Colbinski Chronicles

LA MUSE KALLIOPE: Les Musettes and Muzzits Origin Stories

2011-03-23T20:00:00.003-04:00

Les Musettes™ are whimsical "Lil' Muses. Les Muzzits™ are little "Lil' Muses" for kids of all ages. So what's their story? Find out on the LA MUSE KALLIOPE blog. Origin stories for both Les Musettes and Muzzits just posted.

Les Musettes Your Personal "Lil' Muses": Valentine Heart Shaped Scallion Pancakes

2011-02-10T08:13:00.000-05:00

Les Musettes Your Personal "Lil' Muses": Valentine Heart Shaped Scallion Pancakes: "Scallion pancakes are tasty finger foods great for potluck parties. Best of all, they are easy to make and can be prepared ahead of time and..."

Ouch!

2010-02-28T18:48:00.003-05:00

Working around the apt. and a screwdriver just slipped and nailed my thumb. Intense pain. Right where the skin is directly below the nail. I stared at it while it throbbed. There was a small white mark where the screwdriver hit against flesh but no blood. Throbbing continued. I felt as I did when I first watched Gaspar Noe's 2002 movie, "Irreversible" a while back. I knew something bad was going to happen and there was a throbbing intensity to both (my thumb in this scenario and the music and frantic camera in the movie). Next (in my scenario, not the movie) a small pinhead of blood appeared at the aforementioned white mark. "It hurts like the dickens but not bleeding so bad" I thought to myself. I took my eye off my thumb for a moment. Probably trying to figure out my next step in placing the shelves up in the closet. I glanced back at my thumb while pondering my next home repair move. The blood began to pool around my thumb nail. Rivulets of red encapsulated my thumb. I dashed to the sink, not wanting to compound insult to injury by dripping blood all over the place. Nor did I wish to attract the neighborhood vampires. Who needs them skulking around? I washed the thumb off a few times using warm water although I think cold water would feel better. I fumbled around the medicine cabinet with a wet, bloody thumb to locate a band-aid. I proceeded to take out some odd shaped band-aid. The two immediate thoughts I had: why would I ever use such an odd shaped band-aid and why are there so many in the band-aid box seem to answer one another. Finally locating a proper sized band-aid I applied it with some dexterity. It really wasn't bleeding so bad anymore. And the throbbing stopped. No vampires around either. Now back to the stupid shelves.

BOOK REVIEW: Losers Live Longer by Russell Atwood

2009-08-18T20:17:00.012-04:00

When it comes to crime fiction I gravitate towards the classics - Chandler, Hammett, Black Mask reprints and the like. Oh, I pick up contemporary stuff here and there, but it's that early wave of hard-boiled fiction that truly wets my whistle. A great provider of vintage crime fiction re-prints is Hard Case Crime. I've delved into their contemporary crime fiction from time to time as well. And it turns out, they're not too shabby at releasing inventive and fun modern crime fiction. Case in point is the soon-to-be released (in September 2009) Losers Live Longer by Russell Atwood, an advance copy of which I was lucky enough to get my mitts on.

There's great energy to Losers Live Longer. Like many great detective stories, it begins with a phone call. Atwood creates an amazing pace in the first chapter. Our detective, Payton Sherwood, scraping by, lets the machine take the call, listens to the message before picking up and then, slowly over these opening pages, Atwood unfurls some amazing observations and excellent turns of phrases. This opening chapter sets up the story, not as an introduction but as a catalyst. Sherwood lurches forward trying to keep up as the story grows more complex and maze-like.

Though the story is complex - running the gamut from white collar criminals on the run to Russian runaways and a few washed-up drug-addled celebrities to boot - it's never convoluted. As Sherwood begins to figure things out, as he travels about downtown Manhattan (more on that later), as the bigger picture narrows to a thin straight line, his thoughts focus and his determination to not only stay alive, but see this case through to its end becomes our coda too. As events began, I wasn't sure what to make of Sherwood. Sure, I love a wise-ass detective as much as anyone, but I didn't think much of this Payton Sherwood guy. Kind of superficial personality. Too loose, maybe. Then as the plot tightens up, so does Sherwood. We see what he's made of. We feel his mettle and understand his code. More importantly, we see how his self-deprecation ("no way it could be a client" he states early on when his buzzer rings) provides the armor for the guy who spends a day and change tirelessly hopping around the East Village labyrinth that he finds himself in.

The East Village setting is a bonus for me as a current resident (hell, one death in the book happens around the corner from me) and native New Yorker. He succinctly paints a clear history of recent changes in the neighborhood, evoking the East village of another era (sometimes with a bit too much nostalgia for the gritty crime-ridden past), but mostly with a passion for people, the smells, the sounds, the buildings, that create the foundation for any great locale. This doesn't diminish the story for non-New Yorkers. In fact, it should enhance it - whereas some books just happens to take place here or there, other books, when torn at their spine, bleed their geography. Losers Live Longer bleeds New York. As with the classics, the sense of place is as important a character as the people who inhabit it, and Atwood makes the East Village come alive.

One last note - Losers Live Longer also has a tremendous final line. One of those lines that makes me smile and shake my head it's so darn good. Don't sneak a peek at it. Get there when you get there. It'll be worth it.

COMIC BOOK REVIEW: Wednesday Comics 1-6

2009-08-14T21:46:00.010-04:00

I'm not a regular comics reader anymore. Haven't been for years. I sort of, kind of follow what's going on, and when something really interests me, I usually just wait for a trade rather than get involved in a monthly series. But along comes DC's Wednesday Comics and here I am up to my ears in a weekly comic. But the idea was just too good to pass on - 15 single page stories once a week in large newsprint style. So far it's rewarding my weekly trip to the comic shop. Here's my quick take on each:

Batman
Intriguing but plodding a bit. With issue 6, things start coming together. Looking forward to where this is going

Kamandi
Dave Gibbon's is writing and Ryan Sook is drawing this and it's been a blast. Crisp and straightforward, the action just hasn't stopped. Gibbon's is using the single page format to churn out a great tale thus far and Sook is really taking advantage of the large format (as are most of the artists, I should add). In my top 3 right now and makes the weekly purchase worth it.

Superman
First issue opens with Superman fighting an alien. 6th issue closes with an alien attack on Superman. In between, Superman laments being an alien on Earth. Lame. More aliens, less moping. C'mon Superman. Act like a superman for crying out loud.

Deadman
Pretty good so far. Up and downs over the 6 issues but mostly positives. Boston Brand is always a quality narrator and he's not lagging in this story.

Green Lantern
Wonderful artwork. Flashbacks taking the bulk of the six pages so far but a nice pace and what looks like a great set-up for action in the present. Solid.

Metamorpho
Neil Gaiman seems to be having a lot of fun with this and, to a point, the fun is infectious. However, it also seems a bit frivolous too. Great use of the single large page by Mike Allred, but the story seems to be getting restricted by the format rather than freed by it. But Metamorpho has always been a favorite of mine as has Gaiman. I have faith.

Teen Titans
I have no idea what's going on in this story. That was OK for the first 4 issues. I just rolled with punches and enjoyed the ride. Well, that ride no has a flat tire. My interest is gone. Perhaps if I paid attention to all the various "crisis" things in the DC Universe I would care about why blue Beetle wears armor and is a Teen Titan.

Strange Adventures
Adam Strange has always been a favorite of mine, so I was reluctant to get into this, what with the primitive Allana rather than the space-suit wearing Allana. But issue 5 & 6 sealed the deal. This is a keeper. Interesting take on the Zeta-beam and on Ranagar.

Supergirl
Wow, talk abut frivolous! Supergirl chases down her super dog and cat from causing mischief. It's been a fun ride and Aquaman has a funny cameo in issue 6. Not bad.

Metal Men
Ah, the Metal Men. I picked up their Showcase collection recently and I love it. So far, this story has the same whimsy and humor found in those Silver Age classics. The Metal Men story was a major factor in my picking up Wednesday Comics. I haven't been disappointed. Top 3.

Wonder Woman
Cluttered art. Too wordy. Too tedious for me to even make it out of issue 1. I keep trying to read it. I mean, it's one lousy page. But not happening yet.

Sgt. Rock
Rock is captured by the Nazi's and tortured. Great set-up. Now we're in issue 6 and Rock is captured by the Nazi's and tortured. This story has been spinning its wheels. Fortunately, something is brewing at the end of 6. And Joe Kubert's artwork is stunning as usual. A treat just to see his Easy Company again.

Flash
Barry Allen. Iris West. Gorilla Grodd. Time travel. Multiple Flashes. Simply mind-blowing so far and the best of the bunch. Nice clean art, great plotting for the single page and great POV use for Flash, Iris, and Grodd. Perfect after 6.

The Demon and Catwoman
Well, really The Demon as Catwoman was captured by a witch back in issue 2. But another winner. Etrigan never disappoints.

Hawkman
Great start to this one as Hawkman breaks up an alien invasion masked as an airline hijacking. But it's been stuck in a single action sequence for a few pages and has halted a bit. Kyle Baker's Hawkman is a thrill to look at though.

ETHIOPIA: Index

2009-06-14T17:07:00.010-04:00

Since I am now in the middle of compiling my past travels onto this blog I thought it would be a good time to create an index of all my blogging from my trip to Ethiopia last summer.This index can help anyone find a post that they are interested in. Alternatively, you can use the sidebar to check for the respective months the trip took place (June - September 2008) or use the search function for Ethiopia.

Getting to Ethiopia
Initial impressions
I pontificate about the real dangers living in Ethiopia
Ethiopian censorship
Gettingsick in Ethiopia
Movie watching in Ethiopia
Wedding Ethiopian style
Six degrees of separation in Ethiopia
back to the future and in Ethiopia the future is now
A touching story of my interaction with the children of Ethiopia
The cake is good in Ethiopia. And so is the malawa
Living the routine life in an African country
Small birds make interesting photographic subjects
Name calling
Every country has its con men
Where are all the white people at? And what do I do when I meet them?
Some educational success for me during my internship
I am just monkeying around during my stay at Mr. Martin's Cozy Place
I didn't see any fireworks on July 4
Finally took a trip out of Addis Ababa
Bahir Dar: an introduction
Bahir Dar: Are bus stations the same everywhere? Possibly. But Bus rides are not the same everywhere. But the bus ride is certainly well worth it
Bahir Dar:Eating with Obama
Bahir Dar:Photos
Bahir Dar: An overview with a photo of a monkey
Bahir Dar: Trying to get drunk on homegrown liquor
Bahir Dar: The magnificent Blue Nile Falls
Bahir Dar: Monastaries with 900 year old manuscripts and priests
Bahir Dar: A cool find
Not your typical African weather Well it is the rainy season
The developing pirated DVD industry in a developing country
Living the casual cafe life in Addis
I suppose you can say I am living in a Cocoon
The currency situation
Where I went to school in Ethiopia. And what an education it was
Getting the bull's rush in Addis
Popular children's song heard everywhere even unexpected places
I now drink macchiatos
A visit to the Mercato, one of the largest open air markets in all of Africa. Fist time: No fun Second time: Yes fun this time with marriage proposals
Another trip. This time to Shashemene
Crazy driving again. This time south.
Lake Langano photos
Harar: Hyenas. Nuff said.
Harar: watching the Olympics
Harar: Faranjo
Harar: Wasting the day chewing chat
Harar: The nighttime and interminable bus trip
Gondar: Not to be confused with Gondor. Instead of Sauron there are baboons and coffee ceremonies
Lalibela: Amazing. Just amazing.
Leaving Ethiopia.
Back in New York
Final Thoughts

MOVIE REVIEW: MOON

2009-06-14T15:16:00.003-04:00

Moon is a good movie. Teetering on very good. Even better than the movie I like what it represents. Moon hearkens back to a pre Star Wars period of smart science fiction rather than just action/adventure and explosions that seemingly has defined many films of that genre since. Like a lot of good science fiction Moon takes place off Earth in an unspecified future yet acts as a commentary on the current human condition. There is just something missing. While smart and engaging it lacks a cohesive element that makes it work on a level that would elevate it to greatness.

Moon does an excellent job of straightforward storytelling in what could have resulted in a complicated mess. Sam Bell ( an excellent Sam Rockwell) works for Lunar Industries, Ltd. on an isolated outpost located on the dark side of the moon. His only companion is a robot named Gerty (soothingly voiced by Kevin Spacey) and together they monitor the daily mining activities of remote machines. The mining operation is unearthing (unmooning?) a new fuel source that is delivered to Earth in three days and is now a cheap, abundant fuel source for 70% of our blue planet. Sam is coming to the end of a three year contract and is looking forward to being reunited with is wife and daughter in two weeks time. To say anymore about what happens in those remaining two weeks is to give away a nice twist that sets the rest of the movie in motion. (The trailer is spoilerific in this respect and I recommend not viewing it before seeing the film.)

What happens is interesting and sort of obvious although I didn’t guess the exact explanation for the twist. (So maybe it is not that obvious. But I mentally slapped myself when it was explained as I thought I should have figured that out.)Moon is commendable for its efforts in commenting on the human condition. It is about the effect of loneliness, the frailty of memory, and questioning the worth of an individual. I think the main problem I have is that I’m not sure which of these themes the movie wants to be about. While the story itself, especially the very end, is thought provoking, I have spent more time mulling over what different themes actually exist and how they fit together than I would prefer. My preference isn’t that the theme is obvious but that the theme is decipherable.

All in all I recommend Moon. I hope it ushers in more smart science fiction films.

On a related note I certainly hope that when humans do get to colonize or living on other planets or moons that science fiction films can influence the design and scope of such activities. Strange things are always happening in these movies or the living arrangements have crazy psychological effects. Usually the militaristic utilitarian aspects of these habitats become a hindrance. Even taking financial, engineering, and environmental constraints into mind I think that any future other world outposts can be more comfortable and less lonely for those who choose to live or work there. I don’t have high hopes. An example why can be found in Encounters at the End of the World a documentary directed and narrated by Werner Herzog. In it Herzog visits a science outpost in Antarctica and describes it as something that would be found on the moon. In fact it looks eerily like the outpost found in Moon. I’m not expecting the Taj Mahal to be built on Mars just something that is livable and not mentally deranging.

HONG KONG 2007: Queuing, Kids, and Gambling on Dinner

2009-06-10T20:17:00.008-04:00

Macau is an old Portuguese colony given over to China in a similar way the British gave over Hong Kong. Macau is also a mecca of gambling with casino construction about as far as the eye could see.* For an in-depth article about Macau and all this gambling read James Fallows' excellent article from The Atlantic.**

Macau is about an hour speed-ferry ride from HK. Sister Anne worked on Macau and was heading back so Aunt Helen and some of the other nuns decided to bring me along to see it. Other than the cool town center, which was a remnant of Portuguese rule, and the Temple of AH-MA all I remember of Macau was gaudy casinos and loads of construction. The temples are more out of control on Macau than in HK. The incense sticks were bigger, the smoke thicker, the people noisier (or more devout?), and the animal sacrifices greater. There was one annoying experience, one touching experience, and one funny experience all worth recounting from that day in Macau.

You need to show your passport to get into Macau but not if you are a HK resident. All the nuns were either residents of HK or Macau and breezed easily out of the customs area from the ferry arrival terminal. I was stuck in the terminal with hundreds of mainland Chinese who also had to show passports.*** Evidently, this was before the Chinese government started etiquette classes on proper queuing for their citizens in the run-up to the Olympics. I was stuck in the middle of a mass of humanity just shoving and pushing in every direction. This sea of people swept me to and fro, the jostling as bad as the bumpy ride on the speed-ferry. I just went with it trying to keep moving forward to the five feet of metal rails that constituted actual delineation before reaching the customs officer. Once somebody in front of me stepped on a discarded puke bag from the ferry. This popped open the bag emitting a viscous substance and an ungodly odor. I promptly stepped in it and could hardly hold back my own vomit. Thankfully, the pushing and the shoving drove me away from that area quickly (and dissipated any residue on my sneaker.) After an hour of this I finally made it through and met the nuns, who had the temerity to ask what took me so long.

So I am in Macau. The Temple of AH-MA. St. Paul’s façade. St. Dominic’s church. Some bones of Japanese martyrs. A couple of museums. Some gaudy casinos. Sightseeing out of the way. I venture along with Aunt Helen, Sister Ann Marie, Sister Susan, and Sister Anne to the Macau Social Center where they work. This is an area of town close to the border with China and out of the way from the casinos. Mainly poorer people in this part and the Center provides services for children. The Sisters ask me if I wouldn’t mind dropping in on the kids, as they don’t really see any Westerners other than the nuns. The kids are in an art class and considering their ages, probably from 6 years old to 10 years, old they can all draw spectacularly well. I am pointed out and then stared at with wonder. They are all wearing sports jerseys of American basketball teams or irregular t-shirts**** One little boy asks me “How are you?” Other children giggle. I answer “Fine. How are you?” To which many voices answer “Fine. How are you?” Ignoring the second part of the their response and thinking they may know English I ask about their drawings eliciting only blank faces. Apparently, they don’t know English but do know how to answer “Fine. How are you?” I spent some time laughing with them and playing a bit and looking at their drawings. It was nice.

Then we went to dinner. I forget which casino we had dinner. Maybe the Wynn. Anyway, it was an upscale restaurant within. Aunt Helen knew some vice president of the casino and managed to get us hooked up with a nice meal.***** Or so she thought. This VP never materialized; he was actually supposed to sup with us. Meanwhile, the nuns are ordering whatever they want and even partaking in a glass of nice wine. Good for them. I do the same. Now seconds becomes dessert and still no VP. The nuns begin to panic a bit. Whereas there were little jokes directed to Aunt Helen about “doing the dishes” and such, the tone now became more serious. Aunt Helen, in a near panic, keeps asking the waitress or the maitre d’ to try and find this guy. Every few minutes she is hounding some employee to track him down. The rest of the nuns visibly worry about how to pay for this meal. As calmly as I could I mention that no problem exists, I’ll put it on my credit card and, really, there is no need to worry. This does nothing to squash the sense of palpable despair coming from the nuns. Finally, Aunt Helen gets him on the horn and he apologizes for not being able to make it and gives the word that, of course, the meal is on the casino. Disaster averted. Whew! I don’t think dessert was enjoyed by anyone but me.

So that’s Macau. Photos following my addendums.

*No actual gambling occurred at any Macau casinos. In fact on my quick, brief walk through two ultra-gaudy casinos I didn’t even recognize the table games. If I saw a blackjack table and thought I could extricate myself from the nuns I may have played a little bit.

**For any Sinophiles reading, I suggest James Fallows' blog at The Atlantic website for an always interesting perspective on China.

***A funny quip from Aunt Helen that I heard numerous times during my week stay: “No Hong Kong resident has committed a crime since 1999.” This implied that all crimes and other annoyances were caused by visitors from mainland China.

****I was told that many poor people here get irregular clothes from the multitude of factories in China. When a mistake is made on a batch and they can’t sell it in a western country they place them for sale or give them away in some of the poorer regions. It is doubtful that most of them know what their shirts say. I saw a bunch of shirts festooned with sexual innuendo on very young girls.

*****Aunt Helen knows a lot of people in Hong Kong. She also knows a lot of well off people though charity work she performs. Later on in the trip a priest friend of hers asked what we had been doing and after I mentioned some of the fine dining establishments and places I have been with some of Aunt Helen’s friends he declared, “Oh, Helen is introducing you to all her la-de-da friends.”

Aunt Helen in the quaint town center of Macau

St. Paul's facade

Macau. Lots of casinos. Note the then under construction Lotus casino on the top left. Photo taken from up high in St. Paul's facade.

Temple of AH-MA

At the old Macau-China border. Me and Aunt Helen. The nuns.

HONG KONG 2007: Nuns, Nuns, Nuns!!!

2009-06-09T21:18:00.005-04:00

My Aunt Helen is a Maryknoll Sister and has lived in Hong Kong my entire life, or at least as long as I can remember. She is also my godmother and even though I only saw her every few years, (if that) while growing up I always had a special fondness for her. She has a remarkable ability to get along with almost anyone and even when seeing her for the first time in years it is as if you just chatted with her yesterday. She is an excellent storyteller and has many stories to tell. Many times she throws in a “See” at the end of a sentence as if she was living in a 1920 noir novel and she has the propensity for sayings such as “She was a big woman but walked with the grace of the Queen Elizabeth coming into port.” She is losing her hearing so can’t hear you (or acts like she can’t hear you) and often keeps on talking and talking. Mostly, you don’t mind because of all the interesting things she has to say.

If there was any sense of danger in Hong Kong it had to do with following Aunt Helen around. People drive much more recklessly in HK than the US but Aunt Helen still barrels straightforward into the street. I jaywalk as much as the next person but Aunt Helen just careens right out into traffic. When I mentioned to her how she was going to be killed by being struck by an truck her response had something to do with how the Chinese respect their elders and watch out for her so she wasn’t worried. Now I had the thought of an errant automobile swerving to miss the white-haired woman and hitting me. Great.

The shock of white hair on her head and the head of most of the other nuns I met stood out the most. Especially when they are surrounded by so many dark haired people. I remember people on the street stopping her and mentioning how much they admire the whiteness of her hair.

Aunt Helen lived in a convent with three or four other nuns and an occasional priest on a different floor. The convent was difficult to get to off of a four-lane main drag with a traffic divider blocking entrance form one direction of travel. It was also buttressed behind a gas station and adjacent to a methadone clinic or maybe a mental health clinic. I’d meet Aunt Helen at the convent for breakfast and had dinner with her and some of the other Sisters – Jean, Mary Lou, Mariah, Ann Marie, Susan, and Anne – a couple times. They were all wonderful and being there with them and speaking with them made my trip to HK that much more fulfilling.

I found it enjoyable to walk around with Aunt Helen or the other Sisters, as they knew many people and commanded respect from all others. These short, white-skinned and white-haired women were of endless energy, boundless enthusiasm, and good humor*. They each had unique personalities and all were very worldly and intelligent. They do a tough job and I only have admiration for them and what they have dedicated there lives to accomplishing. As most have been away from America for a very long time they peppered me with questions and wanted to hear my opinion on the state of things, which I was happy to give. Being 2007 I provided a lot of Bush bashing that they seemed to enjoy.

I’m not sure how Maryknoll produces such nuns but I am glad they do. If your only experience with nuns is getting your hands ruler slapped in the third grade I suggest a tour of HK or Macau with the Maryknoll sisters.

*They all enjoyed the joke I came up with when I was younger and Aunt Helen was home in NY. I believe I told it over a family dinner. The joke:

A priest had consumed a bit too much Eucharistic wine and could no longer contain his amorous feelings for a Sister he knew. He brought this up to her and mentioned how he would “like something.” The Sister reproached him, “You will get none.” To which the priest replied, “Excellent. That’s what I am looking for.”

HONG KONG 2007: Arrival

2009-06-06T14:03:00.007-04:00

It is Sunday night, August 19, 2007. It is 10:14 PM. I am sitting in a hotel room in Hong Kong. The hot water is running in the shower, ostensibly to straighten out wrinkled clothes. I am told that there is a lunch appointment at a posh Hong Kong location that I am expected to attend. Shirt, tie and possibly a jacket are required. Before I left NYC, I reluctantly placed these items into my large backpack ruing the space they take up. Feeling the humid summer heat of Hong Kong in the evening I realized that the jacket will never, under any circumstances, be worn by me. (Even having had strong thoughts about this I still may have ended up wearing it. I forget but I don’t think I did.)*

It’s over 24 hours since I left NYC. I spent about thirteen of those in the air on the non-stop flight. The rest was the time difference, which sped me 12 hours into the future. I actually like getting into a new place at night after a long plane ride. Since I do not sleep well on planes it allows me to go directly to sleep. Usually after a good first night’s rest jet lag is minimal. By chance, if I don’t arrive to a far-away location at night I try to stay up as late as possible and get a good night sleep and start the next day off on local time. If jet lag isn’t minimal and lasts a few days I usually just get very drunk. This makes me sleep and I am better at dealing with a hangover, due to its more common occurrence, than jet lag. Timing of sleep, drunkenness or a combination of both is my jetlag remedy. Remember that for your future travels.

My Aunt Helen met me at the airport with a friend, Jean. We took a taxi into Hong Kong and then I think into Kowloon. If I remember correctly Hong Kong and Kowloon are on opposite sides of the harbor. I think my hotel was in Kowloon. Aunt Helen seemed especially pleased to see me. What a nice way to end a long plane ride. She was very happy for a visitor and looked forward to showing me around and playing tour guide. I have told many relatives of how gracious a host Aunt Helen is and implored them to go to HK soon based upon my experiences.

Awaiting me in my hotel room was a gift basket set up by Aunt Helen. It included some toiletries, some American snacks such as cookies and chocolate, and a book entitled “The Story of Hong Kong.” It was really too much but well appreciated by me. Aunt Helen told me that the snacks and chocolate were for when I wanted American food that may not be readily available in HK or Japan. I was only going to be away from America for 11 days and thought I could make it without such comforts. For the most part I did do without those familiar items but I did eat all that was in the gift basket during my trip.

Aunt Helen hooked me up with a nice room in a hotel run by the hospital where she works. I forget the price, maybe $75 USD/night, but it was a great bargain. It was clean and spacious.**

It didn’t have a great view but decent and I overlooked a red-tiled church. (Note the bamboo scaffolding used for construction.)

I unpacked my stuff, as I would be staying here for a week. I showered to wash the travel off of me. Which brings us to 10:14 PM, writing in my journal and steaming wrinkled clothes. As the final words in my first journal entry states: Sleep Now***.

*I did have a suit made for me by a Hong Kong tailor. I wore that jacket but just in the act of trying it on for size.

**The photo of the hotel room displays the aftermath of my sleeping in a hotel bed procedure. I remove the bedspread and untuck all covers. I can't stand how tight a hotel bed is made and I don't trust the cleanliness of bed spreads. This goes for all hotels - America or abroad.

***Underlining of those words in original journal entry. Bold added for the blog.

HONG KONG 2007: Cathay Pacific

2009-06-05T10:33:00.003-04:00

Cathay Pacific is the best airline I’ve been on. For the past three years I have been taking it to Vancouver while on the way to Whistler for snowboarding. So counting back from 2009 I guess I flew it in winter 2007 which would have been before this Hong Kong/Japan summer 2007 trip. This wasn’t my first trip with Cathay but like all others it was a gratifying experience.

I had non-stop to Hong Kong from JFK. During this flight I watched two movies, read an entire novel, and slept about an hour. And it didn’t seem long or boring or stressful at all.
Cathay Pacific has decent food, attentive and pretty stewardesses, and loads of movie options for your viewing pleasure. One of the movies I watched, Fracture, I have noted in my journal as “excellent.” Which is interesting for a few reasons. One is that other than knowing Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling star, I don’t remember anything about it. Second, as could be seen during the Colbinski Chronicles 2008 Movie Roundtable Spectacular I usually really hate movies I watch on a plane. Something about the whole experience – small screen, never-ending distractions, and constant background noise – turns me negative. Not only do I always watch movies on a plane, I actually look forward to watching movies on a plane then never enjoy it as much as I probably should.* Movie watching on a plane may be a microcosm of my life in that respect.

The other movie I watched was a Japanese comedy called Bubble or Bust. It was about a plucky heroine who, after being sent back in time through a washing machine, fixes something or another in the past, learns reasons behind past hurt, and saves the future. Pretty much like any mediocre time travel movie except she was covered in suds from the washing machine. Well, actually she rinsed off fairly quickly and was sans suds most of the movie. I just wanted to highlight the fact that time travel was accomplished through a washing machine. It was a broad comedy, which is good watching on an airplane. If I was a young Japanese professional ensconced in Japanese pop culture and living a frivolous lifestyle with gobs of disposable Yen in 1980’s Tokyo I am sure I would have gotten jokes that I otherwise missed. The broadness of the comedy and the allure of the lead actress made it all OK. Give an extra half a star for the cleverness of the title.

The novel I read was Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. A slender novel, to be sure, but it prevented me from sleeping as the more I read the more I had to keep reading. I am an unabashed Murakami fan and this book had me hooked. Looking back I wish I had not read it all in one sitting. I would have rather been able to reflect upon it and let what was happening simmer a bit. I do remember thinking as I read it and after finishing, while the plane landed, that in Murakami’s stories females are the real voice of the story and those characters become so easy to fall in love with and it becomes simple to see why his protagonists usually do as well. (These thoughts still resonate with me but somewhat differently after an encounter with a Japanese woman at a sake bar in Tokyo, later during this trip, who had a differing opinion concerning how Murakami presents females in his stories.) Norwegian Wood is on my list of books to revisit and after writing about it I may place it on top of the list.

The book and the movies certainly helped time go by on the trip. I was unsure how I would be sitting on a plane for over 12 hours but it wasn’t terrible and it was uneventful. The plane wasn’t full and I was sharing the four-seat middle section with a woman who lived in Virginia. She was going to visit her son who lived in HK with his father and then she was going to Thailand for a vacation for just the two of them. We had a pleasant conversation over dinner and a glass of wine. She looked really happy to be seeing her son and looking forward to their time together. It was nice. Then she slept while I watched movies and/or read Murakami.

Then the plane landed. My Aunt Helen, who has lived in HK for my entire life, was at the airport to pick me up and guide me to the hotel.

*I once watched Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein while flying on a domestic cross-country flight on my laptop. They were great and sitting on a plane did nothing to take away from that viewing experience.

RETRO TRAVELOGUE

2009-06-04T21:39:00.007-04:00

UPDATED BELOW

It’s been quite a while since I have blogged. Time just got away from me. After all the Ethiopian blogging I knew I would not be able to continue that pace as I returned to school. But then I finished up with my coursework in December and I thought, for sure, that I would resume blogging with a forcefulness heretofore unknown. For various reasons, mostly doing with personal laziness, it never happened. Other than the 2008 Movie Roundtable Spectacular and a few posts emphasizing the virtues of the original Planet of the Apes movies I have been AWOL. Irreconcilably AWOL.

I would like to use a recent move, from the west village to the east village, as an excuse for my slothfulness but that won’t hold water or pass muster. The move may yet have a positive effect on my blogging. (Not to mention that my current living situation should provide me with many entertaining anecdotes.) In the course of rummaging through items, to determine whether to discard or pack, I unearthed journals I kept during previous travels. These are handwritten entries either in an actual journal, a notepad, or just scraps of paper that highlight what I did, adventures I had, and thoughts and ruminations on past vacations. These are nothing like the three months I spent in Ethiopia except that the locales, the customs, and the peoples were all new to me. (So I guess it was like Ethiopia but shorter and I felt more like a visitor rather than I was living there.)

I look forward rereading my journal entries and transforming them into blog posts. I’ll be able to relive my experiences with the added benefit of hindsight and, of course, incorporating a dash of my usual pizzazz into these now electronic posts. I will begin with my 2007 trip to Hong Kong and Japan.* If this goes well and I keep it up I’ll continue with my previous trips to Europe in 2003 and 2001. Hmmm, I guess I didn’t go anywhere for four years.

*UPDATE*I did two blog posts about Japan here and here. This will just be catching up on everything that happened around these two incidents.

Tweet!

2009-03-27T08:47:00.002-04:00

Follow the Chronicles on Twitter:

@tom_ohagan (changed my twitter handle - updated this post accordingly)

Apes Rule!!!

2009-01-25T19:38:00.003-05:00

I recently watching the original five Planet of the Apes movies. It is easy for me to see why I loved these as a kid. Although not all of the movies are that good I still consider this series to be a classics of American film. This entry is going to concentrate on the final two movies in the POTA cannon: Conquest of the Planet of the Apes and Battle for the Planet of the Apes. Additional musings about Planet of the Apes and Beneath the Planet of the Apes and Escape from the Planet of the Apes.

After the let down of Beneath and the excitement of Escape I was ready to see what I remembered about Conquest. It was largely how I recalled it although not as much of a 1970’s film as I thought. Which is not to say that it didn’t have any 1970 SF film touches. The humans were still dressed all the same in mono-colored turtle necked fabrics*, authoritarian voices boomed into public spaces to let civilians know what to do, and multi-colored buttons adorned glossy paneled equipment to make it look futuristic. But for some reason I like to remember this movie as resembling a blaxploitation movie with lots of freeze-frames of an angry Caesar gazing through flames. Flames and an angry Caesar are present but not the freeze-frames.

I greatly enjoyed these final two installations and all that they added to the overall Apes mythos. It all came together very well. And we are still left off about a thousand years before Taylor crash lands. Lots can happen and that is one of the quibbles. As Colbinski and I have discussed (during a real conversation and not blogging), these great themes are dealt with in generalities rather than really focusing on them. There are the parallels to the civil rights movement, allusions to animal rights, and taken in today’s poor economic climate a warning about humans who want too much and selfishly mess it up for everyone. And mess it up they did and here came the apes.

Conquest picks up around two decades after Escape left off. A new twist added is that an unheard of disease wipes out dogs and cats and humans turn to replace these pets with monkeys and apes. Soon humans are breeding these animals to be bigger, smarter, and more skilled. Humans then turned these apes into slaves doing al sorts of work and being auctioned off like chattel. Our good pal Caesar**, he borne of Cornelius and Zira and who grew up able to speak in a circus is furious at his fellow apes treatment. And rightly so. So Caesar begins the revolution. All well and good. But Caesar doesn’t want only a Planet of Apes. He envisions a world co-ruled by simian and human.

So after the Conquest the Battle begins. In between these two movies humans send out nuclear bombs to quell the ape revolution, which apparently occurred worldwide. Why nuclear war would help is never really explored. Not too far from a destroyed city that will eventually become the Forbidden Zone (I think) Caesar’s shared utopia is taking bloom but not without problems as Aldo, a gorilla general is causing problems. Mutant humans from below the nuked city appear again and a battle occurs, the apes win, and then Caesar ultimately gets his way over Aldo and we may have everlasting primate peace contrary to the first POTA film.

One aspect that stands out to me is how much I relate to the Apes. I forgot all about the mutant humans appearing in Beneath and Battle. With good reason, I forgot them. They are terrible additions and I wish they weren’t around. Even as a precocious young’un I could even see that. Even when Aldo is chased by Caesar with the other apes chanting “Ape Shall Not Kill Ape!” I felt a twinge of sympathy for Aldo. Interestingly, Also is named as the Ape that wrote the Sacred Scrolls from which Ape Law is given. Battle shows that that is no longer the case. Caesar’s Rules abound and peace and harmony exist some 900 years after his death. As Colbinski has pointed out (again, during a spoken conversation) this brings about the Terminator Paradox***. Caesar needs the events of the first two movies to happen to even be born. His new rules suggest that that may not happen. So how will he be born? This is what I find interesting about the years between the end of Battle and the first Planet. What happens? Does another Aldo come along and upset the harmonic apple cart? Or will Taylor crash land in a world where he will be accepted? Oh, for a few more Apes movies.

*It amazes me that so many SF films made in the 70’s have people wearing the same exact clothing. This was a time when counter-culture and individualism were taking root, when differences were being praised and celebrated. Yet conformity regarding sartorial choices was constantly portrayed. Is this because filmmakers viewed this conformity as part of their vision of some future utopia or just plain laziness and/or lack of imagination?

** Caesar is named Milo when born in Escape. During the beginning of Conquest he is called Caesar and not Milo by the circus owner. Perhaps this is because Milo was known as one of the Apes from the future and naming a circus ape born around the same time Milo would raise eyebrows. But then in a great scene, Caesar is sold as a slave ape and when given a book to point to name himself he defiantly chooses Caesar. I loved the look in his eyes when he points to the name in the book with a sly certainty.

***The Terminator Paradox is based upon the time traveling within the Terminator movies where John Connor needs SkyNet to exist in order to be born as his father came back from the future and mated with his mother. I’m not exactly sure how the Terminator movies deal with this paradox and I probably haven’t explained it correctly but that’s how I understand it.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2009-01-24T21:57:00.002-05:00

Part VII: Final Round-up

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

After a short delay from recent movies to write a bit about those old classic Planet of the Apes movies (well, mostly classics) I want to wrap up some other 2008 films that I have watched either in the theatre, on cable or by way of DVD. An update of my 2008 movie list found here.

Grand Torino
Retired crank and racist (retired from working in an automobile plant not retired from crankiness or racism) Walter Kowalski meets up with his teenage immigrant Hmong neighbors. Hilarity ensues. Well, not exactly. Although the racism seems a bit much at times this is still a very good movie that while not surprising does offer some tense moments and keeps you involved throughout. I liked the performances and the interactions between grizzled Clint Eastwood and the young Hmong cast. Recommended.

Milk
A moving biopic of the gay rights leader Harvey Milk. Excellent performances all around especially by James Brolin and and James Franco. I thought the intermixing of old footage into scenes was jarring and misplaced until the very end. It shows how far gay rights have come in the past 30 years but also serves as a reminder of how far they still have to go in light of the Prop 8 vote in California this past November. Good/Recommended

Tell No One
A French thriller/suspense film that actually comes together and makes sense as long as you allow the story to wash over you rather than following it fastidiously. I liked the tempo and pacing and certain scenes like a chase across a highway are very well done. Even the predictable ending confession that ties all loose ends together is better than you should expect. Good/Recommended

Wall-E
Not sure I see what the big deal is about this one. Critics were moon-eyed over this story about the last robot on Earth. I was nonplussed. Boring and not terribly moving despite a few amusing scenes. It proves that Hollywood’s fascination with male-female December-May romances can be related to robots. I was actually glad this one was over when it ended as I found myself constantly looking at my watch to see try to predict when it would be over. Disapointing

Wendy and Lucy
A small story concerned about a couple nights in a young woman’s life as she tries to get to Alaska. Like most good small stories it moves you more by what is left out then if everything is explained ad nauseum. I thought one scene in the train yard was unnecessary but I can see why it was left in. It is a well done film about a side of America not always seen or remembered. Recommended

Great Escape

2009-01-07T21:11:00.004-05:00

Dr. Milo went to the shore off the Forbidden Zone. Dr. Milo salvaged Taylor's space craft. Dr. Milo learned "half of it" regarding space flight. Dr. Milo recruits Cornelius and Zira and they enter the space craft as the gorilla led war begins. They watch the destruction of the world as happened at the end of Beneath the Planet of the Apes. All this occurs before their starstruck eyes. The space craft then crash lands in the ocean off of Los Angeles in 1973.

That's all I needed to know. I completely buy that explanation.

Especially as it leads into a smart and plausible story. There's the juxtaposition of Zira and Cornelius first captured by humans with what is remembered of Taylor's time with the apes. An animal rights platform delivered without heavy-handedness. A delightful romp as we watch the apes enjoy themselves in 1973 America. Fantastic character development of Cornelius and Zira as we watch their wonderful relationship. Ricardo Montalban makes an appearance that makes you forget how big a ham Charlton Heston is. Another twist ending that proves these screenwriters had foresight and were looking at the next story.

Escape from the Planet of the Apes is as different from the first two as can be. But it manages to build upon the ape world while not taking place within it. Not the classic that the original is but still a classic. This Apes movie was exactly as I remembered it.

Although upon my rewatching I didn't think much of Beneath the Planet of the Apes, I am glad that Beneath begat Escape.

Now on to the Conquest!!!

Childhood Memories Smashed

2009-01-07T08:56:00.005-05:00

Or How Rewatching Beneath the Planet of the Apes Ruined My Night

I just began to rewatch all the Planet of the Apes movies, excluding the terrible 2001 remake. Other than the classic original I haven’t seen these since I was a young lad when they were shown on the Channel 7 4:30 Movie. (Planet of the Apes Week and Godzilla Week were my favorite weeks.) To start, I watched Planet and Beneath the Planet of the Apes back-to-back. Planet is still great. One of my all-time favorites movies. It sets up a great world and ends with a fantastic payoff.

I finished watching Planet of the Apes, thought of retiring for the night, but excitement took hold of my faculties and I popped in Beneath. If asked which of the Apes movies was my favorite I would have answered Beneath. In fact, I did answer Beneath to that very same question just the other day, which was one of the things that whetted my appetite to watch all these again. This favoritism was based upon my childhood memories. I remember a Taylor look-alike who I thought was cool while fighting apes. He gets shot in the arm and doesn’t make a sound while hiding behind a scrub brush, and then in the finale he ends up getting stood up to a wall in a rain of ape gunfire just before the ape world is destroyed. What a way to go! Until I rewatched this movie I would have placed dying in a hail of ape gunfire while the world blew up to be in my top 3 ways of passing on.

Other than the shooting scene behind the bush nothing about Beneath was as I remembered. In fact, I am saddened to say, the movie really isn’t any good. How can something I imagined for around thirty years to be great become so disappointing? I knew something was wrong when I didn’t se Roddy McDowell’s name in the credits. What is going on here? (I have since read up on wikipedia that Roddy was busy directing another film during Beneath’s making and therefore could not be in it.)

The main problem may be that I watched this and the original together. On rewatching the original I found more subtely added and the ape world more complex. . In a short span the movie sets up the different ape groups: orangutans are smart leaders, gorillas are the police force, brutish and powerful, and chimpanzees the diligent workers. It shows how that world works. We see museums, markets, courts of law, churches, research facilities. The orangutans know about the past human history. This is alluded to in one of the first conversations between Zira and Cornelius as they talk about how chimpanzees have been given new rights but that they both realize they can never really know all that the orangutans do and will never sit on the council. The council ruled by the orangutans want control. Even though they claim their civilization is thousands of years old we wonder why they haven’t advanced as much they probably should have. From some tidbits coming out of the mouth of Dr. Zaius we realize that the orangutans have been purposefully holding back the apes from advancing too soon too fast based upon the folly of humans who had done their best to destroy the world. In themselves they see the capacity for destructive war that humans have mastered and they are trying to prevent that. (The subsequent movies play on other human follies that lead to the ape world. Or at least I think it does, I haven’t gotten around to rewatching them yet.)

What was greatly disappointing about Beneath was that it doesn’t really add further insight into this world. They do add a gorilla army, that is belligerent and bellicose, rather than just a police or hunting force. There is one scene where chimpanzees are at a peace protest against the gorillas but this is never explored further. Dr. Zauis sort of goes with General Ursis and his army but he is really the only orangutan around and in the first one he wasn’t even the most important orangutan. (Dr. Zaius is the Minister of Science and the Leader of the Faith.) It seems that orangutans have given control away to a populist militaristic gorilla movement. It can also be seen in any scene involving more than three apes that they really cheaped out on the production design. In group shots I really do think they juts put some gorilla masks on extras and told them to jump up and down.

Other than these ape insights, Beneath focuses way too much on the humans. Especially the stupid telepathic underground mutants. I understand that circa 1969 telepaths and nuclear war destruction were common SF and fantasy tropes but c’mon! You have a great concept in a world ruled by apes. Why add mutant telepaths who worship a nuclear bomb? Not only were the mutants terrible but, worse, they were unnecessary.

I do understand why Brent, the new astronaut, was included. (Because a recalcitrant Charlton Heston did not want much to do with a sequel.) The guy who played Brent was fine if not a bit too much of a “serious” actor. During the scenes when he was attempting to ward off the mutants brain control and refrain from choking Nova I was like “Lighten up man, you’re in an Apes movie.” Intentionally or not, the film does fulfill the promise of modern man as world destroyers as Taylor, the misplaced human, is the one to detonate the “Doomsday bomb” which while small as far as bombs go, apparently packs a humungous punch and was stored in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City.

The first film packs a wallop at the end with Taylor finding a dilapidated Statue of Liberty. Beneath now imagines an entire ruined NYC that seems misplaced. It does away with time and distance when dealing with the Forbidden Zone. Every cave became an entrance to New York City. And New York after a nuclear war is amazingly easy to get around. Brent went from Queenboro Plaza to the New York Public Library to Grand central Station to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in no time at all.

The movie also starts off with a scene involving Taylor giving Nova his dogtags. Dogtags were never in the first movie. But here is Taylor digging it out of his loincloth and handing over to Nova. How ridiculous. Didn’t anyone watch the first movie? Taylor is completely naked like three times and his only possession is his dirty stinking loin cloth summarily torn off after offending an orangutan’s delicate olfactory senses. It’s not even the broken continuity that bothers me. It’s the sheer laziness. There are a million other ways and reasons for Nova to have Taylor’s name written down somewhere on her person. And dogtags was the best they could come up with. And for more nitpicking, Cornelius and Zira who at the end of Planet were being held in arrest for heresy by Dr. Zaius now appear to be his confidante and living in married bliss. More laziness from the filmmakers.

In addition to the above quibbles I think I was either disappointed in myself or I just found myself questioning the younger me. Did I ever think those mutants were cool or added to the story in any meaningful way? The mutant telepaths were quite lame. I was deflated when I found out that the gorilla General was named Ursis and not Urko. Apparently, Urko was not introduced until the TV series. They were the same rocking helmet, though. The biggest disappointment was the death of Brent which for some reason lasts a lot longer in my memory. I recall a man dying as a hero while being stuffed full of burning lead. The death is quick and untidy and not at all like the image that I have been holding in my mind. Then the voice-over ending concerning a “dead planet” was cheesy and not ominous. And you would think that they would end the series with a destroyed world.

But there is Escape from the Planet of the Apes. The next DVD to be popped in a watched. I remember liking this one quite a bit also. I’m just not going to think about how Cornelius and Zira could have commandeered a spaceship and gotten it off the planet and into a time vortex. It’s not gonna bother me at all.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2009-01-03T12:49:00.005-05:00

Part VI: A few more movies viewed and more Jason Statham

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

I've also caught up on a few 2008 movies since my first post. I would throw My Blueberry Nights in the Disappointing column and Gran Torino in the Highly Recommended column. My Blueberry Nights is the first English language movie from Hong Kong director Kar Wai Wong (In the Mood for Love and 2046 being two examples of his best work). My Blueberry Nights just simply disappoints. There really wasn't anything there. It's fluidly shot and well acted (Norah Jones is surprisingly undistracting but no great shakes) but the story is just so much of nothing. There was no sense of place. Perhaps that's to be expected in a movie that has interlocking stories from Manhattan, Memphis and Las Vegas as Norah Jones' Elizabeth embarks on a journey of sorts. But there was no sense that there was no sense of place either. If this was Kar Wai Wong's American journey movie it got a flat tire a few miles on the interstate.

Gran Torino, on the other hand, was a well-oiled machine, much like the eponymous car. Clint Eastwood plays Walter Kowalski, a Korean War vet now retired after 40 years at the local Ford plant. After his wife passes way, he's alone in a changing neighborhood now full of Hmong immigrants. The movies strength comes from Eastwood, both as director and actor. Most write-ups of Gran Torino I've read cite Kowalski as a mash-up of Dirty Harry and Bill Muny from Unforgiven. I see Thomas Highway from Heartbreak Ridge as the true source for Kowalski. It's as if Gunny Highway retired and moved to Detroit he behave and react just as Walt does here. At any rate, Walt begins an unlikely relationship with his Hmong neighbors. Eastwood's ease of pacing as a director carefully choreographs this relationship. What, in others hands, could easily fall prey to sentimental melodrama, exists as true organic moments under Eastwood's steady hand.

This brings to mind another unlikely friendship by another Walt - Richard Jenkin's Walter in The Visitor. Similarly, director Tom McCarthy here also avoids the pitfalls of middle-aged white guy forging new experiences with a different culture in many of the same ways that Eastwood does - rich character development and heartfelt but not corny moments of universal truths. While entirely different movies, how each Walt handles the conflicts involved with their new friends resonates as each deal with a growing sense of powerlessness against outside forces. Each is singularly heartbreaking in their own right.

Now on to some other topics...

1. Nimero has an interesting past list of Best Movies of the Year. Before the blog, these lists were dispersed via e-mail to friends, which I no longer have record of. Nimero's memory is much better than mine as I needed to scan lists of released movies for 2003 and 2004 to determine what my Best was, but to no avail. Here's what I came up with:

2007: No Country for Old Man
2006: The Fountain
2005: King Kong
2004: I have no idea. Nothing jumped out at me.
2003: Maybe Master and Commander, but I think there was something else. But nothing else jumped out at me.

2. My Jason Statham comment was more directed at The Bank Job rather than The Transporter series. But I can't deny that I have been entertained by both Transporter movies even though I yet to see the end of either. Though I know exactly how each ends, thank you very much. The Bank Job is a fun heist movie that has solid characters, is not forcibly self-serious or handcuffed to the being a peroid piece (late 60's England) though it seems to evoke that period very well. It casts Statham as a regular bloke brought in for a can't miss bank robbery when in reality he's a pawn for some rather seedy political play. Of course Statham's regular bloke gets his contractually obligated kick-ass scene. Had no idea his character could do that, but, oddly enough it didn't take away from movie one bit. Such is the screen charisma of Jason Statham. Now to move that Statham movie where he has to keep moving or die to the top of my Netflix queue.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2009-01-02T12:25:00.004-05:00

Part V: I pick a favorite movie of the year

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

As promised in the Roundtable Spectacular initial post (which thus far, while remaining spectacular, has not been much of a roundtable) I have updated my category list with movies since viewed. At that time, I wasn't quite sure which movie to declare the best (re my favorite) of the year. But I have now decided. Let The Right One In is my favorite and best movie of 2008. Before I get talking about this great film let me recap my favorite movies of previous years. I can go back to 2003 from memory.

2008: Let The Right One In
2007: No Country for Old Men
2006: Pan's Labyrinth
2005: 2046
2004: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
2003: Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Perhaps listing these favorites will enhance the reader's appreciation of my cinematic likes and dislikes. More likely, no one cares. On to my favorite of 2008.

After seeing Let The Right One In I knew I liked it. I just wasn’t sure how much I liked it. After sussing it over for a few days I am now of the opinion that it is a modern day masterpiece. It doesn’t add anything new to vampire legend but it reveals quite a bit about human nature in general. Vampires still drink blood and have an aversion to sunlight. There is no vampire origin story and there is an interesting twist on how a vampire/human bond comes to exist so strongly than doesn’t involve hypnotism or bloodsharing. The title of the film also subverts the notion of inviting a vampire into one’s abode nicely. Rather this film is about how one vampire lives and how that life is itself extraordinary. It’s not even about vampires, really. It’s about childhood vulnerabilities and how they are exploited by that child’s peers, both friend and foe. The most amazing aspect of this film is how it portrays its two main characters. The relationship between neglected, picked-on Oskar and the vampire Eli seems touching, even hopeful but upon reflection it is anything but. Inside this film is a story about the difficulties of growing up without getting older and the journey of getting older without having to grow up. It’s still a vampire story, though, and that makes it even more remarkable.

Colbinski, yet to see this tremendous film, is currently reading the book by John Ajvhide Lindqvist. I anticipate Colbinski finishing the book and then watching this film as much as I anticipate reading it once he is done. I do not anticipate the inevitiable Hollywood remake slated for 2010 by the director of Cloverfield which I hated.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2008-12-30T20:47:00.002-05:00

Part IV: In the Poor House

I didn’t see many movies this year and unfortunately the ones I did see were mainly mediocre. This was partly due to not going to see movies but also to what was available to me as I spent three months of year in Ethiopia. (Ethiopia doesn’t get too much arthouse fare.) But a couple of flicks stood out as really rotten.

The worst movie of the year was The Happening, which I reviewed while in Ethiopia. I’ll preface my bashing of the next two terrible movies by mentioning that I watched them during a long plane ride. So watching crappy movies during a long (sometimes crappy) plane trip isn’t the best way to gauge quality. Alternatively, I think that a halfway decent movie would actually seem better during a long trip just as a crappy one seems ever the more crappy.

Cloverfield ranks in the poor category because I don’t remember it at all. I remember the stupid trailer that everyone was a-gaga over. The film itself? No. I don’t even remember the monster. And I am very keen on movie monsters. Couldn’t tell you how tall, what color, how sharp teeth, if he had cool plates or sails on his back, or what sound he might have made. After first seeing it I wasn’t impressed but the quickness in which I forgot everything about this movie astounds me and makes me regard it as a horrible piece of pop culture. It doesn’t even achieve what the worst pop culture does and stay ingrained in the consciousness for any period of time. Speaking of forgettable, don’t get me started on the bland actors and actresses. They should immediately return to whatever WB family drama (that most likely stars Treat Williams) they emerged from and never grace the big screen again. This signifies the problem for a movie like this. If you are going to have stupid characters doing stupid things and placing their stupid friends in stupid situations then at least make them interesting. A prevailing theory in Hollywood today seems to be that we should care about these people only because they are pretty enough to star in a movie. Boo! So don’t waste your time on this one. Rent the original Godzilla to see how city trashing monster movies are supposed to be.

This uninteresting characters yet pretty actors in a bad movie brings me to The Strangers. I watched this one on a laptop from a pirated Ethiopian DVD rather than at 30,000 feet above in a metal hull flying across the sky. At least there is an attempt to go inside the characters a bit but it doesn’t work. Then the usual starts happening. False suspense and loads of scenes where people in creepy masks appear behind the character we don’t care about and then disappears again undetected. Just like movie monsters I am also keen on slasher films. But this new wave of horror/slasher flicks that have cropped up in the past few years have me either bored or disgusted. By disgusted I mean that in a “I can’t believe I am watching this crap” type of disgusted. The type of disgusted the people who make slasher films do not want you to feel. A couple spends the night at a remote family cabin. Some people come to kill them. Stuff, mostly uninteresting stuff, happens before they die. Ho hum. You’ve seen it before and better done.

For bland, pretty, uninteresting stuff happening look no further than 10,000 B.C. Another plane movie but for some reason I remember all the laughably bad scenes of this movie. I think when I was five years old and making up stories with action figures I came up with a more plausible and historically correct plot than this movie. Did any screenwriters even do the most basic of research to see what the prevailing theories are for how life was at that time period? After watching this movie the overwhelming answer is of course not. In the span of less than 90 interminable minutes the story goes from an arctic setting to the desert where, inexplicably, the wooly mammoths hang out to assist in pyramid construction, and then back to the arctic. The sabre-tooth cats live in the swamp that separates these two geographical areas and then there’s some slave revolt and a journey to find a kidnapped love thrown in for good measure. I make it sound much more interesting and involved than it really is.

Those were the worst of the worst. And I got to rant a bit, too. Nice.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2008-12-28T23:18:00.005-05:00

Part III: Jason Stratham Discussion

Based upon an actual conversation:

Nimero: Did you see Transporter II?

Colbinski: Yes

N: Um...did you like it?

C: The car flipped upside down and the crane took the bomb off the bottom of it...(laughs)...(laughs more)...

N: I know...

C: ...That was great!

N: I guess that was great...

C: That was great.

N: It's amazing how such a preposterous scene can really make a movie.

C: It made the movie.

N: Did you like the fight in the oil slick?

C: That was in the first Transporter, I think.

N: Oh.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2008-12-28T12:10:00.004-05:00

Part II: Fine Performances in Limited Viewing

Click here for Part I of this discussion

As Nimero noted, 2008 proved to be an off year for movie-going and for movie-blogging for myself. I managed to sneak to the cinema to the latest Indiana Jones, the latest Batman, a Genghis Khan movie, and a wrasslin' flick, while only finding the time to do a write-up for Mongol. The other 2008 releases I caught on cable or DVD. Many fulfilling activities, I'm sure kept me busy this year but, suffice to say, my film-going schedule took a back seat. So, without further interruption, here's Colbinski's official (short and none-to-exciting) 2008 Year in Film Recap:

Highly Recommended
The Dark Knight

Recommended
Hellboy II: The Golden Army
The Wrestler

Good
Mongol
The Visitor
Redbelt
The Bank Job
Boarding Gate
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Poor
Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay

Now, about this "rating system." It's been clearly stated that Nimero need not abide by these categories. Since I haven't even seen 10 movies released this year, making atop ten list is out and so these broad-range markers will have to do. Though, like Nimero, the wiggle room within the "Good" category is vast. Mongol teeters on the Recommended/Good scale and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull teeters on the Good/Disappointing scale. I enjoyed enough after seeing it, but I think it was more the anticipation of another Indy movie that carried that feeling. It lacked real thrills and brought out many of Spielberg's worst instincts as a director. But, as Nimero stated, it was another Indy movie and, well, that is enough. Side note: strange how I'm more forgiving of bad Indy movies than of Episodes 1-3 of Star Wars. I think it was the re-visiting of a great character that made the difference versus the introduction of paper-thin characters in the second Star Wards trilogy.

Of the movies I saw, the performances truly carried the way. Of these, Chiwetel Ejiofor in Redbelt was the best. Of course, I'm a sucker for characters that calm, stoic idealists trying to get by, made difficult by external forces, stays true to himself and doesn't waver in the face of increasing adversity. Unlike Nimero, I found the ending cathartic (if not somewhat preposterous in the best possible way). Like many David Mamet movies, the con within the movie doesn't make much sense with one viewing - how deep did it go, when did it really start and why did they even bother to rope in a small-time judo instructor in the first place? - is the only reason why it didn't make the recommended list.

Other notable performances include Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler, Richard Jenkins in The Visitor, and Tadanobu Asano in Mongol. Like Ejiofor, all have a quiet center and more is done with what is not said. Outside of Rourke, none of these performances have any buzz, but I think I can safely say that it would be difficult for any other performances to top these 4. And I haven't even mentioned Heath Ledger's tour-de-force as The Joker in The Dark Knight.

Speaking of which, it's funny to think that Tim Burton's Batman was once considered the gritty dark antidote to the 60's cornball Batman TV show. That version seems so cartoony 20 years later. Christopher Nolan, however, understands where the darkness in the Batman mythos comes from and in both Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, he deftly coils the tension between Batman's sense of justice and Bruce Wayne's keen sense of loss. He also understands that Batman represents order. So, in stark contrast to Tim Burton's Joker, who, unforgivably, was responsible for the death of Bruce Wayne's parents, Nolan tosses in a wild card, a Joker, into Gotham City, with no origin and no real purpose. Bruce Wayne became Batman due to a random act of street violence. The Joker exists, it seems, to balance the scales of Batman's purpose. I've just oversimplified these heady themes that have been playing out in Batman stories for decades, but Nolan manages to pack The Dark Knight with ideas that are quite subversive to the mainstream superhero movie. And he does it without sacrificing some amazing set pieces and action sequences. The Dark Knight is a thrilling, smart two-fisted tale.

I'll leave it here for now while I work out further thoughts about The Joker and Two-Face, as well as my enduring fascination with Jason Statham.

2008 Movies Roundtable Spectacular

2008-12-25T10:35:00.009-05:00

Part I: Not much to say but dagnabbit we are going to say it anyway

Welcome once again to the Colbinski Chronicles end of the year Movie Roundtable Spectacular!

I am leaving spectacular in the title for dramatic effect although this past calendar year Colbinski has seen less than a dozen movies and I have seen less than two dozen. Apparently, Colbinski now lives a life chock to the brim with fulfillment and happiness and does not need celluloid escapism as much as I do. But it appears that end of the year movie rhapsodizing and trips to Ethiopia are the only times this blog sees any action so we’ll do what we can.

The movies we did see will be placed into categories:

Highly Recommended
Recommended
Good
Disappointing
Poor.

These categories are Colbinski’s preference although I don’t see any difference with this and the normally used four-star system with zero stars substituting for our Poor category. Colbinski claims to like the leeway the Good category provides but there is also an advantage to offering half stars. Regardless we will use these categories*. So here’s a breakdown of movies I have watched this past year in those categories.**

The Best
Let The Right One In

Highly Recommended
4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 days
The Dark Knight
Man on Wire

Recommended
Iron Man
Hellboy II: The Golden Army
The Wrestler
Sayuki Western Django
The Visitor
Gran Torino
Wendy & Lucy
Milk (Good/Recommended)
Tell No One (Good/Recommended)

Good
Be Kind Rewind
The Incredible Hulk
Get Smart
Wanted
Leatherheads
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Disappointing
Red Belt
The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor
Wall-E

Poor
Cloverfield
10,000 B.C.
The Happening
The Strangers

*I see certain limitations already with these categories. Red Belt was a better movie than some on my Good list but I was severely disappointed with it, especially the ending, which I found to be incongruously out of place. By contrast, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crsytal Skull was disappointing but it was still an Indiana Jones movie for chrissakes. That makes it good just because. Also, Get Smart and Be Kind Rewind are fine for what they are and while not exceptional in any way and almost forgettable (more in the case of Get Smart), are mundanely good.

**I plan on seeing more 2008 movies over the next couple weeks so this list will be added to as necessary.

ETHIOPIA: Final Thoughts

2008-09-14T19:42:00.002-04:00

I had an incredible time in Ethiopia. Despite being sick on and off for too much time during my first month I still enjoyed my entire time immensely. It’s a great country with great people. Although I have written plenty about the annoyance of people yelling stuff at this faranjo it was never done with any malice. I really only had positive experiences with all the people I met. From those I worked with, especially Meron to Serkie from Cocoon Burger & Juice to Dawit and Mahi at Mr. Martin’s Cozy Place to my interactions with taxi drivers and people who just want to talk to a faranjo were all great. I hope to return to Ethiopia some day and see those people again.

Some other thoughts:

I am happy to report that I took minibuses more than taxis but walked most of all.

Bahir Dar will always hold a special place for me. It was my first trip outside of Addis. It was a weekend that I needed at that time. I remember feeling like the Morgan Freeman character from The Shawshank Redemption while riding on the bus. I was entranced by the countryside and alternatively excited and nervous about the trip itself. But, like Red in that movie, I felt a hopeful anticipation for what lay ahead.

Ethiopia is a country with so much to offer. It’s culture, it’s history, it’s beauty. This is a place that more people should visit. The Ethiopian tourist department should do a much better job of advertising. Especially Lalibela but also places like Harar. And I am sure there are many more places that I never got to that are worth going as well.

So that’s it. That’s Ethiopia. Or more correctly, this is my impression of Ethiopia from three months of being there. It doesn’t tell the whole story of Ethiopia but it’s my story. Maybe it will continue some day.

ETHIOPIA: Lalibela

2008-09-14T19:28:00.009-04:00

Lalibela is amazing. I’d say that Lalibela is probably the second most amazing place I have ever visited. The Grand Canyon takes first place in my amazing rankings. I don’t think I can even do justice to how amazing it is with my description or photos. Lalibela has rock churches built like 900 years ago. Not just churches carved into rock but churches entirely freed from the rock. Think of a rock face you can walk over. All rock all the way down. The churches are dug out of the rock so what you are left with is a quarry with a church standing in it. I can’t describe how amazing it is and it is more amazing when you realize that there are 11 of these churches within 42 km of Lalibela and they were all supposedly built within 23 years. Scholars still argue over how they were exactly made although the locals just say that god and angels helped out or that god made the rock like mud so it was easy to make the churches. Regardless, it is still amazing. We only saw the three groupings (5 or 6 total churches) that are within Lalibela itself.

Iris was still hobbling along on her “sick foot” so we went nice and slow through the churches. I think this slow down allowed me to enjoy it all even more. I was able to soak in how incredible it all was and appreciate it that much more. I give Iris a lot of credit for continuing on through all the churches as the ground was rocky and uneven and must have been extremely difficult for her to transverse. I’m not glad that Iris was injured but I am happy that we went through the churches at a snail’s pace. Really amazing.

Lalibela isn’t much of a town. It’s more like a large village. But nice to walk around and buy souvenirs. I got a nice scarf supposedly made by some local monks. A restaurant had some very tasty local honey. Thick and raw it was great spread on some fresh bread. I also visited a tej beat and upon the waiter’s instructions had the medium tej rather than the strong. The medium was strong enough. At the tej beat I met a couple from Sweden that knew a friend I work with and her boyfriend. So the small world continues in Ethiopia.

Although I was still called a faranjo in Gondar and Lalibela Iris took almost all of the attention away from me. Iris is Filipino and very pretty. While walking around with her I didn’t get stared at like I usually do as all the focus was on her. “Konnichiwa!” or “Hey, Chinese!” were the most common shout-outs to her. Her response was always the same: “I’m not Chinese/Japanese/Korean” or whatever other country they shouted at her. No one ever got Philippines, though. Iris said she was determined to put the Philippines on the map in Ethiopia and that’s why she responded to everyone who yelled something at her. Conversely, I kept to my unwritten rule to ignore shout-outs. But in Lalibela the tendency was to yell the country of origin. (“Hey Chinese!”) There seemed to be many tourists from Spain in Lalibela at the same time. I laughed as I heard “Hey Spanish!” followed by “Hey English!” and finally “Hey American!” after ignoring the first two. But this was only shouted at me when I was alone.

I can’t recommend Lalibela enough. Ethiopia needs to conduct better marketing. These churches should be must see for traveling people interested in different cultures and history. Amazing.

ETHIOPIA: Gondar

2008-09-14T19:07:00.010-04:00

Gondar, which I constantly mispronounced as Gondor (from The Lord of the Rings), was nice but the two days we spent there was too much. Gondar was the place everyone said you had to see along with Lalibela. I suppose I was just expecting so much more. It’s a nice town with a center piazza and it was very walkable. We arrived in the morning and by early afternoon we had seen most of the big highlight sights. The castle ruins were excellent and gave a great perspective to the vast history of Ethiopia. It was certainly worth visiting but didn’t live up to all I heard and pales in comparison to Lalibela as a place to visit.

The above photos courtesy of Iris as my camera was acting up.

Gondar is used as a staging town for people who are going to spend a few days in the Simien Mountains. As a result every person with a taxi or minibus wants to take you to the mountains. When informed that I was only staying for another day the offer changed to a half-day trip to see baboons. I was told by another faranjo that the half-day trip would not bring me close to the Simien Mountains but that it was probably worth going out there. So the next morning I went on a half-day trip. Iris had a “sick foot” as she injured it before arriving in Ethiopia. As a result she didn’t join me on this trip which involved a hike to see baboons. I talked them down to Birr 250 for the hour drive out to the area and back. I paid an extra Birr 50 to the herdsman that led the way through game trails until we got to the area where the baboons hang out. I had a fantastic time hiking through the mountains. The scenery was gorgeous. I can’t say enough about what a beautiful country Ethiopia is. I am disappointed that I was there only during the rainy season as I would like to compare the lush landscape I viewed with how it looks during the non-rainy season. I did see baboons but never got close enough to see their “bleeding heart.” Gelada baboons have a unique red marking on their chest. So I am told as I couldn’t verify based upon the distance and my inadequate camera. All in all it was a nice trip.

You need to play "Where's Waldo" to find baboons int he above photos.

After this trip I returned back to Gondar. The same people who offered me the half-day trip all wanted to drive us to the airport the next day. It seemed like everyone in Gondar knew Iris and I were leaving the next morning. Everywhere I went I ran into someone wanting to set up a taxi to the airport for the next morning. My negotiating skills still aren’t anything to write home about. But because I still haven’t met up with Iris yet after my side trip I held to my guns and didn’t commit to anything. I figured if I was getting asked every 10 minutes if I needed a ride then Iris may have been also. I wanted to speak to Iris before I did anything. I still hadn’t seen Iris by the time evening came and by this time the offers for an airport taxi had gone from Birr 80 for both if us to Birr 40. I didn’t think we would ever get lower than Birr 20 each so I made the arrangements and gave Birr 20 as a down payment. As it turns out Iris didn’t make any arrangements. The next morning the taxi was a little late and the guard at the hotel laughed when I told him that I gave some guy Birr 20 as a down payment. “Do you think they’ll show?” “You never know.” Was all he would say. Another taxi passed by and said he would take us for Birr 70 and incredulously claimed that no one in their right mind would bring us to the airport for Birr 20 each. Then our taxi showed and I paid the other Birr 20 and off to the airport and then Lalibela.

One highlight of Gondar was a coffee ceremony that Iris and I went to. A young man had taken a shining to Iris and followed us around quite a bit. He invited Iris to a coffee ceremony at his mother’s house and I tagged along. We ended up at his older sister’s house. Along with her two little precocious children (the two year old called me faranjo non-stop and they both sung and danced to whatever pop songs came on the radio.), and grandmother we had a traditional coffee ceremony. The coffee beans were roasted, then ground and then we had three cups as called for in the ceremony. I really had a great time playing with the kids and interacting with the rest of the family. It was one of those events that I wasn’t looking forward to (it was raining fairly hard and I really didn’t want to walk the 10-15 minutes from the hotel to the house) but turned out to be very enjoyable. I’m glad I went.

ETHIOPIA: New York

2008-09-14T19:02:00.003-04:00

After a long plane ride I arrived back in New York just over two weeks ago. Just two weeks. It seems so long ago that I was in Ethiopia. Work and school began again almost immediately after I returned. I must have said a million times “Did you read the blog?” to people who I thought were reading the blog but asked me questions explicitly answered within it. Because of work and school and catching up with family and friends since my return I haven’t written about my last week in Ethiopia or any other parting thoughts. So here goes.

Due to time constraints in my last week I had decided to fly to Lalibela and Gondar rather than taking a bus. I had booked tickets from Addis to Lalibela and then to Gondar and back to Addis. I was traveling with my friend Iris who stopped by Ethiopia on her way to Uganda and then Tanzania. Iris tried to book the same flights but the flight from Addis to Lalibela was sold out when she went to confirm. So we both spent quite a while in the Ethiopian Airlines office and were able to switch flights around and ended up going to Gondar first then Lalibela. This worked out better as Lalibela was so much better than Gondar and I think if we had done Lalibela first Gondar would have been even more of a disappointment. Luckily, Ethiopian Airlines does not charge change fees so I was able to change all my flights. I did have to pay the 5% I saved by initially booking on-line, as I had to go to the office to change. The flights were quick and easy and worth doing even though you miss out on seeing the countryside. The flights were also more expensive than I was expecting but Ethiopian Airlines charges faranjo prices. Ethiopian residents pay about 50% - 60% less for flights.

The trips to Gondar and Lalibela will have their own separate posts.

ETHIOPIA: Departure

2008-08-22T09:12:00.001-04:00

In all likelihood this will be my last post from Ethiopia. I will be traveling in Lalibela and Gondar with my friend Iris who is stopping in Ethiopia after traveling extensively through Asia and before she continues to other African destinations. Then next Thursday at the ungodly hour of 4:20 AM I will embark on my journey back to NYC. I make no promises but I will attempt to post about the last week’s worth of traveling and any other thoughts from being in Ethiopia for the past three months. I figure I can organize my thoughts during the plane ride. But I begin work and school almost immediately upon returning so I’ll try to continue posting once back. That’s all I can say.

Addis is an extremely frustrating yet eminently likable city. I am going to miss it when I leave. I’m even going to miss being called farangi. Ethiopia is a great country. Such great sites to see, such long history to absorb. The people are friendly and I wouldn’t hesitate to visit here again. I had a fantastic time.

ETHIOPIA: More buses

2008-08-21T09:01:00.002-04:00

During my first or second week in Addis I met a German man, Guenter, was on his way out of Ethiopia, to visit Yemen for a couple months. Guenter worked in Harar and told me to call him the second week of August as he would be going to Harar and if I wanted to visit I could get a ride with him. I tried to call Guenter this week as I penciled in visiting Harar on my schedule. But no go. His phone was turned off and I couldn’t reach him. He must still be out of the country as I am sure he would have stopped by the Cozy Place if he wasn’t. This left me with no choice but to take the bus again.

The bus station wasn’t nearly as chaotic as the trip to Bahir Dar. Colleen went and purchased the tickets the day before and when we showed up just before six in the morning they ushered us directly onto a bus that had three empty seats and the bus began moving almost immediately. There was a reason the three seats were empty. The cushion on the bench was completely wet. It was disgusting and I hope (and think) it was just water. I placed my trusty rain jacket across the seat so it wasn’t too bad. Still disgusting. Eleven hours later we were in Harar. The drive wasn’t so terrible. I was able to doze a bit and otherwise enjoyed the scenery. I think the time moves quickly when you are seeing the landscape for the first time. When anticipation mixes with wonderment, the newness of that experience can make even the longest of journeys seem short.

Our seats we toward the front of the bus and behind driver barrier so I couldn’t see in front of me. This may have been a good thing but this driver was not as impatient or fast as the previous driver to Bahir Dar. This also limited and took from the normal panoramic view I might have gotten from the bus. Except the driver getting into a shouting match with someone in some village we stopped for lunch the ride was uneventful. And uncomfortable due to the wet seats although my rain jacket performed wonderfully in this regard.

Getting back to Addis from Harar was a bit more eventful. For various reasons - hotel rooms hard to come by for Saturday night, the ability to see all of Harar in a day, the nice thought of having all day Sunday in Addis rather than being on a bus – we chose to come home by an overnight minibus. I wasn’t thrilled with this thought but we did it. The minibus is twice as expensive, twice as uncomfortable, and not really that much faster than the normal bus. We left Harar at 8:00 PM and arrived in Addis at 6:00 AM. The minibus driver didn’t go too crazy and I wasn’t nervous even when it was raining cats and dogs on the mountainous roads.

The minibus was packed to the gills. You couldn’t fit another person or piece of baggage into it with a shoehorn. Amharic music played loudly the entire time with many of the men singing and clapping along to it. Thankfully, no one smoked on the minibus. A lot of chat chewing so at times the bus smelled like chat and peanuts. The driver stopped briefly in many villages as people purchased chat or food. Even in the middle of the night you step off the minibus to stretch your legs and there is a kid with hand out “Give. Money.” Don’t these little scamps ever sleep?

A huge annoyance was constant checkpoints. We must have had to pull over 5-6 times and have customs go through the minivan. The customs official would be talking with the driver or the assistant and see me, Anita, and Colleen and invariably I would hear farangi enter the conversation. This always made me a tad nervous as I was never quite sure what they were talking about. It was raining most of the drive and the driver and assistant would have to undo the tarp and take down some luggage for customs to check. If I owned any of those boxes that were now getting soaked I would have been hopping mad. These checkpoints did allow for pee breaks on the long journey. This may have been their only redeeming quality.

Between the loud music, the uncomfortable seats, the pouring rain, and constant honking (I think the sure fire way to pass the driver’s test in Ethiopia is to honk a lot) it is a wonder I was able to fall asleep at all. But I caught 20 winks along the way and it was nice to be in Addis all day today.

ETHIOPIA: Chat

2008-08-20T09:07:00.003-04:00

Chat chewing is done by many in Ethiopia. Chat is a mildly intoxicating plant that contains the same active ingredients as the cocoa plant albeit in much smaller quantities. Ethiopia is a major exporter and consumer of chat. Most of their chat goes to Yemen and United Arab Emirates and other Muslim countries that have outlawed alcohol and other agents of pleasure but not yet chat. (No alcohol is sold inside the walls of Harar as the old city is still Muslim, although an Ethiopian Orthodox church does exist within the walls. Come to think of it I am not even sure if chat is sold within the walls. The market where we bought our chat was just on the other side the wall. But Harar does have its own beer and a brewery in the “new city” that expands outside the walls.*)

Harar is known to grow some of the best and most sought after chat in the world. They say the same thing about the coffee so it may be local pride. One question asked before I left for Harar was “Are you going to chew chat?” and after I returned was “Did you chew chat?” The answer to both questions is yes.

I can’t say it was that great. You buy chat by the kilo. It comes in branches. You pick off the soft leaves and place them in your mouth. You chew it or suck it. Many people find the taste too bitter and therefore eat sugar or peanuts with it. I didn’t think the taste was bad. I just didn’t really like having the plant matter in the side of my mouth. The Ethiopian chat chewers place leaf and stem in their mouth and chew and swallow it all. Some of the old timers chew on the branch as well. I was told by other faranjo that swallowing the leaves could cause stomach issues. I didn’t wish to risk bowel problems with a long bus trip ahead of me so I kept a wad of leaves in my cheek and when the juice ran out I emptied my jowls and refilled.

I was told that you need to chew chat all day to feel any effect. In fact, we were chewing with our guide after the tour of Harar and he set up a little space at the hotel with mats for us to lounge around on while we chewed, which is how serious chat chewers approach an afternoon of chewing. Chat chewers need to put aside a good part of the day to indulge. I chewed for a couple hours. I felt lightheaded but didn’t know if that was from the chat or being in the Harar sun. (Harar was warm and sunny; quite different from the recent Addis weather.) I had a Harar beer afterward and felt good so perhaps there is a synergetic effect going on. I don’t really see the point of chat but I guess people say the same thing about alcohol. If I lived in a repressive country that did not allow alcohol I could see taking up chat chewing. Maybe. Anyway, the locals seem to think a bit higher of faranjo when you have a wad of chat in your cheek.

*Harar beer is excellent and may be my favorite Ethiopian beer. In general, Ethiopian beers are very good. The stand-by beer is St. George**. Almost everywhere will sell it. In Bahir Dar I drank Meta which many don’t like because it is sweet. “It tastes like apple juice” one person said. I really like Meta although normally I like my beers bitter (you are what you drink). Meta and Dashen beer are brewed in or near Gondar in the north. Dashen is my least favorite. Dashen, while still passable as a beer, has an aftertaste I don't particularly like and so I prefer the other Ethiopian beers. Other Ethiopian beers include Castel (“The Queen of Beers”) and Bati, both of which I have only had once or twice. I’ll have to figure out where I can buy Ethiopian beer in NYC. I know that Awash Restaurant in the East Village serves Harar beer among others.

**I still haven't gotten a good answer as to why St. George is the patron saint of Ethiopia. I was told that the Battle of Adwa, where the Ethiopians kicked Italian butt, occurred on St. George's Day and he was made the patron saint shortly afterward. But that seems implausible because in museums and monastaries there are prominent mentions and paintings venerating St. George that go back centuries and the Battle of Adwa occurred in 1896. I think I really just want to hear a story about how St. George, after vanquishing all the dragons in Europe, came to Ethiopia to take on some rogue flying lizard that was terrorizing the countryside. The Ethiopian people, glad to be rid of this fire-breathing scourge, honored him after his death by saint patronage. I mentioned this theory to the person that provided me with the Battle of Adwa story and all I got in response was a sober sounding "There are no dragons in Ethiopia." To which I responded: "That's because St. George killed them all!" Regardless, you have to give props to a religous country that names a beer after it's patron saint.

ETHIOPIA: faranjo

2008-08-19T13:12:00.000-04:00

A twist on being called farangi in Harar. They don’t say farangi but faranjo. And use of this word takes on comical proportions. Everyone says it. Everyone. They see a westerner and faranjo comes popping out. This isn’t only street kids and beggars. Everyone. It’s like an instinctive response: eyes see white skin, mouth says “Faranjo” It is such an automatic response that it takes the street kids and beggars a moment or two after its utterance to realize that they have business to conduct and to follow up with “Give. Money.”

You walk down alleys and hear faranjo echo from seemingly empty doorways. You go into a shop and the shopkeeper calls you faranjo before saying anything else. The entire time in Harar, “Faranjo, faranjo, faranjo.” It’s quite unreal. I think if a western doctor assisted in a pregnancy the infant would call him a faranjo before it began squawking.

It would have been much worse if we weren’t walking the city with a guide. The kids would run toward us screaming “Faranjo! Faranjo!” Then they would see our guide and be quiet. Times when the guide wasn’t immediately visible the kids would circle you saying “Faranjo” over and over jumping up and down around you. This caused the guide to yell at them and feign kicking them or chasing them. I can’t imagine how high the hassle factor would be if we didn’t have the guide. Actually, I can imagine it, which is why we got the guide in the first place.

I’m not sure if it was because everyone in Harar says faranjo with a smile or because the “o” on the end makes it seem softer but hearing farangi upon returning to Addis seems more unfriendly and distant.

ETHIOPIA: Ethiopian Gold

2008-08-19T13:10:00.001-04:00

Other than reading the occasional headline and seeing the medal counts I haven’t been paying too much attention to the Olympics. By happy accidents though I have ended up in cafes with big screen televisions on during the women’s and men’s 10,000-meter races. I was in Harar during the women’s race and it was nice to see and hear everyone clapping and cheering when the Ethiopian winner impressively pulled away from the rest of the pack during the final lap. I was back in Addis to witness the men’s. Very similar finishes as the Ethiopian looked to be running easy and then when the final lap bell was rung he took off a won, once again, in impressive fashion. In Addis, moments later all the cars driving down the road were honking and flashing their lights. People lined up on the sidewalk cheering on the celebrating vehicles. This went on for over half an hour. I left the café and was walking to Cocoon Juice for a fasting sandwich (grilled vegetables and it is so good) and it was exciting to see and hear all the cheering during my walk.

ETHIOPIA: Hyenas!

2008-08-18T20:29:00.004-04:00

Visited Harar this past weekend. Quick trip. Spent more time on a bus than actually on ground in Harar. But worth it. I visited with Anita, a German who is studying at University of Chicago and is in Ethiopia to figure out a dissertation topic, and Colleen, who is from New Jersey, resides in Brooklyn when in the U.S., and came to Ethiopia to find a job. Both are also staying at the Cozy Place.

Harar is a 16th century walled Muslim city. Very old and very cool. In the 19th century, Richard Burton, the English explorer was the first westerner to enter Harar as it was closed to non-Muslims for a long time. Arthur Rimbaud, the famous French poet also lived in Harar for about 10 years. Hailie Selassie had his honeymoon in Harar and was provincial governor before becoming emperor. Our guide told us that Harar is the fourth most important Muslim city behind Medina, Mecca, and Jerusalem.

There is a new town built on the outside of the walls. I am told that new town is mainly populated by Orthodox Christians and inside the walls only Muslims live. Small alleys and crowded houses just like it was hundreds of years ago still exist inside the walls. Improvements to the sewage system is under way but in some ways that is like it is hundreds of years ago also: open drains running along the alleys or sides of buildings. We took a guide and it was worth it to be shown around.

Every night outside the walls hyenas come prowling in from the outskirts. Hyena men sit down with baskets of raw meat and feed the hyenas. The hyena men sometimes places the raw meat in their mouth or yell at the hyenas as he feeds them. I was standing less than 5 feet from these animals at certain points.

In the darkness beyond the feeding spot you can hear other packs of hyenas yelping or growling. Since the packs don’t mix it is first come first served although the guide said that the hyena man knows all the packs. For some extra Birr you can take a try at feeding the hyenas. I was going to but everything was happening so fast. I am happy enough with just the pictures and experience. At one point a large hyena stealthily dumped his head in the meat basket gorging himself on the delicacy contained within. It took a few minutes for the hyena man to cajole it out of the now empty basket. The hyena man went through about three or four baskets before we left. Apparently, hyenas roam the countryside in this area of Eastern Ethiopia. On the bus ride back to Addis the driver noisily honked at a few causing them to slink off the road and back into the wilderness whence they came.

ETHIOPIA: Donkey Riding

2008-08-15T10:27:00.001-04:00

The ride south of Addis towards Shashemene was nice but very different than the ride north to Bahir Dar. Many lakes a few hours south of Addis but not many streaming rivers and no Gorge. The land is still mightily cultivated. My understanding is that in the north everyone mainly grows teff. While teff is grown in huge quantities everywhere in Ethiopia there was more diversity of crops in the way south. The most jarring scene were the cut flower quonsets. These were set up on the side of the road and continued outward toward the horizon. A sea of light colored tents propped up by long bent poles housing flowers to be sent to Europe. Big business in Ethiopia now. Driving through this area I noticed many signs declaring an agri-industry owned the plots of the land behind it. This was for many crops and not only cut flowers. I’m not sure if this is an improvement or not. I find it interesting that two of the major exports from Ethiopia – chat and cut flowers – are both highly perishable items. I’m not exactly sure why but hanging your economy of items with a very short shelf life is interesting in some way.

One thing about Ethiopia is that people are everywhere. The road down south (“the death road”) was chock full of people. Actually, chock full of everything imaginable. People walking, cars, trucks, livestock, and donkey and horse carts. These latter two abounded throughout all the towns and villages. The horse carts used as taxis and the donkey carts used to carry goods or people or any burden imaginable. The poor donkeys are loaded down with burlap sacks and maybe a young boy brazenly riding on its back. Or pulling a cart piled with firewood or crops. Watching these donkeys dutifully carrying on I began to recite the lyrics from “Donkey Riding” in my mind. I would have sung out loud but then I would have to explain to the Ethiopians I was with why I was singing about “stowing timber on the deck” and about being in Quebec so I forwent that and just sung it in my head. “Hey Ho Away We Go!”

Really, people were just everywhere. The young men signaling wildly with their arms to every passing vehicle, secretly indicating that they can sell illegal charcoal. The woman with baskets propped on their heads walking to and fro the village. The bare-bottomed children in only a ratty shirt playing in the muddy waters of the roadside ditches. But the donkey carts really stood out. Not just because I got to sing “Donkey Riding” to myself. They were everywhere and this was in stark contrast to driving up north. For as many people walking there was one or two on a donkey cart. Going north I only remember people walking.

All in all an educational and enjoyable experience. Not as spectacular as driving through the Gorge but very nice. The lakes peeked out from behind hills and grabbed your attention. A massive sugar cane plantation could be seen from any high spot. Koka dam prevented the Awash River from chugging along backing it up to create a massive reservoir. The area around some of the lakes was closed off to farming and formed a national park. I was able to spy ostriches, string-necked and crooked-legged, strutting through the acacia trees. The acacia trees were a constant sight on the landscape. Large trunk rising from the ground until the crown spread out, reaching fantastically to the sides, the top flattened as if the sky was a heavy weight pushing it down. This perpetual struggle between tree and sky creates some of the only scraps of shade to be found. I imagine hyenas gathering under the acacias at dusk, waiting for the sun to set, planning that night's adventures.

Speaking of hyenas, this weekend I will be in Harar hanging out with them. Next week I finish up with my internship. Then a few days in Lalibela and Gondar before heading back to New York. A lot to do in the next two weeks.

ETHIOPIA: Lake Langano

2008-08-15T10:23:00.001-04:00

Lake Langano is a popular resort spot for farangi and Ethiopians alike. Dawit and Mahi, the managers at the Cozy Place, whose wedding reception I attended had their honeymoon at Lake Langano. Fortunately, the driver who had previously not wanted to go to Awasa was compelled to stop in Lake Langano. Unfortunately, it was raining while we visited. The brown water and gray skies did little to dampen my enthusiasm. It was nice to be on a sandy beach looking out at a large crater formed lake with jutting hills surrounding it. Lake Langano is popular for many reasons, one of them is that is free of schistosomiasis. The rain didn’t stop Amir, one of the employees at the Center or a bunch of others camping out in tents on the lakeshore from swimming. Because I didn’t realize I was even going on an overnight trip before showing up at work that day I failed to pack my swimming trunks and could not enjoy the water. But I took photos.

ETHIOPIA: More Driving

2008-08-14T08:51:00.003-04:00

The drive south from Addis through the “Death Triangle” on the “Death Road” was done with an SUV. This is a different experience than the bus ride to Bahir Dar. But where I began to trust that the bus driver would get us to Bahir Dar in one piece my respect for the handling of the SUV by our driver waned the longer I was in the vehicle. A few words about driving in Ethiopia. First, passing is done regardless of road conditions or even oncoming traffic. I don’t know why they even bother to paint solid lines or hash marks on the road to indicate OK or Not Ok for passing. No one uses them. No one. Unlike elsewhere in the world where traffic slows when people and livestock are in mass quantities the villages are places where you speed up to make up for lost time. Also, you never stop for animals in the road. You expect that they understand the horn means for them to move faster and then you guess in which direction your horn will send them while you swerve in the other direction.

Our driver tried to pass all the time. When he saw he couldn’t he would just sort of glide over the center line in the road forcing the oncoming vehicles a bit onto their shoulder side to pass him. He loved just floating in the middle of the road. It was maddening. He also drove with a heavy foot both on the gas pedal and the brake. Start, stop, start, stop. Arrghh! His worst habit was just stopping in the road. Not pulling off the shoulder but stopping directly in the road. Full stop. Then he’d get out and check some phantom noise or kick the tires or something. It was never for some real reason. One time he just stopped he caused quite a back up of trucks that had to wait for oncoming traffic to go by before they could pass. Then they all passed quite angrily and noisily, the passenger sticking his head out the window, arms wailing, and pointing to the unused shoulder. So this stupid stop for no reason just caused us to be behind like five trucks. Five trucks, all angry at us. Naturally, being in an SUV he tried to pass the trucks. Traffic was beginning to get heavy in the opposite direction. Under normal circumstances passing would be precarious. Every time he tried the truck directly in front of us, the last to pass us as we stood motionless in the middle of the road, would veer to the center for the road and not let us pass. It may have been my imagination but I think the truck driver was playing a little game. We would try to pass and he would prevent it. After miles of this and me beginning to think that our driver was oblivious to what was going on I just figured we’d become another statistic on the death road. Eventually, the truck driver relented and we passed. No other trucks attempted such chicanery and we safely leapfrogged all the other trucks in front of us.

I have been trying to make an apt analogy for Ethiopian driving. I was looking to convey how stupid the risks are compared to the immediate and not always positive gain. I came up with a few but not sure if they are adequate. If driving in Ethiopia where a circus act it would be walking the tightrope without a net. If driving in Ethiopia where a science it would be alchemy. If driving in Ethiopia where a financial market it would be day trading. If driving in Ethiopia where an art it would be pop culture trash. If driving in Ethiopia were an animal it would be a….damn, I can’t think of a good animal comparison.

ETHIOPIA: The Death Road and the Rastas

2008-08-13T10:50:00.001-04:00

Contrary to popular myth or maybe just excessive farangi talk I did not see crushed or crashed vehicles littering the side of the “Death Road.” It was crowded and I could certainly see the potential for serious accidents. In fact on the ride home we passed an overturned piggyback trailer that spilled its contents of salt all over the place. One thing to understand about Ethiopian driving is that a semi truck turned over on a two-lane road with heavy traffic from both directions does not really slow you down much. This is even with the presence of the Federal police and a clean-up crew on the road. No more than a five minute delay. We just followed all the other vehicles and breezed in between the men with shovels and the overturned truck and the vehicles coming from the opposite direction. Driving in Ethiopia seems to consist of using the horn and steering wheel often and the brakes seldom.

OK, so the trip. I knew we were going to visit malaria labs but for some reason it never occurred to me that it was an overnight trip. I showed at the office and everyone started taking about hotels. I was unprepared and ended up having to buy toiletries in Shashemene and wearing the same clothes for two days. Nothing I haven’t done before. The first day we visited labs and health posts in Debre Zeyit and Adama. Then we made our way to Shashemene for the night. The next day we made our way back to Addis stopping at labs in Shashemene, Ziway, and Meki along the way. In between the labs we spent some time at Lake Langano, which was nice but it was raining the whole time we were there. I also suggested we spend the night in Awasa which is supposed to be a beautiful small lake town. Awasa is only about 20 kilometers from Shashemene but our driver nixed that idea so we stayed in Shashemene instead. Which was and is too bad. I wanted to see Lake Awasa. But I wasn’t driving and don’t think I would want to drive in Ethiopia.

Shashemene is listed in the LP guidebook as “a grubby and raucous” town. I don’t disagree and not only because I would have rather spend the night in Awasa listed as a “more pleasurable stop.” Shashemene has loads of truck traffic as roads go in all directions from it. It is also the home of Ethiopia’s Rastafarian population. The former Emperor Haile Selassie, who’s given name was, get this, Ras Tafari, gave land just outside of Shashemene to the Rastafarians, who I think believe he was some sort of god or something. I don’t listen to much reggae but I hear that Bob Marley mentions Ethiopia and the former emperor in his songs. Apparently, the influx of Jamaicans was difficult to take at first but over the years an uneasy truce has developed between the native Ethiopians and the Rastas and everyone is tolerated. I don’t know. This is what I have been told. Other than seeing many buildings with Rastafarian colors and a few people that I could identify as such if I didn’t know that Rastas were supposed to be in Shashemene I don’t think I would have been like “Oh, boy there’s a lot of Rastafarians there.”

Overall, Shashemene was a charmless town and I would have preferred Awasa. The constant rain during my time in Shashemene added to the lack of charm. But while walking around Shashemene I realized that many Ethiopian towns and villages lack, not necessarily charm, but an individual personality. Just like the villages that dot the main roads, towns like Shashemene all seem the same. The same type of buildings, the same small shops, the same corrugated metal constructions. Towns like Bahir Dar or Adama have wide palm treed main roads and are great places to visit but the outskirts are all the same. Someone told me that when one person opens a hotel or restaurant or a store in one part of Ethiopia they usually open the same thing in another part. Hence, the similarity between places. But the people act the same also. Whether it was Bahir Dar or Adama or Shashemene or Addis. The same “You!” “You!” The same shoe shine boys. The same kids selling chewing gum and cigarettes from wooden trays. The same women grilling corn on open flames on the corners.

Admittedly, my time around Ethiopia has been limited but this sameness surprises me immensely. I know that the various tribes in the South have local customs that differ widely but I was expecting to see some local variation in architecture, occupations, and even the type of hassles and cons being run. Ethiopia must have a very good communication network between towns because everyone and everything seems the same.

ETHIOPIA: Mosquito University

2008-08-12T08:44:00.002-04:00

A couple weeks ago I got out of Addis again. This time it was a work visit to five malaria labs and a few health center posts in the East Shoa Zone. Since this work a work related excursion there was no need to take the bus. We had an SUV and a driver. We traveled down the road I described earlier as the “death triangle” or something similar, the most dangerous road in the world! It’s the road south of Addis and very crowded and hilly. It descends out of Addis and into the Rift Valley. I’ll talk more about the drive in a future post.

It was a fantastic experience to see the malaria labs. The labs are located in Debre Zeyit, Adama, Ziway, Shashemene, and Metahara. We didn’t get to the lab in Metahara but did see a sub-lab in Meki. I was able to see where all the data I have been looking at is coming from. I saw their bare-bones facilities usually consisting of a computer, a lab table, and a microscope, and a dedicated but understaffed crew of people actually doing the work. The five malaria labs in this district serves over 500 villages and 2 million people of which 95% of them are at risk for seasonal transmission of malaria. The labs are free for people with malaria symptoms to come and get checked out. A blood sample is taken and placed under a microscope and the trained technicians can determine a positive or negative for P. falciparum or P. vivax. If positive, treatment medication is dispensed also free of charge. During high transmission season the malaria labs do brisk business. They have been in existence for over 40 years so they are well known and the hospitals will charge for a visit. The lab in Adama has been doing some very interesting research on the main mosquito vector species in Ethiopia, Anopheles arabiensis: detecting biting rates and biting patterns. Great stuff. This was where Mosquito University was located.

In recent years Ethiopia has implemented a Health Extension Program where trained females from the villages go house to house to assist with health issues people may have and provide preventive measures to them. Among other responsibilities, this includes conducting a Rapid Diagnostic Test (RDT) for malaria and dispensing treatment as necessary and also giving out Insecticide Treated Nets (ITNs). This slows some traffic to the malaria labs and saves people the trouble of having to travel long distances. As there are only five malaria labs for the entire zone some people may have to travel a couple hundred kilometers to reach the closest one. One of the many positives of Health Extension Workers is that they bring the health care to the people.

As it is currently low transmission season for malaria (high transmission season begins in September or after the rainy season ends) the labs were averaging around 25-35 patients a day (as opposed to a few hundred/day during high transmission season) with anywhere from 3-10 coming up positive. Interestingly, the labs say that they have been seeing much more vivax than falciparum. This is part of my research also. I am looking at whether there has been a change in distribution of vivax or falciparum. We’ll see if the statistics prove out what is being seen anecdotally.

I was very glad not only to get out of Addis once again but to get to see where and how the data I have been working on comes from. It was great to talk to the people in the labs and a few health extension workers about their feelings about what they are doing. It is heartening to see people working hard to help others and attempt to improve the health of their fellow citizens.

ETHIOPIA: Bizarro Marie Antoinette Edition

2008-08-11T08:29:00.001-04:00

I have stopped eating cake for breakfast. This happened quite a while ago actually. The main reason was that when power outages were occurring seemingly every other day the small café where I had my cake didn’t have power. Thus no hot beverages. Since I couldn’t get my morning tea or shai there I switched to a café right next to door to my office. This café runs their coffee machine on gas so no power, no problems. I ended up liking this café better so even now with power back (almost) everyday I never returned to the old one. This new café had a smaller selection of cakes. In fact they really only had donuts. So I started having a chocolate glazed donut with my tea. Then one day I saw someone eating some fried bread concoction. It caught my fancy and I inquired about it. It is called malawa and I am told is an Arabic food item as opposed to Ethiopian. I decided to start eating malawa.

The transition to malawa wasn’t easy. The waitress at this café speaks and understands very limited English. During my first visits, to make things as easy as possible I asked for shai and just pointed to the donut on display. She was used to me having shai and a donut every morning. Now I wanted to switch up and for days in a row I would order “Shai and malawa” but always got a donut. The shai was always good though.* I asked a guy at work whether she can be confusing my pronunciation of malawa for whatever a donut is called. No way, I was told. To add to this constant miscommunication is the fact that their menu is entirely in Amharic so pointing to what I wanted was a no-go as I can’t read Amharic. I think she was just so used to me eating donuts that she wasn’t really listening to anything I was saying.

This difficulty in getting an order of malawa culminated one rainy morning. I noticed that the bin the donuts are usually kept in was empty. I ordered my shai and malawa figuring that she would realize that I know there was no donuts and by saying malawa she would know I was talking about something other than donuts. But then she went and spoke to another worker and they both kept looking over at me.** Then she grabs an umbrella and goes darting out into the rain. In about 10 minutes she returns with a tray of donuts. Great, now I am sending waitresses out into the rain to fetch me breakfast. At this point I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t want a donut. I just ate it. I just didn’t understand why I couldn’t get me some malawa.

The next morning, after the rainy donut fiasco, I stopped her as she was making her way to the donut tray with a loud “No, No, No.” She looked at me quizzically. “Malawa” I repeated several times. She smiled and said “Malawa?” and then she shook her head while laughing as if to tell me “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” We now have an understanding. Thank goodness. The malawa is very tasty. Better than the cake or the donut. I don’t even have to order anymore. I walk in, she smiles at me, I smile back, I nod my head affirming her unspoken question of my breakfast. She places in the order. It seems so simple now.

*Ethiopian tea comes spiced with cinnamon, cloves, and ginger. I think that is what it is spiced with as that is what my discerning taste buds decipher. It is an altogether excellent tea. Another reason to recommend this new café is every time I ordered a shai I received this spiced tea. Other cafes would bring me a teabag of black tea and hot water instead of the spiced variety that I prefer.

**I notice Ethiopian wait staff talk amongst themselves and look conspiratorially over at me after I place an order. It happens all the time. I really don’t like it. One of the listed side effects of the malaria medication I am taking is paranoia so I just chalk up my negative feelings to this as “being on my meds” and try to wipe any thoughts of intended malevolence out of my mind.

ETHIOPIA: Farangi Rules of Etiquette

2008-08-08T08:46:00.001-04:00

Lately, I have been spying more farangi roaming the streets of Addis. I’m not sure why now and not when I first arrived. I don’t know if they are getting out more, I am getting out more, or there are just more of them here. I have been having a difficult time determining whether these farangi are American or European, or any other type of white. Everyone seems to wear the standard Addis rainy season clothes: fleece and hiking boots.

In my own awkward way I am unsure how to act when I run into them. Do I acknowledge them? Am I supposed to acknowledge them? Does acknowledgement require a “Hello” or is a head nod appropriate? I have been going with the head nod with the thought toward saying a “Hello” if I run into them a second time. No need to rush things. Also, I would rather not be drawn into some unwelcome conversation in which I can’t easily dislodge myself.

What I am talking about is when I am walking through the city or on my way to somewhere. If I end up in a minibus sitting next to another farangi (which has never happened) or some other similar situation I would have no problem exchanging pleasantries. The same goes for bars although in certain farangi bars it seems as if everyone already knows each other through some farangi network and introductions are made for me without me having to think about etiquette.

Ah, well. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’ll be gone from Ethiopia in a few weeks and back in NYC. There I can go back to ignoring everyone on the street without a second thought.

ETHIOPIA: The Merkato Redux Part II

2008-08-07T13:36:00.001-04:00

As mentioned previously, Meron has helped me with some Amharic words. There are some words and phrases I have picked up on my own and while out at the Merkato she got to hear me use a few of those. She was duly impressed. As were many shopkeepers. This is not to say that I know Amharic. Not by a stretch. But enough to impress, I suppose. Walking into a shop in the Merkato I would greet the employees in Amharic, “Tenastëllën.” Then while looking at something I would ask an employee, “ Sëntë nõ?” (How much?) If I happened to be holding onto an item which I was familiar with I’d ask how much while identifying said item, “Sëntë nõ, agelgil?” Then to top it all off, for negotiating I’d say “Mecherasha,” which means I am asking them to just tell me their best/lowest price? Sometimes, like when using agelgil and mecherasha, Meron wouldn’t be able to stop laughing. “Will you stop laughing at me while I am speaking Amharic?” I had to say more than once. This would result in an Amharic conversation between her and the shopkeeper ending with her telling me they like my Amharic. The downside was that after asking “Sëntë nõ?” I was usually answered in Amharic and had to look at Meron for help. This caused more laughter and Amharic conversation with shopkeepers and employees.

For the young female employees who seemed especially bowled over by my vastly improved Amharic I’d follow up all this with “Sëmësh man nõ?” which is asking their name. This delighted them to no end although it would result in me trying to pronounce a difficult Amharic name. One girl’s name was Honey, which has a certain intrigue to it. This newfound inclination for Amharic garnered me two marriage proposals, one from Honey. Truth be told both times the proposals came after it came out that I was from New York. They really only wanted to marry whatever romantic notions of New York City they have. I have found that Ethiopians are fascinated by New York City. Not only that I live there but that I was born there. I usually say that I was born in Queens but other than one person who said “like ‘The King of Queens?’” no one is quite sure what I mean by that and I just don’t have the patience to get into a five-boro discussion. (In fairness to Ethiopians explaining Queens to some people in the U.S. can also be a chore.) I just agree with their notions about NYC even though any fanciful ideas I once had about my hometown have been long erased by reality. I do find it nice that even with all that George Bush and the Republicans have done in the past 7-8 years to tarnish the good name of America that it still has a hold on the imagination and portends promise and opportunity, as exemplified by New York City, to so many people.

Meron and I leave the Merkato, still attracting attention, and go to another part of Addis, where there are more shops. We look at more traditional stuff and Meron somehow convinces me to buy a cultural shirt despite me repeatedly saying “I’m never going to wear it.” Maybe she would have listened if I learned that phrase in Amharic. Coincidentally, or not, this is the shop where Honey worked. Meron gets her shoes shined and we go to lunch. Somehow we end up eating at a Muslim restaurant. Meron is Ethiopian Orthodox Christian and apparently the dietary laws of these religions do not mesh. It was worse than eating with the vegans. All these rules to just eat. I tried and failed to get a reasonable explanation on why she needed a new bread after I touched a loaf to break off a piece. At least with the vegans I understand the rules. I don’t even know how she knew we were at a Muslim restaurant. The woman at the register was wearing a headscarf but Meron had a conversation with her and it turns out she was Christian. But she still needed to get bread all for herself and separate serving utensils. Maybe she doesn’t know that I’m not Muslim?

My second trip to the Merkato was much more pleasant than the first. I owe that to Meron who was a great guide through the Merkato and then through other parts of Addis. Having someone familiar with the culture and language makes a big difference. Now I believe what they say about the Merkato. If I can almost get married than you really can get anything there.

ETHIOPIA: The Merkato Redux Part I

2008-08-05T08:56:00.003-04:00

I went back to the Merkato to meet my friend Meron, who works at the same Center I am interning for the summer. Meron has also been my semi-tutor in Amharic. When I first arrived I asked her to teach me a word a day. This didn’t work out, as I couldn’t learn a word a day. So I would get a word from her, practice it and everyday ask her if I was pronouncing it correctly. This went on until I did get it right. Speaking Amharic takes some time for me.

I arrive at the Merkato at our designated time. Meron is late. It begins to rain. In and of itself the rain isn’t terrible. But it causes me to have to find a place under an awning of the building that was our meeting spot. This is a problem because a white man standing still in the Merkato attracts loads of unwanted attention.* “You!” “You!” In other places around Addis the shoe shine boys, taxi drivers, and occasional beggar call out to you. The Merkato is like a free-for-all. It’s all hassle all the time. Maybe because it is so crowded and transactions are always going on. I don’t know but people take a real familiar stance with each other. Especially toward the farangi. Although I have only been there a few times the Piazza area of Addis is similar to the Merkato in hassle factor.

Eventually, I decide to move. I go to a shop and borrow the phone to call Meron. “Is your friend Ethiopian? You know we are not very punctual.” The shopkeeper told me. “When you meet your friend you come back to my store,” he added. Meron finally shows and insists that she was there at the appropriate time walking around in the rain. I’m not so sure I believe her but that’s fine. She’s here now and I see new and different parts of the Merkato. It is so big. It’s crazy really. There’s no way to get through it in one day. But after walking through with Meron I see its benefit and what it has to offer. We went through the used area where everything is recycled. Just piles of old stuff either being fixed up or made into something entirely different. Old shoes become a new style of shoe. Used keys are ground down and re-keyed. Plastic, tires, metal, you name it. There was a pile of something used with people around it working, molding,shaping, cutting, repairing. Then we went through the traditional area and looked at cultural clothes and baskets and other goods.

Walking through the Merkato with Meron, who is a very attractive young woman, brings its own sort of attention. This time it was because of me but directed at her. The men would just blurt out things to her in Amharic and then start hooting and hollering. Sometimes they would come up to me and shake my hand and pat me on the back. Very familiar. Meron said they were asking if we were together or married or if I was her man. She answered in the affirmative each time and then those reactions occurred. Meron seemed to enjoy all the attention being lavished on her. Meron also has a very familiar relationship with other Ethiopians. When we were done with the Merkato we went to another area of Addis to have lunch. As it was raining that morning the Merkato was awfully muddy and Meron’s shoes were a mess. She stopped for a shoeshine before lunch. While getting her shoes shined she bought some chewing gum from another young boy. This boy promptly walked awaywith a Birr 5 bill Meron had given to purchase the gum. She went after him, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him back to resume her shoeshine, all to the delight of the shoeshine boys gathered around. With one hand on his ear and the other pointing in his face she admonished the little boy. While this was all happening I just stood around and ignored all the demands being made to me by the other shoeshine boys and the beggars in the vicinity.

*Here is an unrelated story of unwanted attention. Last night I was dining at a Chinese restaurant. An elderly Chinese man passed my table while walking with a group of 5-6 other Chinese people. Loudly he points at me and all I get of what he is saying are the words “lefty” and “chopsticks.” This causes everyone in his party plus the other patrons in the restaurant all turn around to gape at me while I eat Chinese food using chopsticks with my left hand. I don’t recall if being left-handed was remarked upon when I visited Hong Kong or Japan.

ETHIOPIA: Leo Monkey Pants

2008-08-04T08:34:00.004-04:00

Early Saturday morning I once again took a trip to the Mercato. After explaining my previous, unpleasant outing there to a young woman at the office she offered to show me around. I took her up on her offer. I jump on the Mercato bound minibus. It had just started to rain (have I mentioned that it is the rainy season?) and the minibus was already crowded. As I sat down I thought the man sitting across the aisle looked at me askance. This reminded me of what two German girls staying at the Cozy Place said recently. They take the minibus everyday and have claimed that Ethiopians have refused to get on the bus with them onboard and have otherwise suffered hostility. I told them that they were nuts. But now was I sensing some hostility? Could it be that in the past I never noticed it? I scan the other faces around me. No hostility. Just the usual early morning despondency of commuters everywhere. Good, the German girls are nuts. That guy wasn’t directing any hostility towards me. I’m not some snooty bourgeois slumming on the minibus as part of some sociological experiment. I am down with the people. With this thought I settle into my normal commuting obliviousness.

This particular minibus was more of a pick-up truck with a housing set on the back bed. In the housing there are two benches that face each other. You can squeeze in 10-12 people along these benches while the money-taker sits on a small improvised seat on the entry door at the back of the truck. The driver is up front and you can fit two more passengers next to him. There were speakers set up in the back housing and Amharic music was being pumped in. One Amharic song blends into the next. All of a sudden I realize that the Amharic music has stopped and I hear a female sing-song voice. The lyrics are in English and seem familiar. She is singing about five little monkeys who jump on a bed. One by one each monkey falls and hits his head. Every time this happens the mommy calls the doctor and the doctor, in a very doctorly way, orders the mommy that under no circumstances should the monkeys be jumping on the bed. Monkeys being monkeys they continue to jump on the bed and continue to knock their heads. What begins as five little monkeys becomes four little monkeys and so on. This was the exact same monkey song that my brother Tom would sing to his son Leo. The book the song was written down in also came with five small monkey figurines that Tommy would use for dramatic purposes in acting out the song. Tommy’s version was decidedly more exciting (and out-of-tune) than the one I was listening to now. A small smile crept onto my face as I thought of Leo laughing at the monkeys jumping on the bed. I wondered what was the possibility that as I was listening to this monkey song in a minibus in Ethiopia Tommy and Leo were acting it out at the same time. Actually, it is very doubtful that this could have occurred. It was around 1:00 AM New York time. Also, Leo was enjoying this monkey song a few months ago. I’m sure he finds it passé now and has moved on to newer monkey songs.

I just don’t see how can people be hostile when the five little monkeys song is played in a minibus.

ETHIOPIA: Another Day in Addis

2008-08-01T23:15:00.000-04:00

I am sitting on an outside patio of a small café enjoying my afternoon macchiato. I am gazing southward down the street for no real reason. As my eyes turn back in front of me I see a few oxen loping slowly down the middle of the street. A few feet behind these lead animals are a whole lot more oxen. They take up the entire street and in their measured ambling they separate themselves around the parked cars on either side, occupying the sidewalk. If I was inclined to do so, and with a bit of effort, I could almost reach out and touch one as it passed by. There must have been 30 – 40 in total. One lone man, brandishing a short, stout stick was running loudly behind them from one side to the other. I imagine him like a gymnastics coach of young girls. Cajoling them to do something they don’t really see the sense of doing and something they normally would never do. The oncoming traffic stops in the face of these beasts although they don’t seem the least bit perturbed by the honking and yelling they are causing. They walk slowly past these metal machines. Behind them traffic is snarled. I crane my neck and can’t see the end of the stopped cars and minibuses. I briefly wonder where these cattle came from and where they are going. But then they are gone from my sight. I return to my macchiato. A few minutes later a donkey comes careening down the sidewalk with a different man in pursuit. Just as they pass the café the man thrusts out an errant hand and grabs hold of the harness and slows the donkey down. With a smile on his face he leads the donkey back in the direction it had come. I figure the oxen scared the donkey into running, as that was the fastest donkey I have seen in Ethiopia. By now my macchiato is finished and so is any animal related excitement. I pay my couple Birr and return to the office.

ETHIOPIA: I am a student at...

2008-08-01T11:41:00.001-04:00

ETHIOPIA: Dirty Money

2008-07-31T08:55:00.001-04:00

Ethiopia needs its money laundered. Literally. Sometimes you get bills or coins that are so grime covered you can hardly tell the currency. I need to sanitize my hands after puling out some of these bills. And they smell also. Stinky, dirty money.

ETHIOPIA: Fast Food Metamorphosis

2008-07-30T11:14:00.001-04:00

Smaller than cafes and occupying their own niche throughout Addis are the Snack, Juice or Burger places. These places, of which there are a rash of in certain neighborhoods, claim to serve snacks or fast food: juices, burgers, French fries. But everything is made fresh in front of you and, in the laidback Ethiopian way, it takes some time before you receive your order. Not exactly fast.

I found one little place, Cocoon Juice and Burger, that is great. I went there after my first bout with traveler’s illness for a fresh fruit juice and have been a regular customer since. They make a mean fresh juice. Mainly I was I just ordering fruit juice there. This caused me to be exhorted by the manager (possibly owner) to actually eat food. They make a “humburger” which is a burger with a slice of ham added. Really. Not to be confused with their beefburger. So it’s a hamburger with bad English translation but still taken literally. They place a homemade mayonnaise on it, add a grilled bun, along with the typical toppings (no pickles thanks goodness) and you are in business. A friend, who lives on the other side of Addis, recently told me that he heard the best burgers in Addis were made at Cocoon. Making a good burger is rare in Addis and they do make a good one.

It is a small shop, painted with pink trim inside and outfitted with tall tables and uncomfortable blue swivel chairs. It seems to be doing good business. The girls who work there are great and friendly and one, who seems to always be there, has a wonderful smile that greets me every time I enter. (This smile also made me think she was making fun of me for my pronunciation of mango. During my last visit there the power went out just as I arrived. That meant no juice but they still made me a “humburger” as the stove is natural gas. So by candlelight I watched as she prepared my food, smiling wonderfully, the whole time.

ETHIOPIA: Café City Blues

2008-07-29T09:14:00.001-04:00

One thing that Ethiopia does not lack is restaurants. They are all over the place, around every bend, and run from small ramshackle to large ramshackle. Actually, there are a lot of good and nice eateries here. Many of differing cuisines and of varying quality. One thing they all share is a distinct lack of napkins. For a culture that eats with its hands, it is certainly chintzy with the napkins.

The traditional or national food places have a more homey and rustic feel and usually include a large outdoor patio area where hungry patrons spill out into the sunlight to enjoy their fare. More modern are the cafes. Addis is rotten with these European style establishments and the Ethiopians have readily adapted the European café culture in that they sit around for hours enjoying a small cup of macchiato or coffee. Oftentimes they just sit in their car in the small parking lot or by the street side curb and drink their coffees. These cafes all seem to be named after cities. Just off the top of my head I have been to or seen London Café, Café Paris, Beirut Snack, and Café Cincinnati. And I keep hearing talk of one named The Parisian Café as the café to visit while in Addis (supposedly this place has the largest parking lot and many days the café is empty inside while the parking lot is full of people drinking coffee in their vehicles.). I can understand London and Paris, possible even Beirut, as it is a capital city of a country, but naming a café after Cincinnati stymies me. The Paris café has pictures of the Eiffel Tower on display, the London Café has some English paraphernalia, (and an aeroplane, for some reason) and the Beirut café has bullet holes (not really). I haven’t seen anything in the Cincinnati Café that reminds me of Cincy. No Venus Flytrap, no Jerry Springer. (Actually, there is a nice framed picture of a steam ship navigating a river by an old stone bridge on a perfect sky blue day. The picture is captioned “Cincinnati” although, having never visited the place I have no idea if that is what Cincy looks like.)

These café’s do have a few national food items on their menu but mostly serve up western style dishes. By western I mean they all serve sandwiches, pasta, a variety of egg dishes, and depending on the size, maybe pizza. The sandwiches are all similar, hamburger, club, etc. but not the same. A huge fluffy roll or small white bread is what is found surrounding modest helpings of whatever has been ordered. Twice, in two different places, I ordered a club sandwich and twice I was given an egg sandwich. At a third place I ordered a club and was served something between three slices of bread but I’m not sure what it was. I am very interested in what constitutes a club sandwich in Ethiopia. (I think it is a mixture or combination of egg salad or chicken salad.) While sitting in a café you see some people just with a coffee or tea drink, others eating national food, others eating western, and others eating western food but like they are eating national food. This is to say that they were eating with their hands.

I observed an Ethiopian family dive into a platter full of spaghetti with nothing but their right hand, which occasionally held some bread. Either they brought the strands straight into their mouth or scooped it up with the bread. Watching this brought back fond memories of me as a youngster, taking the Italian bread from the table, loading hearty amounts of spaghetti on it, making a spaghetti sandwich, and stuffing it into my gaping yaw. I did this over the repeated protestations of my parents. To this day I still enjoy me some spaghetti sandwiches.

ETHIOPIA: Rainy Season

2008-07-28T08:48:00.000-04:00

Thirteen months of sunshine, my ass!

ETHIOPIA: Tree Fort

2008-07-25T08:35:00.003-04:00

In a quest to see more hippos and possible crocodiles, we took a minibus outside of Bahir Dar a few kilometers. Here there is a bridge that crosses the Blue Nile and every con man in Bahir Dar wanted to charge us for the privilege of taking us to this bridge to look at hippos. We never got as far as negotiating a price for that ride but I don’t think it was cheaper than the Birr and a half the minibus cost.

So we get out to the bridge and underneath on all sides are vehicles being washed. There is a large bus submerged halfway into the river with people on all sides scrubbing it down. I thought it was photo-worthy. I snap a picture and all of a sudden an army guy in camos comes running over to me yelling. Apparently you can’t take any pictures in the vicinity of a bridge in Ethiopia. It makes no sense. Vehicles can go park under the bridge to be washed but for security reasons I can’t take a picture of those vehicles being washed. Anyway, the army guy wasn’t happy and I had to erase the picture from my camera as he looked on. To lighten up the situation I inquired about hippos. Pointing to the water I just start saying “Hippos. Hippos.” He begins laughing like a madman and says “No hippos.” I assume he sees farangi come out to this bridge all the time looking for hippos.

We walk across the bridge and ask the army guy on that side about hippos. He confirms that we’re not likely to see any hippos. But something catches my eye. Back across the other side of the river is what appears to be colorfully made tree houses. It looked interesting. We walk back across the river and head in the direction of the tree houses. We pass through some houses and little kids come streaming out. They were so happy to see some farangi. They each shook our hands and spoke what little English they knew and, all in all, were a lot if fun. Not one of these kids asked for money either. That was a nice change.

So past the kids we walk and we are now in the vicinity of the tree houses. These houses are made of painted wood and there’s ladders going up to them and walkways to access different houses. Some are high in the trees while others are at a more safe distance form the ground. They have tables and benches in them. The tree houses overlook the river and behind them, closer to inland from the river, are a collection of real houses. I begin to wonder if we are just standing in someone’s yard. A teenage girl comes from one of the houses. “No English,” she says. Her approach to us made me assume that this wasn’t just someone’s yard. “Bira?” I inquire. She nods in approval and returns quickly with beer. We take the beer and start investigating the tree houses. Although the construction is rickety it was fun to be there and climb around.

While sitting in a tree house and watching the river flow below us the owner came up. He asked how we liked the place and told us he just built it a year ago. The place is named Mahlek, which is the Amharic word for anchor, as he served in the Ethiopian navy for twenty years. Navy? He explained how that was when Eritrea was considered part of Ethiopia and Ethiopia wasn’t landlocked then and thus had a navy. Eritrea not being part of Ethiopia anymore didn’t seem to be a subject he wanted to dwell upon so I asked about hippos.(For some reason, on this day, repeatedly saying “hippos” became my way to get out of awkward situations.) He said that hippos do come ashore, usually at night to eat the grass. So, hippos do exist in this part of the river! He said he dug a huge hole and was going to use it as a hippo trap. After finishing the beers and searching the grounds I saw a huge hole full of water. The hippo trap existed. What he wanted to do with the hippo after trapping it, I have no idea. I am still perplexed by this whole hippo trap. He went to a lot of trouble to dig a huge hole, a hole that could conceivably trap a hippo. It just seems so odd to not only go to the trouble of digging such a hole but to use said hole only to trap a hippo.

Regardless of the puzzling hippo trap, this tree house is a highlight of my trip. While traveling, there is nothing better than to stumble across a little gem like this. The rest of the trip to Bahir Dar came right out of the Lonely Planet book. (Even the bakery I claimed to “find” in an earlier post came from LP.) This tree house was found on my own. What started as hippo hunting ended sitting in a colorful tree house drinking a beer while looking out at the Blue Nile River. Excellent. Just excellent.

ETHIOPIA: Lake Tana Monasteries

2008-07-24T10:48:00.005-04:00

Lake Tana has tons of monasteries. Old monasteries. Each has its own history or story. But as I found out each looks kinda the same and the paintings inside all tell pretty much the same story. After three of them I was monasteried out. Each monastery charges Birr 30 to enter. It had also started raining. The boat ride back to the hotel was over an hour. Lake Tana is a big lake and I didn’t realize we had gone that far visiting the outlet for the Blue Nile and the first island. Now we were at a peninsula and a long way from where we had to go. It was a long, cold, wet ride back.

The first monastery claimed it and everything in it was over 900 years old. I’m including this wizened old monk in that age assessment as well:

Another monastery had a decent English speaking guide who explained the story behind all the paintings. Most people know the basic story: Jesus born, Jesus dies, Jesus rises. Somehow, Moses and Noah get thrown into the paintings along with many heads with wings representing angels. St. George is the patron saint of Ethiopia and you see paintings of his dragon slaying exploits over and over. Ethiopian Orthodox religious art is similar to the European medieval art with its portrayals of hacked martyrs and a fiery hell. The main difference is that Ethiopian Orthodox art is more cartoonish and colorful and it takes a few minutes of looking at it to realize how morbid it actually is.

Here’s the fisherman in the papyrus canoes or tankwa:

By the outlet of the Blue Nile we saw some hippos. We didn’t get that close and my camera isn’t that good but, by god, there are some hippos there. Right in the middle. Look at the one hippo’s back. Look at the other hippo’s ears. Hippos.

ETHIOPIA: Blue Nile Falls

2008-07-23T10:27:00.004-04:00

The Ethiopian government, apparently due to great demand for hydroelectric power built a dam on the Blue Nile River. Understandable. Everyone needs power. The routine power outages throughout the country indicate that they need even more power. But, why, oh why, in their infinite wisdom, did they place the dam directly upstream from the Blue Nile Falls.

I liked the falls. Liked it a lot. I had a great hike to the falls and then across the river, meeting with villagers along the way. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences I have had in Ethiopia. Many people told us to just expect a trickle due to the dam. But these were still genuine waterfalls. Nice. But as the guide told us, before the dam they were waterfalls to behold. The water rushing rapidly over the cliffs as to block all other sound, the forcefulness sending mist upwards and outwards to deter sight. I liked the falls but wish I could see them in their natural state. They are supposed to run strong at the end of September, which is the end of the rainy season.

That damn dam:

When looking at the falls imagine all the exposed rock covered by falling water. Picture the mist rising and obscuring the view. That would be the falls sans the dam. But, alas, all I have are these photos of the Blue Nile Falls:

Within the area of the Blue Nile Falls are villages. The village children come out and follow you for a bit attempting to rent you walking sticks or making deals for you to buy a scarf from them. “My name is Marta. You remember me.” “I’ll remember you.” “You buy scarf from me.” “I’ll look at your scarves. I may not buy.” “You remember Marta and you look at my scarves.” “Yes.” Marta was a precocious little thing who spoke the best English I’ve heard from a child her age.* She was quite the young businesswoman too. Because we decided to cross the river after viewing the falls we didn’t backtrack through Marta’s village and I never did see her scarves. I think she would have convinced me to buy one.

The river crossing would not add to a view of the falls but just make the hike longer and more interesting. We get to the crossing and there are loads of villagers. All asking to assist you as you as you cross. I wanted to go it alone and said so repeatedly. A little girl had a walking stick that she kept sticking in my hand and I kept refusing to take. The water was flowing fast and about knee high. I slipped off my shoes and socks and unzipped my pants. (Unzipped them on the legs and this releases the bottom part of the pants and leaves me wearing shorts. Did you think otherwise?) I looked again at the flowing water, decided I could use the walking stick, told two boys I didn’t want their help, and proceeded barefoot into the river. Right when I touch the river the two boys grab me on one arm each. They were going to get their Birr no matter what, I guess. Actually, it was good that they were there. The current was strong, the riverbed slippery, and I may have fallen into the drink if not for them. But, really, the most difficult part of the crossing is because of the villagers. They are always there hovering around, asking to help, walking right in front of you, handing you unwanted walking sticks. They only get to help you because they make walking through their land so arduous that you need their help.

So we get across. Now the two boys and the girl whose walking stick I really didn’t use because I had Ethiopian boys on either side of me are asking for Birr. I give the two boys a Birr 10 to split. “Birr 10 each,” they proclaim. I give the walking stick girl her stick back and Birr 2. “Birr 5,” she proclaims. It never ends. The boys realize that they will split the Birr 10 and decide a different tact. The bill has a slight tear in it. They harangue me to give them a new bill. The walking stick girl keeps it up. “It’s a good stick. Birr 5.” She eventually goes down to just asking for one more Birr. I ask our guide if Birr 10 for the boys to split and Birr 2for the walking stick is fair. He says yes. Their subsequent requests for more Birr falls on deaf ears.

We hike a bit through some nice pastureland passing the young shepard boys cracking their whips noisily in a show-off manner. You’d hear a sole crack and turn your head in its direction. Once the Shepard boy sees that you are looking at him he goes crazy with the whip. Crack! Crack! Crack! It was cool. Then we reach a wider part of the river and pay Birr 10 to cross in a boat. This was a fare we knew of and agreed to beforehand and had to be done in order to complete the full hike. It was great hike through some beautiful country. By the time we completed the hike my shoes were a muddy mess. I needed a shoeshine boy. For Birr 3 it was as if I was wearing new pair of shoes.

Supporting the local economy:

*I have noticed that village children speak much better English than their urban counterparts. My first assumption was that foreign aid concentrated on building schools in the villages and this was a positive result from that endeavor. Someone else’s more negative assumption is that it is economically beneficial for them to know English to sell scarves and they only know enough of the language to make a sale. I don’t know. It seemed to me that Marta and the other village kids actually knew English, could answer questions intelligently with English, and weren’t just parroting certain memorized words.

ETHIOPIA: Bootlegged

2008-07-23T10:24:00.001-04:00

The international pirated DVD network is not what it is cracked up to be. Five days after opeing in America I can't find The Dark Knight anywhere in Addis Ababa on DVD. C'mon!

I have been jonesin to see this movie ever since my brother saw a premier a few weeks ago and "Wow!" was his main repsonse. I didn't feel like waiting for it to hit the screens here (hopefully soon) so I checked out all the known haunts for DVD bootleggers. Two main disapointements ensued:

1) The Dark Knight is just not available. No one has it.

2) The bootleggers didn't even know what I was talking about. "New Batman." "Dark Knight." Nothing. No recognition. I had Iron Man and Hancock pushed on me quite a bit though, so they relaized it was a superhero movie. Way to have your finger on the pulse of current hot movies, DVD bootleggers. TDK is a huge movie and you don't even know what it is? Not knowing how this global illicit DVD ring runs I am unsure to blame the guys on the street or whoever is behind the scenes in getting movies out there.

A third and a slightly less disapointment was how once they relaized they didn't have what I was looking for they all resorted to "Have sex movie. Good sex. Good girls." in order to possibly salvage a sell.

Well, actually, I would probably be more disapointed if they didn't offer me porn as I was walking away.

ETHIOPIA: Brrrrrrrrrrrrr

2008-07-22T08:31:00.000-04:00

There are still some more posts from my trip to Bahir Dar forthcoming. Just wanted to provide an Addis Ababa update. The heavy rain season appears to be upon the city. The last few days have seen more frequent and heavier rains and a precipitous drop in temperature. It's been downright cold. When it is not raining it is overcast. The temperature is somewhere in the 50's and seems colder when you get stuck in a shower. Not the type of late July weather I am used to.

ETHIOPIA: Araki

2008-07-22T08:26:00.004-04:00

The Lonely Planet book had a listing for araki bars in Bahir Dar. Araki is a potent grain alcohol, made from tef I am told, the same grain that is the basis of injera. So off we went to find some araki. We went o the area as indicated in the map. No araki. One bar came over with bottle of gin after we ordered araki. Gin! Phooey, who wants gin when you are searching for araki? We asked a bunch of places if they could lead us to an araki bar. Finally, a patron of one establishment provided us with some obscure directions that included a shady hotel and a dark alley. We followed the directions and ended up looking down a very dark alley. A man was loitering outside the alley and we said hesitantly “Araki?” He indicated that we should follow him down the narrowest, smelliest, darkest alley I have ever been down. Of course, we followed. After a few minutes, the alley intersected with a muddy road and our impromptu guide pointed to a small hole-in-the-wall building that we had to walk down a few steps to get into. We would have never found this on our own.

We enter and there is a front room with some men sitting around a low table. The dirt floor is covered with straw and there is a log to sit on. There are lights on in the back room and there appears to be a bar. I poke my head in the back and see a woman and a man behind the bar. The men at the front table heartily greet us and we say we are looking for araki. They lift their shot glasses telling us that, yes, we arrived in the correct place. A waitress comes out, they speak some Amharic. She looks at us wearily, leaves, and returns with a bottle of clear liquid and fills two shot glasses. araki smells god-awful. Like when you open up the gas tank of a really old car that hasn’t run in a while. Old petroleum smell. Not as bad going down. Cleans the sinuses pretty well. Although served in a shot glass it is a sipping drink. At least I sipped mine. One was enough. Upon finishing we asked how much. Two birr. I gave the waitress a Birr 10 bill. The men at the table were saddened to see us go. “At least buy us a round,” they implored. At Birr 2, what the hell? I told the waitress to load them up with another round. I even did the “another round” hand movement with my forefinger making a circle in the air. There were three guys drinking araki at the table. The Birr 10 covered everyone and paid my tab. Where else can I buy a round of shots for about $1 USD?

For those wondering how I justify denying homeless children fresh bread yet buy a round of alcohol for drunk men, I’m not sure I can. But I’ll try. The Ethiopian guidebooks and the official tourist brochures all explicitly state not to give to begging children. Not money, not food, not empty plastic bottles. Nothing. The rationale is that giving only encourages this behavior and it keeps them out of school if they know every farangi will slip them a Birr note. On the other hand, buying drinks for locals while visiting their country is only common courtesy.

ETHIOPIA: Bahir Dar

2008-07-21T08:26:00.003-04:00

Bahir Dar was a pleasant respite from Addis Ababa. It was small and walkable. The main drag is wide and lined with palm trees. There was a nice little café that I seemed to be in a few times a day drinking tea, eating pastries or buying cookies. I found a bakery that had loaves of bread coming directly out of the oven and the bread steamed the plastic bag it was placed in and warmed my hand. The market, while large seemed more homey and welcoming than the Mercato in Addis. The young man who began walking with us through the market insisted he didn’t want money but only to practice speaking English. It was win-win. He showed us some real nice hand-woven goods and talked his head off in the bargain. (Interestingly, he was not the first person on our trip to say he enjoyed speaking English with Christian better than me. They claim it was that Christian was easier to understand because English isn’t his first language. Maybe they just didn’t like me.)

But then you turn down a side street and it is still Ethiopia. The street kids want to hassle you, “Mister!” “Mister!” “You!” “You!”, the beggars are everywhere, and the streets are muddy. Coming out of the bakery two kids walked next to me for three blocks saying “Hello, bread” over and over and over. I couldn’t stop laughing. “Hello, bread.” “Hello, bread.” “Hello, bread.” “Hello, bread.” “Hello, bread.” All while pointing at the bag of bread in my hand. “Hello, bread.” “Hello, bread.” “Hello, bread.” In its way, it was sad that these kids just wanted a piece of fresh bread to eat, bread which I wasted no time in eating once they grew tired of walking next to me. Sad, but them saying “Hello, bread” over and over was still funny.

Overall, Bahir Dar is a town with such great potential. It sits right on Lake Tana. The Blue Nile Falls are nearby. The Lake is full of old, historic monasteries. It could be a great town. I don’t mean a cheesy lake resort town. I just mean that some investment into the infrastructure and surrounds could make it a real jewel. We stayed the Ghion Hotel right on the lake. The hotel is placed within an old Italian officer’s compound. The grounds are great and there are rooms directly on the lake. But the hotel is government owned and run and I don’t think any cleaning or maintenance has take place since the Italians left. The place is rundown and dirty. You forget all that when you are sitting below a huge tree, looking out at the lake, enjoying a beer. You remember when you have to go to the bathroom in the morning and walk on the dirty floor to the worn-out toilet. Just so much potential.

Here’s a monkey that came onto our table as we were eating breakfast at the hotel.

ETHIOPIA: Photos from bus ride to Bahir Dar

2008-07-19T11:13:00.004-04:00

Here's some photos to go with the previous posts. I'll try to add photos to my posts as relevance allows.

It was hazy over the gorge but I think these two photos still show its natural beauty.

Here is a road sign warning about dangers while driving on the switchbacks and through the construction area. I don't think our bus driver paid any mind to the skull and cross bones.

Here's the village we waited in for a few hours. Look at the line of parked vehicles.

I snapped this photo while we buzzed past a head of cattle. The speed of the bus and the sound of the horn managed to push them aside. There were more cattle on the other side of the bus and still some in front. But we never slowed.

Lake Tana. Another hazy day. That's me standing on the volcanic rocks.

ETHIOPIA: Africa Overland

2008-07-18T08:58:00.001-04:00

The best part of taking the bus was seeing Ethiopia outside of Addis. What a beautiful country! It was fantastic to see the countryside and the villages and the people. Directly outside of Addis the pollution and shantytowns give way to eucalyptus forests. Acres and acres of eucalyptus trees. These trees are fast growing and have acclimated to Ethiopia very well. The eucalyptus is a lifeblood of Ethiopia providing building material and firewood, thus playing an integral part in both shelter and food for many, many people. Because it is the rainy season growing of crops was under way. The fields were either lush green or the rich, dark moisture of a newly tilled plot. All of this cultivation was peppered with the slate gray or pale brown of upturned stones, which either lined the crop rows or were collected in piles around the perimeter. In between theses large swaths of open farmland were the villages, which maintained close proximity to the roads to make transport and mobility easier.

Then we made our down into the Blue Nile Gorge and back up again. How magnificent! The land cut deep by its namesake river, even in its origins showing the greatness it will become as it winds its way out of Ethiopia and northward to become part of the mighty Nile. The deepness of the Gorge is told by the steepness of the roads and the multitude of switchbacks that forces our bus driver to heed just a bit. Objects in the road, living or inanimate, moving or fixed, couldn’t slow his bus down. But the Gorge did. Yes, the Gorge did. A new bridge, the only suspension bridge in Ethiopia, is currently being built across the Gorge. The modernity of a new suspension bridge spanning this magnificent, historic Gorge is a testament to, and, perhaps, a harbinger of, the changes occurring in present day Ethiopia.

Terrace farming dominates in the hills around the Gorge. The upturned stones, released from the earth by the agriculture it now supports, are entrapped in a different bondage, holding the soil in place rather than lying buried within it. Coming out of the Gorge, cultivated land gives way to evergreen forests and then once again it becomes cultivated. Now the soil seems more clay yet the land still fertile. It’s not this way during the dry season, I am told. The land is brown and uncaring. I begin to appreciate the life and livelihood rain provides in this part of the world. I tell myself to stop thinking of downpours as only nuisances, of the mud as only to be disdained. When that happens, before I curse the skies and damn the unpaved roads, I will tell myself to remember the land, to remember Africa.

We pass smaller rivers and streams. These flow fast and hard due to the abundance of rain. Depending on the amount and type of clay, the water is either the color of chocolate milk or burnished a deep orange as if it first flowed through the sun before entering Ethiopia. Day becomes night. The headlights of the bus search the landscape. It spots the lonely trees standing vigil in the middle of fields or the groups of trees acting as windbreaks near the side of the road. These trees now appear as apparitions, illuminated like film negatives, imprinted against the darkened background. Heavy clouds prevent the stars from speckling the sky. I am left with ghost trees and a faint trace of starlight. Onward we move, through Ethiopia, through Africa.

The next morning I wake up in a lakeside hotel. Under gray skies I walk down to the shore and stand on blackened, volcanic rocks and look out over Lake Tana. Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile River. These waters will cascade over the Blue Nile Falls on its way to deepening the Gorge before joining the Nile and spilling out of Egypt, passing through the mouths of crocodiles and the annals of time, until finally, it reaches its destination in the Mediterranean Sea. With this thought enveloping me, I view the expanse of the lake. I observe the fisherman casting their nets from their papyrus canoes and watch the pelicans conduct their morning rituals. I stand privileged on the lakeshore and I breathe in more of the beauty of Ethiopia.

ETHIOPIA: Superman at the Wheel

2008-07-17T08:23:00.001-04:00

Two buses go to Bahir Dar, a large “autobus” or a small minibus. The minibus takes an unpaved road, which is shorter but bumpier and gets there quick. The autobus takes a longer, smoother route and is officially listed as a day and half trip. Christian and I wanted to waste as little time as possible with traveling so we were going to take the minibus route. Almost everyone we spoke with told us what a terrible idea it was. Minibus drivers go too fast, pass without looking ahead, and crash constantly. We heard so many minibus horror stories. People kept telling us how Ethiopia is third in the world in automobile fatalities even though there are only around 250,000 vehicles for a population of 80 million. There is a road to the south of Addis that a loose translation of its nickname has the words “death” and “triangle” in it. Named so due to the amount of vehicles that never return after driving on it - a clever homage to the Bermuda Triangle. I imagined becoming part of one of those “bus plunge” headlines if I took a minibus for a trip like this. After all this we decided to take the autobus. We were guaranteed that we would arrive in Bahir Dar in one day. That’s because our bus driver must have been a minibus driver at one time.

For as long as the trip was it was never boring. It was quite the experience. The driver was young as was the two bus assistants on board. The assistant’s job was to, well I’m not sure, but they collected tickets and walked back and forth quite a bit, and distracted the driver occasionally. They were all having the time of their lives though. We found out that this is all they do. They drive to Bahir Dar and spend the night. The next morning they drive back with people bound for Addis. Then back to Bahir Dar and so it goes. They acted like it was the best job in the world. They laughed and smiled the entire time and it was as if nothing could be better than being on this bus.

The driver never slowed down, or hardly slowed, but it seemed like never. We were never passed by another vehicle the entire time on the road yet he passed everything and everyone. Large buses, minibuses, pick-ups, SUVs, cars, horse-drawn carts, roaming livestock, walking villagers. He barreled past all, blaring the air horn as loud and as long as possible. He did this on the open road, on uphills, going downhill, while in the passing lane, while in the passing lane with oncoming traffic. He never slowed going through crowded villages where people dallied in the road, livestock stared dumbly, and other buses were stopped and partially blocking the road. He leaned forward, with one hand off the wheel, sounding the horn, and kept going. Occasionally he swerved to avoid vehicles, people, rocks in the road, or animals. But he kept going and kept sounding the horn. At first it was ridiculous then it was just unbelievable that this was happening, and then it was normal.

It seemed like we going very fast. But I couldn’t really tell just how fast and either could the driver. All the instruments on the display panel were out of order. The speedometer needle hung limply no matter what speed we were going. The engine and the horn seemed to be in perfect condition.

The bus driver talked on his cell phone occasionally. Sometimes he would be texting messages while swerving and never stopping. (I’m not sure who handled the horn while he was texting but it kept on blaring as well.) Mostly, one of the assistants sat next to him and they joked and lived it up and the driver was the type who has to look at the person he’s talking to while driving so his eyes weren’t on the road. Yet, he kept going, horn blasting, passing every other moving thing on the road, and swerving the large bus as circumstances dictated. Occasionally, after a sharp swerve or when we hit a pothole going too fast, the driver would turn his head, smiling as always, and catch the assistant’s attention. The assistants would peer throughout the bus and catch eyes with any worried passengers and place their hands in front of their body, slowly fanning the air, letting the passengers know everything was alright. To the only two farangi on the bus he would just glance over with a sly smile as to say, “I know you guys are enjoying this.” At first, I just stared out the side window to avoid knowing what was in front of us. Then my curiosity got the better of me and I had to look out the front windshield. There were a couple close calls with oncoming buses but mostly it was people or animals on the road that had to worry.

At one point we were forced to stop. Road construction started at 10:00 AM and we were held up in a village from 10:30 AM until 3:00 PM. (The wait in the village is another story. This one is just about the bus ride.) During the wait I spoke with the assistants. One said, “It’s a fast bus.” I replied, “Maybe it’s a fast driver” He laughed and implicitly agreed. I asked if he was only driving like that because he wanted to make it through the construction site before the road closed. The response was “No.” Apparently, he always drives like that.

During the break in the village the two assistants began monkeying around with the engine. This did not instill confidence in me. When one of them took out a Pepsi bottle containing transmission fluid and began dumping it in while the other assistant kept saying “More, more” I just walked away. Then at about a quarter to three the bus driver, in a rush as always, was in the bus, starting the engine, and yelling for the assistants to round everyone up. No other vehicle had started their engine but our driver was raring to go. He pulled out into the road and then onto the opposite shoulder to get to the front of the construction line. Federal police placed him back into his spot in line. He reversed off the shoulder back into the busy road while holding his cell phone in his hand. Once they allowed us to begin moving he was off passing everyone again. He did slow down a bit through the actual construction site and through the Blue Nile Gorge but still passed when he could. Through the construction and then the same: speeding, honking, and passing. Enjoying every minute of it.

I never saw him eat or drink. He was off the bus during the unanticipated layover but otherwise he was firmly planted in his seat. Christian and I began to make up superhero stories about him and his bus driving ability. He handled the bus like the Batmobile. He had an uncanny sixth sense to anticipate impediments in the road. Or he was able to telekinetically repel anything in his way and place it safely aside. No kryptonite has yet been found that could slow him down. I swear, that blasted air horn had super powers of its own.

By this time we were used to the way he drove and knew what to expect. The assistant and his sly smile were right. I began to enjoy it, to look forward to the next village, wondering how crowded it would be, how many near misses we would have. I tried to sleep some but the constant horn kept waking me and forcing me to see what was in front of us to cause such a racket. Our biggest concern became whether or not we would make it to Bahir Dar that night. We had over a 4-hour delay. Never, we thought. The assistants guaranteed us we would make it. Other passengers told us how dangerous it is to drive at night: can’t see a damn thing, robbers on the road, large potholes, etc. It became dark and the assistants announced that anyone who wanted to could get off the bus at the next village but the bus would be going through to Bahir Dar. No one got off and we made it to Bahir Dar around 10:30 or 11:00 PM. Safe and sound. Not a scratch on the bus but maybe some fur from grazing an ox or a mule on the way.

These aren’t modern buses. No bathrooms. Because of the delay there were no rest breaks (I suspect our driver forbade it.) One time there was a pee break. The bus stopped and male and female jumped off and started urinating directly outside the bus. I had to go but my shy bladder prevents me from partaking in such public activities. The driver didn’t get out. After about a minute he honked the horn and started moving. Guys were zipping up, still pissing, running to catch up to the departing bus. Man, was the driver in a rush.

I was hoping to get the same crew for my bus ride back on Sunday morning. I knew I would make good time back into Addis. I knew it wouldn’t be boring. In fact, for all the craziness it was really quite a bit of fun. Then I met a couple from Chicago who are in Addis for the summer. Her sister was visiting and they had rented an SUV and a driver to go to Bahir Dar for the weekend. They had an open seat available and I joined them. The trip back to Addis was quick, comfortable, and pleasurable, albeit much less eventful.

ETHIOPIA: Bus Station Chaos

2008-07-16T08:57:00.004-04:00

Alright, the Addis bus station may be one of the craziest places I have ever been. Because the bus was full, we were told to get to the bus station at 5:30 AM to ensure passage. It is still dark out and just throngs of people already milling around the station parking lot amid the ever-present, noxious diesel fumes. We can’t tell who works for the bus station or is just out to get some Birr by being helpful. Regardless, everyone keeps pointing to the far end of the lot when we say Bahir Dar, and there we proceeded. We also kept being told that the bus would leave in 30 minutes and just look for the 4-digit number written on the ticket. Our bus didn’t leave until about 8:00 AM, the bus number changed once, and during the wait we just watched the spectacle all around us.

I was traveling with my friend Christian, who was going for a 2-week historical circuit trip beginning in Bahir Dar, whereas I was just going for a long weekend in Bahir Dar. Also present was my friend Tori, who was taking a different bus to Harar for the weekend, and Christian’s roommate and a German documentary film crew (two people) who had no real reason to be at the station other than to witness the chaos and watch us get on board.

I am not sure I can adequately describe the chaos about bus travel here. The confusion was magnified partly because I didn’t understand all the Amharic yelling going on around me. Granted, this is my first experience with developing world land transport. But other farangi, who have been in other developing countries including other African countries, claim that the bus station at Addis is one of the craziest scenes they ever witness while traveling. It is a huge parking lot filled with old buses. Some seem in quite the state of disrepair while others don’t seem bad at all. People are just standing around or sitting on their luggage anywhere there is free space in the lot. Buses just come and go, honk their horn, while never stopping. This causes constant mass migrations of people from one spot to another. It was non-stop: buses just reversing, buses making wide turns into crowds of people, buses just idling and burning everyone’s eyes as you got stuck in a plume of pollution.

Loading onto the bus was the craziest of all. An empty bus would come into the parking lot and make its way to its loading spot. People would be running alongside the bus hanging onto the doorknob at the front and rear door. Up to a dozen people all jockeying for that doorknob. The bus stops, the doors open and, holy shit, people just start climbing over one another to get into the bus and get a seat. Pushing, shoving, yelling, climbing, it didn’t matter. Whatever it took to get on the bus. Then the bus fills up to the tipping point. Around 10 minutes later someone gets on the bus and starts kicking people off so it’s still full but not to the brim full. Imagine this scene going on at around 10 separate buses at the same time. Just mobs attempting to funnel into the small bus doorway. While watching this Christian and I looked at each other with “What the fuck?” looks. Christian then stated how he had to make sure his large pack made it onto the top of the bus so I needed to fight for the seats by myself. Great.

But it wasn’t so bad. Eventually our bus did come, with the people hanging onto the doorknobs as it pulled into its designated spot. I ended up at the front door but that didn’t open. (“The door is sick,” one of the bus assistants yelled out the window.) So the mad rush was already underway at the back door. I did jockey for position and was shoved more than I shoved back. I held up getting onto the bus to allow an older woman to get ahead of me, which meant three men also squeezed in, elbows first, ahead of me. But the man who sold us our bus tickets and told us to be there at 5:30 AM was sitting in prime seats in the front of the bus. He saved seats for us farangi. After I was seated he went and found Christian still trying to ensure his pack ended up on the bus and not in someone’s arms running out of the bus station. He asked Christian for Birr 20 for getting us seats. Christian gave this up grudgingly and spoke about it quite a bit the rest of the trip. (I notice that many Europeans I meet are outraged by this sort of thing. I think Birr 20 was cheap for us to get good seats up in the front of the bus. It’s one thing for people to charge farangi prices, which happens often, and another thing to pay for someone saving a seat. At least I see a difference.) To not give the sole illusion that getting on the bus was a survival of the fittest exercise, it also seemed that other prime seats in the front were saved or left open for some elderly women who entered the bus at their leisure. I felt bad for a minute that we had such good seats when a woman had to sit on a folding chair in the middle of the aisle. Not bad enough to actually give up my seat but still felt bad.

While all this was going on the German documentarians began filming. Filming and photographing in Ethiopia is dicey. People want Birr to be photographed and the government has made many objects around town off-limits to be shot. Once the camera came out people started asking for money to grant permission to film. Not government people or bus station people just random people, especially the beggars. I had just gotten seated and looked out the window and saw a young man, smiling widely, standing in front of the camera holding his hand in front blocking the lens. He apparently was telling them they couldn’t film, but in a jovial way. This young man turned out to be our bus driver. Since I was on the bus I am unsure what if any kind of footage they ended up with. So now everyone is seated. Two beggars get on and make their way through the bus, hands out. One of them is one who was asking for filming money. He stops next to our seats and begins talking loudly. We hear “farangi” and people begin laughing. He was talking about us. Later on, during a stop in our journey, an Ethiopian translated what the beggar said. Something about how farangi think they can come to Ethiopia and film and photograph and not pay money. Why do farangi think they can take photos for free. Ethiopia is weird with the photographs.

So now we were ready to leave. Bahir Dar is officially listed as a day and half trip although we were assured we would get there that night. About 16 hours later we arrived in Bahir Dar. The bus ride itself was crazier than the bus station.

ETHIOPIA: Time's Up

2008-07-15T08:14:00.003-04:00

As mentioned in the first post concerning my arrival to Ethiopia I did not bring a watch with me. For a few days I didn’t mind. I was someplace new, feeling the wonder of it all. The hell with knowing what time it is. After a while I decided there was a certain benefit to actually knowing what time it was. The benefit being that I knew the time. So one day during my wanderings I saw some watches on a stand outside of a small shop.

ME: (Pointing at watch)How much is this watch?
SHOPKEEPER: Birr 20, I mean Birr 100.
M: You said Birr 20.
S: It’s Birr 100
M: But you said Birr 20.
S: It’s Birr 100
M: (pointing to a different watch) OK, how much is this watch?
S: Birr 120
M: (audible sigh)
S: (Silence)
M: (shaking my head in annoyance) What’s the cheapest watch you have?
S: (Picking up a cheap watch) Birr 65.

I am a terrible, terrible haggler. I paid the Birr 65 and asked the shopkeeper the time so I could set it correctly. His cell phone said 11:57 and he told me “Just before six”. It was six in the evening at the time of purchase. In addition to keeping their own calendar, Ethiopians keep time differently as well. In Ethiopia, 6:00 AM is twelve o’clock. The time progresses hourly until 6:00 PM is also twelve o’clock (as indicated on the shopkeeper’s cell phone) and then the evening hours progresses until 6:00 AM is once again twelve o’clock. I was told a formula to use in case I get told Ethiopian time. During the day add six to the time, during night subtract six form the time. That should straighten you out. The rationale is that the sun begins its rise at 6:00 AM and begins setting at 6:00 PM. So time goes with the sun. Not that kooky, really.

Two days later my Birr 65 watch stopped. I haven’t worn a wristwatch in years and I felt as if this low-tech item would be my unraveling. I am embarrassed to say that it took me much longer than it should have to figure out how to wind it. But figure it out I did. It’s still ticking.

ETHIOPIA: How Ethiopia has changed me, Part I

2008-07-15T08:13:00.000-04:00

I now drink macchiato. For chrissakes.

ETHIOPIA: Obamania

2008-07-14T11:21:00.003-04:00

I have found that once an Ethiopian realizes I am an American they ask about Obama. Am I supporting Obama? Do I think he will win? What does America think of him? (My favorite was the taxi driver who angrily punched his steering wheel. “Bush is for dictatorship. Obama is for democracy. Obama must win.”) I have yet to meet an Ethiopian who is not for Obama and they all seem very happy when they find out I also support Obama. I do not tell them I am upset at his recent capitulation on the FISA bill he voted in favor of last week or that I have grave reservations about who he will choose as VP. I just say that I do, indeed, support Obama. This seems to be enough.

On a recent bus ride to Bahir Dar I was speaking with Masrasha, an Ethiopian, about Obama. He was visiting Bahir Dar for his brother’s graduation from university. We got off the bus in Bahir Dar together and met with his brother and a friend. One of the first things they said when they saw us was that a new restaurant opened in town named after Obama.

My first reaction was to ask if it was named after Barack Obama or just coincidentally named Obama. They excitedly assured me that it was named after the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee. Here’s the sign for the restaurant and you can see for yourself:

I had dinner there. The service was slow, the food was so-so, and ambience was lacking. I only hope Obama’s presidency fares better than his namesake restaurant.

ETHIOPIA: Hail Mercato

2008-07-14T09:06:00.003-04:00

I visited the Mercato, which is considered by some to be the largest open-air market in all of Africa. Other than reading about how you can buy anything from “camels to Kalashnikovs” and making a mental note to visit while staying in Addis I really didn’t give it much thought. It seemed whenever you mentioned Mercato to anyone, especially tourists of a pale complexion, the response always was “Don’t bring your valuables.” I just figured precautions are necessary as with any large gathering of people. So off the Mercato I went. I jumped on a mini-bus, which I am utilizing to various degrees of success, and 45 minutes later I was there. I think, in some corner in the recess of my mind, the recess influenced by romantic notions of other cultures, fueled by comic books and movies, I was hoping for a bazaar like the one Indiana Jones visits in Raiders of the Lost Ark, only on a grander scale. I was hoping to see exotic people selling exotic wares. I was hoping to return with an armload of exotic items deemed necessary to have by the sheer existence of the market itself. Boy, was I sorely disappointed. It’s just a big, dirty, impossibly crowded flea market. Blocks and blocks of stalls and shops selling the same knock-off junk you can find in any shop anywhere in Addis. Rain prevented me from exploring all of the Mercato, so I am giving it a short shrift here but I never did see any camels or guns for sale. (I am told that there are things in the Mercato you can’t get anywhere else you just have to know where to look.)

I was supposed to meet my friend Christian, who I mentioned as being scammed upon his arrival in Addis. We decided to meet at the bus station as it was thought to be a central location and we are taking a trip this week that includes bus travel so it would also act as a recon mission. While walking through the Mercato towards the bus station it began to rain. It was then I found out that there are two bus stations, one for long-distance service and one for short distance. I reached one of them (I could never get a straight answer as to the one I was at), as the rain became a downpour. After a quick walkabout to determine that Christian was not there I took shelter in the bus station for about a half-hour. A bus station in Addis attracts the same sort of people any bus station anywhere attracts. Just think Port Authority in a developing country. The downpour was so great that it was difficult to get away from the spreading puddles. My shoes and the cuffs of my pants became soaked. The rain started to dissipate and I set out anew to locate Christian and explore.

Walking through the Mercato, I encountered a new refrain targeted at farangi, “YOU! YOU! YOU! YOU!” with a miffed “HEY!” thrown in when ignored. This is every bit as annoying and obnoxious as the caps indicate. Blocking the never ending YOU’s from my mind I stopped in a pastry shop for some tea and cake (mmmmm, cake), then used a phone at a neighboring shop and called Christian on his mobile. He was at a different pastry shop, which he said was by the bus station. I ventured back to the bus station not realizing, until informed later on, that he was at a different bus station, popping my head into every pastry shop as I passed. A downpour began again. I decided to cut my losses and catch up with Christian later. I was overconfident from the little time I spent in the Mercato and my two trips to the bus station. I thought I could take a short cut back to the minibus stop. The cobblestone path I was following curved to the left and opened to a terribly muddy road. The rain caused filthy water to stream down this road. My already wet shoes and pants became ever more wet and disgusting. I mean really disgusting. I followed this muddy, filthy road and then realized that there were no more shops. I ended up in an alley in the back of the shops. There was a lot of activity: hammering, welding, chat chewing in the doorways, normal Ethiopian loitering, all done in the rain in the muddy road. I really didn’t belong here. The looks I got while walking through weren’t the normal farangi looks. These were bewildered looks. “What in the world are you doing here?” the looks asked. I could only provide them with a look back indicating that I was as surprised to be there as they were to find me. (I was thinking of the Dave Chapelle joke where he ran into another black person at a hotel in Aspen, CO while this was going on.)

Eventually, I saw some hustle and bustle in front of me and was unloaded from the mud to the Mercato. This wasn’t much of an improvement. While some of the roads through the Mercato are asphalt this just causes fast flowing rivulets of dirty water to race down them. Other than my upper body, shielded from the elements by my trusty rain jacket, I was soaked. Swamp foot was beginning to settle in as my Montrails are not waterproof. Great shoes just not in the rainy season. (My shoes are still filthy. I need to let them soak in a bucket of Purell to clean and sanitize them.)

I left the Mercato on the first minibus I was sure was going in my direction. It wasn’t the route closest to Mr. Martin’s but it was close enough. The downpour picked up on the drive back. Bole Road was like a river. Traffic was snarled as vehicles were stalled in the middle of the road due to the high water. Minibuses just plowed through angrily honking at the unfortunate victims of nature’s wrath. I looked through the fogged up windows and noticed white stuff on the ground. I wiped the glass clean to gain a better perspective. It was now hailing out. The hail was piled high. (12 centimeters high as it was reported on the news. An Ethiopian friend, who was out of town, asked me to confirm the 12 cm measurement. I just said, “Yes” without getting into the fact that off the top of my head I don’t know how high 12cm actually is. He knows I don’t do metric) I get to my stop but I am on the wrong side of the street. It is still pouring out and there is no way I can cross without wading through up to my calves. I stopped in a restaurant and got some lunch. By the time I was done eating, the rivers stopped flowing down the road and the sun was out. I walked back to the Cozy Place and showered the filth of the Mercato off of me.

Photo from minibus. Notice the hail in foreground:

Hail:

The road directly after it stopped raining:

ETHIOPIA: In the meantime...

2008-07-14T08:51:00.000-04:00

I just returned from a long weekend in Bahir Dar. It rained quite a bit but that did not dampen any enjoyment. It is colder in Addis than i left and I might have caught a cold. Damn. It took a 16 hour bus ride to get to Bahir Dar but was worth every second. I had a fantastic time. I'll have to get some posts together to describe everything starting with the bus ride, which was quite the experience. It was great to see the countryside and some villages and get out of Addis. As the bus left Addis, the air cleared, and I saw the expanse of mountains around me I felt like Morgan Freeman's character Red in The Shawshank Redemption as he broke parole and crossed state lines in a bus. My head was sticking out the bus window (although it could easily have been) but my journey provided me with the same feeling of elation.

Until I get my thoughts together about this past busy weekend I'll post some filler musings of mine that have been sitting in the docket. To start with here is my trip two weekends ago to an outdoor market place in Addis, which I did not get a chance to post last week.

ETHIOPIA: Out of Addis

2008-07-09T08:22:00.001-04:00

Leaving for a 12-hour bus ride to Bahir Dar early tomorrow morning.* First time I will be leaving Addis Ababa since my arrival. I am looking forward to it (not the 12-hour bus ride but getting out of Addis.) I will spend the weekend visiting the monasteries on Lake Tana and the Blue Nile Falls. The Blue Nile Falls is one of the cited sources of the Nile. It seems that every African country in this region claims to have the source of the Nile. Since I am in Ethiopia I am going with its claim. I will see the source of the Nile. Since it is the Nile I was hoping to glimpse some crocodiles but that appears doubtful.

Be back blogging next week.

*I think we are leaving then. I went to buy a bus ticket this morning and was told that the bus is full. The agent sold us tickets, gave us his cell phone, ordered us not to show anyone the ticket because he is telling everyone else that the bus is full, and to call him tomorrow morning when we arrive at the bus station so he can get us passage on a full bus. It seems very fishy but locals say that is the way the bus station works. I expect to get on a bus tomorrow but also expect I may be surprised where I end up after 12-hours.

ETHIOPIA: Independence Day

2008-07-07T08:45:00.001-04:00

On July the fourth I was out with some other Americans. The subject of American indepedence came up and someone commented how the United States is doing pretty good with 232 years under its belt. This statement made us reflect upon Ethiopia and how they celebrate no independence day because they are the only African country to not be colonized. This is a fact that many Ethiopians mention frequently and of which they are very proud. Since Ethiopian history goes waaaay back they have been a country for much more than 232 years.

For several years during WWII Ethiopia was occupied by Italy. Resistant fighters prevented the Italians from taking over the entire country and self-rule was returned in the aftermath of the war. (Well, self-rule in the form of an emperor and the royal family.) Other than Ethiopia being an independent country in between Somalia and Eritrea, two Italian colonies, there was no strategic reason for Italy to invade Ethiopia in 1935. Many Ethiopians call the invasion and occupation "Mussolini's Revenge" as it is widely believed that the main reason to invade was to put the Ethiopians in their place for thier stinging defeat of the Italians at the Battle of Adwa.

The Battle of Adwa occurred in 1896 and is widely considered one of the greatest triumph's of Africa against colonial Europe. The Batte of Adwa is celebrated nationally with days off just like the Fourth of July in the U.S. During the battle Ethiopian forces routed an invading Italian army preventing any further encroachment of the Italians into Ethiopia from Eritrea.

A couple of Ethiopians have told me that the Battle of Adwa still resonates today as some of the reason for bad blood between Ethipia and Eritrea. After acheiving victory at Adwa, the Ethiopians allowed the Italians to retreat back to Eritrea. They seemed happy enough to win the battle and not give chase. Then later on Emperor Haile Selassie declared Eritrea part of Ethiopia resulting in a "Where were you in 1896?" response and Eritrea's determination to remain independent.

One reason Ethiopia may want Eritrea to be part of them is contained in another oft mentioned fact you hear from Ethiopians: how they are a landlocked country. Having Eritrea within Ethiopia would solve that problem. But due to the obstinance and intransigence of both countries the borders between them are closed (and under dispute) and Ethiopia is still landlocked and with no access to Eritrea's port.

ETHIOPIA: Rudy

2008-07-04T08:21:00.002-04:00

Rudy is a monkey kept at Mr. Martin’s Cozy Place. It can be looked at as the Cozy Place mascot, Mr. Martin’s pet, or if you are so inclined, a monkey companion. A couple years ago, Dawit, the manager, who was recently married, found Rudy on the street a couple blocks away from Mr. Martin’s. He noticed a commotion with some kids and upon investigation saw them teasing a two-month year old monkey. Dawit rescued Rudy from these young tormenters and brought him back to Mr. Martin’s. They built him his small compound on the Cozy Place premises and he has been there ever since. Dawit doesn't like keeping him in a cage but feels it is better than living on the mean streets. He’s a rambunctious little guy and I don’t think he likes me much based upon his clawing at me during petting attempts.

Rudy sleeping:

ETHIOPIA: Eureka!

2008-07-03T08:42:00.001-04:00

After a month of poring through boatloads of data, learning how to use two databases (kinda how to use), and conducting research on previous literature that used similar variables, I have finally, finally, narrowed my focus and know what I will be working on for the remaining two months.

I will be analyzing malaria data collected through a 10-year retrospective study of 20 kebeles (villages) looking at the impact of indoor residual spraying (IRS) and climatic factors on malaria transmission. Specifically, to see how effective IRS has been over that time period and determine the best time of year to apply IRS in regards preventiveness of malaria. Along with the timing of IRS is the impact of climatic factors (rainfall and temperature) on overall transmission rates. I also want to look at climatic factors for its effect on transmission coupled with IRS and as independent variables. For example low nighttime temperature has been shown to decrease transmission due to nighttime biting behavior of the mosquito vector species, Anopheles arabiensis.

There are still some confounding factors that need to be controlled. But within the data I believe it can be controlled. And I am hoping to be able to include a kebele-kebele comparison as well as a 6-month/6-month single kebele comparison as the IRS protectiveness lasts up to half a year.

I found a good model to follow from a study a conducted in Eritrea that did show a decrease in transmission following an effective vector control program. The difficulty lies in keeping the focus of the analysis manageable and narrow. There is so much data that there is an urge to add in more variables in an attempt to conduct a “complete” study. (I have that urge, anyway.) This only makes the study unwieldy. Already, I am unsure if I will complete the analysis I want to in the next two months. But it is certainly exciting to try.

DVD REVIEW: The Orphanage

2008-07-02T11:53:00.001-04:00

The set-up of The Orphanage, a gothic horror chiller from Spain, follows many standard gothic tropes of character, place and atmosphere: a woman returning to her childhood home unearthing lost secrets from the past; a defunct lighthouse sitting atop a dark cave on a beach; doors windows and playground rides shutting and moving on their own volition; a young boy with imaginary (or ghostly) friends; and a menacing child hidden under a burlap sack (OK, that may not be a classic Gothic trope, but it should be). The bumps in the night and the jarring misdirection scares are aptly played here and the execution is familiar but refreshingly unpredictable (refreshing in that it doesn’t rely on gimmicky twists).

In fact, The Orphanage is matter-of-factly straightforward: Laura, an adopted orphan returns to her orphanage as an adult with her husband, Carlos, and son, Simón, to re-open it as a home assisting children. Her son quickly makes friends with children not seen by anyone. Then, during an event on the grounds of the orphanage, Simón disappears. Laura spends the rest of the film investigating what happened to Simón and the spooky circumstances behind it. The power exists in how many scenes from the first half are mirrored in the second: a flashback to a childhood game at the orphanage morphs into an act of desperation; Laura’s motherly interactions with her son become vital memories as she closes in on the mystery.

What truly drives this movie is the focus on Laura. Many scary movies get lost in the plot of supernatural malfeasance and how characters are affected. The Orphanage, however, focuses on how Laura deals with these possible otherworldly circumstances. A new level of psychological allegory is revealed that sends a shudder down the spine better than any shutting door or creaking seesaw. Highly Recommended.

ETHIOPIA: Hiding in Plain Sight

2008-07-02T08:25:00.000-04:00

A friend recently made the comment that while Addis seems to have a bustling ex-pat community you rarely see them out and about. This proved true after visiting some farangi bars over the weekend and a recent visit to a relatively upscale restaurant. While wandering the city you can feel as if you are the only white person in Addis. The locals also act that way. After a while the cacophony of “Mister! Mister!”, “Hello! Hello!”, “Clean shoes?”, “Taxi ride?”, and “Money! Money!” blends into the rest of the din of Addis. It becomes not unlike the horn honking, the hawking vendors, the animal noises: it’s just something heard but not listened to.

Then you step into a certain restaurant and you realize that there are more white people in this single room than you have seen in all your wanderings. You wonder where they are all day. Do they ever leave the familiarity of western establishments; do they ever leave the security of their housing compounds? Then again, they are probably wondering the same thing about me.

ETHIOPIA: Scamithopia

2008-06-30T15:01:00.001-04:00

I have been attempting to get cultured in Ethiopia. During my first weekend, while wandering around trying to orient myself, I ended up at St. George’s Cathedral and Museum and a couple weekends ago I went to the National Museum.

Going to St. George was not so much my destination as it was trying to avoid some guy who sidled up to me and walked alongside for way too long. I was headed to the National Museum that day when this guy sidetracked me, chattering in broken English about such inanities like Hollywood stars and gossip. At first I politely responded to his queries: “I really don’t know anything about what Paris Hilton is up to.” Then I realized that eventually he was going to ask me for money. I just stopped responding to him and even walked ahead of him and crossed a street or two without him knowing. But he always ended up next to me spouting some idiocy about America he gleaned from some bad show on satellite TV. He was like a bad rash I couldn’t get rid of. Finally I told him “I am walking the city alone because I want to be alone.” That didn’t deter him. I saw St. George’s across the street and crossed over to it. He followed. I reached the entrance and he realized that I wasn’t about to pay his fee into the grounds. He went on a spiel about how he lives with his grandmother and how he showed me so much while walking that I should give him some Birr. I just left him behind. He was a real birr under my saddle.

This is one of the real nuisances about Addis Ababa. If it’s not shoeshine boys or taxi drivers compelling you to take their service there is always someone who just walk next to you talking, hassling you, trying to entice you to part with your money. This isn’t event he beggars. Three times it happened during my last constitutional through the city. This time I was returning from the National Museum and enjoying a long walk on a sunny afternoon. Because the roads are all over the place and the street signs suspect I often reference the map in the guidebook. Taking the guidebook out of my bag is like chumming the waters. Out of the woodwork people come up to me wondering what I need, how they can be of assistance, what can they show me for some Birr. And once they get next to you it’s impossible to get rid of them. Their leech-like abilities are remarkable, which is why I am now remarking upon them. So since my first run-in with the guy at St. George’s and a story told to me by a German named Christian, staying at Mr. Martin’s I am not very polite or talkative to these hangers-on. Incidentally, on this same day, I noticed the first guy from St. George’s, his mouth endlessly yapping, walking with another white guy.

So Christian’s story. On Christian’s first night he went out to walk around or get a bite to eat. A man approached and said he was from the tourism board and that he noticed Christian just arrived. He welcomed Christian and asked if he would like to see some “cultural show” with “traditional dancing.” (These words are in quotes, not because of my love of quotation marks but because this is classic Ethiopian scam talk.) Christian agrees that this may be a fun opportunity and follows the man. As they are walking more men join the group. Soon they are in a shantytown. They ask Christian if he can purchase soft drinks. Christian agrees. Next thing they are in a shanty and liquor and soft drinks are being served and dancing, not very traditional as it is described to me, occurs. The dancing and music stop and Christian is presented with a bill for Birr 1000. He ineffectively argues about the bill and ends up paying Birr 800.

Now, as Christian was explaining this to me, I interrupted at the point they were entering the shantytown. “This sounds like…”
“Yes, just like it is in the Lonely Planet guidebook.”
“But…”
“I read it too but realized too late. I was in a shantytown. What was I supposed to do?”

I should have just copied and pasted the Lonely Planet description of this scam, which they call the Siren Scam. It happened to Christian exactly as described in the Lonely Planet book down to the mentions of “cultural show”, “traditional dance,” and a Birr 1000 bill. I have some sympathy for Christian, as I am not sure what I would have done if I ended up in a shantytown hovel being asked for exorbitant amounts of Birr. I don’t even carry that much Birr on me so I probably would have just shrugged my shoulders. “I have Birr 10. Does that cover soft drinks?”

Two of the hucksters who approached me recently brought up “traditional dance” and “cultural show.” The first guy was smooth talking and nicely dressed (a key player in the scam as mentioned in Lonely Planet) and after he described the dancing and culture I could see how someone could be enticed. If I wasn’t forewarned I might have gone with him. But don’t they realize that with the limited amount of white people in Addis we might talk to one another about scams like this. I think it is a decent scam, though. Partly due to wanting to trust strangers in a foreign land as well as not wanting to miss out on anything real cultural or traditional while in that foreign land. This can make one gullible. What if there really was a cultural show with traditional dance put on for charity? Wouldn’t that have been great to see? A couple blocks after telling one guy I was not interested another guy came up and offered the same traditional song and dance routine to me. “Another guy just told me about that. I’m still not interested.” He beat a quick exit.

These scammers sidetracked me from talking about the museums. Some other time.

ETHIOPIA: farangi

2008-06-29T09:21:00.002-04:00

I think I am growing weary of being referred to as a farangi. I mean, I am a farangi. But still.

ETHIOPIA: For The Boids

2008-06-27T10:09:00.007-04:00

One day on my way home I came across hundreds of small birds. Some were muddy brown all over and others were red breasted. They were all over the place, taking over the road and forming a dirty brown carpet over it as they flew low to ground looking for safe haven as anyone or anything approached. It was difficult to get a photo as they scattered if I got within 20 feet. I did manage to snap a few pics. Unfortunately, due to their evasive nature, the photos do not adequately portray their density in the road or how awfully tiny they were. Their diminutiveness and sheer quantity intrigued me. This photo taking did draw the curiosity of some neighborhood kids who came running up to me to see what the hubbub was about. They didn’t seem too impressed that I would be taking pictures of birds. I haven’t run into the birds again. I have run into the kids again.

ETHIOPIA: Hum-Drum

2008-06-26T15:46:00.001-04:00

I have fallen into a routine. This should have been expected. I am living here for three months rather than just visiting for a week or two. I am working everyday. I wake and get ready to leave the office. I grab some tea and cake. I spend a day reviewing malaria data. I leave the office. Sometimes I wander around. Sometimes I get something to eat. Sometimes I grab a drink.

I partly blame my stomach ailment as that tired me and due to a shaky digestive system I didn’t want to wander to far for a few days. So I got used to taking it easy and not exploring as I should. Most of the blame is my own apathy. I am treating Addis Ababa just as I do NYC, where you end up in your own little world and don’t take advantage of anything outside that world. Maybe, as my time nears its end, I’ll feel more pressure to do something exciting, if only to not have to explain why I lived in Ethiopia for three months and didn’t do much of anything.

Mongol Talk From Ethiopia

2008-06-25T09:58:00.001-04:00

I certainly hope that Mongol begins showing in Ethiopia. I am looking forward to seeing it. For more information on Genghis Khan I highly recommend the book Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World by Jack Weatherford. One the reasons the movie may have felt sparse in terms of Mongolian culture is that, according to the book, so little is known about it during that time period. The books scraps together young Temudgin's story from bits and pieces and many of his future exploits come from the horror stories of those conquered. After reading this book I was convinced that Genghis Khan was the greatest militaty leader and emperor in history surpassing Alexander the Great or the Romans. What he accomplished by ruthlessness and then fairness after conquering is unbeleivable. The story of the Mongol army arriving in Turkey and telling the city to surrender or perish is riveting. How Khan aopended the Silk Road to trade and accepted other cultures as long as they paid him fealty shows how canny he was. It's a great story that I am glad more poepl will get to see it in motion picture format.

As for adding a rating sytem to my movie reviews? Probably not. My perception of certain movies changes over time and I would rather just save my ratings for the end of the year. You can tell how I feel about a movie from my review which comes directly after viewing.

MOVIE REVIEW: Mongol

2008-06-24T14:08:00.005-04:00

Mongol, the first of a proposed trilogy about Genghis Khan, tells the story of Temudgin, the boy, and then man, who would become the conquering Khan. It follows a story arc familiar to anyone with a passing knowledge of heroic tales: fate combined with noble sense of duty creates the asphalt on Temudgin’s road to infamy.

As a boy Temudgin chooses his bride only to have an enemy clan break traditional Mongol rules of warfare intervene and interrupt. Later, his blood-brother and boyhood friend, Jamukha, becomes an enemy by also ignoring Mongol traditions. One interesting aspect is that as Temudgin rises into a Khan, he reinstates these traditions (such as no killing of women and children) while also adding more modern and authoritarian aspects to his rise (no betraying of your Khan, which if your goal is to be the one Khan, is a pretty good idea). These edicts are viciously enforced and as Temudgin rises in power, he trades some of his earlier nobility for ruthlessness, most notably on a battlefield where his cold-blooded strategy against a superior force should clue viewers in for the type of conqueror he will become.

Sticking to the hero story, but discarding Mongol tradition, Temudgin also goes to war after his wife is kidnapped by another clan (Jamukha flatly states that no Mongol has ever gone to war over a woman). This is a clever jab at many traditional hero stories from the West – from Homer’s Iliad to Mel Gibson’s Braveheart – where the hero’s quest begins with a damsel in distress. It seems that before Genghis Khan would try to conquer the western world, he must first be fitted into the western template of a hero.

Yet, in following this traditional hero story formula, Mongol also seemingly omits plenty of information. Years pass, struggles are overcome with little mention, and, most telling, little insight into eleventh century Mongolian society is revealed. I’m extremely uneducated on Genghis Khan and his society, and, while I’m interested in now reading a definitive book about his life, the story sticks to evaluating the Temudgin’s character rather than his society. This is, of course, important to the movie, but just a bit more about the clan differences would have been helpful to fully appreciate the accomplishment of united the Mongolian clans into the fierce conquering force it would soon become.

This is not to dismiss Mongol though but rather to point out that the movie left me wanting more. The story is engaging, the direction is fluid, the acting superb, and the locales extraordinary. Plus, I’m a sucker for the hero story, so I sat back and watched with complete satisfaction as Temudgin overcame one set-back over another to fulfill his fate. I’ll certainly be back for the next film. Good But Flawed*

*I’ve decided to begin using the rating system I used for my end of year reviews for all my reviews going forward. To recap the designations are: Highly Recommended; Recommended; Good But Flawed; Disappointing. Nimero may choose to use this system (or one of his own) for his seemingly daily visits to the Ethiopian cinema, but I am no Genghis Khan and there will be no “use colbinski’s rating system” edict enforced here.

MOVIE REVIEW: The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian

2008-06-24T08:00:00.001-04:00

I remember as a kid being enthralled by The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis. By the time The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe came out as a film I had forgotten what exactly happened in those books. I was pleasantly surprised when watching TCN:LWW that many plot points and strong feelings I had while reading as a youngster came back to me. Particularly, the movie captured my visceral dislike I had of Edmund. Boy, I hated Edmund as a kid. I found the film version of TCN:LWW to be a disappointment, though. I liked the special effects and thought the kids were good but the pacing was off and the film seemed to lag.

Prince Caspian is a better film. But no memories of the book were reignited while watching Prince Caspian. I don’t know if the movie veered far from the book but I didn’t recall a thing. Prince Caspian starts as many stories do. A son is born to a scheming evil man, portrayed with sullen eyes, a pointed beard, and a predilection to wearing black, as many evil men are in the movies. The evil man, who happens to be Prince Caspian’s uncle, wants his son to be heir to the throne and this sends young Prince Caspian into exile. Prince Caspian, who happens to be a dreamy heartthrob of a prince, and his scheming uncle, are both Telmarines. As we find out after Prince Caspian meets the remaining, also exiled Narnians in the forbidden woods, the Telmarines are a human race that hundreds of years ago thought they wiped out the Narnians. The Narnians, if you remember are made up of talking animals, centaurs, minotaurs, fauns, dwarves, and other fanciful creatures. The arrival of Prince Caspian along with the four English kids from TCN:LWW galvanizes the Narnians and off to war against the Telmarines we go.

This is where I begin to have some problems with the story. A man full of hubris beginning wars for selfish reasons with no concern for all the deaths he is causing is an old story and one that keeps repeating itself. So I have no real grievance with that part. My issue is when there is a meeting of Narnians and a dark-skinned centaur states that Narnia can only be ruled in peace by “Sons of Adam” (re: white men) and in order to get peace the same “Sons of Adam” (re: white men) needs to go to war, total war. And here is dreamy heartthrob (and incidentally white) Prince Caspian waiting to go to war, collect his rightful throne, and bring peace to the Narnians, who cannot or will not do it for themselves. Perhaps, it is because I am now currently living in Africa or because the Iraq war has jaded my sensibilities that I don’t really think that civilized, western, white men can rule anyone let alone rule in peace.

Another aspect worth mentioning is the treatment of Aslan the majestic lion. I remember some kerfuffle about how the crazy Christians liked TCN:LWW because of the portrayal of Aslan as Jesus and the studio was denying it and the crazy Christians blamed liberal, evil America for the denial. I don’t remember hearing anything like that this time around. But if Aslan was Jesus in TCN:LWW he is in full God-mode in Prince Caspian. When asked why he didn’t rush to the Narnians aid sooner Aslan provides some mumbo jumbo indicating how he works in mysterious ways. Some characters catch sight of him, if only for a moment, while others doubt he exists anymore. Then, despite his self-help and mysterious ways talk, when necessary, and with a mighty roar, he can call on all the destructive forces of nature against the enemy. You’d think there was a gay pride parade going on in Narnia based on the torrential force brought down on those bad Telmarines.

Despite, or perhaps, because of these misgivings it was still an entertaining movie. While there never was any real suspense or high drama, the special effects were excellent and the battle scenes were good. [I like battle scenes. I’m not against war per se, I’m against the glorification of white man’s ability to wage war to bring peace to other species (or races) who have nothing better to do than wait around for white men to bring them war and peace.] The English kids do a decent job of having you believe they are mighty kings and queens in Narnia. While there is less to the story here than other chapters in The Chronicles of Narnia it still translates well to film.

ETHIOPIA: The Hand Not Shaken

2008-06-23T16:28:00.000-04:00

I have been reticent in writing about the people I have met and observed while in Addis Ababa. One reason is that any observations I have to make will be highly subjective and knowingly superficial. A larger reason is that I am in an African city in a developing country. I don’t want to reinforce any stereotypes of the worst part of urban Africa with my observations. Whenever I do think of writing something about the people my mind tends to focus on the disparity between rich and poor which invariably leads me to the beggars and street urchins. I feel writing about these elements will not do justice to all the people of Addis Ababa. Therefore, I am going to do my darnedest to concentrate on the positives. Subjectivity, superficiality, and stereotypes be damned.

The people of Addis Ababa are very friendly in general. They smile easily and many nod their heads or say “Hi” or “Hello.” Usually this is said loudly and in an exaggerated fashion. Like how a bad sit-com would have a foreigner say “Hello.” And it always takes me by surprise. This happens a few times each day. It took some time for me to decipher a sincere “Hello” from one that would just be followed up with a call for cash. That happens as much as the sincere greetings. When a sincere “Hello” is given, I keep meaning to respond with “Tenastëllën” (Hello/Greetings) but don’t feel confident enough yet in my pronunciation to do so. I have been trying out “Tenastëllën” and “Ameuseugënallõ (Thank You) on shop owners and waitresses and they always seem pleased that I am attempting to speak Amharic. So I should just give it a go despite my mangling of their ancient language.

I think a lot of the friendliness comes from Addis Ababa being a very service oriented place. There are so many restaurants and shops and everyone else is out on the streets trying to do something for someone to get a Birr or two. The shop owners, the maitre de’s, the service staff, even the shoe shine boys are always overly helpful almost to the point of embarrassment. They will do everything for you.

While still friendly, I have noticed one idiosyncrasy about wait staff that needs to be addressed. This has happened many times to me and has been corroborated by other foreigners. If you order something and the restaurant does not have it they just walk away like they just took your order. After some time you ask where whatever it is you ordered and then they tell you they don’t have it. It is ridiculous. It happens most when ordering a drink. “I’ll have a Coke.” They leave and never bring you a Coke. You ask what happened to the Coke and then they inform you that they don’t have Coke, only Pepsi. You ask for a Pepsi and they bring it to you. I don’t understand why this conversation didn’t occur when you initially ordered. Now I try to hedge my bets when I order. “Can I please have a Sprite or 7-Up?” Or I just go to the cooler and point out what I want.

Ethiopian kids are also very friendly and a joy to behold. Always smiling, always playing. They seem most enthusiastic about seeing a white guy roaming about their city. (I am talking about the non-street urchin kids. The street urchins are enthusiastic about seeing a white guy but for different reasons.) These kids enjoy themselves like kids should. They run around more than 10 feet from their parents, not always looking for some implied permission. They jump around, they show curiosity. They seem so free, so innocent, so child-like. I noticed similar behavior in children in Hong Kong and Japan when I visited last summer. They make American kids seem repressed (or, perhaps, suppressed) by comparison.

On most days, when walking to and fro the office, I pass a little girl, who I would guess is about five years old. She usually runs out of the shop she is in and, armed with a smile a mile wide, waves enthusiastically at me. The first time I walked past, she ran over to me, smiling and waving. As she neared, she then placed out her right hand in front of her with the left hand held below her right elbow, which is a customary show of respect when shaking hands in Ethiopia. Due to a recent run-in with some street urchins, who walk next to you for blocks, hands held out, repeating “Money” over and over again, my immediate thought was she was doing the same with her hand and looking for some Birr. I just smiled wanly at her and waved and kept moving. I didn’t realize until too late what she was actually doing. I am extremely disappointed in myself because I didn’t take her proffered hand. Despite my initial rudeness she still produces that smile and vigorously waves every time she sees me. I return a smile and wave back, not as vigorous as she does but with some feeling. It’s the least I can do. I have since come to believe she doesn’t posses an ounce of guile and I regret not returning the friendly gesture to her on that first day.

Occasionally I feel like a zoo specimen with the way I am stared at while walking around. It’s not that I feel it is unfriendly but it is uncomfortable. I don’t know what they are thinking when they see me. My first weekend I thought everyone was making me out to be a mark for some crazy scam. Which may be true for some people. I’m not sure what it is. It’s not threatening and Addis appears to be a safe city. Most people pay me no heed but there are everyday hassles you need to put up with. People just calling out to you, whether it is taxi drivers or shoeshine boys. The worst are the ones who just walk alongside you talking and then expect money for showing you around. The beggars and street urchins can be fairly aggressive in their pestering. But I’m getting to the negative now. So I’ll stop and save them for another day.

ETHIOPIA: Time Travel

2008-06-20T09:14:00.001-04:00

One of the slogans of Ethiopia is “Thirteen Months of Sunshine.” I first thought this was a marketer’s gimmick, implying that it is so sunny in Ethiopia we have metaphorically added another month to contain it all. I am here during the rainy season and, therefore, vehemently disagree with this always sunshine sentiment. But the thirteen months part is true. The Ethiopian calendar has thirteen months and no leap year. This makes them literally behind the times. In fact, Ethiopia celebrated the Millennium last year. So it’s really 2001 in Ethiopia.

If I was an end-of-the-world prognosticator I would always have the Ethiopian calendar in my back pocket. “I know I said the world was going to end last week. My mistake. I was using the Ethiopian calendar.” You would never be wrong.

There’s a new found freedom to be had by living in 2001 again. This allows me to look back seven years and see how it compares to current 2001 I am experiencing. Where was I in the old 2001? I think I was living in New Jersey. Advantage Ethiopia 2001.

ETHIOPIA: Marie Antoinette Edition

2008-06-18T16:15:00.002-04:00

I have been eating a lot of cake. Sometimes just as an afternoon snack with a cup a tea but mostly for breakfast, also with a cup of tea. There is a small café on my way to the office that has good cake. The cake I have been indulging myself with is a small pound cake. Just plain looking cake shaped like a small yellow brick, although occasionally there may be the faintest trace of powdered sugar. Not enough sugar to be a tease. The amount that makes you wonder why they even bother. How much time was spent trying not to place any sugar on the cake? There are different types of cake available and also other pastries and donuts. But I have been sticking with the pound cake.

The first time I ordered a pound cake the waitress went to place it the microwave. She glanced at me and paused. I must have had a quizzical look on my face. She feigned placing it into the microwave indicating she needed my approval before doing so. I gave her a glance telling her I don’t know why she is doing that then followed quickly with a shrug of the shoulders that said that I didn’t really care. This is how I communicate in Ethiopia. Through nods and gesticulations. I’ve tried to learn some common words but I butcher Amharic too much. I butcher it so it is completely incomprehensible that I might as well be talking a different language. I am not even understandable when I say something like mango. I pronounce it as the month of May. They pronounce the “a’ sound as in mama. So I am in a juice bar and I order a mango juice. Blank stare back at me. I ask what type of fruit they have. The waitress goes down the list and comes to mango and pronounces it in the Ethiopian way. I repeat their pronunciation with an affirmative. She turns to the other waitress, saying something in Amharic but I distinctly hear “mayng-o” just like how I first said it. They smile at each as if this was the craziest thing in the world they have ever heard. Ambo is the common term used for mineral water. Just look at that word. Not many different ways to mispronounce it. But I have been though them all. I still can’t get it right. So if I am butchering mango and ambo you can just imagine me with the 5-syllable words they have in Amharic.

But back to cake. Interestingly, the microwaved cake had no discernable difference in taste or texture that the subsequent non-microwaved cakes I have had. It was hotter but that’s it. No more or less enjoyable. I haven’t been back to the microwave pastry shop since I moved to a new place and it is no longer that convenient. The new café I have been going to does not microwave. I kinda miss it. Not because it added anything to the cake but because of that first experience I had with microwaving cake. What started as a peculiarity I had hoped would become commonplace. The cake itself, heated or as is, is good. I can’t explain why but I look forward to my morning cake. It is crumbly without being stale. It is by no means moist but I am hard-pressed to describe it as dry. It is not sweet yet tastes like cake should. When the fork goes through the outside it gives off like it would be crusty yet it still possesses a certain buoyancy. I ponder all this while eating my cake and drinking my tea. Take all these parts separately it should be bad cake. It is tantalizing how it all comes together into an enjoyable snack. Perhaps that is why I continue to eat my cake. I hope the next forkful to enter my mouth will elicit its secrets unto me.

ETHIOPIA: Small World

2008-06-18T16:13:00.001-04:00

Before leaving on my trip, my friend Shizuka suggested that I contact her friend Christoph. Christoph has been in Africa many times and was currently driving his Land Rover from South Africa to Germany. (You can follow his exploits at christophbangert.com) I emailed Christoph, not expecting a quick response as he was driving through the hinterlands of Africa. Soon after arriving I noticed on his website that he had just been in Ethiopia and on his way to Sudan. We just missed each other. Then a Dutch couple show at Mr. Martin’s Cozy Place in a Land Rover. They have been driving from South Africa to Holland and ran into Christoph on the road a few times. A couple days after this I get a reply from Christoph stating he was in the Sudan and providing me with some helpful tips and information about Ethiopia. I think the Dutch couple is leaving for Sudan today.

ETHIOPIA: Wedding

2008-06-16T08:28:00.005-04:00

Dawit and Mahlet, two employees at Mr. Martin’s Cozy Place, were married earlier in the week and had their reception in the guesthouse courtyard Sunday night.

It was as joyous and fun an event as any wedding. Family, friends, and those who happened to be staying at the guesthouse Sunday night were all in attendance to celebrate and wish these two well.

An Ethiopian coffee ceremony occurred, a DJ was brought in, two goats slaughtered the previous day were cooked on an open fire and served to the guests along with other fare. Some fireworks and much dancing ensued.

The wedding reception:

The happy couple:

Dinner being prepared:

The dance floor:

MOVIE REVIEW: The Happening

2008-06-16T08:26:00.002-04:00

The biggest problem, among many problems, in The Happening is the two leads. Mark Wahlberg is not leading man material and Zoey Deschanel is just terrible. Wahlberg is such a non-presence, perhaps not as much of a zero screen commodity as he was in the awful Planet of the Apes remake but close. Deschanel should just stick to goofy comedies like Elf where any semblance of acting is not necessary. These two are supposed to lead us through a flat, not suspenseful, not frightening, not going anywhere movie.

I’m probably being too hard on it. It’s not so much that it is a bad movie, although it is by no means a good movie. It just has no purpose. It’s just there like a still pond, nice to look at for a bit but then walk away with no impression made. Having no purpose it should at least be somewhat involving. By the third time someone states that nature can never be understood you feel bludgeoned by this fact and realize how empty the premise is. Something happens, as indicated in the title, and we are not to understand it. Fine. Just make it interesting.

But interesting it is not. There are some decent shots and some ingenious ways of people dying (which the Ethiopian audience I saw it with found more amusing than gruesome). There is some commentary on the use of terrorists as blame for mass problems that arise that could have been interesting as social commentary. I also liked one scene where people were running from “The Happening”, away from a suburban housing community and passed the large “Welcome” sign displaying all the amenities and benefits of living in such a place. These themes, which are more complex than the actual “Happening” and subsequent happenings in the movie, are never explored. I can appreciate the subtlety of this but wish for more because of how empty what is left actually is.

I saw The Sixth Sense long after everyone else did and had the ending spoiled for me and still enjoyed it immensely. Unbreakable has grown on me in repeated viewings although my first impression of it was negative. I actually liked The Village and Signs. Maybe Shimalayan’s technique is becoming old hat. But with these other movies I was actually moved along with the stories, felt like I wanted to know what would happen next, and while not utterly surprised at the endings, always mildly entertained. This movie lacks twists and offers no surprises or suspense.

ETHIOPIA: At the Movies

2008-06-16T08:09:00.003-04:00

Visited the multiplex today. Earlier in the week I noticed Iron Man was showing and was hoping it would last into this weekend. Unfortunately, Iron Man was displaced by The Happening. Most others living in the guesthouse were amped for Indiana Jones, which I have already seen. So The Happening was what was happening for me. Other Hollywood movies playing were that Vegas crapola with Ashton Kuchter and Cameron Diaz and something titled 21. I saw posters claiming that Prom Night was coming soon all over the place. Maybe prom is a big deal in Ethiopia.

Interestingly, I was frisked twice – once while entering the multiplex mall and again when entering the theatre. The show cost 30 Birr (20 Birr on weekdays). The theatre is spacious and new looking with a big screen. When you purchase a ticket the computer screen swings around and you choose a seat. Upon entering the theatre, after frisking, the usher sits you down in the assigned seat. I would love this system for NYC theatres but I don’t think it would fly. How great would it be to go on Fandango, order a ticket, choose a seat, then show up 5 minutes beforehand and sit in a prime location. But this means theatres have to pay ushers, theatres would lose advertising money by not having people sit around for 20 minutes, and I foresee jerks taking other’s seats.

Three previews, preceded by two commercials for Ethiopian Airlines, and then the main event. No pre-show advertisements or trivia but there was hip-hop blasted through the theatre while waiting. The Indiana Jones preview was subtitled in two languages while the rest had no subtitles. It was actually less of a hassle than seeing a movie in New York.

I paid more for a bottled water and donut at the theatre than anywhere else in Addis. So gouging is the same in movie theatres no matter where you go.

ETHIOPIA: Agony

2008-06-13T09:02:00.003-04:00

What was I saying about “national food”? Forget all that. I am just getting over a bout of food poisoning or “traveler’s diarrhea” as it is known in the third country. Symptoms include diarrhea, vomiting, nausea, and cramps. Yup, I had the whole magila. It was the most miserable agony I have ever been through. And it’s only one week into my trip. Goddam, this better not be a weekly occurrence.

It may have been caused by a combination of altitude sickness (Addis is about 8000 ft above sea level), dehydration, and bad lamb. I’m fingering the lamb as the main culprit. (Yeah, vegans, I know you are saying I get what I deserve. Wednesday is supposed to be “fasting day” where restaurants have vegetarian options. I asked and they did not – in fact all they had was lamb or raw meat. But I am staying away from lamb from now on. Baaaaaa-d news.)

So Thursday morning I wake around six and have it coming and going. I took some Imodium to plug up one orifice, which worked fine, but this seemed to make the vomiting worse. I was doubled over; my gut felt like a clenched fist tightening and tightening its grip. Now, I am staying in Mr. Martin’s Cozy Place, a guesthouse, or a single room hostel, with shared bathrooms. It’s $12 USD/day and run by a tall, bald, genial German man. (“Hello, I am Mr. Martin” is how he introduced himself. Say that to yourself with a stereotypical German accent, like the Germans who bought Mr. Burn’s nuclear power plant, and you have him down cold.) Needless to say, a shared bathroom is not ideal for these circumstances. Added to the agony is now a worry that when I run out of my room across the hall, the bathroom will be occupied. Which did happen once much to my chagrin. Also, I felt that, as a shared guesthouse, decorum demanded that I be properly dressed when I scurried to the bathroom. So I’d have to put on shorts or pants before skitching out the bedroom door. This all made my agony worse. I am tempted to go into more detail about that agony but will not. To read other stories that highlight my preoccupation with toilet blog stories see here and here.

As can be seen from the repeated references to my agony (and there are more to come) I’m a big baby when it comes to this type of sickness. I lay in bed for hours, when not in the bathroom, curled up in the fetal position, wishing my mommy were nearby. At one point I realized, simultaneously, that I needed to fill up on fluids and that my lower back was killing me from lying in bed so long. Due to the location of the back pain and the worry of excess dehydration, immediately I had a vision that, perhaps, I would succumb to renal failure. This then led to a cascade of thoughts about what would happen if I did: Who would find my body in my room? How long would it take for my family in NY to be notified? Would the airline honor my return ticket or would new passage for my corpse need to be arranged? Maybe I would be cremated in Addis and my remains placed in a tight-lidded, handsome, Ethiopian pottery piece, as that may prove cheaper than sending my body back. If my ashes were disposed of this way, where would my parents place this pottery in their house or would they just dig a three foot hole in Calvary cemetery, and dump my ashes in, all the while hoping that it is not a windy day and my ashes don’t spread everywhere like in The Big Lewbowski.

This is just to point out how much agony I was actually in, that perishing from renal failure was more of a comfort to me than dealing with my immediate suffering. But these thoughts did make me uncurl from the fetal position and in the slow deliberate manner that only drunks and the sickly can manage, I rousted myself. After more agony in the bathroom, I drank some sugar-laden tea and an Orange Fanta and a bottle of water. I then took my prescription Cipro, which I did not want to use so early in my trip, to alleviate my agony. I slept again. Upon waking I felt slightly better, in that I did not run to the bathroom, and then drank some more tea, another Orange Fanta, and ate two bananas, which blessedly stayed down. (The bananas were recommended by a “traveler’s diarrhea” brochure, although in the back of my mind I thought the potassium would also stave off my impending renal failure.)

I’ll say this, Orange Fanta never tasted so good. In fact, the Fanta girls came and danced in my dreams that night. For those who have seen the annoyingly, cheesy commercials featuring the Fanta girls, you realize that this is only a slight upgrade from wishing for renal failure, but it was an upgrade I was willing to embrace at that time.

Day 2. Woke with a super duper headache and an empty stomach. Continuing my Cipro treatment. I had a breakfast of bananas and rolls, which I considered safe food. Still feel wiped out. Whatever I had took a lot from me. Then had a lunch of spaghetti with tom-ah-to sauce, a very spicy sauce and some bread. The Traveler’s Pocket Doctor book mentions carb-loading in these situations. And thanks to Mussolini’s Revenge, where Italy invaded and occupied Ethiopia in 1936 there are many fine pasta places around Addis. Soon after lunch my headache subsided somewhat and I feel I am on the way to a full recovery. I can live with a headache better than having my stomach buzzing like a junebug trapped in a burlap sack. Just have to remember to continue my fluid intake. So I think the agony is behind me.

ETHIOPIA: Pressing Questions Answered

2008-06-10T13:08:00.006-04:00

There have been two questions concerning Ethiopia that I have had. One has been long-standing and the other popped up after I arrived.

The long standing questions has been: Why is the Ethiopian audience for The Colbinski Chronicles so few?

The newer question is: Why do I have so much trouble accessing this blog from Addis?

Well, apparently the Ethiopian government has kept the enjoyment of Colbinski from it's people. See here and here.

ETHIOPIA: A Dangerous Place

2008-06-10T13:06:00.006-04:00

The exchange rate in Ethiopia is $1 USD = 9.5 Birr. A Birr goes a long way.

I have been eating filling, flavorful meals of “national food” including a drink (coke or water) and an after meal tea for less than 30 Birr. Bottled water is anywhere between 2 and 5 Birr. (I notice prices vary wildly) And I haven’t bought a beer for more than 10 Birr. So mostly I have been paying a buck or less for a beer. For an honest-to-god tasty Ethiopian beer. Less than or around $1 USD.

Forget all you hear about the perils and hazards of urban Africa. It seems to me that real danger lies in wait for someone who enjoys a cool, refreshing beer and has a pocketful of Birrs. Someone like me.

ETHIOPIA: Random Observations

2008-06-09T12:52:00.009-04:00

Been in Addis Ababa for about five days. Beginning to go through data related to the malaria study but running into Mac compatibility issues. I may end up having to buy some statistics software to be able to actually work here. Otherwise all is well.

Some random observations:

• Most guidebooks and travelogues about Addis Ababa describe it as a dusty and noisy city. And there is no other way to describe it. Shops blast music and automobile horns honk incessantly. Vehicles and shoes are constantly washed. On almost every corner is a bunch of shoeshine boys. “Mister, clean shoes?” “Sir, shoe clean?” I hear every time I pass by. Dress shoes or sneakers, male or female, it doesn’t matter, everyone seems to be getting their shoes washed constantly. I’ll probably get a shine myself one of these days.

• Almost everyone here was unsurprised about my luggage delay. Even my African sources in the U.S. (Morgan, I’m looking at you) belatedly told me that lost or stranded luggage should have been expected.

• I spent a good portion of the weekend wandering the city. My goal was to become oriented but I failed. The street system seems incomprehensible. What street signs exist are untrustworthy and the streets themselves zig and zag in unfamiliar ways. The main roads are paved but the side roads are dirt and become messy after a rain. I am never quite sure if I am going down a dead end or a passable thoroughfare. All I can do is continue wandering.

• Not many white people in Addis Ababa.

• Here’s a picture from the hotel I stayed at for the first five days:

• Here’s a picture of one of the side roads:

Domestic animals traveling the streets or sidewalks are a common site. More common than the cattle seen in this picture are goats or mules. Although I was expecting to see the city shared with animals, it was disconcerting at first to witness a closely bunched group of goats walking the sidewalk in perfect formation. A man brandishing a stick walked about 10 feet behind them but they still seemed to be some well-behaved goats.

• Two mini-goals:
1. Figure out the mini-bus system. Blue and white min-vans travel around with a person sticking his head out the window yelling something – the bus route or destination I assume. They are always jam-packed and appear to be an easy, cheap way around the city. It’s just too chaotic looking right now. I need to figure it out before I jump onto one.
2. Figure out what shop fronts actually sell inside from how they look outside.

• Speaking of shops, whoever runs the corrugated metal business in Addis must be an Ethiopian fat cat. It is the construction material of choice.

• On my first visit to a restaurant by myself the waitress visibly smirked when I ordered.
“What’s so funny?” I asked innocently.
“You like Ethiopian food?” she asked still smirking.
“Yes, I know what I am getting into” was my response.
The food comes in a bowl with injera on the side. I thought they did this because I was a westerner (and because she was laughing at me for ordering “national food.” But afterward I asked around and on subsequent visits to restaurants this is, indeed the way it is often served, depending on what is ordered. You either grab right from the bowl or pour from bowl onto laid out injera.

• I feel like a real slob eating national food. My hand is filthy and I become very conscious that I have food all over my face. Especially the stew like dishes. I feel like everyone is watching me eat all the time. From my observations everyone seems to be able to dig in more and stay clean. Put that down as another goal of mine.

• National food is great. It is all I have been eating. The injera is more tangy and the food more spicy and flavorful. I’ll be an Ethiopian food snob by the time I return.

ETHIOPIA: The High Spirits of Those Returning Home

2008-06-06T09:53:00.004-04:00

(Nimero has traveled to Ethiopa for the summer to assist in malaria research. His internet connection, so far, has not been very good, so he has relayed his first impression to me to post.)

Arrived in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia about 24 hours after leaving JFK airport. It was 4:00 AM, Thursday morning in Addis and I was without my luggage, which was having an unplanned extended stay in London.* The money exchanges were closed so I paid a taxi driver good old American greenbacks to take me to a hotel where I woke up the receptionist and got a room to sleep for a few hours. Only a few hours. I awoke around 9:00 AM (I think, I do not wear a watch and rely on my cell phone or the ubiquitous time pieces constantly on display in New York to know what time it was. As far as I can tell public clocks are not prominent in Addis.) Before those few hours in a bed I had about 3-4 hours sleep in the past 40 hours and that was just snatching snippets of uncomfortable, unrestful sleep while in an airplane seat.

The trip was long but the last leg from Amman, Jordan to Addis was enjoyable and vitalizing. In Jordan, the plane let out about three quarters of the passengers. The near empty plane, late at night and on the last leg of a long journey, brought people together. Returning from the back of the plane with a drink, I entered a chat with some people sitting around me. College-aged and excited for Ethiopia, they buoyed my spirits immediately. A strong camaraderie was built during a midnight beer, thousands of feet above the ground somewhere between Jordan and Ethiopia, in a darkened coach section of an airplane. I heard their stories, took photos with them, exchanged email. One was orphaned as child and adopted in the U.S. and returning to Ethiopia for the first time since she was four years old. Two brothers left Ethiopia years and years ago with their family and were returning to visit relatives. A young Somalian woman from London was making Ethiopia her first trip to Africa. They asked some of the older Ethiopians on the plane about their lives and experiences. I found their excitement contagious and comforting. They expressed envy that I was staying three months and all they had were one or two weeks. They cheered and whistled when we landed and walked joyously through customs.** I was waiting at baggage claim, reflecting on their excitement, how I was excited for them, wondering how excited I should be for myself over the next three months, when word of my stranded luggage came to me.

I credit that shared experience on the plane, that renewal of life force that comes from positive experiences with strangers in strange places to my muted reaction to the lost luggage. I really should have been more cross and frustrated with the whole situation. But I wasn’t. I was in Ethiopia and that seemed enough.

Or maybe, I was just too bloody tired to care.

*Picked up luggage next day. No worries.

**My visit through customs:

“Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know. A hotel tonight.”
“Do you have a phone number?”
“No.”
Stamp.

-Nimero

World Malaria Day: April 25, 2008

2008-04-18T09:03:00.003-04:00

PHOTO GALLERY: Haley

2008-02-16T17:32:00.007-05:00

The above three photos all capture specific aspects of Haley's personality - her physical expressiveness, from her jackal-like ears to the regal look of her sitting in the green brush to the love of life shown when she is at play.

Sara and Haley - partners in crime for 15 years ever since Sara kidnapped, er, rescued Haley from the streets of West Philadelphia. Sara's re-telling of Haley stories from those early days was great comfort to us during the week we knew her end was imminent.

The above photo was taken during a visit to Farm Sanctuary in upstate New York. Haley had a great weekend. She ran through this water with her mouth open against the current of the water, scooping up as much as she could. This weekend, in retrospect, was also the beginning of her neuropathy (see also this posting for more on this weekend).

This was the cabin we stayed in on the visit that weekend. At night, rather than join in the bed, Haley insisted on squeezing under the bed to sleep. Anyone who knows Haley knows that this was odd behavior indeed. She loved sharing the bed, couch, wherever with us. For some reason, in this cabin, the floor under the bed is what worked best.

We awoke one night in Ocotber 2006 with a thrashing Haley on the bed. Her eyes was vacant and her legs were twitching uncontrolably. I picked her up, with my hand on her heart to make sure it was beating and we raced outside to hail a cab to bring us to the 24 hour animal hopsital. Haley had a seizure. No reason was found for why she would have one. We began rehab right away. Above are two photos from her early days at Animal Medical Center where she was craned into a pool for therapy. It was in these weeks directly after this episode that haley showed us her true will to live. She wanted to walk again and she did.

Haley and Leo. Fast friends right from th start. In her waning weeks, when Haley's body betrayed her, she remained alert and lively in spirit. She loved having Leo climb the couch to pat her legs or grab her front harness and pull himself up. He always greeted him with a lick. Friends or babysitters, strangers to Haley would not be allowed near Leo without a bark or two (or three or four...). It seems our brining Leo home had given Haley another reason to live.

Haley

2008-02-16T09:34:00.005-05:00

On Thursday, February 14, 2008, we said goodbye to Haley, our wonderful companion and, by all accounts, The Greatest Dog That Ever Lived. Haley battled old age, neuropathy, and a strange seizure in October 2006, before we decided that she had fought long enough. Coincidently, when Sara first rescued Haley, she backtracked her birthday, based on the age estimate the vet gave her to February 1992. Haley's unofficial birthday was always Valentine's Day.

Since October 2006, when Haley suffered a seizure in the middle of the night, we've had home visits by a veterinarian who specializes in electric stimulation and acupuncture. The seizure had left Haley totally nonambulatory. We began an intensive rehabilitation program. Thrice a week visits from the vet, weekly swimming at the local dog pool. We stood her up, zapped her with a hand-held stimulator on the days the vet didn't come. After a few days, she began to use her front legs again. Soon, she was able to sit up. Shortly after, she began moving her hind legs. The day she, Bambi-like on the ice, stood up on her own was one of excitement and joy. With the aid of a harness for her hind legs, we started taking her on proper walks. Just a few months after the seizure, she was walking up and down the block again, with very little assistance from the harness.

Unfortunately, she also suffered from a neuropathy that strikes Shepherd dogs (Haley is assumed to be part Shepherd) making her hind legs weak as her spine is unable to send signals to those legs (or something like that). As time went on, little by little, her hind legs got weaker and weaker. Around November 2007, a full year after her seizure and subsequent rehab, her walks had diminished to short distances with some dragging of the legs (especially the left hind leg) and with considerable struggle. At home she stopped getting around on her own. We were able to guide her when she needed it, but frustration set in for Haley.

Still, we continued her visits from the vet, now bi-weekly, and we continued walking her three times a day. Some days she looked forward to the walks. Other days, it was a struggle. Others, she looked forward to going out, but struggled once there. In late January 2008, it became a struggle on every walk. She stumbled and dragged. Her head hung low. At home, she slept or panted heavily. She barked at every stranger in our home, every buzz of the intercom, every ring of the bell. She was guarding us, we knew, in her now limited way. Her appetite remained intact throughout, a positive sign as we saw it. But after consulting with the vet, we decided to put her down before her full deterioration set in, before she suffered.

Thursday, both Sara and I stayed home from work to give Haley a relaxed and comfortable final day. I had bought apples and Tofurkey slices, two of her favorite foods, to spoil her through out the day. Later in the evening, the vet and an assistant came to our house. We sat next to Haley and stroked her head. The vet gave her a sedative and we continued to stroke her head while she got sleepy. Her eyes got glassy, her tongue stuck out just a little, as was her habit when sleeping, and we said our final goodbyes.

After she passed on, the service to pick up her remains arrived at our house. The buzzer buzzed then the doorbell rang. The vet, her assistant, and the driver were all in the house. There was no barking. Our house felt empty. It will take a while, I suspect, to get used to this silence.

Sara and Haley were together for 15 years. I knew Haley for about 6 years. Leo knew Haley for 9 months. Haley and Leo got along swimmingly. Leo loved to climb her back and Haley loved to lick food from his hands and cheeks. She will be missed and will always be remembered.

Movies 2007 Rountable Spectacular

2008-01-03T22:34:00.000-05:00

Part VI: Where Nimero begins to talk about that which he does not know

Click here for Part I of this roundtable
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Click here for Part IV of this roundtable
Click here for Part V of this roundtable

Colbinski, I like your take on both characters you mention. But only one character and one of those movies has really lingered in my mind. Daniel Day Lewis as Daniel Plainview in Blood is his normally commanding self, so much so that I am probably taking his performance for granted. Day Lewis has the ability to encompass his character fully while making everyone else around him believable too; that all the acting in this movie appears effortless. There were many wonderful scenes. The opener you mention is great but what stands out more fully is the derrick fire after the first big oil strike. The excitement and pandemonium all around. The camera sweeping in and out following Plainview as he runs around and tends to his son. The blaze always in the background like a supporting character. It was exciting and I felt as if I should shield my eyes from the fire’s brightness and grab a pail of water to help out. At this point I was willing to be swept away into the undertow of the story and let it take me over. It never happened. I remained engaged and intrigued. I think it is a powerful, very good film and I highly recommend it. It just didn’t resonate with me much since I left the theatre. I don’t see Plainview as a great character and the film itself hasn’t left me pondering it any further.

Contrawise, I agree with you about Wei Tang’s job as Wong in Lust, Caution. I can still see her ruby red lipstick on the coffee cup, feel the gaze from her smoky eyes as she readies to seduce Tony Leung’s Mr. Lee. I remember her innocence as she bravely joined the theatre group in college and shared her enjoyment upon her surprising success. I was as uncertain as she was concerning her final decision. All this sticks in my mind even though the first thing I said upon exiting the theatre was “It was way too long.” Then over the next couple of days I couldn’t get the story out of my head. After sussing it over I finally understood everything. It all hit me like lightning a few days later. Like lightning, the film left an indelible mark on me. Perhaps, I am confusing my dull-wittedness in taking three days to “get” the movie with said movie being great. Anything is possible. I still think the movie is too long and some of the sex scenes belabored but Lust, Caution is one of the best of the year.

Two other movies that stayed with me after leaving the theatre this year were The Host and In-Between Days. I won’t rehash either one as the linked reviews, ably done by you and me, respectively, can catch everyone up on why we liked those movies. I do want to look at In-Between Days and Juno together and explain why I greatly enjoyed one and was nonplussed about the other.

Now, I realize it is not fair to either film to compare or contrast as they differ vastly on many points. Other than some similarity in content - teenage girls who make certain decisions about sex and face consequences from those decisions - both films are considered “independent.” I begin my review of In-Between Days thusly:
“This small film represents what I enjoyed about independent movies when the word ‘independent’ first came into vogue. The recent change to films that seem to be all zany families, quirky characters or outlandish situations can make one forget how enjoyable indies used to be.”

The beginning of Juno was everything that is terrible about American indies. I suffered through the first fifteen minutes of this movie. Suffered terribly. It started with intrusive, loud, quirky music, continued into a precious water-colored image of Juno walking around town sipping a Big Gulp while the credits rolled, and ended in a mini-mart where the too-cool-for-school Juno cracked wise with a Comic Book Guy wannabe while purchasing a home pregnancy test. My main problem with indie film is that you can always use quirky and precious as an adjective and not be wrong. Thankfully, Juno’s hipness stopped grating on me long enough to actually warm up to her and provide a decent, but not great by any means, movie. I also grant that after seeing this and saying to myself “So what” the underwhelming feeling I have may be a reaction to the exalted status that Juno is currently enjoying. Reviews proclaim how real-life it is and how daring it is to take on teenage pregnancy. I don’t get it. There are good scenes, funny scenes and touching scenes. But nothing earth-shattering and nothing coming close to real. I am probably completely out of touch with what a real 16-year old girl is like these days and therefore talking out of my ass but I don’t think it is Juno. One aspect of the film that has been praised is how she feels like an outcast when pregnant and in school. True. But the entire rest of the film portrays her as an outcast – she’s in a cool band, dresses in raggy t-shirts, and adores 1980’s punk. Sixteen year olds who did this in my high school during the 1980’s stood out and were considered outcasts. Add to Juno a pop-culture awareness that dwarfs most everyone else and I found this character to be false. Having said all this I did warm up to her, regardless of this phoniness, and I was pulling for her by the end of the movie. And a big saving grace for Juno is that the eponymous character is the most quirky one around. I wouldn’t have been able to stomach it, if like all other indie films, she was surrounded by quirky family and friends.

Now, Aimee, the young heroine from In-Between Days, seems more real. I find myself relating more to Aimee than to Juno. On its face this is absurd. Aimee is a teenaged immigrant from Korea living with her mother, dreaming about her absent father, and just trying to fit in with her peers. Maybe the whole feel of In-Between Days won me over. In-Between Days is close and personal while Juno looks like it came right out of a film school mind into a studio’s lap. But the two girls are so different (again I have no idea what I am talking about when it comes to teenage girls). Aimee struggles through her first crush and rejection and ends up with a guy she now might or might not really like. Juno is with a cool band member who digs her like no one else. Aimee just needs to know someone accepts her. Juno doesn’t give a rat’s ass what others think of her (until she’s 9 months). Aimee has trouble communicating with friends and even with her busy mother. Juno has the most supportive family one could hope to have if you are a teenager and pregnant. Aimee ends the movie as confused as she was when it began. Juno learned a nice lesson about herself and love. Mainly, I think it comes down to this between Aimee and Juno. Aimee is who most people were in high school and Juno is who most people like to think they were.

Colbinski, I am lapping you in posts! Get to it!

Movies 2007 Rountable Spectacular

2008-01-02T19:58:00.000-05:00

Part V: The marvels of celery

Click here for Part I of this roundtable
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Click here for Part IV of this roundtable

Well, despite my prowess in fantasy football pick ‘em, maybe I am a movie snob. Better than a goddam hipster.

I am not sure how much more I have to say on The Bourne Ultimatum or Brand Upon The Brain! other than the former is the best action/thriller movie I have seen and the latter was my favorite movie-going experience of 2007. But I’ve already said that twice. So now having built up these two movies I must expound. The pressure mounts. But after my continued griping it will be nice to talk about what I liked.

I place The Bourne Ultimatum in the action/thriller category to separate it from action/adventure movies like Raiders of the Lost Ark. Both are well done and non-stop but they are different types of movies. If there is a better category let me know. The entire Bourne trilogy has been a very pleasant surprise. The Bourne Ultimatum is the best of the bunch. Like The Bourne Supremacy it leaves off where its predecessor ended and then just doesn’t stop engaging. There wasn’t a moment to rest as you are swept along from one foreign city to another until the climax in the Big Apple. Even Julia Stiles’ twitching eyebrows school of acting couldn’t divert me. Now, I’m a sucker for the protagonist who is better than everyone else and always one step ahead of those chasing him. Matt Damon plays this type in Jason Bourne perfectly. Always a calm demeanor, finishing up looking over a building plan and walking out a half-second before someone walks in, seemingly giving up his position to know exactly how to get his fat out of the fire. The movie is taut and compelling. There is a sense of urgency that drags you along. An excellent scene has Bourne on a phone walking through a crowded area giving directions to someone on how to leave the same area unnoticed. All the while he is taking out government operatives. Everything happens so convincingly and slyly. Sometimes when I am in a crowded place I wonder what it would be like to have a Bourne roaming through, chased by people just like him, but never noticing anything out of the ordinary. The Bourne series, and this movie in particular, creates a world I don’t think exists, but think maybe, could exist and, further, think it would be cool if it did exist. (Not cool in a we have a government that trains expert killers and then disposes of them unceremoniously when their usefulness expires sort of way. Just cool is all.)

A different movie in every way is Brand Upon the Brain! Although The Saddest Music in the World and Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary were great, I haven’t been enthusiastic about everything director Guy Maddin has done. Cowards Bend the Knee was so-so and his shorts seem repetitive. Brand Upon the Brain! was great, not only due to its content – an autobiographical story of a man going back to the island lighthouse orphanage where he grew up – but because I saw it live. Yes, live. It was still moving pictures projected onto a screen but accompanied by a real-life narrator, a real-life orchestra, and real-life Foley artists. The narrator and orchestra gave feeling to the pictures flicking before my eyes without being a distraction. I wish I could say the same about the Foley artists. Three people decked out white lab coats and safety glasses seamlessly creating the sound effects. I may be imagining the safety glasses but they fit the atmosphere as I now imagine it. The wind whistling, the waves crashing, the pitter-patter of children’s steps up and down the lighthouse’s long never-ending spiral staircase. And the celery! My god, mounds of celery crunched and squeezed to make superb sounds! A boat on the water, the creaking of a floorboard, a mother's muffled voice. Is there anything celery can't do. What it lacks in flavor it supplies in versatility. These people are geniuses. For much of the movie they mesmerized me. I’d hear a sound and look quickly to their pit to see how they made it. Of course I was too late. So, then I’d have to anticipate the next sound and make a premature glance all the while being lulled by the narrator’s smooth voice. It was like listening to the soundtrack. Amazingly, if the narrator, orchestra, and Foley artists were all out of sight you wouldn’t believe you just watched everything live. It was fantastic. I would see more movies with live accompaniments. But, for sure, Guy Maddin and his modern Cinema-Scope style is the best suited to something like this.

Colbinski add your thoughts to Brand Upon the Brain!

Movies 2007 Roundtable Spectacular

2008-01-01T11:25:00.000-05:00

Part IV: Lingering Character Studies

Click here for Part I of this roundtable
Click here for Part II of this roundtable
Click here for Part III of this roundtable

Relishing the lowbrow, exalting in the highbrow, and ignoring the middlebrow is a pretty decent modern definition of a "snob" as it concerns popular culture. But then, I know that your taste for genre and b-movies are genuine and were built on comic books and Saturday afternoon Hammer films and the 4:30 movie (Planet of the Apes week! Godzilla week! Elvis week!)rather than the hip post-modern irony that attract so many to the low budget and bad movie fold. (And,I'm sure, there's a snobbery at work in the above statement on my part as well. Oh,well.)

Back to movie talk. There's been two movies this year that really rattled inside my head for days after I saw it: Ang Lee's Lust, Caution and Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood (you know we've entered a "highbrow" discussion when I preface the movie, er, film, titles with the director's name). The key to both of these movies is that they contain intricate, complex and unique character studies of the main character. This is coupled with an intricate, complex and unique study of place. And all of this is established, in both movies, in the opening sequence. There Will Be Blood opens with an ominous buzz as the camera pans down from a mountain-scape to show a single man working. The scene ends with the man showing the desire to survuive (or, as we learn later, not fail)and the camera pans back up to the mountains and the ominous buzz kicks in again. A brilliant opener that casts the American west in 1898 and this man as inseparable and of a piece. As the story moves on through the decades, this relationship becomesmore entwined between the man, Daniel Plainview, and the oil rich, sun-baked California terrain.

Similarly, in Lust, Caution, the opening establishes place and character and sets up the tension of what will slowly unfold. Lee's camera cricles a majong game and follows the action on the table as the women interact. From this, at times catty and intense, exchange we learn much about the youngest women, Wong Chai Chi, and, as the movie back-pedals to lead back to this game, we see this game through a new lens.

The trajectory and choices of these characters is the main reason why these movies have stuck in my head. In Plainview's case, it's hard to pinpoint when the land - or what's in the land - transforms him. He seems a charming huckster at first. How much of the early Plainview is sincere? When did the greed steep in and turn him ugly? Was it always there?

Wong's main choice had me boggled for some time after. The scene is wonderfully played out and the aftermath heart-wrenching. Soon afterward, I realized that Wong reveals the answers to these questions in a an outburst of anger and frustration. Plainview, in angry and frustrated outbursts only hides himself deeper. Two very different movies, two lasting impressions.

Now, Nimero, quit beating around the bush, and finally get to your impressions of Brand Upon the Brain! and The Bourne Ultimatum.

Movies 2007 Roundtable Spectacular

2007-12-31T11:58:00.000-05:00

Part III: Audience expectations and Am I a movie snob?

Click here for Part I of this roundtable
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I’ll follow Colbinski’s format:

The Best
No Country For Old Men

Highly Recommended
An Unreasonable Man
The Host
Brand Upon the Brain!
Paprika
The Bourne Ultimatum
In-Between Days
Lust, Caution
There Will Be Blood

Recommended
Zodiac
300
Hot Fuzz
SiCKO
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Superbad
Eastern Promises

Good but Flawed
Ocean’s Thirteen
Time
Juno
Stardust
3:10 To Yuma

Disappointing
Grindhouse
Spiderman 3
I am Legend

In my previous post I forgot to add Stardust as disappointing me. For much of the same reasons you list. (Although I call it the Hollywoodification of movies rather than the Hollywoodization.) Nevertheless, Stardust and 3:10 to Yuma make the Good but Flawed list rather than Disappointing because I did enjoy both. They just could have been so much better – if they trusted the source material and if they didn’t have to subjugate themselves to the lowest common denominator, poll-tested type of studio movie-making. Back to Stardust. Neil Gaiman is my favorite author and the ending of Stardust (the book) portrays exactly why he is a master story-teller. The bombastic, predictable ending tacked on is the problem with Hollywoodification. Just as the sugary ending to I am Legend is problematic.

I understand that many people want to "feel good” leaving a movie theatre but are they really that stupid to be fooled time and time again by lack of originality in Hollywood endings. Which is one reason (of several) why No Country for Old Men is the best movie of the year. I remember talking to you after reading the book and mentioning how they can never make a movie that does justice to the book. But they did. They did superbly. So much that happens is opposite of how it happens in Stardust and I am Legend. Everything isn’t spelled out for the slow-witted. Plot isn’t contrived to bring us to a climax. In fact, we can probably argue over what is the climax of No Country or if there is one. Now No Country had the strength of source material written by one of the greatest living American authors and a screenplay by two brilliant filmmakers. It worked because of this. Some movies can have nice and tidy endings – even happy endings – and be great and satisfying. Although looking over my Highly Recommended list I see that none of those movies really have happy endings and in movies like Bourne and In-Between Days the story doesn’t exactly wrap up – you leave knowing there’s more to tell as the credits roll.

This begs the question “Am I a movie snob?” I say no although I have been accused of being such especially after passing up opportunities to see something like Adam Sandler’s latest (“He’s gay! With the King of Queens!”) In looking at the Top 10 highest grossing movies of 2007 I have seen five of them and I will see The Simpsons Movie one of these days. So I will have watched more than half of the most popular movies put out this year. Hardly snobbish behavior, I’d say. (Now, having declared myself non-snobby I need to ask who are these people going to see Wild Hogs?) I look forward to serious, artsy, and foreign films. But I also like lowbrow stuff. We grew up watching Saturday afternoon kung-fu and B-monster movies. We’ve seen many of the movies shown on Mystery Science Theatre 3000 on their own. I just try to reject the middlebrow. I get no satisfaction from it. It’s worse than mindless entertainment. It’s insulting. I think the problem is that good, enjoyable cheesy movies aren’t really made much anymore. So I veer toward highbrow. So if I am snobbish it is due to attrition rather than any inherent movie-viewing habits.

I like to think this has to do with audience expectations. Audiences expect movies to be sugar-coated and mindlessly predictable so they show up. It’s not what they want, necessarily, but they have just bought into what Hollywood does. Since they show up Hollywood interprets this as them wanting exactly what they have been putting out. Am I giving audiences too much credit? I think audience expectations partly explain the laughter during No Country. The movie had some funny moments to be sure. But other times I think certain members of the audience were expecting something different. Perhaps, they were expecting a scene to veer off into Fargo or Big Lewboski territory and they laughed prematurely. They expected No Country to be a Coen movie. While it certainly was it was also a Cormac McCarthy movie. So they were looking for laughs in the wrong places. Like No Country, there were some funny scenes in There Will be Blood. (Both movies do not have funny ha-ha scenes but rather scenes that elicit laughter as a way to break the tension found through each movie.) I recall most of the laughter in There Will Be Blood as coming when the young preacher was on-screen. I took it more as a liberal NYC audience laughing at the backwards, Jesus freaks. But I could be wrong.

Enough for now. I still want to talk about watching Brand Upon the Brain! as a live movie (best movie-going experience of the year) and The Bourne Ultimatum (best action movie ever). Also I want to compare two movies about teenagers – Juno and In-Between Days – which I am sure will bring out certain snobby prejudices I have against "American Independent” cinema.

Movies 2007 Roundtable Spectacular

2007-12-30T15:01:00.001-05:00

Part II: Books to Movies - Trust the Source Material

Click here for Part I of this roundtable

No Country for Old Men was also the best movie I saw this year. It’s about a near flawless movie that one can see. There are no missteps, the acting is top-notch across the board, and the unfolding of the story is paced to perfection. I remember when No Country, the novel was released, and reviewers called it Cormac McCarthy’s “most cinematic” novel. While that may be true when compared to his earlier works, after I read No Country I didn’t know how a movie would work without changing the core of the book – sure the plot of found drugs by an everyman and the trouble that ensues is great movie fodder, but plunging the depths on the page, I thought, would be almost impossible. The Coen Brothers pulled it off superbly. It’s sound odd, to me, to say that, No Country is a “risky” movie, but compared to other adaptations this year it is, well, risky to stick so closely to the source material, especially when that source material challenges the viewer and assumes we’re actually paying attention to every frame. The greatness of No Country is that from the opening voice-over, I had no other choice than to be riveted to every scene, every camera movement, every word spoken and, as the characters here are a taciturn bunch, unspoken.

No Country was a great movie because it stuck to the rich source material and didn’t alter the ending in such a way to make a nice tidy conclusion. Here’s two movies that I did like, but fall short of the source material especially in the use of their endings: I am Legend and Stardust. I fully understand your qualms with I am Legend and agree with all your points. But, perhaps my expectations were lowered by having read the story beforehand and watching the trailer and giving up the hope of any similarity outside of the premise of the last man being plagued by the undead, that I found myself enjoying the movie. The climax was rushed and the ending way too sugar-coated, but, after reflection, there were enough worthy scenes to justify my being entertained by it. I actually really want to dislike it for various stupid plot-points, but find myself unable to. I can’t justify it, as I totally recognize its flaws and have no counter to your arguments. How it tied the title to the ending was clunky – especially considering the brilliance of the meaning of the title from Matheson’s novel.

Stardust is an enjoyable, quirky fantasy, but how I wished it stuck more closely to the ending of the Neil Gaiman/Charles Vess story. Rather, it opts for special effects and Hollywood explosions instead of the quiet and beautiful and heartfelt ending. How richer would Stardust be with that ending – the journey of Tristan loses it’s full meaning within the bombast of the noisy, silly, typical ending. Stardust could have been a triumph of the fantasy movie genre instead of just another well-done but by-the-books Hollywood style extravaganza. I should note that the bits lifted directly from the book are the ones that caused the film to better than average. The Hollywoodization of the story dragged it down. Trust the source!

300 trusted its source, panel for panel at times, and turned out to be a rousing blood bath. Harry Potter condensed too much and the plot seemed too rapid fire at times to be as great as the previous two HP installments. Those two trusted the source but added and took away as needed - there's a fine balance to be had, of course. Beowulf added and subtracted as needed and it was fun to watch, especially in 3D, but that capture-motion animation doesn't work for me and the android nature of the actor's features prevented it from living up to the epic status of the Beowulf story.

You didn't like 3:10 to Yuma, but I was pleasantly surprised by the Western I did see: Seraphim Falls. It was released almost a year ago and is, in my opinion, an overlooked gem of the past year, especially when considering that Westerns like Yuma are viewed as part of a western revival of sorts.

A few questions for you, Nimero: what do you make of the odd laughter in the theater during No Country? Are audiences made uncomfortable by the story? Are people expecting another Big Lebowski that they think they're supposed to laugh at certain parts? Of course there's some morbid humor in the film, but the Funny HaHa reaction is strange? (I suppose this may apply to There May Be Blood as well where the same odd laughter happened at certain points.)

And, why are good comedies so hard to find? Knocked Up was the Most Overrated Movie of the Year followed closely by Waitress. Only Hot Fuzz really made me laugh. (And Brand Upon the Brain, but to pigeon-hole that film as "comedy" does it an injustice.)

Finally, in the interest of full disclosure, here's a list of what I did see this year, ordered, somewhat, according to preference.

The Best
No Country for Old Men

Highly Recommended
Eastern Promises
There Will Be Blood
The Host
Lust, Caution
Seraphim Falls
Brand Upon the Brain!
Away From Her
Zodiac

Recommended
An Unreasonable Man
Hot Fuzz
300
Year of the Dog
Beowulf
Tears of the Black Tiger

Good But Flawed
Stardust
Death Proof
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
I am Legend
The Hoax

Disappointing
Knocked Up
Spiderman 3
Waitress
Stephanie Daly