I've wanted to write this post for a while. I'm glad to finally get around to it. It's got nearly nothing to do with traveling, but it does have to do with my other favorite thing to do: watch movies. Plus, it's another list. They tell me to include lists on my blog
This list is dedicated to recommending movies that I really like over movies that I feel are very overrated. Without further ado the Top 5 movies you should see instead of more famous but overrated ones:
1. Watch Scarecrow instead of Midnight Cowboy. Very similar films in terms of setup. Down and out hustlers hatching schemes and trying to eek out an existence. I much prefer the acting in Scarecrow. I've never been a big fan of Dustin Hoffman. Though he gives a quality performance as Ratso Rizzo, instead check out an early Pacino performance.
Just before Dog Day Afternoon, Pacino was in the midst of doing some great work before he became an overactor in the 80's. The real star is Gene Hackman. He was also in the midst of a great run and followed this up with another film I'll get to later on down the list. I'll take Hackman over the wooden Jon Voigt any day of the week. This is quality 70s realism. Midnight Cowboy now feels like a melodrama. In its day it got an X-rating and was a trend setter. But it doesn't hold up.
2. In the Valley of Elah instead of The Hurt Locker. Let me start with an apology. I've been a Katherine Bigelow fan since her Strange Days in 1995. Hurt Locker bored me. It didn't quite know what it wanted to be. There was a story in there somewhere, but I'm lost as to what's there to drag you in and hold you. I didn't care about any of the characters.
In the Valley of Elah, on the other hand, convinced me to care about its characters. It's based on a great article "Death and Dishonor" by Mark Boal. Check it out, but not at work. It was published in Playboy. The film version adds a superfluous Charlize Theron but otherwise I think they nailed it. Tommy Lee Jones oozes guilt and regret over his role in his son's death as he simultaneously investigates its physical cause. I think this film sells the effects of war on us humans beautifully and much better than its oscar-winning counterpart.
3. The Conversation instead of the Godfather films. So maybe you have to watch the Godfather films if you've never seen them. They're part of American film history. It's like reading The Scarlett Letter. You have to do it even if it's not the most pleasurable thing to do. I don't dislike the Godfather films. I just think that they are vastly overrated. If this list has not already clued you in, I'm a big acting guy. Give me a great performance over cinematic art any day. Many of my favorite films combine the two. I don't feel that way about the Godfather. It has Brando. Long past his prime and holding on by a thread. He'd long since become a charicature like Pacino and DeNiro are today. I love John Cazale. He's phenomenal. But he's in the film for 5 minutes and he's much more prominently featured in the Coversation. Al Pacino bores me in this film, he's emotionless, like an early version of Keanu Reeves. Diane Keaton, James Caan, Robert Duvall?? They're all servicable. I like them as character actors. I'm not a fan of a single film that one of them had to carry as the lead actor.
The Conversation features another great turn by Gene Hackman. I love this Hackman peformance. Cazale's at his best. It's a near pitch perfect film about paranoia, technology and lonliness. If you like Atonioni's Blow-Up, as I do, you may notice that this hits a similar tone. The Conversation features one of my all-time favorite endings. This is my favorite Coppola film.
4. Jackie Brown instead of Pulp Fiction. Sticking with the same director different film theme, I love Jackie Brown. It's a great love story hidden under a crime caper. Pulp Fiction is funny. It's cute. I like large portions of it. In the end there's not much there. There are a series of very quotable conversations and some great lines. But I feel a little vapid watching it. It's cool. It's hip. It's a fun bit of candy. The 15 minutes between Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega, excepted. And I'm convinced that's what led to Jackie Brown.
There are many things I love about this film. It's a love story. Between two middle-aged people. It's an interracial love story. It's a classic love story. They fall in love the moment they first set eyes on one another. But then no one went to see it and it's been forgotten and poor Quentin Tarantino had his creative heart broken and went back to making vapid hipster movies. If you like classic love stories. And as a bonus you want to watch one you may not otherwise see (because ick, they're old and wow, they're of different races) go rent it.
5. Get Carter instead of No Country For Old Men. Okay, these films are a bit far apart in years and the plots are very different, so why the comparison? It seems everyone loved NCFOM because of Javier Bardem's performance. I like it too. I hate the movie. Get Carter, the original Michael Cain film, is how to make a movie about a really bad guy. One of the points I'd like to make with this list is that certain films combine with certain performances to pull you in and invest you in the story they are trying to tell. NCFOM failed miserably at this, in my opinion. Okay, so he was a cool bad guy, so what? Why the heck am I watching this? I didn't care about any of the characters. I didn't care what happened to any of them. And neither did the film. A couple hours just passed...
I'll take Get Carter. Michael Cain's carter is a souless killer. He watches people die with detatchment and indifference. The film makes sure we know he's a psychopath. But Cain's performance - full of anger and (I have to believe Heath Ledger borrowed this for his Joker) cruel laughter - delivers the film. We care what happens. We don't care about Carter. The film lets us know that too, but we do care that he gets his revenge. It's hard not to be pulling for it even as you detest Carter. For me, that's what NCFOM failed to do. Skip it, watch the original with Michael Cain at the peak of his chops.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Sexual Life of Catherine M. is much more boring than you'd think
Last week was the Festival of Books in Bogota. Authors from all around the world come as its considered to be one of if not the most important such festivals in Latin America. Alissa's university hosted a panel discussion with Catherine M (Millet), famous for her unflinching memoir of her sexual deeds in the late 60's. I was really excited to hear her talk. She has just published a second book, Jealousy, which deals with, among other things, how jealousy rears its head even in sexually liberal and open circles where hangups are not supposed to exist. I thought it would be fascinating to hear her talk about these two things. Ugh. Not so. She didn't even come close to interesting me. Maybe she's doesn't like public speaking. Mabye she wasn't feeling well. But it wasn't fun.
Who was fun, though, was the other featured panelist Gilles Lipovetsky. If you're not familiar, he's a French philosopher (at the Univ. of Grenoble if I'm not mistaken) who deals with issues of hyper-modernity (preferred to post (*gasp*) modernity) and the individual. The topics are not new, but he deals with them in a thoughtful and insightful manner.
One of the big things that is on his mind is the continuation of the movement towards the supremacy of the individual. I especially like the way he discussed how the internet and globalization have altered social dynamics. I often am turned off by discussions of how our age is soooo different from other times. But his points here were well made. He discussed how parents don't have complete (or even most of the) control over information as well as family finances. Kids can hop online and see or read whatever they like. They can buy things at low cost from almost anywhere. And individual possession has altered dramatically. People from almost all economic classes can buy whatever they want. There aren't a lot of things that are exclusively the domain of one class anymore.
He didn't offer any anwers. He just offered the paradoxes that this creates in our society. I won't bore you with more details, but he talks about how this interacts with regulation, global science (global warming), industrialization and pollution, religion and government. I highly recommend at least checking out an article or two of his (at least), if you like this sort of thing.
If I haven't lost you by now, I have to mention the most successful part of this engagement (for me, that is). The panelists spoke exclusively in French. Headsets were provided for translation, but into Spanish. I can't understand a lick of Spanish not on the topic of food. So the headsets were no good for me. I had to give it a go listening to the whole talk in French. And... Success!! I understood the bulk of both talks. I'd put it at around 90%. To be fair, they were speaking slowly and clearly for the benefit of the translators, but still, I'm very proud of myself. My French has never been that great, I thought, but apparently a fair bit of it has stuck in my brain. So I learned that I can understand French okay in a roomfull of Spanish speakers in Bogota.
Who was fun, though, was the other featured panelist Gilles Lipovetsky. If you're not familiar, he's a French philosopher (at the Univ. of Grenoble if I'm not mistaken) who deals with issues of hyper-modernity (preferred to post (*gasp*) modernity) and the individual. The topics are not new, but he deals with them in a thoughtful and insightful manner.
One of the big things that is on his mind is the continuation of the movement towards the supremacy of the individual. I especially like the way he discussed how the internet and globalization have altered social dynamics. I often am turned off by discussions of how our age is soooo different from other times. But his points here were well made. He discussed how parents don't have complete (or even most of the) control over information as well as family finances. Kids can hop online and see or read whatever they like. They can buy things at low cost from almost anywhere. And individual possession has altered dramatically. People from almost all economic classes can buy whatever they want. There aren't a lot of things that are exclusively the domain of one class anymore.
He didn't offer any anwers. He just offered the paradoxes that this creates in our society. I won't bore you with more details, but he talks about how this interacts with regulation, global science (global warming), industrialization and pollution, religion and government. I highly recommend at least checking out an article or two of his (at least), if you like this sort of thing.
If I haven't lost you by now, I have to mention the most successful part of this engagement (for me, that is). The panelists spoke exclusively in French. Headsets were provided for translation, but into Spanish. I can't understand a lick of Spanish not on the topic of food. So the headsets were no good for me. I had to give it a go listening to the whole talk in French. And... Success!! I understood the bulk of both talks. I'd put it at around 90%. To be fair, they were speaking slowly and clearly for the benefit of the translators, but still, I'm very proud of myself. My French has never been that great, I thought, but apparently a fair bit of it has stuck in my brain. So I learned that I can understand French okay in a roomfull of Spanish speakers in Bogota.
Early Impressions of Bogota
Any description of Bogota would have to start, I think, with the fact that it is a big sprawling noisy chaotic mess. That's a lot of adjectives, but Bogota is big. There's a lot going on here. It's amazing how it all works with decent fluidity. More adjective, I know. I'll try to calm down. I can compare it to New York in size and population. It's also similar to New York the way that there's a new neighborhood around every corner. But there's just so much more clutter. There are a constant stream of Busetas down every major street. Constant. There are thousands of them. They are little commuter buses run by God knows who. But they blanket the city and can get you anywhere you want to go. Like New York there are Taxis too. Millions of them. Though you can't get one when it rains because Bogotenos don't like to get wet. Despite this they don't like to wear hats. Apparenty, it's a bit of a rebellion against the stodgy 50's and 60's when everyone wore hats. In any event the streets are hive-like during the day with pedestrians, taxis and busetas. Also there is the Transmilenio. It's similar to a tram system, but with buses instead. On several of the major streets there are dedicated lanes that only the buses and emergency vehicles can use. There are hundreds of buses that run along these routes daily, zipping along a number of routes. During rush hour, and on some lines all day, these buses are PACKED. If you've ever ridden a subway in Tokyo, you know what I'm talking about. As Alissa likes to phrase it, you're smushed in boob to boob. So these zip along at nearly all hours of the day, from 5 and until 11, depending on the route.
Graffiti is everywhere. It's like I imagine NYC was in the 70's (or at least thanks to the Warriors). Everywhere. The lower parts of every wall at every university building -- even the big walled off private ones -- are covered. A lot of it's political. Some of it is beautiful. Much of the city is gray and grimey. I have the same opinion of Bogota as I do of Los Angeles: it's much prettier at night and when it's raining.
But the city is lots of fun and we've had a good time so far when we've ventured out and about. I've yet to have any really good restaurant food. And the local beer is awful. But there's a cool vibe in many neighborhoods and in one in particular that is close to us (called the Macarena) that we've enjoyed frequenting. And despite it's reputation, we've found Bogota to be fairly safe and navigable. Don't get me wrong, as I wrote before, there are lots of sketchy people and places here, but the gernally atmosphere is a congenial one. Everyone here, everyone, says hello and goodbye. Of course not while walking through a crowd, but anytime there is personal contact people say hello (what's new and/or good day/afternoon/evening are most common) and goodbye (see you later is the most common phrase). No one walks by our doormen without at least a nod. Everyone says hello on elevators. Every store clerk says goodbye as you leave. And I have to say that I like it. It's nice to live in a city where people want to cultivate a sense of community.
It's still a bit strange being a noticeably foreign person. I still get stares and glances. I suppose it will never really go away. But it's more comfortable now. I've run into enough people who just don't care and who put up with my awful Spanish wihtout complaint to conclude that there will always be some but most are happy to welcome us.
Looking forward to a trip to the carribean the weekend after next. We're visiting the old city of Cartegena and I'm really looking forward to it. It was #1 on my list of things to see before we came here. I suppose Medellin is next. Hopefully, I'll have some good things to blog about both.
Graffiti is everywhere. It's like I imagine NYC was in the 70's (or at least thanks to the Warriors). Everywhere. The lower parts of every wall at every university building -- even the big walled off private ones -- are covered. A lot of it's political. Some of it is beautiful. Much of the city is gray and grimey. I have the same opinion of Bogota as I do of Los Angeles: it's much prettier at night and when it's raining.
But the city is lots of fun and we've had a good time so far when we've ventured out and about. I've yet to have any really good restaurant food. And the local beer is awful. But there's a cool vibe in many neighborhoods and in one in particular that is close to us (called the Macarena) that we've enjoyed frequenting. And despite it's reputation, we've found Bogota to be fairly safe and navigable. Don't get me wrong, as I wrote before, there are lots of sketchy people and places here, but the gernally atmosphere is a congenial one. Everyone here, everyone, says hello and goodbye. Of course not while walking through a crowd, but anytime there is personal contact people say hello (what's new and/or good day/afternoon/evening are most common) and goodbye (see you later is the most common phrase). No one walks by our doormen without at least a nod. Everyone says hello on elevators. Every store clerk says goodbye as you leave. And I have to say that I like it. It's nice to live in a city where people want to cultivate a sense of community.
It's still a bit strange being a noticeably foreign person. I still get stares and glances. I suppose it will never really go away. But it's more comfortable now. I've run into enough people who just don't care and who put up with my awful Spanish wihtout complaint to conclude that there will always be some but most are happy to welcome us.
Looking forward to a trip to the carribean the weekend after next. We're visiting the old city of Cartegena and I'm really looking forward to it. It was #1 on my list of things to see before we came here. I suppose Medellin is next. Hopefully, I'll have some good things to blog about both.
I Forgot to Mention -- Tapas in Toledo
We took a day trip from our stay in Madrid to Toledo. It's a walled and generally very medieval town about an hour or so outside of Madrid. It's very beautiful and worth a trip if you're nearby, though I would strongly recommend if you only have time for one day trip that you go to Avila instead. Toledo is very pretty, but Avila is, for some reason, much less touristy and you have a freer go of the place. It's only an hour and a half from Madrid and the train ride there is lovely. It's also walled and has a winding medieval core.
The reason I'm writing about Toledo is this phenomenal Tapas bar we visited. Not a stone's throw from the Cathedral it was quiet and as far as I could tell had only locals. We spent the bulk of our 3 hours in Toledo in this bar. I'll have to look up the name and post it. We ate most of our meals at Tapas bars in our week's time in Spain and this was the one that we'd been looking for. It was the "classic" experience that I hadn't had before but had always wanted. We stood at the bar and had a few rounds of beers. With each round the bartender would give us a tapa (this is typical, any decent tapa bar does this). And in between we would ask to try the different tapa that were displayed in a case in front of us. Each of them were delicious. Meanwhile we got to chatting with the bartender and his mom (they ran the bar together), at least Alissa did and translated for us. We got to try some really great and original dishes. The beer was perfect for a hot summer day. And at the end we had this excellent Spanish coffee liquer. I wish I could tell you the name, but we got it wrong and when we bought a bottle we wound up with a funky licorice liquer. It was my dream tapas experience.
I think my reason for telling this story is this: stop in to every little out of the way place that you pass by and try a little something. If you're lucky and it's good you could have the gustatory experience you've been pining for.
The name of the bar, by the way: Casa Antonio.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Our View
Not a bad place. The apartment is nice, and new. It's in a secure building. In the business district. Like LA's, it's quite populous and happening during the day and a bit empty and a little sketch at night. Exept on weekends that is: there's a thumping club just below our windows on weekends. I don't even bother trying to sleep until 3 am on Saturday nights.
The pic gives you a taste of Bogota weather too. Everyday is mostly cloudy. The sun breaks through everyday too. Rain comes every so often. The mountain in the back is Montserrate and forms the entirety of the eastern border of Bogota. Everything in Bogota runs north, south, or west.
What the Hell Is That?
One of my favorite things to do is cook. I love cooking. I fancy myself pretty decent at it. I know how to steal some good recipes, but mostly I like to have a go and throw some things together. Colombia is a wonderful place for that. The weather is pretty much the same all year round. Everything is always in season. The fruit and veg I'm familiar with is phenomenal and tastes as fresh and flavorful as any I've had elsewhere (oh the Mango, oh the sweet sweet Mango, and the Pineapple. Mmm). But the real treat is running into dozens of things I've never seen before.
We took a trip to a farmer's market yesterday. They had things there that Colombians don't recognize. Stuff pulled out of the belly of the Amazon and piled on a table. They great thing is that, unlike many other things here, produce is quite affordable so you can grab a little bit of everything and bring it home to try. Walking by one of the tables I asked my friend if he had seen this vegetable before. Had he tried it? Did he know what it was. No, he replied, adding. Get it. Try it out. So I came home and googled it (he went home and asked his Colombian roomate). Turns out it's a relative of a cucumber. But it tastes more like a mild pepper (think yellow wax pepper). It cooks just like a mild pepper too. Then there's the exotic fruit. We have a few varieties on our shelf at the moment. You cut them open, have a look, and then have a try. It's like all the fun of old-school experimentation without the worries about poison. The fruit juice alone is a new world of food. Lots of different fruits are good for juicing. I don't know the names of half of them, but they are good.
If you're in the neighborhood, come on down, stop by and I'll whip up a little something for you.
The farmer's market is in this great neighborhood too. By great I mean that kind of great neighborhood you see in early Martin Scorcese films. Strung-out under-age prostitutes swaying in doorways while their pips spin business on cell-phones. Alissa and I had thought about walking to it. It's not far from our house. Maybe a mile and a half. But we took the metro a mile and figured we'd walk the last half mile. We made it about 100 feet before we decided it was best to flag down a bus. I'm sure it would have been fine. It was the middle of the day on a Sunday. Sometimes you just feel like taking a bus.
While I'm Discussing Things Over My Head: Spain, Colombia, and the Cost of Living
I'm determined to read more on economics. The week I spent in Spain and now the two plus weeks I have been in Colombia: I wonder, how can anyone here afford anything? The average income in Spain is not terribly high. I know it's very low relative to the US here in Colombia. But things cost the same or more than they would in the US. And not just luxury goods like a computer or a car. Going out to eat in both places is very expensive. In Madrid, okay, I can imagine there are enough people of some means who can afford to go out there regularly. And the ownership situation is different. Many building have been in the family for generations and overhead is low. Here, I have no idea who goes out to eat. I was reading up on the average salary of the upper-middle class here. If I made that much I'd go out to eat only a few times a year. Which is fine, I suppose. Maybe going out to eat is a luxury. Sad, I think that it should ever be so, but maybe that's the reality here. What I'd like to know is, who's patronizing these places enough so that they all stay in business? I can't imagine there's enough business to go around. It stumps me. Any economists out there or people who know such thing (Gladwell fans?) - shoot me a comment, let me know. I'm stumped.
While you're at it. The other thing I wonder is: is there a crash coming? There's no infrastucture here. Unemployment is high. Should I be on the lookout for a "market correction?"
I'm sure there's going to be one in Spain (correct me if I'm wrong). But the EU seems to be doing them a disservice in many ways. They can't keep up with the price of the Euro. Unemployment is high. Salaries are low, but prices keep rising commensurate with the growth of the European economic community. Germany, France. Their holds seems tenuous. How can Spain hold on? Anyone in the know have any thoughts on this?
While you're at it. The other thing I wonder is: is there a crash coming? There's no infrastucture here. Unemployment is high. Should I be on the lookout for a "market correction?"
I'm sure there's going to be one in Spain (correct me if I'm wrong). But the EU seems to be doing them a disservice in many ways. They can't keep up with the price of the Euro. Unemployment is high. Salaries are low, but prices keep rising commensurate with the growth of the European economic community. Germany, France. Their holds seems tenuous. How can Spain hold on? Anyone in the know have any thoughts on this?
A Few Closing Thoughts on Time, Tide, and Race
I had a conversation on my third night in South Africa that has been quite thought-provoking for me and that has stayed with me since.
I stayed up one night to watch the U.S. Open with our B&B host. He was a big golfer and a fan of the sport. It's a pretty big sport among South Africans and you may remember that there was a touching national moment when a white South African golfer won the British Open and hugged his black South African caddy in the celebration. The round didn't start until very late in SA so we watched highlights and had some tea.
I tried at first to keep the conversation lighter: I brought up sports and animals (Kruger NP, if you remember, was only an hour away), but as conversations do, we started asking the getting to know you questions. From our end: how long have you had this B&B, have you always run a B&B, how did you meet your wife, etc. As it turned out, our host originally hailed from Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. He had left home for London at a young age, and had worked his way to owning several grocery stores. He then sold his grocery stores and invested the profits in a ranch back home in Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. Then the revolution came. He lost everything. His ranch was burned to the ground. The war was decided by a peace accord, a power-sharing one. Within a year Robert Mugabe was in charge. Depending on your point of view or your source Mugabe is somewhere between a failure as a leader of a country and a cruel strongman (he has been accused of many bad things, including killing journalists).
Whatever your stance, some things that can give you an idea of where the country is now: the economy of R/Z has plummeted since Mugabe took power (by 40% - some blame Mugabe, some blame international sanctions, my guess is the truth lies in a combination thereof) and the principals on which he came to power (land reform, improved quality of life for the black majority) have largely stalled and / or failed (whites still own much of the arable land; land reform can't quite happen as the economy depends on their output; the Catholic Church has, rightly or wrongly, accused the government of destroying what was once the best education system on the continent, life expectancy has fallen dramatically in recent years). I state all of this only to try to paint a picture of what it must be like to see a country that you loved (love) change so dramatically and so dramatically for the worse. No matter whose fault, if that can even be ascertained, a series of events have occurred to harm R/Z.
I think about two things, mostly, when it comes to this situation. (1) How hard it must be to see this happen. To lose everything. To see the land that you love so harmed. To have to live with that pain. (2) As a lesson for South Africa.
I am very much in favor of one person one vote. I think that generally Democracy is a good thing. Certainly I think it's the best thing after a regime (such as in R/Z and in SA) in which many people were disenfranchised and discriminated against. But there is a danger in this rush for equality. If the process does not slow down and take the time to do things right, you end up destroying everyone instead of creating equality over time. It's a hard thing to do in the immediate. When you see so much suffering, so much that was and remains unfair.
I don't pretend to have a perfect answer. I just hate to see a great country like SA hurt itself by rushing into decisions. Maybe the better road is to rush in, to correct the racial inequality, deal with the consequences and then build the country anew. I was never the victim of something so horrible. Maybe from that situation you can only want immediate equality. But I look at R/Z and I see that equality never happened. That the country was ruined economically but white landowners still own most of the land and produce most of the revenue. The politicians have gotten fat, it appears. Certainly they are in SA. The new president was once charged with several hundred charges of corruption. All dropped.
Anyway, I found it hard not to feel for this man. To have built a life with his own two hands only to watch it all torn away and burned. We all have our acts of omission, if not of commission. Every act, every decision in these circumstances is going to hurt someone.
How do you build a country out of such cruel circumstances? How do you build a country which doesn't try to tear down and destroy the past? How do you build up a previously disadvantaged people without harming the people who were advantaged before? South Africans seem to have the right attitude. They want to forgive and move forward. They seem to want to build a better future together. I just hope the politicians don't ruin it.
I stayed up one night to watch the U.S. Open with our B&B host. He was a big golfer and a fan of the sport. It's a pretty big sport among South Africans and you may remember that there was a touching national moment when a white South African golfer won the British Open and hugged his black South African caddy in the celebration. The round didn't start until very late in SA so we watched highlights and had some tea.
I tried at first to keep the conversation lighter: I brought up sports and animals (Kruger NP, if you remember, was only an hour away), but as conversations do, we started asking the getting to know you questions. From our end: how long have you had this B&B, have you always run a B&B, how did you meet your wife, etc. As it turned out, our host originally hailed from Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. He had left home for London at a young age, and had worked his way to owning several grocery stores. He then sold his grocery stores and invested the profits in a ranch back home in Rhodesia / Zimbabwe. Then the revolution came. He lost everything. His ranch was burned to the ground. The war was decided by a peace accord, a power-sharing one. Within a year Robert Mugabe was in charge. Depending on your point of view or your source Mugabe is somewhere between a failure as a leader of a country and a cruel strongman (he has been accused of many bad things, including killing journalists).
Whatever your stance, some things that can give you an idea of where the country is now: the economy of R/Z has plummeted since Mugabe took power (by 40% - some blame Mugabe, some blame international sanctions, my guess is the truth lies in a combination thereof) and the principals on which he came to power (land reform, improved quality of life for the black majority) have largely stalled and / or failed (whites still own much of the arable land; land reform can't quite happen as the economy depends on their output; the Catholic Church has, rightly or wrongly, accused the government of destroying what was once the best education system on the continent, life expectancy has fallen dramatically in recent years). I state all of this only to try to paint a picture of what it must be like to see a country that you loved (love) change so dramatically and so dramatically for the worse. No matter whose fault, if that can even be ascertained, a series of events have occurred to harm R/Z.
I think about two things, mostly, when it comes to this situation. (1) How hard it must be to see this happen. To lose everything. To see the land that you love so harmed. To have to live with that pain. (2) As a lesson for South Africa.
I am very much in favor of one person one vote. I think that generally Democracy is a good thing. Certainly I think it's the best thing after a regime (such as in R/Z and in SA) in which many people were disenfranchised and discriminated against. But there is a danger in this rush for equality. If the process does not slow down and take the time to do things right, you end up destroying everyone instead of creating equality over time. It's a hard thing to do in the immediate. When you see so much suffering, so much that was and remains unfair.
I don't pretend to have a perfect answer. I just hate to see a great country like SA hurt itself by rushing into decisions. Maybe the better road is to rush in, to correct the racial inequality, deal with the consequences and then build the country anew. I was never the victim of something so horrible. Maybe from that situation you can only want immediate equality. But I look at R/Z and I see that equality never happened. That the country was ruined economically but white landowners still own most of the land and produce most of the revenue. The politicians have gotten fat, it appears. Certainly they are in SA. The new president was once charged with several hundred charges of corruption. All dropped.
Anyway, I found it hard not to feel for this man. To have built a life with his own two hands only to watch it all torn away and burned. We all have our acts of omission, if not of commission. Every act, every decision in these circumstances is going to hurt someone.
How do you build a country out of such cruel circumstances? How do you build a country which doesn't try to tear down and destroy the past? How do you build up a previously disadvantaged people without harming the people who were advantaged before? South Africans seem to have the right attitude. They want to forgive and move forward. They seem to want to build a better future together. I just hope the politicians don't ruin it.
Arriving in Madrid, Hanging with the Boys and the World Cup
Quite by accident, in a footballing sense; Quite purposefully, in terms of the cheapest airline fare, We booked our flight to South Africa through Iberica airlines. We planned from the go to leave South Africa prior to the final, purely with financial motivations. Our flights were 50% less leaving a couple days before the final than if we left after the final. Our itinerary required a 4 day layover in Madrid. We extended it to 6 days.
I must confess that I had tried to convince our group to fly to Berlin for the final. I even spent a few hours looking for cheap flights on the interweb. At the time Germany looked liked world-beaters. Running over through and around the world's best. As fortune would have it, flights were not cheap and we ended up staying in Madrid. As you know by now, Spain, with superior coaching and the greatest team passing I've ever witnessed. This worked out. But not in the same way it would have if I was in my twenties and single.
We watched the first half of the final on the street with about 14 million other people (only a slight exaggeration). I enjoyed the game on the big screen, but my shorter companions missed the game action and we watched the second half in the bar closest to the street which still had standing room. The game, if you didn't watch, was a bit boring. The Dutch played better than most commentators I've read give them credit for. The ref tried his best but lost control of the game. He looked like Jim Belushi before Lou Gossett Jr. helped him out with a baseball bat. The game was chippy and tense. I am biased. The thrill of it all was much improved with a room full of Spaniards living and dying with each touch.
The celebration after the victory was something. I've been in one of these before, in Paris in 2000. This didn't match up. It could be that the first is always the most memorable. The thrill of the new and incomparable. It could be the aforementioned age change. In Paris, I was 21. The world as a whole, and the exoctic Paris, was fresh and aweing. For whatever reason, I was into that one more. A part of it emotionally. This one I watched from a detached place. But there were the aforementioned millions, lots of singing and dancing. I will always remember "Yo soy Espanyol, Espanyol, Espanyol." Joy and exhileration were everywhere.
As I said, the party after the game wasn't for me. The next day we ran into, literally, another happy accident and the reason I will always be glad we spent that week in Madrid. The Spanish team, running, I would wager, on adrenaline alone, flew back to Madrid the very next morning. The parade was to be that very night. We knew of it, but didn't think too much of attending. We had planned to go to the Reina Sofia (the big modern art museum in Madrid, if you weren't aware) that night and actually made a point of leaving a bit early to avoid the crowds. Well, we didn't leave early enough. We had to cross the parade route to get to the museum. We attempted to do so about 2 hours before the scheduled start of the parade. We proptly ran into a wall of Spaniards and we made it no further for the next 5 hours. We sat with our new Spanish neighbors through excitement, false alarms, boredom, fatigue and at long last, the payoff.
The whole thing was a wonderful way to experience a group of people. The range of emotions. The interactions between people waxing and waning with those emotions. And through it all the underlying excitment, the thrill of this commen and exceptional experience, still in the process of occuring. The payoff finally came and the crowd - which had completely filled this enormous and very long avenue and was a beautiful yellow and red sight to behold - errupted. It suddenly went vertical. Outside of northern Europe I can typically see over most crowds, at least fairly well. For 5 hours I could see from end to end the rows of people. When the team bus finally pulled into the street, I could see only straight up. Suddenly, there was another person on top of every other person in the street.
And then the payoff came for us and our little World Cup. The winning team. With the excitement on their faces mirroring that of the little children in the crowd. But then the real surprise, that I hadn't expected (perhaps I should have, living for three years in Buffalo, a hockey-mad town): the World Cup itself. Not 10 feet from me. And there it was in a way. This quest, brought full circle. Gone in search of something in South Africa and winding up face to face with the same thing all of these players and teams and fans pin their hopes on every 4 years. I'm not sure what it means. I haven't finished thinking about that one. But it felt special. It felt like we had completed this quest for a taste of the world at its best.
I'll add, as a final thought, that I loved the familial aspect of this experience. Whereas the streets the night before had been filled mostly with teens and twenty somethings. Whereas alcohol and other sustances had been ever present at the game. The parade was filled with fathers and mothers and sons and daughters. There was an element of the innocence and purity that I hope is what makes the World Cup so special. We can all recapture for a moment the time and place before we became jaded before we were wounded and we can feel, like the Spanish players showed that day, as kids, playing for the title in the back yard.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Zipping Through Wine Country With the Wine-Ocerous
That would be my good buddy Mike, the Wine-Ocerous that is. We each took a few akas on our first few days in SA. I guess it helps keep you sane while you drive for long stretches with crazy South Africans whipping around you at 80 mph on one lane roads while pedestrians walk in the breakdown lane along major highways (for what must be, I was stunned to see, 10 or 20 miles at a clip).
If you've been to a wine shop in the States of late, you have probably seen a fair few South African wines. The quality on many of them is high and it was easy to pick up a good, not just decent, mind you, bottle for 4 or 5 dollars. Our wine tour, which consisted of 4 wineries, was, however, of poor quality. The wine at one of them - on one of the most beautiful estates I've ever seen - was best described by my tasting note: (choke, cough, cough, choke, uhg, ick, what is this? cough, cough). The others reminded me mostly of New York wines - nice try, but who are we trying to fool. For me, it was a spot a bad luck with our selection. Alissa, who likes sweet wines, was well-pleased. All was not a loss. If you like icewines, we did have the best of those I've tasted. And we had a personal wine tour complete with a long walk through the "port" room. Ah. I love the sweet smell of a room full of port in oak barrels. Is there a nicer smell in this world? Maybe, but if so, only a few. The aged ports were not bad and at a fraction of the cost of Portuguese ones, worth a go if you´re in the area.
The wine region - especially the drive into and out of the area - was stunning. You have probably gathered by now that South Africa, as I see it, is full of stunning landscapes and is a pleasure to drive though. This was my favorite. If you're ever in Cape Town, I would venture that you have to take the trip up to wine country. Even if you don't drink, go for the scenery. As a final note on the area I had my second-best South African mean here, if also the most expessive. Roasted duck, avocado and pancetta salad to start, and a Springbok pasta with Springbok gravy. Mmm. Free range, of course.
I'm Tired and I Want to Go to Bed... Tales of Great Whites and More During Our Last Days In South Africa
We left Cape Town and returned to the southern coast of South Africa. We had set out with the vision of visiting Cape Agulhas, the southernmost point of Africa. We arose bright and early and were on the road by 8:30 (early for us anyway). We had booked in at a B&B in a little town called Kleinbaai. For those of you that know a little German or Dutch, the name is accurate. The only restaurant in town closes at 7pm or, in our case, whenever they don't have any customers. We had to drive to the neighboring hamlet to eat, with a choice of 3 whole restaurants. Fitting then, that my best meal in South Africa came at this dinner. Line fish (fish of the day) - which happened to be Angelfish, a rarity even for those parts, with a side of prawns. Mmm.
Before dinner we had arrived about noon with the thought of relaxing a bit and then taking the 1.5 hour drive down to the Cape. Our friendly, as ever, innkeep laughed at the mention of the Cape. Why would you want to go there? It's just a spot. There's nothing to see. You go there and take a picture of you next to the sign and then head back. She then went through the various whale and shark watching excursions and of course mentioned the shark-cage diving for which the area has become famous.
Some of you may remember how excited I was before we left to climb into a shark cage and see the world's perfect (in my humble) animal. Beginning with some discussion the night before and continuing through our morning drive, I realized that shark-cage diving didn't sit well with me. It seemed artificial, forced, the opposite of what our trip had been to that point. We were visitors to the land of the animals - we weren't experiencing them locked up in a zoo. I don't object to zoos. They have great aspects and give lots of people a chance to appreciate animals who might otherwise not get a chance to so do. But this was Africa (T.I.A. man, T.I.A.) and it didn't sit well. In the end, we forsook the shark-cage diving and Cape Agulhas and settled on a whale-watching tour.
Alas, the whale-watching tour sold out before we called over. Our innkeep called around for us and after a bit we wound up having to rush into town to meet a little pontoon boat as it was disembarking. I'm a bit sad to report that one of our party (not I) was a bit put out that we didn't make the trip to Agulhas, but I'm thrilled that we made the choice as we did. In any event, sorry mate.
Our 15 seater chugged out to an island covered, quite litterally covered, in 60,000 seals. Or as our captain described it in typical tounge-in-cheek Afrikaner-style: Burger King for Sharks. When the seals are at the island (during mating season) there are dozens of Great Whites prowling below, waiting for their next meal to come swimming along. We tooled around the island for a while watching the seals (up-wind, thankfully) before trolling over to the spot where the shark-cage boats ply their trade. We floated along in their wake and watched the action. I detested this part of our trip. The boats basically fish for the sharks. They chum the waters, then they cast a dummy seal head into the water and drag it in front of the cages so that a shark attacks, then they pull it out at the last minute and let that shark swim away. It felt as dirty as the not-so-subtle reference in that sentence.
Thankfully, we cut loose from those boats and puttered over to a quieter spot by our lonesomes. The captain cut the engine and his son stomped on the bottom of the boat. Great Whites, I'm told, are by nature curious creatures, and in this spot of the Indian Ocean they have no predators or natural enemies. Sensing a low vibration in the water, they swim over to see what it's all about. After approximately 30 seconds of stomping, the first Great White swam up to our boat and had a look about.
I should take a moment to describe our boat a little further. It was about 25 feet long, flat bottomed, inflated rubber on the sides and some sort of cement / metal mix on the bottom. There were 6 chairs bolted to the cement, a bench-seat for 3-4 at the back (where I sat, with the captains son and his girlfriend), and a stearing-wheel. The sides and back of the boat rose, perhaps, 18 inches from above the water and about 2 feet from the cement bottom. Each chair had a metal handle on the top and one on the back.
We saw 5 sharks as they came up to have a look. The largest of them was approx. 20 feet long. Each swam in figure-eights under the boat, having a look at us from a few angles. Each of them came within a few inches of the surface, with the big-guy breaching inches from us and dipping under the boat at the last moment. Standing up, holding onto the back of a chair, and leaning over the side I was able to watch the sharks doing their thing from less than a couple of feet away. I thought about trying to touch one, but refrained in the end.
My highlight was watching the sharks disappear, not beneath the boat but straight down into the water, and then, moments later, come back up again out of the shadows. Sublime. Stunning. The way they use the refraction of the light in the water to hide from eyes above the surface. Eerie.
I should add that the Indian Ocean was not calm. A storm was headed in from the South. They had cancelled all of the boat trips for the following day just before we departed. The boat rocked up and down on the waves as we watched the sharks, and as I moved left to right and back again along the back of the boat, tracking them as they swam, I had an awareness of how easy it would be to fall in, right on top of the shark. Shiver. Just sublime.
Don't worry mom, the captain told us beforehand that if you fell in the sharks would be more afraid of you than you were of them and would swim away giving the crew time to pull you up...
Before dinner we had arrived about noon with the thought of relaxing a bit and then taking the 1.5 hour drive down to the Cape. Our friendly, as ever, innkeep laughed at the mention of the Cape. Why would you want to go there? It's just a spot. There's nothing to see. You go there and take a picture of you next to the sign and then head back. She then went through the various whale and shark watching excursions and of course mentioned the shark-cage diving for which the area has become famous.
Some of you may remember how excited I was before we left to climb into a shark cage and see the world's perfect (in my humble) animal. Beginning with some discussion the night before and continuing through our morning drive, I realized that shark-cage diving didn't sit well with me. It seemed artificial, forced, the opposite of what our trip had been to that point. We were visitors to the land of the animals - we weren't experiencing them locked up in a zoo. I don't object to zoos. They have great aspects and give lots of people a chance to appreciate animals who might otherwise not get a chance to so do. But this was Africa (T.I.A. man, T.I.A.) and it didn't sit well. In the end, we forsook the shark-cage diving and Cape Agulhas and settled on a whale-watching tour.
Alas, the whale-watching tour sold out before we called over. Our innkeep called around for us and after a bit we wound up having to rush into town to meet a little pontoon boat as it was disembarking. I'm a bit sad to report that one of our party (not I) was a bit put out that we didn't make the trip to Agulhas, but I'm thrilled that we made the choice as we did. In any event, sorry mate.
Our 15 seater chugged out to an island covered, quite litterally covered, in 60,000 seals. Or as our captain described it in typical tounge-in-cheek Afrikaner-style: Burger King for Sharks. When the seals are at the island (during mating season) there are dozens of Great Whites prowling below, waiting for their next meal to come swimming along. We tooled around the island for a while watching the seals (up-wind, thankfully) before trolling over to the spot where the shark-cage boats ply their trade. We floated along in their wake and watched the action. I detested this part of our trip. The boats basically fish for the sharks. They chum the waters, then they cast a dummy seal head into the water and drag it in front of the cages so that a shark attacks, then they pull it out at the last minute and let that shark swim away. It felt as dirty as the not-so-subtle reference in that sentence.
Thankfully, we cut loose from those boats and puttered over to a quieter spot by our lonesomes. The captain cut the engine and his son stomped on the bottom of the boat. Great Whites, I'm told, are by nature curious creatures, and in this spot of the Indian Ocean they have no predators or natural enemies. Sensing a low vibration in the water, they swim over to see what it's all about. After approximately 30 seconds of stomping, the first Great White swam up to our boat and had a look about.
I should take a moment to describe our boat a little further. It was about 25 feet long, flat bottomed, inflated rubber on the sides and some sort of cement / metal mix on the bottom. There were 6 chairs bolted to the cement, a bench-seat for 3-4 at the back (where I sat, with the captains son and his girlfriend), and a stearing-wheel. The sides and back of the boat rose, perhaps, 18 inches from above the water and about 2 feet from the cement bottom. Each chair had a metal handle on the top and one on the back.
We saw 5 sharks as they came up to have a look. The largest of them was approx. 20 feet long. Each swam in figure-eights under the boat, having a look at us from a few angles. Each of them came within a few inches of the surface, with the big-guy breaching inches from us and dipping under the boat at the last moment. Standing up, holding onto the back of a chair, and leaning over the side I was able to watch the sharks doing their thing from less than a couple of feet away. I thought about trying to touch one, but refrained in the end.
My highlight was watching the sharks disappear, not beneath the boat but straight down into the water, and then, moments later, come back up again out of the shadows. Sublime. Stunning. The way they use the refraction of the light in the water to hide from eyes above the surface. Eerie.
I should add that the Indian Ocean was not calm. A storm was headed in from the South. They had cancelled all of the boat trips for the following day just before we departed. The boat rocked up and down on the waves as we watched the sharks, and as I moved left to right and back again along the back of the boat, tracking them as they swam, I had an awareness of how easy it would be to fall in, right on top of the shark. Shiver. Just sublime.
Don't worry mom, the captain told us beforehand that if you fell in the sharks would be more afraid of you than you were of them and would swim away giving the crew time to pull you up...
I'm Back, Was It Empty Without Me? Maybe a Little?
Quoting a white rapper, hmm. The only saving grace is that he's actually quite good.
Been flying along for a little while shuffling between my four lives of the last month, leaving South Africa, a whirlwind tour of Madrid over 5 days, a game of Pin-Morgan and Alissa for 10 days in Massachusetts, and finally the last 5 days zipping around Bogota trying to establish ourselves.
Let me give you a brief account of our status in Bogota so far. So far it's been a lot like my first week at college or at law school. Each day I learn a bit more about the city and each day I buy a few more things to help build a functional life. The funniest thing to me has been the small things that never came to mind in all the shopping trips until I was at home and missed them, a blender, a strainer (or collander, depending on your usage), a vegetable peeler. It's a pain in the ass to have to go out and buy all these little things that I'll maybe use 5 times and then have to leave here. It's also a pain in the ass to not have them when I'd like them. Ah, the dilemmas of a temporary transplant.
For those that haven't been, Bogota has a NYC feel to it. Lots of neighborhoods separated by only a block or two, some really nice, some bohemian, and some a bit dodgy, some far from the center that you'd only go to with a cab and a specific address. It's clean enough, though with that caked on dirt edge to it. The public transportation in fantastic, if crowded. It's quite safe during the day and mostly so at night. Plus there are some really beautiful bits to the city as well including a nice mountain chain running along the east of the city. The weather is always the same here, 60-70 during the day with clouds and sun and sometimes rain.
The countryside around here, which I've only visited once, has that Latin American rural quality. Strung together, kind of messy towns with a colonial square at the center, some decent cheap food and wires everywhere. Cows and chickens running about, fresh air, that smell of mountain and cloud forest.
The people have been lovely so far. Generally nice but a little wary of the 2.1 meter stranger. That said, the people Alissa will be working with have been incredible - generous well beyond your typical welcoming overtones. They drove us to the mall to outfit our apartment (a little studio with an awesome view, when I can I'll get some picutres up. We're on the 11th floor, overlooking the mountains and the city center), drove us to the country to show us something of their homeland and have already taken us out to lunch a couple of times. They are also kind and full of laughter. To top it off, they are very patient with our Spanish, especially mine. And they have already arranged to set up an "exchange" for me, whereby a Colombian student working on his English will meet with me and help with my Spanish and I with his English.
As we settle and then begin to venture around the country more I hope to have much more.
Been flying along for a little while shuffling between my four lives of the last month, leaving South Africa, a whirlwind tour of Madrid over 5 days, a game of Pin-Morgan and Alissa for 10 days in Massachusetts, and finally the last 5 days zipping around Bogota trying to establish ourselves.
Let me give you a brief account of our status in Bogota so far. So far it's been a lot like my first week at college or at law school. Each day I learn a bit more about the city and each day I buy a few more things to help build a functional life. The funniest thing to me has been the small things that never came to mind in all the shopping trips until I was at home and missed them, a blender, a strainer (or collander, depending on your usage), a vegetable peeler. It's a pain in the ass to have to go out and buy all these little things that I'll maybe use 5 times and then have to leave here. It's also a pain in the ass to not have them when I'd like them. Ah, the dilemmas of a temporary transplant.
For those that haven't been, Bogota has a NYC feel to it. Lots of neighborhoods separated by only a block or two, some really nice, some bohemian, and some a bit dodgy, some far from the center that you'd only go to with a cab and a specific address. It's clean enough, though with that caked on dirt edge to it. The public transportation in fantastic, if crowded. It's quite safe during the day and mostly so at night. Plus there are some really beautiful bits to the city as well including a nice mountain chain running along the east of the city. The weather is always the same here, 60-70 during the day with clouds and sun and sometimes rain.
The countryside around here, which I've only visited once, has that Latin American rural quality. Strung together, kind of messy towns with a colonial square at the center, some decent cheap food and wires everywhere. Cows and chickens running about, fresh air, that smell of mountain and cloud forest.
The people have been lovely so far. Generally nice but a little wary of the 2.1 meter stranger. That said, the people Alissa will be working with have been incredible - generous well beyond your typical welcoming overtones. They drove us to the mall to outfit our apartment (a little studio with an awesome view, when I can I'll get some picutres up. We're on the 11th floor, overlooking the mountains and the city center), drove us to the country to show us something of their homeland and have already taken us out to lunch a couple of times. They are also kind and full of laughter. To top it off, they are very patient with our Spanish, especially mine. And they have already arranged to set up an "exchange" for me, whereby a Colombian student working on his English will meet with me and help with my Spanish and I with his English.
As we settle and then begin to venture around the country more I hope to have much more.
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