes repeating the station’s phone number about four times.

Not that I needed a tongue-in-cheek list to remind me (unfortunately, the only item I can remember is “Sylvia Poggioli’s sign off”), but there are so many things that I love about public radio. This is particularly true with so much going on in the world lately (which I hope to be able to write about soon, with a couple of deadlines and 14 hour work days behind me, for now). And, as much as I enjoy complaining about these campaigns, I understand why they’re necessary and will gladly continue to contribute to help keep these programs on the air.

It’s tough to choose and rank, but here is an attempt to capture my ten favorite things about public radio:

TEN: The Writer’s Almanac, a segment I actually used to hate because it airs at 6:36 am and signals that it’s time to crawl out of bed. Now that I usually sleep in slightly later, when I hear it, it feels like something special.

NINE: The ability to access, and download, segments for free online.

EIGHT: Hourly newscasts that help ground you in the middle of listening to a lengthy interview about the local food scene on the Kojo Nnamdi Show, for example. I eagerly anticipate the moment when you find out which newscaster will step up to the microphone and critique the minute differences in their delivery of "From NPR News in Washington..." My all-time favorite is retired (see number three), but, of those who remain, I am partial to: Ann Taylor, Jack Speer, and Lakshmi Singh. I am not partial to Craig Windham, although I guess he’s growing on me.

SEVEN: Storytelling. Mixed in with reports about budget deficits and regime changes are fascinating stories – tracking a particular unit in the military from Camp Lejune, North Carolina to the front lines, interviewing scientists about quirky discoveries, purchasing a “toxic asset” and following its progress, reviews of movies, music, and books. NPR is more than just the headline news.

SIX: How easy and convenient it is to listen and digest all of this while driving.

FIVE: The range of emotions covered in a good episode of This American Life

FOUR: The distinctive variations of the Weekend Edition theme, perfectly suited for my mood and outlook on Saturdays and Sundays. Other theme songs that get me going: Morning Edition, All Things Considered, The Diane Rehm Show, The World

THREE: The beloved trifecta of Robert Siegel, Noah Adams, and Carl Kasell (and Steve Inskeep makes four).

TWO: The varied, unexpected, and sometimes strange course that conversations can take after beginning “I heard the other day on NPR…”

ONE: The news itself, particularly NPR’s comprehensive international reporting, with correspondents stationed all over the globe. In addition to the vitally important coverage, I really love the sense of knowledgeable, nuanced consistency that comes with reporters handling a particular region or beat. Floods in Pakistan? I know Julie McCarthy’s on it. Major Supreme Court Decision? Nina Totenberg. These voices have become comforting, trusted informants, helping to shape my understanding of current events and the world. You don’t get that as easily from other news outlets.

And here's how you donate.

Dim sum for lunch and dinner

Well, you know there's something wrong when you've eaten all three of the day's meals at your desk at work.  On the bright side, two of those meals were made up of my mom's homemade char siu baos (baked this time, as opposed to steamed).  Delicious, particularly when punctuated with homemade cookies, which she also sent in today as a Valentine's Day gift.  Something else to learn how to cook, at some point...

"Insularity is bad"

The Daily Dish turned me on to this fantastic piece from National Review Online's Dennis Prager, who is about to visit his 100th country.  In it, he extols the many nuanced and powerful virtues of traveling.  Some of my favorite passages:

Nearly everyone grows up insular. The problem is that vast numbers of people never leave the cloistered world of their childhood. This is as true for those who grow up in Manhattan as it is for those who grow up in Fargo. And as for college, there are few places as insular and cloistered as the university.

Insularity is bad because at the very least it prevents questioning oneself and thinking through important ideas and convictions. And at worst, it facilitates the groupthink that enables most great evils. Although one can hold onto insular and bad ideas even after interacting with others, it is much harder to do so, especially when one interacts on the others’ terms, as must be done when traveling to other cultures (and especially when traveling alone).

It is therefore one of the most maturing things a person can do. It is also one of the most humbling....  One of life’s great moral challenges is to see the stranger as fully real. While travel does not guarantee that one will see all others that way...it is very hard to do so without travel.

It is, perhaps, illustrative of my own inherent insularity that when I consider thoughtful, measured commentary, I do not often think of conservative publications like the National Review.  In all fairness, judging by some of the crass drivel to which they give a legitimate platform (not to mention the way in which they dispatched the very reasonable David Frum), I would argue that this sentiment is not always very far from the truth.  Which makes Prager's reflective piece all the more wonderful.

Traveling engenders the curious, open-minded spirit that should form the basis of our journey through life.  I try to make an effort to adhere to these principles as best I can.  Here's hoping that I find a way to visit 100 countries on the way.