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The Collab
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(address is not clickable) 9/1/5
Summer 2005 Notes (Nobody Asked Me, But...)
Oldheartedness in the Masai Mara
When the Kenyan Cape buffalo grow old, younger males kick them out. Thereafter, these outcast fellows roam alone, ill-tempered and nasty. "They will charge anything," our guide told us. The same thing happens to people whose ideas get old. That's why it's best to stay curious and humble rather to rail at the young.
Young Hunter, Old Master
The crowd at Arthur Ashe Stadium cheered for Andre Agassi today in his match against a 6'10" Croatian kid named Ivo Karlovic. I was cheering for Karlovic, just because I like to see somebody with great natural endowments put his powers to full use without shame, like the Incredibles. I felt a little sorry for him, too, since his home country is unloved and since there didn't seem to be much of a Croatian contingent to cheer him, and there he was at the U.S. Open, facing one of the greatest tennis players who ever lived. And nobody could even pronounce his name to yell.
It was like a clash between a young samurai and the old master. In the first set, Karlovic's typical first serve was 138 mph. Agassi, who's probably about a foot shorter than the Croatian kid, couldn't return practically any of them. He's known as a great return artist, but against Karlovic he was as helpless as a young girl picking up the racquet for the first time. One game consisted of four straight Karlovic aces. Karlovic has made 62 aces at the Open -- apparently just at that match -- making him the Ace of Aces.
But Karlovic's backhand wasn't up to his serve. So the games went like steps; Karlovic would win his serve, then Agassi would by cleverness and skill win his serve. Agassi played well and waited for the kid to make errors. First-set tiebreaker went to Agassi by a point. In the second set, the pace of Karlovic's first serve slowed to 134 mph and Agassi started to return more of them, and even put a serve right in the far backhand spot where Karlovic had been tormenting him. Second-set tiebreaker went to Agassi by two points. Third-set tiebreaker he won by three points. It could have gone against Agassi so easily, and yet..it didn't. He is worthy of emulation.
Homage to Catalonia
The most fascinating place in Barcelona is not Gaudi's Sagrada Familia cathedral or Guell Park with its Masonic symbolism, but the Maritime Museum. The museum is located in the old medieval shipyards on the waterfront. You can learn all about the Barcelona shipbuilding industry's greatness in the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries there, and you can see beautiful old fishing boats of solid oak. Some of these boats used to go out with lights to lure the fish (the market parallel would be the analyst's report). Perhaps best of all, there is a full-scale copy of the flagship galley that led the European forces in the Battle of Lepanto in 1543, where a coalition of Spain, the Papal States and Venice chased the piratical Turks out of Cyprus and turned the tide in the battle for Europe.
Even as the battle was won, Barcelona's glory days were almost over. With the discovery of the New World and its riches, the Mediterranean was suddenly not where it was at. The Castilian kings who took over Barcelona in the 16th century favored the shipyards of Valencia and Malaga for military shipbuilding; and they made it illegal for large craft to be used for commercial purposes. When coal power and iron came into use, the numerous small businesses of Barcelona's shipbuilding industry could not come up with the large capital investment necessary to compete. So the shipyards went into decline.
The most remarkable aspects of Barcelona today are seafood (try the barnacles at the Bottafumeiro) and the tennis; the Polo Club next to the Hotel Rey Juan Carlos I had no less than 40 courts; and the Polo is just one of three similar big clubs in the area. A pro told me that 14 of the 16 Spanish players in the world top 100 are from Barcelona.
Death in UNECO-Occupied Venice
As in Barcelona, so in Venice; the triumph at the Battle of Lepanto heralded decline rather than further glory. The exotic Eastern ornamentation that makes St. Mark's basilica such a fairy tale place was salvaged from Constantinople after the fabled city fell to the Ottomans in 1453. The basilica makes an odd contrast to the stolidly unimaginative bell tower of the piazza, and a parallel exists with the current state of affairs. Venice has been declared a world treasure by UNESCO; in practical terms, this means that nobody can touch a brick or a stone or a piling without submitted voluminous permit applications to the authorities in a process that locals like to describe as eternal. So many of the lovely buildings one passes on the waterways are empty and crumbling; bureaucracy has made renovations impossible. The 10,000 gondolas that once plied the waters have dwindled to a mere 400, with some additional power boats and ferries, so getting around quickly is a challenge for business. Thus the stolid central planners have reduced to tears a city that has been since the 5th century thanks to the cleverness and inventiveness and good taste of its inhabitants.
Zanzibar, A Real Place
I have wanted to go to Zanzibar for years. When I lived in Sierra Madre, California, a small hillside suburb near Pasadena that is home to the Rose Parade and one of the most boring places on earth, I would put myself to sleep by poring over a world atlas and lingering over the exotic names. Like Zanzibar. It sounds so poetic that it might almost not exist. You can visit Zanzibar quite easily nowadays. The country shed its Marxist straitjacket about 15 years ago, and started to welcome tourists. There's a lovely hotel, the Serena, with hammocks on private balconies right over the water, and you can watch the fishing boats go out with their lateen sails and drink the spiced coffee that I think is the best in the world.
I bought a long pink skirt and a long-sleeved white blouse for my trip to the market, along with a big striped pink-and-blue scarf that the seller kindly pinned to my head in the nunnish style considered proper for Moslem women. Draped head to toe to avoid offending Arab sensibilities, I ventured out into the narrow streets and found myself being applauded by the Arabic men I passed. They pointed to the scarf, nodded approvingly, said "That's good! We like it!"
Bill Clinton had stayed at the Serena the previous week, and people was still abuzz with admiration and good feelings for our president. He posed for photos with everybody, including our porter, who proudly displayed his photo to me. It seemed that everybody in town had come to the hotel to be photographed with Bill. The president won further good feeling by wading into the souk with only one bodyguard. He shook hands with everybody and spent 45 minutes talking with one of the shopkeepers. President Bill bought a Zanzibar chest -- a lovely brass-finished piece with a secret drawer -- and so did I.
Laura Bush also had been there recently, we heard, but she was accompanied by a phalanx of bodyguards who wouldn't let anybody near her. As to why both Bill and Laura were in Zanzibar -- the rumor was that there may be a military base in the country's future. As for the past, I recommend the book Zanzibar Princess, sold at the Serena. Zanzibar has a prominent place in the history of the spice trade; a few books have come out recently on this subject, and I can recommend Jack Turner's Spice: The History of a Temptation. to those who appreciate markets.