Food

I regret to say that my life is such that I don’t have nearly as much time as I used to cook everyday.  As a result I have eaten out much more than I have ever before, and this more regular restaurant attendance has led me to reflect on the best dished and restaurants that I have had over the last say 6 months.

 1)      Capellacci alla zucca  @ Il Fornaio in Palo Alto, CA.  Cappelacci are like giant tortellini, these ones were filled with fresh butternut squash cooked in a butter sage sauce sitting in a butter sage tomato cream sauce, I had never heard of such a thing before, but I would like to hear about them again soon.  *****

 2)      Zuppa con Frutti di Mare @ Lungo Mare, Genova, Italy.  There is a picture of this dish a few months back.  Amazing sea food right out of the water onto your plate.

 3)      Fetuccine quattro formaggi  @ Glorias in Provo, UT.  I don’t know how they make that stuff, but I would pay a lot to find out, best four cheeses sauce I have ever had.  I think that I had it 4 times the last month I was in Provo.

 4)      Chef’s Table – Orem, UT.  The dish I had wasn’t amazing… it was basically a glorified cordon bleu, but everyone else’s food was terrific.  The service and restaurant itself was where I have been in a while as any nice…

 5)      Penne e Porcini – Assisi, Italy.  Porcini were great, and the view over the whole Umbrian valley was even better.  

 6)      Pizza Margerita @Sette Soldi, Napoli, Italy.  This place represents all that is good about Napoli.  It is good, cheap, friendly, and loud… and the guy who made my pizza walked out into the street to show me where I could get a good haircut.

 7)      The Red Current, Menlo Park, CA.  This is an amazing little Spanish colonial bistro tucked into a little artsy village.  Terrific food, and very cool environment ... flowers and fountains in the courtyard we ate in were beautiful.

 8)      Burrito Regular – La Hacienda, Alum Rock, CA.  Best burrito and tacos I have ever had.  They put some magic red salsa on everything that is simply amazing.  I go every Wednesday before my night class.  They don’t speak English, and the place is filthy…  maybe some of that extra grease is what makes it taste so good.

Yenta, Hitch, and Today

Occasionally we all observe some event that seems to epitomize some aspect of the Human experience. This week, the middle school play ground was the backdrop for one such observation. The protagonists were Victor and Jasmine, two popular eighth graders. Victor had been sad in class all day because Jasmine broke up with him. One of his friends had told him so. In the staff room, one of the other teachers told me that Jasmine had been sad all morning because one of her friends had told one of Victor’s friends that Jasmine was breaking up with him, but she hadn’t wanted to break up, but now she didn’t know what to do because Victor had already heard. Soon after the bell rang for recess, two circles formed on the blacktop: one around Victor and one around Jasmine. Victor and Jasmine never spoke to each other, and attempted to hide from each others darting glances. Occasionally one of the groups would send a student or two to parlay with the other side.

I don’t know what ended up happening, but I had to chuckle at the way Victor and Jasmine allowed their relationship to be brokered and influenced by their friends. In fact, their relationship became a public discussion and negotiation, in which everyone and anyone was an accepted counselor and negotiator, everyone, that is, except Victor and Jasmine.

While this example of a brokered relationship is perhaps an extreme, we aren’t so far removed from the days of a paid Yenta or Hitch nor from playground negotiating circles as we might care to believe. I spoke at some length about the merits of brokered relationships with a friend who vehemently defended the practice as both valid and nearly necessary… her arguments weren’t groundless either as she has had brokered lifelong relationships for several siblings and friends. I can’t help but wonder why in this most important matter of personal relationships we hand the reins, at least partially, to others thereby allowing them to make, or to help make our decisions?

Why do we ask others to do the finding out for us – by that I mean we ask “do you think that she likes me?” “Do you think that he was just being nice to me, or was he flirting?” etc, etc, etc. Answer: because we feel unsure, insecure, afraid, and awkward to actually find out from the horse’s mouth. I even think that some people enjoy the actual discussion and the late night scheming with roommates, and friends more than they actually want to know the answer to these questions.

Even worse is the public evaluation. Why ought we to allow a large group to have their voice heard on whether or not I should be with so and so. The public isn’t choosing whether or not to be with so and so, I am; as such, the responsibility for that decision falls on me and not on tangentially involved third parties.

I don’t honestly think that my rant will change anything, but I wonder what a world would be like in which our insecurity and awkwardness didn’t prevent us from being transparent. Sinclair Lewis’ Babbit is a marvelous exposition of the risks we run as a society when we lack transparency… perhaps I should read it with my middle schoolers, and perhaps as a society we would benefit from his 90 year old advise!

Social ills, Starfish, Systemic change

Working for a non-profit social-ills conscious organization has given me cause to wonder and talk about how one really ought to go about addressing social problems, and how I or anyone else can really help or make a meaningful impact on the world.

In the past I have felt as though there were basically two different approaches to trying to make a positive difference in the world: a one individual at a time grass roots approach that preaches first bettering yourself, then reaching out to your family, then those closest to you, then your community, etc. This approach puts us in the trenches of real lives and issues with the full complexity of individual situations and people. The parable of the starfish illustrates this method of making a difference: an onlooker pointed out to an unnamed good doer that his work of throwing beached starfish back into the ocean was completely futile because he could never hope to save any significant number of them, not to mention all of the thousands of starfish on the beach. The un-phased good doer held up a starfish and said “yes, I know, but to this one it matters”

An alternative approach to making an impact involves a perhaps more traditional top down leadership model in which an individual seeks positions of influence to inform, involve, and engage their fellow men and women. This model seeks to change the societal structure by altering policy and regulations. In our starfish example, this top down good does would spend his or her time recruiting and organizing labor crews of people to go to the beach to throw star fish back into the water. This model seems to dictate that the individual sets out to change the world, or at least to take an issue head on.

I have often wondered about the merits of these two models. Until recently I foolishly viewed them as mutually exclusive. I was surprised in one of my first Teach for America trainings that TFA believes that in order to have an impact, both models must be used… the individual in the trenches cannot see broadly enough or influence enough potential collaborators to root out entire social problems, nor can the academic or politician in an ivory tower understand issues sufficiently to grasp their full complexity without spending time in the trenches combating whatever the issue might be. At TFA the social ill we are fighting against is educational inequity, and we propose a two phased battle… first the one fought by individual teachers in classrooms, then leading to phase two that plays out in school board meetings, state and national political chambers, other wide reaching institutional avenues.

Thus to truly “make a difference” or play a role in solving most issues I feel that it is important to be involved individually at a ground level, and then just as important is the drive to influence others to collaborate and effect broad systemic change. Further lingering questions that may earn a post of their own are: In a world full of problems that range from genocide to teen pregnancy, and from illiteracy to racial, sexual, or religious discrimination what issues ought I as an individual to focus on? Is it right to focus on one or a few pet issues? How does one really find the root cause of social problems and avoid merely treating the symptoms or the consequences?

Judge a Hotel by its Pillows

I have slept in quite a few hotels and hostels this last year… 16 to be precise. I have decided that while you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can judge a hotel by its pillow(s). At the low end, I stayed in a hostel in Rome that crammed ten beds into a space smaller than my parent’s master bath. The mattresses were about four inches thick, and the blankets and tiny pillow looked frighteningly likely to contain lice. I feel somewhat guilty for calling that small wad of cloth a pillow. It wasn’t much more than 18 ‘’ long or a foot wide, I put my sweatshirt underneath it to make it a little more substantial.

I am currently writing from the Crown Plaza in Foster City, CA. If pillows really are a proxy for hotel quality, this place would rival that seven star hotel in Dubai. There are no less than 11 pillows on my bed. No it isn’t a king size, and yes the pillows do take up half of the bed space. To be able to get in bed, I have to throw half of them on the floor, which is a shame because each one is uniquely fluffy. The beds themselves here have no peers. The mattress & box spring combo looks to be about three and a half feet thick, and may be the most comfortable bed that I have ever slept in.

If I ever open a hotel, which I won’t, I will be sure to find out where Crown Plaza gets theirs!

Alter Ipse Amicus - A Friend is Another Self

My apologies for neglecting this blog over the last couple of weeks, my Teach for America training has kept me busy, and so has blogging about TFA on my other blog. For what feels like the nth time in my life, I recently left a group of friends and a home to go make new friends and a new home. This has led me to think about friends.

As our lives move us around, we have lots of different kinds of friends. For today’s purposes I am going to split them into two groups. Friends of choice, and friends of circumstance. I am often struck as I meet up with old friends or extended family members how much easier it is to distinguish between these two groups. At some happy times when I meet up with an old friend or family member, it is as if the time and distance that has separated us physically hasn’t put any distance in our friendship. We are friends not only because of shared experiences, beliefs, interests, but also a general enjoyment of each other’s company and a feeling of mutual understanding. Even if we haven’t seen each other or talked to each other for some time, we are able to catch up quickly on each other and quickly enjoy our previous friendship. Meeting up with my close friend from Paris days here in L.A. has been precisely such a meeting.

Other times, meeting an old friend turns very awkward when I feel that I have nothing to talk to them about, and sometimes I wonder why we were friends in the first place. I call these friends of circumstance. We were friends because we shared some experience, were members of a common group, or shared an interest. Once those commonalities are no longer shared, our friendship can easily dissolve. Once we stop communicating, our friendship dies. Our understanding one for the other does not stretch beyond simple circumstances.

I think that friends of choice are the friends that we would choose, and indeed do choose among alternatives. Sometimes in any given social group, I have a hard time distinguishing who are merely my friends due to circumstance, and who are my friends because we have literally chosen each other. Because we don’t have the time in this life to stay closely connected to everyone we meet and would like to befriend, I think that time can reveal some of the character of a friendship.

Pleasant Beggars

Beggars across the world have a lot in common I think; In every country and continent they seem to me to have an air of beaten down quiet desperation coupled with a persistence born of necessity sometimes mixed with a tinge of madness. As I’m writing this, I realize that most people don’t talk to a lot of beggars… I usually don’t carry on conversations with them, but as a missionary in Italy, I felt a mandate to talk to everyone, superstars, cardinals, and beggars a like. Given that there are a lot more beggars than there are cardinals I seemed to talk to a lot of them.

Today I walked out of a pharmacy and a beggar at the exit greeted me with the usual desperate beaten down tone “good morning” could you spare any change? I had run from my dorm, and had only brought my credit card, and so I told him that I didn’t have any. His response surprised me. “Oh that’s ok man, don’t worry about it man, you have a good day man, and God bless man.” I smiled and started the walk back up the hill. Walking out of the grocery store I was greeted by another beggar: “Hey could you spare any change?” I gave the same response, and the beggar responded in the same warm tone as his colleague that I had encountered earlier “Well you go and have a good day then”

These beggars treated me better than the people cashiers in the stores whose wages I was helping to pay! I wonder what makes L.A. beggars so cheery?

"Classic Case of Deviant Behavior"

I have always been very amused by my sporadic encounters with The Onion. The article pasted below cuts pretty close to home though…

GREENWOOD, IN—Sitting in a quiet downtown diner, local hospital administrator Philip Meyer looks as normal and well-adjusted as can be. Yet, there's more to this 27-year-old than first meets the eye: Meyer has recently finished reading a book. Yes, the whole thing.

"It was great," said the peculiar Indiana native, who, despite owning a television set and having an active social life, read every single page of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. "Especially the way things came together for Scout in the end. Very good."

According to behavioral psychologist Dr. Elizabeth Schulz, Meyer's reading of entire books is abnormal and may be indicative of a more serious obsession with reading."Instead of just zoning out during a bus ride or spending hour after hour watching YouTube videos at night, Mr. Meyer, unlike most healthy males, looks to books for gratification," Schulz said. "Really, it's a classic case of deviant behavior."

One Ring to Rule Them All

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them…

I started reading Tolkien when I was seven or eight, and since have read everything in his Middle-Earth saga. Since then I have always wanted to see, and maybe even have the One Ring*. Last night was my first exposure to Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle operas. I was struck by the many similarities between Tolkien's and Wagner’s work. Before talking about them, I want to note that Tolkien would not appreciate the comparison. He hated being compared to Wagner, and didn’t like the man much either. When the Sweedish translator for The Lord of the Rings compared the rings in Tolkien and Wagner’s works, Tolkien responded “Both rings were round, and there the resemblance ceases”. However, the similarities between the two, on the surface at least, are obvious. Both storylines include: rings that bring untold powers to their possessors, moral and physical stretching, pain, and change for those who bear the rings, broken swords are remade; grey deities wander the earth, dragons with vulnerable spots guarding treasures, etc.

The idea of a ring of power is not original to either of them, we can trace it back through the corridors of time for quite a distance. Both Tolkien and Wagner cite Norse and other mythologies as sources of inspiration. Indeed the Norse Volsunga Saga (13th century I think) contains the story of the Andvaranaut ring that was stolen from its owner, brought riches and power to its bearer, and was cursed to bring tragedy to any who wore it. The Austrian Nibelungenlied and the similar Icelandic Poetic Edda and Völuspà (6-7th century) also contain stories of rings, dragons, treasures, etc that both Wagner and Tolkien draw from. Greek Mythology also has a story about a ring of power. The story of Gyges’ Ring is cited by Plato, Herodotus, Plutarch, and Cicero. Gyges was a sheepherder until he stole a solid gold magical ring that made him invisible when he put it on, it also enabled him to seize control of Lydia and become the first tyrant of the ancient world. Historical records show that Gyges really was king of Lydia in the 8th century BCE, so I might have to go back a long ways to find the original one ring.

Finding the ring is less interesting than tracing the idea through history. I certainly don’t know and haven’t touched on all of the legends that contain this idea, and it may be that many of the myths and stories mentioned evolved independently of each other. Indeed literature often manifests this repetition of themes; there is even a school of literary criticism that studies how various archetypes are woven in stories throughout the ages. Tolkien himself was one who believed that stories, legends, and myths were reflections of archetypes. Unlike some in the school of thought, Tolkien believed that literary types are reflections of true eternal archetypes. Tolkien said “History and Legend taken together lead us to the true myth: the Incarnation of Jesus Christ.” Indeed Tolkien’s conversion of the then atheist C.S. Lewis came about largely along these lines of reasoning. Lewis saw that many, even almost all cultures have creation, flood, and other common myths. He concluded that everyone made them up to explain questions that they couldn’t or didn’t want to answer rationally. Tolkien took the opposite position, and eventually convinced Lewis that each of these legends and explanations is really only a reflection, of one True Myth. I tend to agree with Tolkien that the great themes of myth, legend, and literature have their birth in real human experience. Thus I believe that so many cultures have myths about a flood because at some point there was a huge flood. This belief leads me back to the original question of this post … where is the original Ring of Power? Has there ever been a ring that gave its bearer great power and wealth?

Well the only answer I can find to that isn’t very romantic, but indeed, ancient ruler’s rings, especially solid gold rings, came to symbolize their power. In many instances, the King’s signet was used as a stamp to mint coinage, thus whoever had the King’s ring could create wealth and buy power. In ancient Greece and Persia, rings were sometimes used as money prior to coins. I conclude this post with a fitting poem about the search for the ring from Bilbo Baggins himself:

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

--Bilbo Baggins

*While I don’t think I ever really believed in a ring of power’s concrete existence, a comical family anecdote may have fueled this search: My mother was never much of a Tolkien fan until she met my father, who is a Tolkien fanatic. He converted her thorougly enough during their courtship that she had the words “My Precious” inscribed on the inside of his golden wedding band that he wears to this day.

David Bednar vs Oprah Winfrey?

My sister and I both graduated in the last couple of weeks. I attended the commencement ceremonies both at BYU and at Stanford. The commencement speakers at the two events appeared to be about as different as possible. David A Bednar, the calm academic LDS Apostle was asked to speak at BYU, while Oprah Winfrey, the lively Chicago native talk show host was asked to speak at Stanford. Their styles of delivery could not have been more different. Elder Bednar speaks very correctly, succinctly, and concisely – like an academic well trained in public speaking. Oprah is also well trained albeit in a very different style. She is boisterous, hip, and engaging in her tone and diction. She sounds anything but academic, and appealed much more to the emotion of the crowd than Elder Bednar did.

Elder Bednar’s speech focused on learning to love education, and on learning to serve using our education, he also touched on following the spirit and being happy. I could not have been more surprised when Oprah stood up and said that she wanted to talk about three things: following your feelings, serving with your education, and being happy. Despite their radically different modes of presentation, their basic message to the graduating class of ’08 was exactly the same! In speaking with a few others who attended both ceremonies they confirmed my feeling that the two speeches were really harping on the same exact themes.

This has given me cause to reflect on the various costumes and make-up that truth can wear around us and has taught me a valuable lesson about learning that neither Elder Bednar not Oprah touched on. I am used to receiving truth wearing a certain style of clothes. Generally I find the way academic and religious truth is presented to me help me to understand and internalize their relative weight and importance. However, what a tragedy it would be for me or anyone else to shut out entire other modes of presenting ideas, and truths merely because the ideas are dressed up differently with perhaps more make-up. I don’t mean to imply that all modes of presenting ideas are equal, or that the presentation doesn’t matter – I believe that it does – but filtering through the presentation to determine the merit of the message is important. In the words of Dallin Oaks, tolerance is a way of reacting to diversity, not a command to isolate it from careful inspection. In our daily peripatetic, we ought to react with tolerance to various modes of presenting information, and subject them all to careful inspection. Certainly we ought to the allocate our time and efforts into those studies that appear more profitable, but never to the out right exclusion of other possibilities for learning.

Bush, Irresponsability, and Money

As we are coming up on the elections, I want to air the grievance that has bothered me the most about our last eight years of government. This isn’t something that any of the candidates are talking about much, largely I fear because they plan to continue the alarming trend towards governmental and fiscal irresponsibility.

As of April 2008, The US National deficit stood at $9.5 trillion. When President George W Bush’s administration took control in January of 2001, the deficit was $1.2 trillion. Staggering! While small, modest national debts are actually good things for governments, this has gotten out of hand. Just prior to Bush’s election, the nation had recorded a series of record budget surpluses, and the economic forecast looked rosy. Bush had based his campaign promises on the likely continuation of strong economic conditions. The three heads of his campaign promise monster were cutting taxes, strengthening national defense, and adding prescription drug benefits to Medicare. In 2000 these were reasonable promises, and spending the almost embarrassingly large surplus was an important priority. Almost immediately after Bush took control, post 9/11 America greatly changed the reality of the situation. In one year, a $127 billion surplus became a $158 deficit. While some spending was necessary in anti terrorism measures, and economic stimulus, the administration failed to adjust spending and the programs needed by the nation in accordance with prevailing conditions, and worse, our government fell in love with spending irresponsibly.

A few examples will highlight the fiscal mess our capital has become. In Dec 2001 a $60 billion transportation bill past that most of us remember as an airline bailout. That portion of the bill was needed, but much of the spending in the bill was political “pork” – that is spending on Congressmen’s pet programs for constituents. The bill passed almost unanimously with a blind eye turned to the bill’s latter half. Worse was to come. Congress approved a bill for $250 billion in spending on agricultural subsidies that reversed earlier legislation to scale back government involvement in agriculture. Bush approved $2.35 trillion of tax cuts over ten years, one trillion of which came in his second term, well after the surpluses turned to deficits. Also after the surpluses disappeared, bush approved a $500 billion dollar prescription drug bill, which further cripples our social security and Medicare situation instead of improving it. John McCain actually led a group that tracked the use of “earmarks” which are basically ways congress directs money into congressman’s individual projects – the above mentioned political pork. Some of these projects are probably justifiable and needed; however, they are also notorious for the corruption often involved in their appropriation – this is what the scandal over lobbyists and corruption in 2005 was all about. McCain found that during Clinton’s years there were about 3000 a year. During Bush’s second term, we have seen an astonishing 16,000!

What has caused such irresponsibility? In 2002 the Budget Enforcement act was set to expire. This bill basically ensured that congress used pay as you go methods, and was seen as a bulwark of congressional restraint. It was allowed to expire, and congress has basically had the attitude that deficits don’t matter since. This is tremendous short-sighted political gaming with our nation! The antidote for congressional excess is normally the presidential veto, but Bush has been afraid to use it. In his first six years in the white house he did not veto one bill! Every previous president vetoed dozens of bills, but not Bush. A Whitehouse official stated that the president did not wish to challenge house speaker Dennis Hastert because “He thinks he can control him better by not antagonizing him” so instead he lets him walk all over him and in essence has cost the nation billions of dollars that my taxes will eventually have to pay for, but has also cost us a precious check in our checks and balances system.

What I’m looking for in the 2008 election is some restraint, some control, and some governmental responsibility. Someone willing to look down the road and do what is best not for my political party now, but rather for my nation in the long run. Asking something so simple is unfortunately unrealistic.

Top 10 Things I like about Italy:

A disclaimer is probably warranted: this list is certianly incomplete, quickly thought through, and at times perhaps somewhat romanticized.

10) Strange Diseases: Italians have some fanciful ideas about fictional sicknesses that one can catch in weird ways. The two that I am most familiar with are colpo d’aria and mal di fegato. Colpo d’aria literally means hit of air. Italians, especially older Italian women, will tell you that if breeze hits you on the back of the uncovered neck, you will catch a cold. Even on hot summer days some will not allow you to open a door and a window in the same room because the resulting breeze could cause the dreaded colpo d’aria. I have been scolded more than once for failing to realize that I was creating slight air currents by opening a window or door. One especially entertaining example of this phobia came on the top of Ischia. Three of us had just reached the top all hot and sweaty when we were joined by a middle aged Italian man wearing what I only know by the French word “cagoule” – a thin hat that covers the neck and head with a large hole for the face. It was all I could do not to laugh at his precaution for the wind that often blows at the summit of climbs. Mal di fegato is just as fun as colpo d’aria: it means literally bad of liver or liver ache. Lots of things can give you liver ache: water that is too cold, water that is too hot, mixing pasta -- like putting penne and rotini in the same pot, too much oil, salty foods followed too closely by sugary foods etc. While I have never caught either of these diseases during my time in Italy, I have talked to plenty of perfectly rational Italians who are altogether convinced of their veracity – I find this so endearing.

9) Dress: Italians are vain and I love it. They look at your shoes to guess your socio-economic class, and some of them really do pour hundreds and thousands of dollars into a few articles from top designers like Gucci, Armani, Prada, Valentino, Versace etc. Even the men, perhaps especially the men, go to great lengths to care for their hair. Anecdotally, I got my hair cut in Napoli last week, and the guy out of the chair before me paid $60 for whatever he had done. On the way out, he told the barber that he would be back in 11 days. I asked if he really came back that often and the barber said of course, and that many of his clients did. Wow.

8) Beaches: I haven’t been to too many beaches, but the coolest ones I have been to have been in Italy. Just to list a few, the emerald coast in north eastern Sardegna is amazing. Lush green vegetation stops abruptly at white sand beaches that are constantly lapped by short light green water. Pescara on the Adriatic sea looks somewhat similar with miles of sandy beach stretching as far as the eye can see. Taormina on Sicily is a little rockier, but it is beautiful because of the huge cliffs that fall into the beaches just yards away from the water. Ischia has a small beach with hot springs flowing into the Mediterranean creating a unique sensation of warm water getting cooler as you swim away from the shore. Beyond the beaches themselves, there is a beach culture somewhat different from ours that is very relaxed and familial.

7) Opera: I never liked Opera before living in Italy but after a few years here it has really grown on me. The plot line of almost all operas goes something like this: a series of characters meet each other, deceive each other, fall in love, and die. While this seems simplistic perhaps, it is so Italian: highly emotive and dramatic, basically an exploration of the range of possibility in the human voice and human experience.

6) Clever Sayings and Idioms. The history of Italy is so tightly woven with the history of the Catholic church that many sayings and proverbs are related to the church: to say “too bad”, Italians say “che peccato” which means “sin”. There are scores of such examples where bible speak is integrated into Italians daily speech; however, my favorite saying comes from the heart of Rome. If someone is being two-faced, Romans unabashedly exclaim “Tu sei falso come un prete” – you are as false as a priest.

5) Museums, Churches, and other Monuments: Italy has an incomparable wealth of these as far as I know rivaled only in France and England, which it still out does. The Vatican as a whole is a remarkable masterpiece. Its museum is my favorite museum on earth with its unique blend of artifacts from the Greek and Roman world, the richest treasures of the renaissance, a wealth of gifts to the Pope from around the world, and the unforgettable Sistine chapel. Florence is remarkable; it seems to have more museums than streets, and every museum is bursting with precious art. The cathedrals in Milan, Venice, Orvieto, and of course Rome are remarkable and renowned world wide. Perhaps most amazing is that every corner you turn in Italy seems to have some treasure just waiting to tell its secrets. For example, in Genova, we ducked into a tiny little theatre to see the painted ceiling. When the man there saw our interest, he proceeded to give us a full hour tour of the small building that had a 2000 year history just as interesting and varied as her mother city’s.

4) Walks: Every Italian city, from Rome to the lowliest hamlet has a street, or several streets, designated by years of tradition as the city walk. School children, adolescents, college kids, families, couples, and the elderly all gather almost nightly around 8-10 to walk slowly up and down this street. They walk in small groups, sometimes chatting softly, but often not saying much at all, and will walk up and down the street at a snails pace ad nauseum. The younger Italians will buy a gelato and sit down in the piazza for hours. Even the partying college kids will participate in this ritual before finally hitting the bars at 1 or 2 in the morning. The walk, gelato, and piazza is really just a reflection of how they like to spend their time, and I confess to feeling somewhat the same way.

3) Gli Italiani – the people: Their almost ubiquitous dark olive skin and dark hair hints at some of the similar personalities that lay behind their Mediterranean fronts. Italians, especially in the south have an impulse towards hospitality and generosity, even with near strangers. One of my favorite things about them is their remarkable bluntness: when I gain weight here, everyone will tell me “Hey, Adam, you are getting chunky” It isn’t a joke, and they aren’t mocking, merely pointing out what they see. This doesn’t make for good negotiators, but sure is a breath of fresh air in a world starved of transparency.

2) La Dolce Vita: The Italian way of life differs greatly across Italy, but it shares many commonalities that are very attractive to me. Italians care deeply about their families, and often live with or very near their extended family their whole lives. They value friendship, and are fiercely loyal. They also value food, soccer, beauty, comfort, and pleasure. They don’t work nearly as much as we do, and are comfortable in smaller homes and with smaller cars – two things we Americans love to spend our money on. Italians would rather buy a nice dinner and a nice vacation once a year. Italians are generally all extreme pacifists, with good religious intentions, but little true commitment. Their way of life is laid back, and seeks to enjoy the dolce in life.

1) Food: if it is shallow to put food at the top of this list, so be it. Food in Italy is much more than edible materials that get put into mouths; rather food is a philosophy, a daily celebration of life, a nearly sacred ritual. The great food in Italy is generally the poor or the layman’s food. Many of the best dishes only have 3 or 4 ingredients and are incredibly simple to make. The variety from region to region is large, but everywhere, Italian cooking is the center of the day. They are proud of their food, and just as proud of the way they enjoy it. I have been at lunches that lasted six hours. I will never forget they day that we never got up from a lunch when an Italian woman who had graciously invited us for lunch said, “well, its about dinner time, should I put the water on to boil.” When I first arrived in Italy as a missionary I made the mistake of saying something that lumped all pasta in the same category, Angelo Melone who was driving us somewhere promptly let me know that “Tortellini and Tortelloni and not at all the same thing” -- in all actuality, they are only different by about a half an inch of diameter, but to an Italian each food has a specific way of being prepared and served that differentiate it from all others. One of the things I most appreciate is the pace of eating. When you go to an Italian restaurant, you don’t eat, you rent a table. That table is yours as long as you care to stay. Today after we finished eating, the waiter took the plates, and we chatted for a half an hour or more, but had we not asked for the check, no one would have bothered us until closing time some hours later. Food in Italy is about being together and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

Ischia, Napoli, Genova

After a great morning run through the surrounding forest and the cities two castles, we took our leave of the convent and Assisi and took the train down to Napoli. We got the cheapest possible ticket, which meant that we stopped in every imaginable town, hamlet, and farmhouse. The trip was made even longer when an older woman fainted on the train and we waited until an ambulance came to take her off. Anyways, Garibaldi station and piazza Garibaldi in Naples were just as crazy as I remember them from four years ago. The construction on the square still is going on just like it was when I got to Napoli, and no progress appears to have been made either. We had a great pizza and got on the ferry to the Island of Ischia. Just being back in Napoli was a lot of fun for me. It is really its own micro-culutre, and basically its own language… I had forgotten how different it really is. When we got to the hostel, none of the management was there, so we walked in, took keys and sheets, and went up to find a pair of beds. The manager didn’t seem to mind in the least when he got there.

We rented motorini the next morning, which has been the highlight of the trip… don’t worry mom, I only drove between lanes of traffic a few times. A cool girl from Oregon named Shawn joined us for the day’s adventures. We took the motorini around the whole island. We stopped at some hot springs that flow straight into the Mediterranean for a very warm dip, we climbed to the top of the volcanic mountain, stopped and swam at a few other beaches, as well as some little towns and the island’s castle. Lunch was especially spectacular. I had homemade Gnocchi alla Sorrentina that was divine. Shawn’s carbonara was also remarkable. We grabbed a few balls of mozzarella di buffala as well, and they were quickly re-enthroned as my favorite food. The next morning, after one last scooter ride through the tiny alleyways that were often only three feet wide, we headed back to Napoli.

After some Pizza at settesoldi, I got a haircut, brad bought a suit, and we both got some new ties. We hiked back up into the centro storico to go visit some of my mission friends and converts. We were able to see Anna, Gaetano, Umberto, and Meri. I was thrilled to see them all, and they were happy reunions. Umberto made us some great past’al brodo. I loved walking through the streets that I had spent so much time on. I had forgotten just how dirty, run down, and dangerous they are, but being back was truly thrilling.

We took the night train up to Genova. We arrived exhausted and were greeted by some heavy rains. Genovese focaccia quickly woke us up though, and after leaving our things at the hostel, we took a boat ride around the Genovese ports, and then visited the San Lorenzo cathedral, the Palazzo Ducale, and the rest of down town Genova. That night we met up with fellow BYU Italian student instructors, Debora Marzano and Drew Horton with their spouses and had gelato together while sitting in the main square. Saturday was a dream of a day. We met up with one of Brad’s mission friends who lives in Genova, and he gave us a brief, but very informative tour of the city, and then took us out to Lunch at a terrific sea food place overhanging the Mediterranean in the posh Nevri neighborhood. The food was great, as were the view and the company. Brad’s friend named Roberto works in the Italian government’s antimafia group, and sings in operas part time. He is quite a character. After lunch, Brad and I went for a hike up amongst Genova’s string of castles that sit on the hills surrounding the city. This one of the most beautiful hikes I have ever been on. Church today in Genova was a lot of fun. I am staying with Deborah and her husband Dave at their house not far from the port tonight.

Memories

I have often been surprised as I have returned to former homes and residences by the things that I had remembered about those places. I have often been even more surprised by the things that I somehow didn't remember that are shockingly apparent.

For example, the first time that I went back to France I was shocked to remember the often poor behavior of French children, as well as the graffiti, and often dirty streets. I had simply blocked out these negative aspects, and subconsciously only remembered the more positive things I love about France. Not that these things really tarnish, or change my perception of France as a whole, but it is strange that I am simply ommited these elements from my memories.

I was back in Wisconsin twice this winter, again I was surprised that I had simply blocked out memories of things I didn’t like very much there. I am now in Naples for the first time in three years. I had forgotten how different the Neapolitan dialect is from Italian. I had forgotten how much trash is simply piled up everywhere. I had forgotten that every time you step into the street, you take your life into your hands – but if you don’t just step into the street, you will never get across it.

This kind of selective memory certainly does not only apply to places, just I seem to have a strong tendency to associate positive memories with places. Some people seem to selectively remember details about relationships, instructions, things that they don’t want to do, etc.

So I am wondering, does everyone tend to remember the positive of their experiences? I wouldn’t think so, but I don’t know… I can think of some people who seem to remember only the negative. So what determines this important difference? I assume that there is some form of a choice involved, but perhaps also some environmental formation from the perception of those around us.

Taormina to Assisi

I slept through the first conference session that I attended, and decided that instead of even pretending to go to the next one, I would just go sleep out on the hotel’s swanky private beach. I might have been asleep before I actually touched the beach chair. I woke up in time to meet our ride coming from the Catania branch to pick us up for a district fireside. Two of BYU’s Italian faculty members have served as mission presidents in Italy, and they were slated to speak. Both did a great job, and the meeting was very well attended. When the branch president got up to close the meetings, he called on Brad and I to speak. I was surprised, and didn’t say too much, but I realized that my Italian has gotten a lot better since I was a missionary. It was a lot of fun to be amongst the Italian saints again. I met the mother of one of my MTC teachers, Ether Simoncini. She called him on her cell phone and I got to talk to him for a minute, which I greatly enjoyed. After the meeting, which ended around 9:30 we chatted for an hour before the Branch president took us home. He stopped about half way at a pizzeria that was simply excellent. My prosciutto crudo was amazing, and so was the branch president’s recommendation of a white sauce pizza covered in pistachio bits… sounds crazy, I know. It was terrific. We finally got back and got to bed around midnight. I woke up about five thirty and chatted to the other jetlagged hostel goers. Brad and I went for a run when he got up. We ran all over Taormina, including a grueling climb up to the 7th century castle that overlooks the city. The view was simply breathtaking of the Taormina and other surrounding bays.

The conference wasn’t especially entertaining, although I did enjoy a session on contemporary Italian poetry. We went to lunch with my boss this year, Cinzia Noble her poet cousin… I had pizza again, and plan on doing so again as soon as possible. Her cousin was quite a character: he is a doctor, but writes existential poetry in his spare time. He read several of his peoms – none that I liked – they were elegant but dark. Brad and I went to the beach for a few hours after the conference. The water is incredibly clear, although full of tiny jellyfish. I fell asleep on the beach for an hour or so. We got gelato and groceries on the way back up. Brad and I made dinner for a half dozen of the girls staying at the hostel... we made caprese and a pomodorini sauce to die for. We all went dancing at a fun little place not far from the hostel. I was surprised that none of the Sicilians really danced much but we did, and had a blast. We finally got back and got to bed at two… my motto for this trip has certainly been "you can sleep when you are dead". I skipped the first couple sessions Saturday morning to finish preparing my piece of the presentation. Instead of preparing, I spent most of the time talking with my favorite member of the Italian faculty, Ilona Klein. I have tried to pattern much of my teaching after hers, and it was great to chat with her about teaching in the future. Our presentation in the afternoon went well. Being the last session of the conference, it wasn’t very well attended because many people had already left. However we had about 15-20 people, many of whom were friends. The handful of people we didn’t know were very interested and asked lots of good questions. On the whole, I felt it was successful.

Sunday morning we packed up and left the hostel by around 7:20 to go meet the mission president who was picking up the rest of the faculty to go to Church because there are next to no busses on Sunday’s in Taormina. The hike down to our meeting place was rather exciting – the path on the map was completely overgrown, and looked as though no one else had walked on it in months, but it took us to where we needed to go. We waited for two hours, but our ride never showed up. Brad and I had church on the beach, and then wandered over to catch the next train at two to Messina. Messina was completely desolate, and full of garbage. Instead of waiting around till midnight to catch the train to Napoli, we took the night train to Rome, and on to Assisi. Sleeping on the train was difficult at best, but arriving in Assisi on a beautiful day was well worth it. We are staying at a convent I stayed at before with the family which has the most gorgeous and breathtaking view. Our window overlooks the beautiful Basilica of San Francesco as well as the Umbrian valley. The same nun is running the convent that was several years ago when we came. She remembers me and has been very kind – it is a good thing that she remembered me because when Brad and I walked up from the train station with our backpacks on after not showering and hardly sleeping, we hardly looked like the kind of people you want to stay in your convent. I love Assisi, the whole city is tranquil and beautiful. We walked around the city and saw most of its many churches this morning before taking a long afternoon siesta. Dinner tonight was remarkable, we ate at a restaurant at the very top of Assisi looking down over the city. My sausage and mushroom sauce was remarkable. Brad joked that we should list the days expenses as honeymoon prep.

Trip To Taormina

I flew Ryanair for the first time from Frankfort to Trapani. My ticket was only about $50, which is acutally the fairly expensive for this no extras absolute lowest cost possible airline. I was impressed by their (very un-european) efficiency at the airport. The plane was remarkable… not necessarily in a good way. The seats were tiny with next to no leg room, allowing them to fit more rows in the plane. I am pretty sure that I bumped the stewardess every single time she walked by. Throughout the flight they had a constant flow of duty free goods at outrageous prices that they sell to help them profit off such cheap flights. I believe that 1/3 of corporate revenues are actually generated from inflight sales… pretty impressive. Overall I was thrilled to fly so cheaply.

My flight got into the sleepy little town of Trapani last night at nine thrity. The bus from the station to town was only 2 euros… a sharp contrast with the 12 euros that I had paid for a similar fare from the Frankfurt airport into town on the way. The bus ride was a spectacle: The bus driver was a kind animated Sicilian who wanted to know where every last person on the bus needed to get off. The problem was almost everyone on the bus had been on my flight in from Frankfurt, which meant almost exclusively Germans, Frenchies, and Americans. I translated for everybody, but going in and out of German from Italian on 2 hours of sleep was an exercise in patience. I nearly had a laughing fit when a middle aged German lady saw a big sign for “Farmacia Centrale” then asked me why she couldn’t find that on her map! I got off the bus at the Trapani Lungo Mare and walked along the beach. The stars were out and the nearly full moon reflected beautifully off of the water. After a few minutes of reflection I went in search of a bar to watch the rest of the Champions league final. I found a bar full of hooting Italian men with about ten minutes to go in regular time. The game went into overtime, and then into penalties. Manchester United on the seventh round of penalties, and the bar turned into a riot. There were 15ish Italian men, one woman, who clearly cared a lot more about the boy she was with than the soccer game and myself. When the game finally finished at 11:30 I decided it would be a good idea to find somewhere to stay. I asked the guy at the bar if there were any cheap hotels nearby. He walked out from behind the bar and said, I’ll show them to you. I thought that he would walk me out the door, and point me where to go. Instead he walked me all the way through town, pointing out the sights as we went. He walked me around for probably 15-20 minutes until we found the cheapest place in town.

I woke up four and a half hours later to catch a 5:30 train to Palermo where I was too meet Brad. I got lost trying to find the station, when I finally found a map, I had 8 minutes to cover about a mile. I was the last person on the train, sweating bullets after running with three weeks of stuff on my back. Brad was waiting for me in Palermo. He was thrilled to have some company after traveling alone for about a week. I had a typical Italian breakfast of a cornetto – basically an Italian croissant – and a fruit juice about the size of an only film canister. Palermo was a zoo just like I remembered it, a lot like Naples, just a slightly different accent, and maybe marginally less garbage. We caught a bus to Taormina, where our conference is. Taormina is paradasically beautiful. It is built on the cliffs high above beautiful beaches of crystal clear water. Our hostel is small, but cheap and full of fun people. So far I have met three Americans, a Dutchie, an Irishman, and a pair of Italians. The highlight of the day was the amazing bruschetta, followed by prosciutto crudo pizza… more to come later.

Champions League

This Wednesday was the UEFA Champions League final in Moscow between world soccer’s two best teams: Manchester United and Chelsea. As far as I know there is no sporting league in the world the champion’s league. A collection of the worlds best soccer leagues send their best team or teams to the champions league where they compete for the ultimate title of best soccer club in the world. Being in Europe for this event is a dream… the celebration for the faithful of the two competing teams is the secular equivalent of Christmas or Easter. My first exposure to the event came when I went to the Parc des Princes to watch the semi-final between PSG and Juventus. Dad had managed to get company seats with a die hard Indian soccer fan friend named Shrinee. I can’t remember if Juventus won 5-0 or 6-0 . In either event, it was the most lopsided professional soccer game I have ever seen. The PSG fans were irate; I learned more new French curses that day than I had previously learned in a year or two in France. Not being much of a PSG loyalist myself, I loved the atmosphere and the game. A few years later, I think it was the 1999 final, Manchester United was playing Bayern Munich. My closest friend at the time was a German named Andreas. Andreas lived for Bayern Munich; he kept me apprised of the precise details of all the qualifying matches. He invited me over to watch the final with him. I remember being amazed how much Andreas was into the game; every call, pass, and shot elicited huge reactions. When I tried to make any side conversation I was either ignored or shushed. It turned out to be an epic game, the teams were very closely matched and seemed to be at a deadlock when Bayern won a free kick at the edge of the area early in the second half. Mario Bastler stood over the ball, ran at it, and then curled it around the wall and just beyond the goalie’s outstretched finger tips into the net. Andreas launched into an ecstatic celebration that involved a lot of shouting and jumping across couches. This subsided after a few minutes, but every now and then for the next half hour, Andreas would pump his fist, and mutter a celebratory “yes!” Bayern held on for the rest of the ninety minutes and into injury time. Suddenly and shockingly, Man U scored on a counter attack to tie the game with less than two minutes to be played. One minute later Manchester scored again. I was amazed; I had never seen two goals scored in such quick succession, especially on such a stage. Andreas was inconsolable. After a few primordial screams, be started crying. He looked like he was in physical pain, I figured that I had worn out my welcome, and quietly excused myself and left. I consider myself a pretty big sports fan, but I am several orders of magnitude away from the European super fan.

Arrogance vs Humility - the Face Off

This weekend was the Teach for America 2008 corps opening activities. I got my first taste of what this program looks like in the trenches – much more to come on that – the week’s activities fueled my thoughts about the tradeoffs between humility and confidence. TFA preaches humility as the most salvific quality teachers have. This is because so many hot shot kids like me join TFA and think that they know everything and this rubs experienced teachers the wrong way because they have been around the block, and get the impression that TFA is trying to come in and change the world and save the day. The truth is, that is exactly what we are trying to do, but if we do it humbly it bothers less people, and we learn lots about teaching – which admittedly, we know little about. At our opening dinner, the director talked about humility. At my first meeting with my direct supervisor, she talked about it. Humility is all over our preparation materials.

I was about ready to drop my arrogant exterior buy into humility wholeheartedly (I know, most of you are gasping right now) when I had the privilege of sitting in on one of the current corps members’ classes. She pulled the three of us aside who were observing her and said “listen, I know that TFA teaches us humility, and that is important. I have learned a lot for great faculty members here; however, if I was content to leave school everyday knowing that I did more, and did it better, than anyone else at the school, I wouldn’t do half of the work that needs doing.” She went on to say that if she humbly deferred to what everyone else expected of her, she would be perpetuating the mediocre status quo.

This rekindled a debate that has been in my head for a long time: the seeming diametrical juxtaposition between humility and confidence – which can look a lot like arrogance. Many dictionaries, including Webster and Princeton actually define humility as lacking pride or arrogance. I have long sought to understand what the correct balance should be between confidence and humility. In areas I know that I have relatively little competence or knowledge I think I am generally humble; however, I usually express what I perceive as my abilities with confidence. Perhaps the heart of the problem is that I have often thought of both humility and arrogance in the context of comparative relativity. Being humble relative to someone else is however, meaningless, just as being arrogant relative to another is meaningless. Perhaps finding a way to express both attributes irrespective of any comparative context is becoming of us.

I have always felt that false humility is foolish… it drives me crazy when individual A gives B a deserved complement, so often B tries to play off the complement saying, “you are much better than me” or “no I am not” instead of graciously accepting deserved praise. Clearly, the deserving part is the lynch pin… putting any weight on false or empty praise or insult is counterproductive. Even more counterproductive humility is differing to substandard, mediocre, or otherwise insufficient standards, principles, or objectives in an effort not to seem pretentious, or a wave maker. It is precisely these circumstances that demand confident and assertive changers (leaders) willing to make waves, and confidently use whatever abilities they make have to improve situations instead of assuming a humble stance and assuming to know too little about a problem to act decisively on it.

I don’t wish to undermine humility… clearly being teachable and willing to learn is a very desirable characteristic. Some of the men I admire most, I admire for their humility despite tremendous professional and personal accomplishment. However, more admirable than humility in and of itself is knowing how to balance true knowledge of ones own weaknesses, and strengths – both humility and confidence – with using those abilities and deficiencies appropriately, playing the role of teacher and learner, leader and follower when appropriate.

Home Court Advantage

I am boggled by the fact that the home team is 20 and 1 in the NBA playoff conference semi-finals this year. The pistons managed to win a game on the road over a greatly overmatched Orlando team, but that is it. The mighty Celtics haven’t won a road game in the playoffs yet, but none of the games played at the garden have even been close, the Cs have won big every time. This has been indicative of the whole NBA playoffs; not only are teams not winning on the road, they are taking turns blowing each other out by 10 and 20 points, only to go to the other team’s house three days later and reverse their fortunes. Commentators keep on telling me that the Spurs and the Hornets are such a great matchup, but all six of the games have been blown wide open in the third quarter, and, like all of the Celtic’s games, none of them have had a remotely competitive fourth quarter.

What is going on here? Is home court advantage really worth 10-20 points a game? If so how? While playing sports in high school, I never felt a serious home court advantage. A few extra voices chanting for your team never seemed to affect my performance very significantly. If anything, I would get nervous if whatever girl I happened to like at the time was in the crowd causing me to perform worse. Admittedly I never competed in front of huge crowds, either home or away, but don’t think it would affect my performance much.

The NBA must somehow be different… perhaps the sheer decibel level of 20,000 people closed in a small box really does have an effect on opposing team’s ability to communicate. I wonder what a playoff series would look like if it were played at a neutral stadium, or traveled around neutral stadiums kind of like the superbowl or the champion’s league final. I like the loyalty that the NBA builds in cities for its teams, but I wonder if we would get some close games again if games were played in neutral locations. I’m not calling for the experiment just yet: I’m guessing – and hoping – that this year is just a fluke, but if things don’t change we need to do something to get some close basketball games again.

Favorite Places, Cities, and Monuments

Most naturally beautiful places I have been to, only minimal human intervention allowed:

1) Norwegian Fjords near Bergen: Steep, dark rock cliffs covered in vivid green vegetation, sometimes topped with snow plunging into deep blue water. The most gorgeous place I have been to on earth.
2) Lake Nakuru, Kenya: rising up out of the African Serengeti, this high altitude mountain lake is home to three million flamingos, with many rhinos, monkeys, and exotic birds. The whole landscape is shrouded by lush vegetation encompassed by mountains.
3) Amalfi Coast, Italy: Thousands of years or terraces climb steep green hills planted with lemons, peppers, olives, and grapes. The cliffs crash into small white sand beaches, then into clear, warm water. Every few miles, small towns are built into the steep stone faces.
4) Isle of May, Scotland: This small island off the Scottish coast is dotted by unique white rock formations, beautiful bays, and steep cliffs. More impressive than its beautiful geology is the island amazing bird life. It is a literal aviary. There are thousands of puffins, cormorants, guillemots, and others, a bird lover’s paradise.
5) Ring of Kerry, Ireland: Miles and miles of grassy peat bogs with sharp rocky outcroppings dotted with small lakes and sparse copses of trees. In the week I spent there, rainbows were near daily occurrences. The landscape falls into ocean off short cliffs where it is constantly pummeled by huge waves.
6) Arches, Utah: The stripped red rock is beautiful, and in the spring bright green brush, grasses, and wildflowers sprout up in sharp contrast with the rest of the landscape. The rock formations are really the highlight for me. Delicate arch in particular is breath taking to me.
7) Niagara falls, New York: The falls are simply massive. The deafening roar of the water is as impressive as the few of the falls and mist. I love standing just on the edge of the falls watching the water as it moves peacefully towards its sharp fall.
8) Wengen, Switzerland: This small town nestles between huge, colossal white capped mountains. The light green grass is often interrupted by small streams, and dark green pines. Small herds of cows are commonplace, wearing large deep bells that announce their presence.
9) Yellowstone & Grand Tetons, WY, ID: The forests are beautiful, the mountains are stunning, but seeing buffalo, wolves, moose, bears, bald eagles, is one of a kind to me.
10) Nile River, near Luxor Egypt: Further north the river is dirty, but a few hours south of the delta the water is a deep blue, flanked by a thin green strip of palm trees, then after only a few hundred feet turns into a white desert. The sunsets especially are breathtaking.

Honorable Mention: Bretagne, France; Lake district, England; Bay of Naples, Italy; Muir Woods, California; Etna, Sicily; Sea of Galilee and Golan Heights, Israel; Cliffs of Dover, England.

Favorite Cities:

1) Paris
2) Rome, Vatican
3) Florence, Fiesole
4) Venice, Murano, Burano
5) Jerusalem
6) Assisi
7) Munich
8) London
9) Prague
10) San Fransisco

Honorable Mention: Vienna, Salsburg, Siena, Naples, Palermo, Antwerp, Delft, Bath, Lisbon, Barcelona, Vienna, Versailles, Rouen, Cologne, Grenoble, Washington D.C.

Coolest Monuments I have seen:

1) Petra, Jordan

2) St. Peters, Rome
3) Mont Saint Michelle, France
4) Sainte Chapelle, Notre Dame, Paris
5) Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem
6) Karnack Temple, Egypt
7) Piazza St. Marco, Venice
8) Orvieto Cathedral, Orvieto
9) Stonehenge, England
10) Pyramids and Sphinx, Egypt

Superpowers

Americans in general, especially republicans, and more especially Mormon republicans, seem to deify America’s history and role in the world. Many even imply that some imagined record of impeccable foreign dealings justify America’s interference in world affairs. I often chuckle as Americans tell me about our squeaky clean national past and moral superiority. I sometimes want to ask them if they have ever heard of the Mexican-American war, the Bay of Pigs, slavery, or segregation. What we did in Texas in the 1830s isn’t much different from the Israeli settlement initiative that so many, me included, find offensive. Of course America, like every country, person, or institution has made mistakes, and at time acted in her own self interest when the just, honorable thing would have been to do otherwise. America’s greatness isn’t rooted in having been perfect, neither is any other entity’s. However I do think that America has been and is a great country, infact I think that those who demonize America are further off the mark than those who deify it. While living abroad, I often felt like a representative of the US. Indeed, I am one of the few Americans that many friends and acquaintances in Europe know. I was often asked why America felt that it could police the world and intervene in everyone else’s affairs. At the time I didn’t have a very good answer. Now I do. I got the answer from Spiderman: with great power, comes great responsibility. I am impressed that America does choose to get involved in world problems. Admittedly this is often for her own interests, but not always. The UN exists on the back of US dollars. Woodrow Wilson’s idealism and hope for a completely self-determined world has survived the collapse of the League of Nations, and survives both in most Americans minds as well as in her military action. Does she make mistakes, of course, but she does so generally attempting to do good. We often only look at the major, and usually unpopular conflicts, like Vietnam and Iraq to measure US foreign intervention. This is far too simplistic a scope because of worldwide small scale interventions often unreported in the news. We also sometimes see only the dark side of larger scale interventions. I don’t mean to imply that wars aren’t hideous, nor that conflicts like Iraq are justified or well executed. However, wars are fought by real people, with real emotional response to the world around them. Anecdotally, I spoke with a colonel this weekend who expressed frustration with the media’s portrayal of conflicts in general as well as Iraq in particular. He mentioned to me that he left the base far more often in humanitarian outreach than in combat, but as he drove out of camp past the PR tent to invite them, they would only come if there were a chance of a firefight because those stories sold. America’s greatness on the world stage would disappear if we retreated into an isolationist cocoon. On the other side of the coin, we don’t have the right to police the world, but for the world’s superpower to sit by and do nothing is to waste her power, and to proclaim her ideology as no better than any other. While deifing America is going too far, demonizing it is even worse. We need look no further than the Marshall plan to see the importance and the remarkable positive impact that a superpower's intervention can have. To sit by and do nothing is missing the opportunity to use power for good.

Lebron James

I love playoff basketball. No matter who is playing, I love watching it. Last night I got to see most of the Boston, Cleveland game. I have been looking forward to this series, but last night I was deeply disappointed. With the exception of some great play from Kevin Garnett, the game was a mess. While Pierce and Allen were awful, I was especially disgusted by Lebron’s play. Let me preface this by saying that he is my favorite player in the NBA... I don’t think the NBA has ever seen such a skilled passer, scorer, and rebounder in a body that would make any NFL linebacker coach salivate. I also like the way he markets himself as a celebrity and not just an athlete. I was surprised that he wasn’t closer in the MVP voting, but I have to agree that Lebron didn’t deserve to win MVP this year. Last night illustrated why. James scored the first points of the game on a drive past half of the Celtics that looked easy. Then, as Boston started throwing different coverage’s on him, Lebron started throwing up the ugliest threes over and over again. I am generally very impressed with Lebron’s shot selection, especially when he drives into the lane, but his 3pt selection is consistently terrible. He shot 30% this season, and took more 3s than anyone on the team. Lebron’s teammate, Daniel Gibson, is one of the top 3pt shooters in the league at 47ish %. He needs to teach James what a good three looks like… almost all of Gibson’s shots come off kickouts and sneaking across the weak side. Lebron spotting up after a dribble or two with two guys on him is simply a terrible shot; it’s amazing he shoots 30%. Those are the kind of shots that you throw up to show off in streetball, but coaches start trying to teach that out of players starting in middle school (trust me I remember). What especially bothered me was that coach Mike Brown didn’t seem to do anything about it. Lebron just kept throwing up ugly threes the whole game. I’m sure that Mike Brown realizes that he is paid to keep Lebron happy, but the difference between mediocre and great coaches is the ability to teach elite players. Even mediocre coaches should have enough control of their team to make needed in game adjustments, even when they do involve star players with big egos.
Another lowlight from last night’s game was Ray Allen’s egg in the points column. I’ve loved and hated the guy since he took us to the eastern conference finals in Milwaukee. I have loved his beautiful and quick shooting stroke, but always been annoyed by his seeming inability to create a shot for himself, especially when his three ball isn’t falling. That didn’t matter last night in the end, but if I am the Cavs, I keep on sitting a defender half way in Allen’s uniform no matter what, and simply take him out of the game.

Provocentrica

As I finish up here in Provo, I've tried to sum up my time here. People and experiences would probably be the most accurate portrayal of the last three years, yet also the most esoteric. Instead, I've tried to list my favorite events and places:

Paint balloon capture the flag
Moab trips: Cliff jumping, manner of the adverb, midnight canyoneering, half marathon, 6 a.m. delicate arch hike
Heber parties: Disco ball, cotton candy machine, food art, aluminum foil grillz, limbo, kissing game, egg roulette, pass the lifesaver, murder in the dark, chocolate fountains
Hiking to hotpots in 18” of fresh snow
Black out dance party
Squaw peak to Hobble Creek sunrise fall colors drive
Hiking timp in three hours for sunrise
Heber century bike race
Top of Utah marathon
Solider Hollow sledding
Peoa pond ice hockey
112 devotionals and forums
NW Nazarene ultimate tour
Logan ultimate tour
Colorado State ultimate tour
French Idol 2007 winner
5 question dating game
International dinners
Bishop Freedman’s house – especially the grill
12:30 a.m. Monday Pizza Pipeline
12:30 a.m. Song & dance: French braids and hair bands
SLC, Manti, South Jordan, Timp, and Provo temple trips
Water Basketball
Temple square Christmas lights
Disco king
Colony powder-puff football
Brighton night skiing
Bryce canyon stars
Angel’s landing
VP 73: 88” HD ESPN w/ surround sound
Messiah sing along @ Abravanel Hall
Yellowstone trip: Buffaloes, bandanas, tent in a tent, strange store, ninja stars, bubbas
1000s of miles bike rides and runs
Lake Powell: cliff jumping, wakeboarding, houseboat
BYU planetarium shows
Gare gastronimiche
Four square
Thursday night ultimate
Colony 3 on 3 bball tournament
390 dance parties
Apple Beer / Henry Weinharts
Games at 396: Kings, Couch, etc
Up for downs Halloween parties
Capitol Reef Butch Cassidy’s hideout
Palm Sunday dinner and services @Hales
Intramural teams: Valhalla, Real Provo (co-ed soccer champs), Golden Calves, Flava of Love, Wilsons, Juggernauts, Bucks
30+ plays, concerts, operas, etc
424: Farmaggedon murals, Midnight Blitz for breakfast
Ihop, especially at 4 a.m.
Rock Canyon: Meteor shower, sledding, lunar eclipse, and true colors
Disc Golf @ bicentennial and Rock Canyon
Restaurants: The Tree, Chef’s table, Schula’s stake house, The Roof, The Garden, Settebello, Gloria’s, Diego’s
Murder Mystery
Nacho Libre
Thanksgiving point tulip festival
BYU Jerusalem: The center, Garden, tomb, St. Anne’s, Dome of the Rock Bethlehem, tons of tells, Red sea, dead sea, med sea, sea of Galilee, Ein Gev, Cairo streets, Karnak, Petra, Ahman, 88 hrs travel time: SLC-Tel Aviv
3002 JKHB SI office
LaVell Edwards Stadium
38th ward photo scavenger hunt: most intense hour of my life

NBA Coaches

I am thrilled that Byron Scott won the NBA coach of the year award. He has quietly been a great coach for some time, and richly deserved the award. I find it ironic that in the same week Scott wins the award, the winner of two years ago, Avery Johnson gets fired. Rumor says Mike D’Antoni, who won three years ago, might soon be on the road out of Phoenix as well – I don’t think either coach would be without work for long, despite their very different styles they certainly have brought success to their organizations. Byron Scott impressed me by understanding all of this full well as he received the award… he said as much in his interview. Coach of the year is a short term reward for one season of exceeding expectations. The NBA (and Wall Street) has no reward for those who meet expectations, only those who surpass them. Most NBA coaches, even some of the great ones like Scott, Riley, and Don Nelson (notice that Larry Brown fails to make this list, come on Jordan, you don’t really want to hire that guy he is more arrogant than Narcissus) are on a merry-go-round that might land them with a different team any day. I love the brand of basketball that D’Antoni and Nelson sell. D’Antoni in particular seems to understand that people come to basketball games to be entertained – he is selling good basketball. The Suns and Warriors have become brands of exciting and attractive basketball: three pointers, transition dunks, and a fast even frantic pace for 48 minutes. They are filling up seats and selling merchandise, but notwithstanding, they are still getting fired. Parenthetically it is no surprise to me that the Suns had a poor showing in the playoffs this year, their personnel excluding Nash, Stoudamire, and Barbossa are poorly suited to play D’Antoni’s style. I like Steve Kerr, but I can’t think of a stranger GM coach pairing than that one, and it seems to have produced contradictions like Shaq, Hill, Skinner and Giricek.
Anyways, in contemplating the other active greats in NBA coaching, the top three are: Jerry Sloan, Gregg Popovich, and Phil Jackson. None of the three have the sleek, smooth appeal of a Riley or a D’Antoni. If they were salespeople knocking on my door, I’d be tempted to call the cops on any of the three. Nonetheless, all three have had long tenures with their teams. Their teams play tough, defensive, technical and physical basketball. Nobody gets excited to watch the Spurs slug it out with the Jazz, but winning fills up seats regardless. The Spurs and to a lesser extent the Jazz have become brands of boring, albeit winning basketball. That is what these coaches sell – wins. It seems that this brand is keeping owners, front offices, and fans happy.

While Phil Jackson's Bulls and Lakers haven't been my favorite teams, he seems to have found an excellent balance between Nelson and Popovich's stlye. His teams play technical, careful basketball, but at the same time, the triangle offense is flowing, and produces plenty of big threes and dunks. It is hard to say how much of the praise is due to Phil, and how much should belong to Kobe, Shaq, and MJ. Certainly much maybe even most of Phil's success is owed to those players, but many coaches have had great players and haven't been able to achieve what he has.

Blogging

I’m not sure how I feel about having a blog… Blogs seem like things all of my married friends use to show their wedding and baby pictures. Not that I don’t like baby pictures, I just don’t fit in with my mind’s stereotypical blogger. I do, however greatly enjoy reading several of my witty friends’ blogs who manage to find the right balance between insight and entertainment. Chez Cassandra aims to fit in that mold, with no grand purpose nor limit of scope, just an upload of my daily peripatetic.