Bank of America

Too aptly named, it would seem: swindling borrowing and rewarding foreclosure.

Oh, The Onion

Ahmadinejad signs on as Dean at Sarah Lawrence.

Going Grey

From NY Mag:

"How was the G8?"

"It was good. We discussed economic cooperation and anti-terror policies and sacrificed a baby calf to the gods of capitalism and laughed maniacally."

To paraphrase Viscount Grey: The lights are going out all over the world and I doubt we will see them go on again in our lifetime.

Twins

In two successive days, Harry was asked by two separate people which of us was older. We are fraternal twins, he is five minutes older.

[Yes Abba, I remember in Eatzi's when that blind man asked if we were brothers....] 

On Soft Power

"Countries too eager to embrace soft power can come off like the stereotypical Don Juan, whose powers of attraction eventually taught women to be wary. Others, overconfident in their positive qualities, choose the wrong aspect to emphasize and end up the butt of jokes. In the context of soft power, this mockery is leveled against countries whose public diplomacy degenerates into propaganda."
-Prof Nick Cull, "Why Project Soft Power is Difficult"

Le Deluge

How do you say "oops" in Greek?  The IMF is quickly learning, as they apologized for screwing up in Hellenestan. ευχαριστίες (thanks) for effectively ruining Greece for at least a generation.  And you better learn to say sorry in Castellanos, Portuguese  and Gaelic.  You were wrong on austerity as a means to get out of the crisis, and real people paid for it.

Meanwhile, apres nous, le deluge.  No sooner do I leave Brazil does the country fall into protests over priorities in the face of the World Cup.

Interestingly, if I had been going to YES Iraq, I would have been in Turkey when all of those protests unfolded.

Lost in Taksim

The view from the square that made Turkey convulse.

Wagwan

I am a vegetarian (usually) but damn if I can't pass up that good jerk chicken- especially late night when it comes right of the smoking steel drum and leaves my lips smoldering like the fire that cooked it. Gandhi, forgive me. So long Brooklyn, always a pleasure and I will be back soon. On to Charleston. Journey on.

McClatchy and WMDs

McClatchy was one of the few media outlets that cast doubt on the Iraqi WMD claims leading up to the invasion of Iraq; they are casting doubt on chemical weapons use in Syria, so it is worth listening this time in ways we didn't last time.

The Private War

I have long been curious of the intersection of the private sector into the public domain, I am tremendously concerned at the rise of private intelligence gathering services:

What has received less attention is the fact that most intelligence work today is not carried out by government agencies but by private intelligence firms and that much of that work involves another common aspect of intelligence work: deception. That is, it is involved not just with the concealment of reality, but with the manufacture of it.

Private eyes in public places, I do not like it.

This also all weighs heavily on me as I consider my own future on the private side of public diplomacy, and I try to figure how to do independent public diplomacy.  

Bigger brass

The Chief of the Australian Army shows how it is done to combat sexual abuse in the military ranks.  Begs the question, why have none of America's top brass ever been this direct?

Maps in original meanings

Very cool cartography of places in with names of their original meaning.

Forever Tilting at Windmills

The witching hour has struck, and I am officially unemployed. And I am happy. So begins Prof. Rockower's sabbatical at the University of Southern La Mancha (USLM).

...nada

"Turks demonstrate for a park, for bus fare. We're being spied on and what are we doing?" '
-Jeff Jarvis

Feasting across Canada

Friends of Gastrodiplomacy, here is a good project to support: Feast: An Edible Road Trip.  Two peripatetic Canadians are traveling across the Great White North in search of different Canadian fare.  Sounds like fun, eh?  I'm proud to support them with a few loonies, hope you will too!  TY Jackie.

Saved by the Dragons

Moshi-Kun did an amazing feature of Game of Thrones characters in 80s/90s threads.  

Très Brooklyn

The food truck as American gastrodiplomacy to France:

In France, there is still a widespread belief that the daily diet in the United States consists of grossly large servings of fast food. But in Paris, American food is suddenly being seen as more than just restauration rapide. Among young Parisians, there is currently no greater praise for cuisine than “très Brooklyn,” a term that signifies a particularly cool combination of informality, creativity and quality.
All three of those traits come together in the American food trucks that have just opened here, including Cantine California, which sells tacos stuffed with organic meat (still a rarity in France), and a hugely popular burger truck called Le Camion Qui Fume (The Smoking Truck), owned by Kristin Frederick, a California native who graduated from culinary school here.

And a bit of citybranding to boot! 

Knock, Knock

I love it that the Jehovah's Witnesses come constantly knocking.  I come out and chat with them about faith and belief.  I like it that they are so moved with by their faith that they want to share it.  It is always a good chat.

There was another knock today, an exterminator from Uzbekistan-from Samarkand. I told him about my adventures in Samarkand, and my tour with the Dellas.  He was so amazed and so pleased that I had been there.  He was ethnic Tajik, and we both smiled big at the thought of qurotob. He was convinced I was a Bukhari Jew- I told him probably in a former life.

Sulfur and smoke

Via Mahogany Jones
 "Theres no place better that the Devil loves to hide in that's better than religion"
-Joyce Meyers

 Via Verbal
"The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he did not exist."
-Charles Bauldaire

Found

Passport, I hath found you

Wife, I hath found you.

Scruffy for president!

"Tired of voting for rats? Vote for a cat..." Viva Morris! Morris the Cat for Mayor of Veracruz.

And Scruffy for president! He won't tap your phone, just lick your feet.

Inside the United States

GlobalPost imagines: what if the United States was covered the way foreign countries are covered:

Inside the United States

BOSTON, Mass. — Human rights activists say revelations that the US regime has expanded its domestic surveillance program to private phone carriers is more evidence of the North American country’s pivot toward authoritarianism.

The Guardian, a British newspaper,reported this week that a wing of the country’s feared intelligence and security apparatus ordered major telecommunications companies to hand over data on phone calls made by private citizens.

“The US leadership in Washington continues to erode basic human rights,” said one activist, who asked to remain anonymous, fearing that speaking out publicly could endanger his organization. “If the US government is unwilling to change course, it’s time the international community considered economic sanctions.”

Over the last decade, the United States has passed a series of emergency laws that give security forces sweeping powers to combat “terrorism.” But foreign observers say the authorities abuse those laws, using them instead to monitor ordinary Americans.

While the so-called Patriot Act passed in 2001 is perhaps the most dramatic legislation to date curbing freedoms here, numerous lesser-known laws have expanded monitoring of news outlets, email, social media platforms and even opposition groups — like the Occupy and Tea Party movements — that are critical of the regime.

US leader Barack Obama, a former liberal community organizer and the country's first black president who attracted a wave of support from young voters, rose to power in 2008 promising reform. He was greeted in the United States — a country of about 300 million people — withoptimism. But he has since disappointed those supporters, ruling with a sometimes iron fist and continuing, if not expanding, the policies of the country’s former ruler, George W. Bush.

On a recent visit to the United States by GlobalPost, signs of the increased security apparatus could be found everywhere.

At all national airports, passengers are now forced to undergo full-body scans before boarding any flights. Small cameras are perched on many street corners, recording the movements and actions of the public. And incessant warnings on public transportation systems encourage citizens to report any “suspicious activity” to authorities.

Several American villagers interviewed for this story said the ubiquitous government marketing campaign called, “If you see something, say something,” does little to make them feel safer and, in fact, only contributes to a growing mistrust among the general population.

“I’ve deleted my Facebook account, stopped using email, or visiting websites that might be considered anti-regime,” a resident of the northern city of Boston, a tough-as-nails town synonymous with rebellion, told GlobalPost. It was in Boston that an American militia first rose up against the British empire. “But my phone? How can I stop using my phone? This has gone too far.”

American dissidents interviewed by GlobalPost inside the United States say surveillance by domestic intelligence agencies is just one part of a seemingly larger effort by the Obama administration to centralize power.

The American leader, for example, has in recent years personally approved the jailing — and in some cases execution — of American citizens suspected of involvement in what the regime calls “terrorist activity.”

“What exactly is terrorism? The term is used so loosely these days it could include just about anyone,” said one anti-government protester, who was tear-gassed and then arrested in 2011 for participating in a peaceful demonstration in New York, America’s largest city and its economic capital.

Obama has also overseen a crackdown on whistleblowers, most famously jailing Bradley Manning, a US soldier, for leaking documents that called into question US military actions in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The government quietly imprisoned Manning for three years before finally trying him in a military court this week. He spent the first nine months of that in solitary confinement, where prison officials forced him to sleep naked without pillows or sheets and prevented him from reading newspapers, watching television or even exercising.

Activists also criticize the US regime for imprisoning without trial foreigners it deems threatening to national security in an offshore prison camp called Guantanamo Bay. This week an investigation revealed that the US regime force-fed Guantanamo inmates participating in a hunger strike. Force-feeding is illegal under international law.

Meanwhile, whispering in the streets about what the regime might do next has reached a dull roar. But after a national uprising in 2011 by the leftist Occupy movement ended in evictions, arrests and tear gas, Americans appear hesitant to take their anger into the streets.

Most major media outlets, which in the United States are largely controlled by politically-connected corporations — many of them, in fact, financially supported Obama’s election — have been relatively quiet on such issues.

Foreign observers, however, say the recent news about domestic surveillance is spreading wildly in other ways — on Twitter and around the dinner table. They say the news has the potential to spark an uprising — at least among urban, educated elites in the country’s major cities — mirroring those happening now in Turkey and that earlier swept parts of the Arab world.

One foreign businessman who works closely with the US government on issues of security said he thought Obama was too well-established and had too strong a security force for any challenge to its authority to take hold.

“This isn’t Tunisia,” he said. “This is more like China, where a massive security presence could easily put down any organized opposition movement.”

The businessman added that Obama was democratically elected twice, which he believes gives the leader enough credibility to weather any serious opposition to his rule.

In a small, unassuming house near Boston’s bustling seaport, though, supporters of the opposition disagreed, saying the leader had lost “all credibility.” The group said the opposition continued to organize and grow, and that it was just a matter of time before the rest of the American population joined them.

Indeed, different political factions are beginning to unite over the issue of domestic surveillance, despite their strong differences.

“We meet in person these days to talk about strategy, phones and email are no longer safe for us,” one of them said. “Our goal now is to just get out the message to the world about what is going on here. That’s the first step. We need to educate not only Americans but the world about the extent the US regime is controlling the lives of its citizens.”

Sunday Best

“Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see God in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God, are hat wearing Muslims.”
-Yann Martel, "Life of Pi"

I woke up on a fine and blessed Sunday, with the plan to find some gospel.  I love gospel music, and its soulful connection between music and belief.  I put on the closest I had to my Sunday best, and headed out to find some of that praise music.

I headed west down Montgomery, sweeping over by the Ortho section of the hood.  As I was walking, I saw a woman come out on her phone and break down into tears.  Real emotional, visceral tears.  I stopped just out of sight, and wondered if I, a complete stranger, should try to offer some comfort since she was alone and sobbing (albeit on the phone).  Then I realized this: she was orthodox, and I couldn't give her a hug even if I wanted to (Harry, on the other hand, has no problem hugging Orthodox women- for shame!).  Thus.

I continued on, up to Eastern Parkway to ask where I could find some gospel.  I asked some colorful women where I could find some gospel, and they said that there was a fellow who usually sold gospel music at this junction.  No, I explained, I was looking for a church.  They pointed me over to a big church across the road named St. Matthew, and told me there was a service at 11:30am.  I thanked them, but had my doubts I was a doubting Thomas.  I thought St. Matthew looked Catholic (Can't trust those Romans, it is a Popish Plot!  I joke, I kid) but at least I had a start towards finding a church.  I walked down Eastern Parkway, in my awfully uncomfortable shoes, and found another woman going to church.  I asked her where she davened, and she told me about her church and their service at 11:45am.  Now I had two options, and a little time to kill.  See under: ethnic ambiguity.

As I was making my way back to church for the midday service, I started thinking about immortality.  What does it take to achieve immortality?  Alchemy?  Immortality is seen in the longevity of ideas.  The body withers away, but ideas that take hold are immortal, eternal. I had names running through my head of those who achieved such immortality through their ideas.  And then I felt her.  That ephemeral warmth when I find
the Muse.  I picked up the pace a bit.  I pondered about how it seemed like it had been so long since I had felt her presence; then I realized that she had been with me these last few weeks.  I always found myself trying to hold onto her mercurial glory, only to see her slip away; I finally realized that she is always here with me, I just need to give her time and space to spread her wings.

And thus, I entered St. Matthew.  I stood at the doorway of the full church, and was correct in my thought that this was a Catholic Church.  While it was a primarily Black congregation, Catholic services didn't have the spirit I was looking for on this occasion so I headed on to find another church.

I went looking to find the Jamaican Apostolic Church that the woman had directed me to.  I didn't find that one, but I did find a small Pentecostal church down the road.  I held the door for a homeless man and we both entered into the church.  I came in to a church that was largely empty, there were just three parishioners- the homeless fellow, a natty dressed Black man and me.  I sat in the pew, listening to the old matronly lady sing hymns that echoed off the wall.

The choir did a few songs, then set up three chairs in the front of the church for us parishioners- and small carpets to kneel on.   The matronly singer called us up to the front, and I followed the other two gentlemen- watching them for cue.   On the left and right chair, they kneeled and bowed their heads in their hands with elbows on the metal chairs.  I followed suit in the middle chair.  It must have been such a scene: on the left, a homeless man in his rags; in the middle, a swarthy, bearded Jew in a shirt with snaskrit prayers in calligraphic glory; on the right a dapper Black man with a clean shaven head.

I kneeled and bowed my head, and listed to the Bishop call out our sins and iniquities, our blessings and faith.  I said my own prayers, probably the first to say kadish and shma in such places.  And I listened.  As one who is equal parts saint and sinner, I found myself offering a lot of amens.

After about ten minutes or so, we returned to the pews for a few rounds of lively hymns as the church filled up.  Not long after, the congregation called for testimonials.  A few people got up to speak their convictions and gratitude towards God and the church.  Never shy to talk about God or faith, I did as well:

I have come a long way to be here today, down many long roads.  I have been so blessed in my journey, to which I thank God.  I have been to so many churches, mosques and synagogues on that path, and I am always in such wonder at the communities of believers, who have such faith.  I believe that all believers (and non believers) share God's grace.  I am about to start my way down a new journey, and I pray that God lights my path so that I can choose a righteous direction.

I shared a passage from Micah: turning swords into plowshares- and I prayed that my work would be an instrument for such pursuits.    I stayed with Micah to conclude: Do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with thy God. Amen.

I listened to other parishioners.  One woman had just lost a cousin in a drive-by in Jamaica, and she was grieving.  Another man had been down and out on drugs and depression, but had pulled his way back through faith.

The bishop gave a rousing sermon.  Some of which I agreed, other parts highlighted our theological differences.  I don't believe I was conceived in sin.  I don't accept original sin.  I might have sinned along the way, to which I will repent, but I was born (early) unto this world a blank slate.  But theological differences matter not in the big picture.

I stuck around for a few more songs, and another pastor read verse, then I headed on from the church.  One of the church elders thanked me for coming, and gave me a small book of psalms Our Daily Bread, and said she hoped I would return.  I smiled, and said: inshallah.

#OccupyDisneyland

“If Universal didn’t offer a V.I.P. option, I wouldn’t go,” said Mark Lieber, chief executive of Rethink Entertainment and Media. “I just don’t have the time to wait in a line, and I want a certain level of service.” (He did feel a twinge of guilt, however: “They should give deserving students access to the V.I.P. tours once a week. That way it’s not just for the privileged.”)

Everything that is wrong with America summed up in the VIP pass at theme parks that let the rich skip the lines, while the rest wait for hours.

The Aegean Subway

Dear New York Subway,
  I love you for many reasons, but would it kill you to powerwash the tunnels and subterranean halls once in a while?  I would recommend that you flood the tunnels ala The Aegean Stables and the Trials of Hercules

The Sound of Silence; Dinges; Squirrel Terrorists

The Sound of Silence on the New York Subway

The ephemeral silence of twenty people in shared space.  Twenty people, yet a void of words.  Dead sound.  Nothing but the clack-clack-clack of the train.

I have been on a train, but few in silence.  I can think of only two occasions:

The first in the metro in Delhi.  It was my first tour in India, and it was a noisy one.  A symphony of din; a cacophony of shrill noise. And then, I found my way underground and found a brief respite from the sounds.  It was golden, and I considered riding the metro all day.

The other came on an early morning train in Tokyo.  The train was filled with sleeping souls, eyes-wide shut. I felt like a cyclops.

Walking the Brooklyn Bridge

Watching people roll by
wondering where they're goin'...
Ain't Life Grand.
-Widespread Panic

Dinges
I had crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and found my way to a bathroom on the hush.  I was walking over to the park when I found a Wafels & Dinges cart.  Free dinges (din-guess) the sign said.  Curious, I asked what a dinges entailed.  One free topping on a Belgian wafel.  I went through the list of choices and stopped on speculoos spread.  Not familiar, I asked what it was.  I got a knifeful in return.  Speculoos, indeed.  Gingerbread cookie spread.  Speculoos, it was.

I had speculoos smeared over the hot belgian wafel and Belgian gastrodiplomacy dreams percolated.  I go some coffee with a dollop of dulce de leche.  Never pass up decadence.

You Lucky Dinges! The paper container said.

Squirrel Terrorists
I sat in park on a park bench to eat my treat.  Immediately I had a squirrel friend.  I tried to be friendly with a lil hunk of the waffle.  The squirrel wanted a mile not an inch, so I shoeed him away.  The birds were content, sayeth San Francisco.

But the squirrel returned with a friend.  Like Neville Chamberlin, I tried my hand at appeasement, offering up a de speculoos cookie:

Royal Ordinance CCXXIX
Cups of the koffiee served within our Belgian territories shall be served only with de spekuloos cookie as accompaniment to said beverage.

But diplomacy failed as I turned to find his tree jackal companion trying to abscond with my waffle.

I just barely caught the lil tree jackal, and learned a valuable lesson that you can't negotiate with squirrel terrorists.

Chinatown
My body felt warn down, so I decided to head over a few blocks to Chinatown for a full body massage.  I had taken a young friend of mine named David over to get foot massages ($22 an hour) a few days prior.  I met David while he was on JASC, and I am working to mold him into a man of the world.  We had both been tense from work when the foot massage started, but there was a certain point where all the stress and anxiety evaporated and we both had an aura of peace come over.

This time, I went to get a full body massage ($36 an hour).  I quickly recognized the masseuse named Helen, who had been my masseuse at the place a few times prior when I was last in New York in February.  We had traded Chinese-English lessons as we bumbled through banter as she kneaded me.  She recognized me too, and we had a big smile.

Helen gave me one of the best massages I think I have ever had.  Oiled, and kneaded with hands and forearms, then covered with hot stones.  The difference was the intent.  Recognition and rapport led to a more connected massage; rather than going through the motions of massaging a stranger, she was putting some real effort, I could sense.

I left Helen a nice tip, and left the massage place to find some veggie mei fan (fried rice noodles) on the side of the road.  The best mei fan this side of Taipei, for only $1.50.  Of course, I made one debacle, and squirted soy sauce on the leg and foot of the poor girl standing next to me.  Thankfully, she laughed.

Then I left Chinatown for Little Italy, and sat out in a cafe on the peatonal, sipping sangria and reading the excellent Year of the Gadfly, and watching the tourists and signores pass by.

My night ended in Tribeca, sitting cross-legged as for a show of Indian classical Raga music.  The incense made me hungry, and I stopped in to the Pakistan Tea House for some wonderful dal (lentils), saag paneer (spinach)  and bagan bharta (eggplant) over rice with a fluffy naan.  Delish.

Oh, New York: the only place I know where I can cross a bridge (once sold to me) to a park to find Belgian waffles- only to dual squirrel terrorists.  Then walk ten minutes into Chinatown for a real Chinese massage and real mei fan, then head 3 blocks into Little Italy, and end the night with Indian music and subcontinental cuisine.  No place like you, dear New York.

Hero

Meet the whistleblower on the NSA snooping: Edward Snowden.  Edward, if I ever find you in the world, I will buy you a drink.

The Wonderful Pitfalls of Ethnic Ambiguity

I stopped in to a store on Utica to buy some new shoes.  My old ones were awful.  I got them in Iraq, and they were akin to a Saddam torture camp.  My poor toes suffered in them.

I stopped in the store and heard Quranic music.  I chatted briefly with the Egyptian shop owner.  We spoke of the delicious fish of Alexandria.  His clerk came in, a tall African fellow from Mali.  He smiled big when I told them Nomadic Wax was in Mali.  While he was searching for shoes for me, a few people asked if I worked at the shoe store.

Do you work here?

Haha, no I am just buying shoes.

You really don't work here?

No.

You look like someone who works here.

[smirk] I fit the bill.

Can I see these shoes?

Sorry boss, I really don't work here.

Well, I am gonna leave.  You just lost a sale.

[chortle]

At least two other people asked as well, although not as insistent.  I chatted with the cashier in Arabic about which Middle Eastern country I liked the best.  Morocco, because I spent the most time there and knew it the best.

It did not escape my attention that I found myself leaving a suspicious package at a trashcan on the side of the road.  I cracked the lid so that you could see the only hefetz xashood was my worn out shoes that I was trying to pass on.

PS: by popular demand, mis zapatos

DM on AMA on CMT

"A really cool thing that American Music Abroad had us doing was they got in touch with local musicians. We collaborated with a bunch of local musicians, and then we’d give a free public concert and we’d play with them. So we’d mesh our music. It was really cool to see the effect that had on everybody, that we’re taking the time to learn their music and vice versa. I think what’s really successful about that program is that it’s bringing real people to meet real people. And in places like that, that doesn’t really get to happen."
-Kimber Ludiker, Della Mae

 Check out Della Mae talking about their AMA tour with CMT

Live Free and Experience

Usually I find place branding to be inane.  Cute indistinguishable logos slapped onto phrases that could apply anywhere.  Or sometimes worse, like the Invest in Eastern Poland campaign ("What will you say when your child asks: why you didn't invest in Eastern Poland?")

But I have some rare praise for Visit New Hampshire.  "Live Free and Experience." With pictures of the rugged Granite State. A slogan that actually has some relevance to the product pitched, combined with relevant pictures to make it tangible.  Well done, New Hampshire!

Guard

Guard your thoughts, they become your words

Guard your words, they become your actions

Guard your actions, they become your habits

Guard your habits, they become your character

Guard your character, it becomes your destiny

-Upanishads

On Vacay

A great article on vacation times around the world:

Because the United States is the second-most productive developed country as measured by GDP per capita and has no mandatory vacation time, some might argue that vacation reduces productivity. However, in another measure of labor productivity — GDP per hour worked — the U.S. was only marginally better than Germany and France, both developed countries that guarantee among the most vacation time. Of course, it is worth noting that the average U.S. employee also clocks 20% more hours per worker than those in Germany or France.

Enjoy your holiday, JB. 

Character

Character is what you do in the darkness.  Bob Fletcher, who just passed away, tended the farms of his Japanese-American neighbor who were interned.

Delay

While touring in China, a stirring reminder from the Philadelphia Orchestra of how music can connect us, even during flight delays...

This is the worst place in the world

Murghab, Tajikistan.

Iran outmaneuvers the U.S. in Syria

Vali Nasr, a man in the know on the region, has a stinging rebuke for the U.S. in its Syrian strategies.

War is peace, Freedom is slavery, and Ignorance is strength

And I never thought I would say this: Fuck you Obama. Such words would get me beheaded in Absurdistan, where they also spy on their own people.

 It is a dark, dark day for American Democracy when the President defends spying on his own citizens. His legacy is tarnished and in my book, he will forever be clumped with the likes of Nixon and Bush on this issue.

A good take on this from Jane Meyer, who knows a bit on the subject.

My parting gift

I got AV in the Christian Science Monitor.  A great article on my boss John Ferguson, the YES Academy Thailand and the AV Scholarship students from Syria.  It is live online now, and will be hitting newsstands on Sunday in the weekly magazine edition.

Arrow of Pashtunwali God

Jonah Blank, who wrote the utterly brilliant book on India "Arrow of the Blue-skinned God" has an utterly brilliant piece on rules of engagement in Pashtunlandia

OKVlad

An OKCupid profile for one Prez of Russia who is newly single...

Apres Moi, Le Deluge

As has now been announced, I am vacating my position at American Voices.  Applications and interest are quickly coming in.  I dare say this could be the most coveted open PD position this side of the Undersecretaryship.  Tough shoes to fill?  Naw, I wear sandals or go barefoot.

Don Pablo Diablo in the White City

Ever wondered what the capital of Eurasia looked like? The capital of Oceania is only slightly more subdued.

Oh, City of Love (Ashgabat).  I am shocked there is no yellow brick road leading to that Marble City.

Phone tap

Fuck Verizon. Fuck the NSA. Fuck the PATRIOT Act. Real patriots don't eavesdrop on their own citizens. I am sure there is a file on me somewhere, please make sure those remarks make into my dossier.

Hearts and Minds through stomachs

A poignant piece on a soldier beginning to understand Iraq through its cuisine.  I have had that grilled chicken, it won me over...

Words are like wind

“Never forget who you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness.”

And other peals of wisdom from Westeros.

“A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone.”

Excel

I am also working on an excel spreadsheet at the moment, and I am stunned at this brilliance. Tatsuo Horiuchi

You don't say...

"Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz"

A German term for "law for the delegation of monitoring beef labeling"

Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious...

Slavianskaya

You know Russian vodka is good when it comes packaged in its own cup, with simply a lid on top.  Slavianskaya.  With a Russian icon of St. George on the front.  This is either going to be klass, or I am going to go blind.  How do you say "turpentine" in Russian?

The Sullen Sultan

"There is this curse called Twitter. It's all lies ... That thing called social media is the curse of society today." Recep Erdoğan, Prime Minster of Turkey

Arabic is my credit

I was walking down the street to the subway.  I passed a black and white ortho with a long white beard.  Standing next to him ever so briefly at the stoplight (robot) was an assumedly Jamaican woman in a bright blue and white dress.  The juxtaposition was striking.

I walked up to the bodega to buy a bottle of water.  I grabbed a bottle of water, and exchanged Arabic pleasantries with the Yemenite fellow.

Everything good?
Praise God.

Then I opened my wallet to pay and found nothing.  I thought I had one last dollar, but was staring into a black void.

He smiled, and told me to take it and pay when I return, Inshallah.

He asked if I had any bills from other countries, and for the first time in a while I did not.  I had left all my Kazakh tenge and Kyrgyz som at home.  I offered coins of a Brazilian real, Turkmen manat and a euro.  He politely declined my moneda.

Arabic is my credit; in God and Man, we trust.

Brooklyn Banyan

Sitting under a Brooklyn banyan, I found wi-fi in Prospect Park and perhaps my new office.

The Surreal Life

Wow, a 14 year-old photographer from Natick, MA named Zev came up with some incredible surreal self-portraits.

What the World Costs- Holland

I realized I never posted this one:

priceless: all the things in Amsterdam with a price.
.40 euro (54cents): a squirt of satay peanut sauce or a squirt of curry ketchup
1eu ($1.33): a side of chili sauce
2eu ($2.66): live sex peep show (said the neon sign); espresso

2.25eu ($2.99): kaffie verkeerd (café latte)
2.40eu ($3.21): small extra cold Heineken at Holland Casino

2.80 eu ($3.72): small Heineken; pickled herring sandwich; a ride on the tram

2.90 eu ($3.86): small frittes with curry ketchup & peanut sauce

3 eu ($4): glass of gluwein (hot spiced wine)
3.90eu ($5.22): train from Amsterdam to Schipol Airport
4eu ($5.35) pint of beer at a bar in the red light district
5eu ($6.69) entrance to Holland Casino (I was not pleased with an entrance fee at a casino)
7.40eu ($9.90): apple pancakes

7.50eu ($9.98): student entrance to Maritime Museum

10 eu ($13.30): entrance to Konnijks Palace; entrance to Medag Panorama in The Hague
10.60eu: Train from Amsterdam to The Hague

13.70eu ($18.22): 40 min train from Utrecht to Eindhoven

15 eu ($19.95): entrance to Van Gogh Museum at Hermitage; entrance to the rijksmuseum

18 eu ($23.94): hostel in Utrecht

18.40EU ($24.47) 1.5hr train from Eindhoven to Amsterdam
19 eu ($25.27): bife de lomo and fries at an Argentine steak house

40 eu ($53.20): single room w/o shower in Amsterdam

50 eu ($66.50): single room w/ shower in Amsterdam

54eu ($72.24): off peak hotel rate at the Quinten Hotel
66.50eu ($88.96): weekend hotel rate at the Quinten Hotel

654.16eu ($884): RT flight to Amsterdam including 10 percent discount

What The World Costs- Brazil

free: Musea do Inconfidencia during museum week
1 real (50cents): one clove
2 reals ($1): churasco on the beach (grilled meat on a stick)
2.5 reals ($1.25): cafe carioca
2.80 reals ($1.40): Rio bus ride
3 reals ($1.50): can of guarana soda; churrasco (grilled meat on a stick) in Sao Paulo; Sao Paulo metro ride
3.5 reals ($1.75): coxinha at a cafe; 1 kilo of laundry
4 reals ($2) : can of Brahma beer at Sao Paulo cafe; fried pastel de palmito; stupidity tax for a bus ticket return
5 reals ($2.50): caprinha on the beach in Natal
6 reals ($3): cover charge for a beach umbrella
7 reals ($3.5): gelato popsicle
7.5 reals ($3.75): liter of Skol beer on the beach
8 reals ($4): getting jeans washed in a posh laundry place (had to be done)
9 reals (148 New Taiwanese Dollars): authentic bubble tea (!) in Belo Horizonte
10 reals ($5): sim card for cell phone
14 reals ($7): contrafile (steak) with fries, rice and beans at local lonchette (lunchenette) in Sao Paulo
16 reals ($8): 1.5 hour bus from Belo Horizonte to Inhotim
20 reals ($10): entrance to Inhotim
25 reals ($12.50): 20 min cab ride through Brasilia
26 reals ($13): 2 hour bus from Belo Horizonte to Ouro Preto
32 reals ($16): cheap cotton sweatshirt
35 reals ($17.50): buffet per person at Mormaii in Brasilia
43 reals ($21.50): one night at Walk on the Beach Hostel, breakfast included
50 reals ($25): all you can eat meat rodizio at Potencia do Sul
76 reals ($38): 6 hour bus from Rio to Sao Paulo
77 reals ($38.50): 7 hour bus from Belo Horizonte to Rio de Janeiro
91 reals ($45.50): 8 hours bus from Sao Paulo to Belo Horizonte
240 reals ($120): 1 night at hotel in Porto Alegre
350 reals ($175): 1 night at hotel in Sao Paulo

Back to Brooklyn

Jerk chicken roasting in steel drums on the street, casting clouds of grey smoke swirling into the day's fading light.  Buckets of brined tongue and tripe, and salted carp.  The gentle lilt of the West Indies bouncing about. It's good to be back in Brooklyn.  It dawned on me that for the first time since I left BK at the end of February, I am no longer on the road and back in a space of my own.  

The 2nd amendment and the toy gun industry

I am so glad to see that this country at least has the toy gun market well-regulated.  A 5 year old boy was suspended and interrogated without his parents present.  I have battled with the foes of the toy gun industry, and  won.  But it was a hard fight, and involved a gun at my cabeza.  Had to free a man through gastrodiplomacy and my knowledge of paneer, Indian cheese.  It is like the NRA on pixiesticks.

This Globe Oft Can Be

Another great review of my Dellas from The Boston Globe:

Listening to Della Mae’s assured new album, “This World Oft Can Be,” it’s funny to think this progressive five-piece string band based in Boston started almost as a gimmick.

Fiddler Kimber Ludiker initially had an idea for an ensemble that sounded good, at least in theory.

“She was at a festival probably about four years ago and thought, Wouldn’t it be fun to bring together a bunch of ladies who can pick real hard on their instruments and play what at the time they called ‘mangrass’ — just really fast, testosterone bluegrass,” says Celia Woodsmith, Della Mae’s singer and one of its primary songwriters.

They thought they’d call themselves Big Spike Hammer, after a song by the Osborne Brothers, and wear power suits and high heels. That lasted for one show, Woodsmith says, before they decided they wanted to be what they’ve finally become: a virtuosic modern bluegrass band with broad appeal. (The name Della Mae, by the way, also came from that Osborne Brothers song, as mentioned in the chorus. 

As the group’s founder, Ludiker gradually assembled the lineup over the years, which now includes Woodsmith, guitarist Courtney Hartman, bassist Shelby Means, and mandolin player Jenni Lyn Gardner. They play at the Lizard Lounge on Saturday, along with performances at Club Passim on Monday and the Middle East Upstairs on Tuesday.

“This World Oft Can Be” is the group’s second full-length, which also marks their debut on the venerable roots label Rounder Records. They turned to Bryan Sutton, a respected bluegrass guitarist who had known Hartman and Ludiker through the bluegrass community, to produce.

“One of the challenges we had was defining the roles because the lineup they now have was brand-new going into the record,” Sutton says. “Within that, it felt like everybody was just excited about being there. It didn’t feel like roles were so defined yet — this person picks the songs, this person does all the solos. Usually bands figure that stuff out after a while, but it was a clean slate [with Della Mae]. That’s what I liked about it: seeing the potential that was there and working with that.”

Woodsmith was already a fixture on the local roots-music scene when Ludiker invited her to join the band, having cut her teeth with the folk duo Avi & Celia, which later became Hey Mama before disbanding altogether. She was also aware of Della Mae, since the band had been playing one of her songs.

“I accepted basically on the premise that we’d play some cool festivals, and I could have a hobby,” Woodsmith says, laughing. “It happened very smoothly and almost without me knowing that this band had become incredibly special to me. Here we are 2½ years later and releasing a record on Rounder.”

With Woodsmith in the mix, they self-released their debut, “I Built This Heart,” in 2011, but she says the new record is a more accurate portrait of a fully formed band.

“I think there are a lot of differences, both subtle and pretty noticeable,” Woodsmith says, adding that she wrote 10 of the songs on the first album over a long span of time. “This new record is more of a collective group effort. We really worked hard together on these songs and came up with our sound, which had been building over a couple of years. There’s a lot of different influences on it, but it’s us. It’s finally who we are.”

As the lead singer, Woodsmith is quick to point out the strengths of her bandmates, ticking off a list of what makes each unique: Gardner comes from a straight bluegrass background; Ludiker is an award-winning Texas-style fiddle player; Means has excellent rhythm; Hartman’s great at arranging and coming up with ideas.

Woodsmith, the daughter of a mother who’s a poet, considers writing her strong suit, but also acknowledges Della Mae’s appeal boils down to a simple fact: “We all rely on each other.”

It also helps that their sound is both traditional and contemporary, right in line with what’s happening across the board with American roots music.

“The environment right now for modern string music is really exciting,” Sutton says. “I like the concept of doing bluegrass festivals and rock clubs in the same weekend. There’s a movement across the country that’s reflected a little bit in the bigger commercial bands like the Lumin-eers and Mumford. But it also filters into a lot of the energy of bands like Della Mae and Punch Brothers.”

“The thing about traditional music is that it’s strongest when you can turn the page and still understand where it came from,” Sutton adds. “And I think people are doing that today, and Della Mae is part of that.”

38 Wonderful Words

From Mentalfloss: 38 Words we could use in English.  No idea who 16 or 20 could apply to...

Sometimes we must turn to other languages to find le mot juste. Here are a whole bunch of foreign words with no direct English equivalent.

1. Kummerspeck (German)
Excess weight gained from emotional overeating. Literally, grief bacon.

2. Shemomedjamo (Georgian)
You know when you’re really full, but your meal is just so delicious, you can’t stop eating it? The Georgians feel your pain. This word means, “I accidentally ate the whole thing."

3. Tartle (Scots)
The nearly onomatopoeic word for that panicky hesitation just before you have to introduce someone whose name you can't quite remember.

4. Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego)
This word captures that special look shared between two people, when both are wishing that the other would do something that they both want, but neither want to do.

5. Backpfeifengesicht (German)
A face badly in need of a fist.

6. Iktsuarpok (Inuit)
You know that feeling of anticipation when you’re waiting for someone to show up at your house and you keep going outside to see if they’re there yet? This is the word for it.

7. Pelinti (Buli, Ghana)
Your friend bites into a piece of piping hot pizza, then opens his mouth and sort of tilts his head around while making an “aaaarrrahh” noise. The Ghanaians have a word for that. More specifically, it means “to move hot food around in your mouth.”

8. Greng-jai (Thai)
That feeling you get when you don't want someone to do something for you because it would be a pain for them.

9. Mencolek (Indonesian) 
You know that old trick where you tap someone lightly on the opposite shoulder from behind to fool them? The Indonesians have a word for it.

10. Faamiti (Samoan) 
To make a squeaking sound by sucking air past the lips in order to gain the attention of a dog or child.

11. Gigil (Filipino)
The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is irresistibly cute.

12. Yuputka (Ulwa)
A word made for walking in the woods at night, it’s the phantom sensation of something crawling on your skin.

13. Zhaghzhagh (Persian) 
The chattering of teeth from the cold or from rage.

14. Vybafnout (Czech) 
A word tailor-made for annoying older brothers—it means to jump out and say boo.

15. Fremdschämen (German); Myötähäpeä (Finnish)
The kindler, gentler cousins of Schadenfreude, both these words mean something akin to "vicarious embarrassment.”

16. Lagom (Swedish)
Maybe Goldilocks was Swedish? This slippery little word is hard to define, but means something like, “Not too much, and not too little, but juuuuust right.”

17. Pålegg (Norweigian)
Sandwich Artists unite! The Norwegians have a non-specific descriptor for anything – ham, cheese, jam, Nutella, mustard, herring, pickles, Doritos, you name it – you might consider putting into a sandwich.

18. Layogenic (Tagalog)
Remember in Clueless when Cher describes someone as “a full-on Monet…from far away, it’s OK, but up close it’s a big old mess”? That’s exactly what this word means.

19. Bakku-shan (Japanese)
Or there's this Japanese slang term, which describes the experience of seeing a woman who appears pretty from behind but not from the front.

20. Seigneur-terraces (French)
Coffee shop dwellers who sit at tables a long time but spend little money.

21. Ya’arburnee (Arabic)
This word is the hopeful declaration that you will die before someone you love deeply, because you cannot stand to live without them. Literally, may you bury me.

22. Pana Po’o (Hawaiian) 
“Hmm, now where did I leave those keys?” he said, pana po’oing. It means to scratch your head in order to help you remember something you’ve forgotten.

23. Slampadato (Italian)
Addicted to the UV glow of tanning salons? This word describes you.

24. Zeg (Georgian)
It means “the day after tomorrow.” OK, we do have "overmorrow" in English, but when was the last time someone used that?

25. Cafune (Brazilian Portuguese)
Leave it to the Brazilians to come up with a word for “tenderly running your fingers through your lover’s hair.”

26. Koi No Yokan (Japanese)
The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love.

27. Kaelling (Danish)
You know that woman who stands on her doorstep (or in line at the supermarket, or at the park, or in a restaurant) cursing at her children? The Danes know her, too.

28. Boketto (Japanese) 
It’s nice to know that the Japanese think enough of the act of gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking to give it a name.

29. L’esprit de l’escalier (French)
Literally, stairwell wit—a too-late retort thought of only after departure.

30. Cotisuelto (Caribbean Spanish) 
A word that would aptly describe the prevailing fashion trend among American men under 40, it means one who wears the shirt tail outside of his trousers.

31. Packesel (German)
The packesel is the person who’s stuck carrying everyone else’s bags on a trip. Literally, a burro.

32. Hygge (Danish)
Denmark’s mantra, hygge is the pleasant, genial, and intimate feeling associated with sitting around a fire in the winter with close friends.

33. Cavoli Riscaldati (Italian)
The result of attempting to revive an unworkable relationship. Translates to "reheated cabbage."

34. Bilita Mpash (Bantu)
An amazing dream. Not just a "good" dream; the opposite of a nightmare.

35. Litost (Czech)
Milan Kundera described the emotion as “a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.”

36. Luftmensch (Yiddish)
There are several Yiddish words to describe social misfits. This one is for an impractical dreamer with no business sense.

37 & 38. Schlemiel and schlimazel (Yiddish)
Someone prone to bad luck. Yiddish distinguishes between the schlemiel and schlimazel, whose fates would probably be grouped under those of the klutz in other languages. The schlemiel is the traditional maladroit, who spills his coffee; the schlimazel is the one on whom it's spilled.

A PS on another word: knaidel, and whether or not its spelling bee answer was kosher.

Idiocy

"But I like being free
and that makes me
an idiot, I suppose."
-Stan Rogers, "The Idiot"

I gave my two weeks at American Voices today.  Said goodbye to what many have remarked was the best job in the world, and couldn't imagine a better job for me.  Yes, but...

On to new projects.  More info to come...time to move in.

"And Liberty, she pirouettes
when I think that I am free."
-Peter Gabriel, "Solsbury Hill"

Can Russia Export Soft Power?

The title of an excellent article from my friend Matt Wallin on an excellent panel from the Alfa Fellowship that featured some phenomenal Russian hands, including JB and Lena.  I think Matt might have written the article so he could employ the pic of Putin riding a bear.

You could ask the Dellas about Russian soft power in the ‘Stans. Russia still has a tremendous amount of soft power and cultural influence in the former Soviet states of Central Asia. Russia (/USSR) had one of the most profound socialization efforts of any empire in history in Central Asia, and the remnants of such efforts and its remaining soft power still exists today.

This World Oft Can Be

Della Mae's new album "This World Oft Can Be" hit the stores and stands today.  The Boston Globe gave it an AMAZING review, and called it "one of the more anticipated albums."  I am such a proud Mama Hen!  Go get a copy (I-tunes, Amazon) of the stellar work of the finest cultural diplomatesses that have ever graced the bluegrass (and public diplomacy) stage.

We Fear What We Don’t Know

One of my most enduring, endearing memories of this last trip was chatting with Jacqueline- the manager of the Walk On The Beach Hostel about Central Asia. “Weren't you scared,” she asked, No, and I tried to explain that Tashkent was safer than Rio. Yes, more repressive but less crime. Less danger in my book. I tried to explain that Brazil was far more dangerous than the ‘Stans, but she couldn’t comprehend. We fear what we don’t know. The job of public diplomacy is to shine a light in the dark places so that we can know we don’t need to fear.

Here is why you should give me a free drink...

If I am back in the good ol US of A, that can only mean one thing: sweet-talking my way to free drinks on flights. Streak on.

Gal Costa

I spent my last day Sao Paulo taking it slow.  Around 10:30am, Cynthia’s boyfriend Bruno returned to their apartment.  Bruno was an interesting fellow.  He had sold his advertising firm, and was now involved in theraputics.  He also had a very good taste in electronica and trance, and played me some wonderful new music.  He offered to give me a ride, but as he was pulling out, the poor fellow noticed that his left mirror had been smashed.  Someone did some nice work hitting a parked car.

Bruno gave me a ride to meet my old friend Cynthia, whose apartment I had been occupying.  I met Cynthia when we were studying in Prague.  She is originally from Sao Paulo, and was doing her undergrad at GW.  Flaxen blond-haired and periwinkle blue-eyed, Cynthia was probably the first Brazilian I met who shattered my conceptions of what being Brazilian meant.  Before her, I probably thought all Brazilians were Brown- she explained to me the incredible diversity of Brazil, which I have come to love.  We kept in-touch over the years, and I finally got to see her again.  Cynthia had been working for the World Bank in fighting corruption and creating better transparency.  Now, after stints with some major consulting firms like E&Y and Deloitte, she was at a boutique consulting firm.  We had a grand time catching up on the present state of affairs.  She is a brilliant girl, who did a good job at initial tracking for my Brazilian Jewish wifey.

After lunch, I walked back to her apartment and collected my things to take a taxi to the bus stand for the bus to the airport.  I had a fun time with the taxi driver, who didn't know exactly the part of town and had a busted GPS.  I caught the bus out to the airport, watching the sun set brilliantly across the vertical sky of Sao Paulo,  The sun's fading light burnt golden across the horizon.

Brazil first entered my mindscape when my parents disappeared down there for a long weekend when I was a kid.  If I remember correctly, they had gone down to Miami for a few days, and left my sister and me with the housekeep34 Magdaline.  They proceeded to abandon us longer (I can still remember my anger that they were not coming back when promised, when the housekeeper broke the news to us), and headed further south.  They came back from Rio with colorful parrots made of gems, and brought back music of Gal Costa that would fill our living room.  I can remember the name "Brazil" meaning something exotic to me then.

My next encounter with Brazil came in New York, when I was out with my Uncle Tommy (Tuvia) and grandparents.  They were bickering over where to go to dinner, and finally we ended up at a Brazilian place. I can still see the samba queen pictures on the walls, something that had my 7 year-old eyes wide open.  And I can remember loving the food at that  place, it was so different than anything I ever had tried prior (I am such a foodie, I can ever remember eating the garlic butterfly shrimp, it was delicious).

My first real encounter with Brazil came with Carnival in 2005, as a gift of a ticket by my Uncle Tommy as a graduation gift from college that I held long enough to use well.  Rio oozed  sensuality that week, as I danced and sang like never before, and never again.  When I showed up back to the Israeli Consulate in a pastel double-breasted suite with a beard and sunglasses after my trip, the security almost didn't let me in.  The Rio I returned to still had sensuality, but was a tad more reserved than the Carnival days I remember.  But only a tad.

There is a book that offer 1,001 Places to See Before You Die, but I think that is too much, and most will never complete that bucket list.  I offer two: India and Brazil.  India for its color, other-worldliness and its peace; Brazil for its racial diversity, for its life so deeply infused with music and its alegria (joie de vivre).  

I am having a hard time leaving Brazil, there is so much I will miss.  I am sad to say (but I am being honest), there isn't a lot I have missed about America since I have been gone.  It has been a welcome break at a time of political discord (when isn't?), and I can't say I am exactly beaming to return.  But return, I will to Brazil. As McArthur once said: I will return.  Until then: Journey On!