Oaxaca (III)

I’d be remiss if I failed to mention Oaxacan culture. It’s a mix of Spanish colonial and MesoAmerican like much of Mexico, but one where the latter (from the Zapotecs et al) is equally important with the former.

Street scene

We were in Oaxaca city just before its largest annual fiesta: la Guelaguetza. Taken from the Nahuatl language, the fiesta translates as “the giving” and represents an old tradition of the various local cultures coming together and sharing what they have (dances, costumes, food, goods) with others.

Fiesta mascot, el Llamado
Just a preview, a few weeks before the festival
Santo Domingo
“What? That? That’s our cross; why?”

Catholicism took deep root in Oaxaca, thanks mostly to the Dominicans. This teaching order was welcomed by the rural indigenous population, and as a result, the Catholic Church in Oaxaca avoided some of the revolutionary movements which regularly convulsed Mexico. The Templo Santo Domingo de Guzman is one of the most beautiful examples of baroque architecture in the Western Hemisphere. The Metropolitcan Cathedral is a neo-classical structure covered in soft cantera stone. Inside is the mysterious Cross of Huatulco, a legend told to the Conquistadores when then arrived in Oaxaca in 1522. Villagers in nearby Huatulco were worshipping a cross they said was brought to them by a white-robed holy man who had “come-and-gone” many years earlier. Who he was and where he came from remains unsolved.

Our Lady of Solitude
The Cathderal (1733) at dusk

One big draw near Oaxaca city is the village of Teotitlán, completely committed to the art of weaving. We witnessed an amazing explanation of how the locals spun thread from various sources (from alpaca to cactus) and then made an astounding palate of colors from things like prickly pear fruit (called tuna in Spanish, to great gringo confusion), the indigo plant, and small cactus-infesting insects called cochineal (which create deep reds and purples).

Early evening on Thursday, and the party in the zocalo is just getting started!

Oaxaca has something for everyone. It’s a big enough town to have plenty to do, with food, drink, and fiestas galore. The surrounding valley and mountains have all the historical, ethnic, and athletic activities and sites you could want. The people are friendly and although a little Spanish is very helpful, there are many tours and guides for the English-speaking traveller. It is not yet an expensive place, but the combination of inflation and increasing tourism are having an effect. The biggest drawback seems to me to be it is not an easy place to get to: you’ll be flying the uncomfortable Mexican budget airlines, on only a few daily flights, often connecting via Mexico City. In return you’ll see an authentic piece of Mexico and its MesoAmerican heritage . . . still a bargain!

Oaxaca (II)

The state of Oaxaca plays an outsized role in Mexico’s history. Archeologists suggest Monte Alban, which sits atop a small mountain overlooking the Oaxaca valley, was one of the first real cities in the Western Hemisphere. The Zapotec peoples built it around 500 BCE (Before the Christian Era) and it dominated the area until 750 CE (Christian Era). Monte Alban is only partially excavated, but what has been completed is stunning. It ultimately held around 30,000 Zapotecs, making it an unusually large and prosperous settlement for its time. Among it unique features are some of the earliest evidence of social stratification: the elites lived in private quarters at the top of the settlement, with secret passages to speed their travels about the town, while workers and merchants lived further down and the poor congregated around the base of the plateau.

Panorama
The main square

Monte Alban had a strong governing organization which demanded tribute from the surrounding tribes and villages. Less praiseworthy, the Zapotecs practiced ritual sacrifice, so it’s always hard to separate the beauty of the structures you’re visiting when considering how many were killed at the same spot! Archeologists had once insisted on contrasting the blood-thirsty conquistadores with the peaceful MesoAmerican tribes. The Mexica (Aztecs) were often portrayed as the exception which proved the rule. Later work showed all the indigenous cultures practiced blood-letting and human sacrifice, although the Mexica took it to the extreme.

The observatory holds a series of victory stones portraying captured villages

One classic example trying to portray indigenous cultures in a more positive light is los danzantes (the dancers). These residual stones (of which there were hundreds) show Olmec-style obese men “dancing.” In fact, archeologists later demonstrated the stones show the chiefs of tributary towns who had been castrated, watering the earth with their blood before being killed. Dancers, indeed!

We still don’t know what happened to the Monte Alban civilization, but it disappeared around the same time as the Mayans further to the east.

Oaxaca is also the birthplace of Mexico’s most revered leader: Benito Juárez. He rose to fame as a liberal reformer in the 1850s, served as the first (and only) fully-indigenous Presidente of Mexico, and led the fight to reclaim Mexico’s independence from Maximilian after the French installed him as Latin Emperor. His political life coincided with that of Abraham Lincoln, and each holds a similar position of special esteem in their respective country’s history. He was the first Mexican leader to view the United States as an alteraantive model for the continued development of Mexico; prior to him, Europe in general and Spain in particular were the dominant models. While Juárez was controversial in his day, his reputation has only grown with time.

On the other side of the ledger is Porfirio Díaz, another native Oaxaqueño. Díaz was a General who arose alongside Juárez, but he later led a revolt against him. After Juárez’ death, Díaz completed his successful insurrection and installed a technocratic government. Gradually he fell into autocratic ways, creating a dictatorship called el Porfiriato that lasted over thirty years. History remembers his regime for its unrelenting emphasis on economic development and pervasive repression: one of his favorite slogans was “pan o palo” literally “bread or the stick.”

Despite all this history, Oaxaca is one of Mexico’s poorest, least supported states. Travel & Leisure magazine just named Oaxaca City as the “world’s top travel hot spot,” but it clearly has not received the government attention it needs. Poverty is prevalent and development is slow. We visited such natural wonders as hierve el agua, also known as the frozen waterfalls, and el Tule, the world’s largest (in circumference) tree which is more than 2000 years old.

While the government built a toll road to speed the way over the mountains, they had done little else. In the little towns along the way to the falls, there were numerous local “stops” to “charge” tourists a few pesos to continue. It was obvious this was the only way to make money locally.

The government has not improved the infrastructure sufficiently to support the basic needs of the people, let alone the tourism which could develop. And we only visited the central valley: there are tons of beaches and mountain ranges to explore, too.

Those interested in MesoAmerican history and architecture, nature and/or adventure travel, textile arts and crafts, or extant indigenous cultures will find much to like about Oaxaca. Which is probably why it’s a rising tourist hot-spot, despite the neglect!

Oaxaca (I)

If you’re like me, the first time you saw the name of this Mexican state in print, you paused.

“Oh-ah-ZACA?” “ACHS-aca?” “Oh-AXA-ca?” Of course I had heard it pronounced before, but seeing the name still threw me. It’s “wah-HAH-cah” for the record.

Judy and I have been wanting to visit for some time, for the archeological sites, the churches, the textiles, and the food, especially the food. Oaxaca is home to mole (MO-lay), that incredible smoky salsa of numerous varieties that makes local cuisine so special. The term mole comes from the ancient Nahuatl language, and simply means “sauce.” You’re already familiar with one version: guaca-mole, or avocado sauce, but there are many more! There are seven major types of mole, each designed to augment or enhance a specific main course:

  • Negro (black): savory-sweet with distinct chocolate undertones, for turkey and special ocasions. It’s the kind you’ll find most often in the US.
  • Rojo (red): spicier, sweeter, less chocolatey, it actually comes from Puebla and is also called mole poblano. It is good for meat dishes.
  • Coloradito (auburn): between negro and rojo, thicker (with plantains) and sweeter.
  • Amarillo (yellow): the all-purpose mole without chocolate, for vegetables and chicken.
  • Verde (green): with pumpkin, tomatillo, and cilantro (ugh!), best for chicken.
  • Chichilo (from the chilhuacle chili) dark and intense, based on beef broth. It is rare and lacks sweetness, with a licorice aftertaste.
  • Manchamantel (“table-cloth staining”): bright red, fruity, and rich, dangerous to white clothes!

As you look at the pictures, you might think there is a mismatch between the names of the moles and the colors: the names are as much about the ingredients as the final color!

Oaxaca is to Mexican cuisine as Lyon is to French cuisine. Both are UNESCO World Heritage sites, and we were wowed by the food in Lyon. So we were really looking forward to the encore performance in Oaxaca, and we were not disappointed. We took a food tour in Oaxaca city, to try out the quesillo (Oaxacan cheese, the inspiration for string cheese), chapulines (fried grasshopper snacks), mezcal (alcohol derived from the agave plant), tejate (a corn and cacao drink served cold) and other assorted delicacies!

If there was one lesson we took away, it was the subtlety of mole. It’s a cuisine staple that has developed over thousands of years, so asking what the mole tastes like is exactly like asking what a sauce tastes like: well, it depends upon the sauce type, the ingredients, and the chef, just for starters. While there are seven basic moles, every preparation is distinct and special. Chefs take hours-to-days preparing mole. Villages and families have special secret recipes, and the fresh ingredients also introduce differences into the final product. Like the old cliche about “never entering the same river twice”, you never eat the same mole twice. Each new mole is a unique encounter with something special to be savored.

A Momentous Question

Pundits are up in arms; talking heads are spouting feverishly; activists have taken up their #s. The Supreme Court has simply lost its mind, gone blatantly partisan (or even worse, Catholic!), and has to be reined in. “Our Democracy” (sic) is fundamentally at risk.

Dobbs overturning Roe and Casey? While that seems to be the judicial crisis du jour, if you read this blog (and you do, because you are), you heard the reasoning in Dobbs explained last November! The momentous decision out of the Supreme Court (SCOTUS) I want you to be aware of is West Virginia vs EPA (the US Environmental Protection Agency). It might have gotten lost in all the toing-and-froing over abortion rights, praying coaches, and state funds for religious schools. It’s the decision environmental activists characterize as ensuring climate change will end all human life as we know it. But the decision is far more important than that (sarcasm intended)!

The case was unusual for several reasons. First, it adjudicated a rule that never went into effect. Usually, when the facts of a case change during the judicial process (for example, there is a settlement, or a prosecutor drops a prosecution or the government changes a contested policy), higher courts call the case moot and end it without judgment on the merits of the case. The Supreme Court is especially fond of this outcome, believing a case must be “ripe,” that is, fully formed before it merits a SCOTUS decision. Second, it enforced the “major questions” doctrine. This concept restrains the powers the legislative branch (i.e., the US Congress) can delegate to the executive branch (i.e., the President and the administrative departments). Both have major implications for how the US governs itself. So you need to understand it.

First, the facts of the case. The Clean Air Act of 1970 granted the EPA the right to control power plant emissions. The concept was simple: power plants emit pollution, America had polluted skies, the Congress and President passed a law to reduce pollution by controlling the pollution from several sources, especially power plants. It worked, amazingly well. The Clean Air Act is the main reason the skies over US cities do not look like that over Guadalajara most days (brown and scuzzy, for the record).

The EPA’s regulatory authority changed little over the next forty years. It measured how much each power plant emitted, determined what a safe level of pollution was, and fined plants producing too much pollution. Under the Obama administration, the EPA desired to take on the challenge of climate change, so it issued a new set of guidelines called the Clean Power Plan. This plan went a step further: rather than measuring and fining individual plants (which prevented polluted skies but did nothing to combat climate change), the EPA now proposed rules which would gradually phase out coal and natural gas as sources for electicity generation (those sources generate almost 60% of US electicity, so this was a huge change) by reducing the allowed pollution emissions.

Several states sued the EPA saying this rule went beyond the EPA’s authority under the Clean Air Act. The Supreme Court stayed the implementation of the new EPA rule pending rulings on the merits of the case in lower courts. So it was still an issue in question: one side wanted the rules enforced, the other side wanted them overturned. Then the Trump administration came into office. Now the EPA ruled it had violated its authorities, and withdrew the Clean Power Plan. Other states now sued the EPA to keep the standards, and to force the EPA to implement it. Lower courts agreed. And thus the case ended up finally on the SCOTUS docket in 2022.

If you read the hysterical press, the headlines went something to the effect that ‘the Supreme Court sides with climate change catastrophe.’ Let’s take that up at the end. What did SCOTUS actually say? First, they held that this was an important issue, and since the plaintiffs and respondents had reversed during the course of the case, there was every likelihood the suits would continue until SCOTUS issued a ruling. In effect, they held they couldn’t rule it moot, as that just restarted the case.

Next, SCOTUS codified something called the major questions doctrine. Why? Over the course of decades, the federal government has issued more and more regulations: it’s what government does. Anybody who has seen the original federal tax form (it was one-page long, both sides) knows how this goes. Congress does not like to be too specific when issuing laws, so they often include language authorizing the executive departments to issue guidelines on how to implement the general goals of the law. Like the Clean Air Act, which had a goal of less pollution but let the EPA determine how much pollution for each plant. Some called this leaving it to the experts, and it is that, to some extent. This was the crux of the issue. The law said the EPA could set limits by individual plant, but could they set nation-wide emission limits effectively eliminating coal and natural gas plants? The court ruled that setting individual limits was within the EPA’s authority, but setting nation-wide limits, especially ones which eliminated certain types of plants, was actually a “major decison” that only the Congress and the President could and should make.

Here’s a clear example of why that’s true. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) is a federal agency under the Department of Transportation that regulates traffic on interstate highways, among other things. This is their charter. Large amounts of data confirm that highway deaths vary directly with speed, that is, the faster you drive, the more likely you are to have an accident and cause a fatality. NHTSA was called upon during the days of the “federal 55 mph speed limit” to justify it, and did so on this basis (it was also to save gasoline). Additionally, traffic emissions are a major source of carbon dioxide and other causes of global warming. What if NHTSA’s experts said tomorrow, “highway traffic deaths are an unnecessary tragedy, and climate change is an immediate threat. Starting today, the national speed limit on interstate highways is 40 mph, and it will decrease 5 mph every year until it hits zero.” Zero mph equals zero interstate traffic fatalities and zero emissions. Right?

Yes, and crazy! But the question is not is this crazy, but is this legal? If the EPA could stretch its authority to effectively outlaw coal and natural gas as sources of electricity, why couldn’t NHTSA do the same? Why couldn’t Health & Human Services outlaw sugary drinks? At least the Temprance Union had the guts to take Prohibition to the Constitution via an amendment!

What does the SCOTUS decision mean to you & me? It really does make our response to climate change harder, because it pushes it from the administrative state back up to the Congress and President, which have proven ineffective thus far. But going around the separation of powers in our federal structure is never a good idea. More importantly, the SCOTUS decision puts the administrative state on notice: do what the law prescribes. While there is some leeway, don’t automatically take things to the limit, regardless of how good you think your intentions are. I doubt anybody thinks the administrative state has demonstrated too little power in the last fifty years. If you do, imagine a President you dearly oppose in charge of that same apparatus . . . it will give you pause.

In the long run, the major questions doctrine could have far more effect on how the US governs itself than Dobbs (which kicked abortion down to the States), Kennedy or Carson (the latter two continued a string of rulings stating the government cannot establish a religion, has to be neutral bewteen religions, but cannot be antagonistic to the concept of religious activity). West Virginia vs EPA will be cited in many upcoming government cases, and the theme of the decisions will be “if the government wants to do that, it better have a law which specifically authorizes that.” However you feel about that, now you know why!

Family & Nation

We’re back in South Bend for our annual family get-together, which normally happens around July 4th. All that has me pondering life’s larger issues through the prism of a more familiar one: the family.

Families are, of course, where we are first civilized (if that ever happens, or for better or worse). Many of the larger problems America faces are ultimately originally based in the breakdown of the family. And I’m not talking only about the quintessential 1950s-style nuclear family, but even the more modern evolution of the term. As the privileges and even whims of the individual have become of greater importance, the rights and duties of the family have weakened. We seem to want the schools or work or the government to take on more and more responsibility for things that once were the prerogatives of the family. With predictable, less-than-optimal, results.

Not that families always do a great job. I know some of my friends out there were raised in terrible situations, and only succeeded despite family upbringing. Yet the family remains the core unit of society, and for all its warts and blemishes, it is generally a force for good and a worthwhile institution.

Which leads me to the concept of socialization. One first learns to share (or not) in the family. To be kind (or not). To be treated fairly (or not). To tell the truth (or not). All the things society relies on to function start with the family. But even the best families have those members who primarily provide examples of what not to do (to put it politely). Every family is like this, and every parent faces how to deal with the situation. It is a truly universal experience. Your children must be introduced to the larger family they have literally inherited.

Maw-Maw is a drunk. Uncle Ernie does drugs. Cousin George has a gambling problem. Auntie cheats on her husband. And so it goes.

What do the parents tell the six-year old?

“Maw-Maw didn’t mean to swear like that, she just wasn’t feeling well.” “Don’t accept any brownies from Uncle Ernie.” “If cousin George asks about how much money we have, come get me.” “Auntie and her husband are having an argument.” All of which are at least partially true, but are not in fact the whole story.

As that child matures, the level of honesty expands commensurate with that maturity. “Maw-Maw sure likes her beer.” “Uncle Ernie isn’t weird, he’s just stoned.””No, you can’t give George your baby-sitting money to buy lottery tickets, and call him ‘Cousin George’.” “Auntie did something that really hurt her husband’s feelings.”

Eventually the discussion becomes something more like: “Maw-Maw died so young because she was an alcoholic and couldn’t stop.” “Uncle Ernie never learned how to control himself, and that’s why he always shows up high.””George always has another get-rich quick scheme, and they always end the same way.””Remember all those fights Auntie and her husband had? Well . . .”

Why are the parents “economical with the truth?” Because for all the problems noted, they view the family as a good thing, a thing worth cherishing and sustaining. If they didn’t view it that way, they wouldn’t keep participating in it in the first place. Eventually we have to be more brutually honest, but that comes when we are mature enough to have those conversations.

Which is how we should also learn about our nation. Do you believe America is a worthwhile thing? Is it a force for good? Separate your immediate emotions (some suggested they would not celebrate independence this year): in total, across time, is the world better off for the fact of America, or not.

If the answer is “no,” really? Take a deep breath and listen to reason. If the answer is “yes,” continue.

How do we socialize our chidren about America, if we value it? We start with what’s good, what’s unique, what’s best. Why? First, because those things are true. They might not be the complete truth, but they are still true. As the children mature, we bring in more nuanced concepts. Yes, some of the Founders were slave-owners. Yes, segregation persisted well into modern times. True, women only achieved the right to vote in the last hundred years. But there is a time and place to introduce such concepts.

I disagree strongly with those who claim even mentioning such things is unpatriotic. I also disclaim those who suggest America is fundamentally flawed, systemically racist or a morally neutral force at best. Both these positions are wrong, and must be avoided.

To those who say “no one is bringing these concepts into the early childhood educational system” (say primary school): you’re wrong. The New York Times and Washington Post used to include a disclaimer that Critical Race Theory (CRT) is ‘an advanced academic concept introduced mainly at the university-level and not taught in primary education.’ They have changed that to say ‘it sometimes influences curriculum at those levels.’ Why the change? I spent a few hours one afternoon researching local news stories and found one example after another of CRT being used as early as pre-school classes. You cannot tell a child the nation is fundamentally racist and expect them to think later it is worthy of their respect, let alone their love. It gets the maturity learning model exactly backwards.

Start with the good. There’s plenty of it. Later introduce the neutral points; much to cover here, too. Finally,discuss the bad, especially those things which still linger today. All three need to be covered, but when and how are critically important.

That is, if you care about America more than scoring a meme point. Hope you had a happy Fourth of July!

Fear & Loathing in Ajijic

(Author’s note: This is the fiftieth anniversary of Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. If you have never read it, do so. He pioneered something called Gonzo Journalism which mixes the illusory and the real, stone cold sober insight and drug-fueled raving. And it’s pretty funny, ‘tho profane. Here is my homage to the genre. Again, it’s all creative writing and fiction!)

We were somewhere south of the airport, driving up a steep grade in the pass over the Sierra San Juan Cosala, when the brownies started to take effect. These were no run-of-the-mill, Pillsbury brownies. No, my amigo Juan Rey used only Ghiardelli starter, and added a special mix of fifty-seven herbs and spices which would drive the working dogs at George H. W. Bush International airport into a frenzy. There were no dogs here on the carretera, except for the bloated ones at the side of the road, but I felt giddy at the thought of spilling out a container of special brownies on the floor of Customs in Houston and watching the dogs drag the CBP agents across the room.

The original, still good at fifty

“What’s so funny?” my companion shouted over the roar of Led Zeppelin from the car stereo.

I didn’t answer; I didn’t even realize I was laughing. I was too focused on dropping into second gear and hitting the gas, aiming the rented Tsuru in between a pick-up truck with an abuela in the bed and a family of three puttering next to them on a motorbike. I expertly split the difference on a hairpin turn and broke into the clear . . . of yet another uphill turn.

A Tsuru was never meant to be driven like this. Actually, a Tsuru was never technically meant to be driven. It was a car at its best up on concrete blocks in the barrio, where you got in and shared una fria with some locals as the sun went down. A Tsuru was essentially a Nissan Sentry with all of its safety and comfort features removed, then sold at cost in an aspiring market like Mexico where a growing middle class was newly experiencing the joy of the open road . . . with predictable results.

Tsuru crash test results

When I picked up the Tsuru at the airport rental counter, I just ignored the small print stating the rental company was not responsible for the costs associated with removing human remains from the vehicle interior in the event of an accident. A good garden hose would do the trick. I realized my companion was still waiting on an answer about that sinister laugh.

“The dogs! You should have seen them with the brownies. . .” I finally replied, but my companion was having none of it.

“Look out for the cows!” he screamed. What cows? Where does he see cows? In the middle of a freakin’ highway, in the middle of the freakin’ night? Damn brownies! I cut to the outside of the curve and saw a bovine head flash past my side-view mirror. This was no time to linger, so I stepped on the gas, alert for the giant iguanas I knew would soon follow. When we made it to Ajijic, I was going to find out exactly what were the fifty-seven herbs and spices in those brownies. For now, I took a long swig from my vampiro, and kept watching for the iguanas.

—————————-Morning—————————

I awoke the next morning and looked down at the blood-red stain on my guayabera. Great. I was in town less than one full day and now somebody had expertly lifted my kidneys. Or maybe my appendix; could they tell the difference? Just another tourist used for medical practice. I pulled open the shirt but saw no scars. The empty vampiro bag I had clutched all the way from the airport fell to my side.

Why was I even here, in the middle-of-nowhere Mexico? I had a gig to cover a water skiing competition on Lake Chapala. At first I thought it was some set-up by the cartels: lure innocent gringos down with an imaginary sporting event, then harvest their organs. But it seemed legit, as it was the tenth annual competition, and so far no reports of missing organs. But water-skiing, on Lake Chapala? Even the locals only pretend to go into the lake (up to their knees, wearing plastic trash bags on their feet) and nobody, ever, takes out a speed boat. There are things out there, under the water. Things you don’t want to run into. Things like grandstands, and barbed wire, and electric cables. See, the Mexicans reclaim the shore when the lake wanes, and build all kinds of things. When the lake refills, they run off, leaving an Atlantis of strange artifacts just under the waterline.

I bought a bottle of tequila, a mango, and a six of Tecate and sat down on the malecon to watch the show. Perhaps there would be a traumatic amputation or a sudden explosion when electric current met marine gas-oil. Serves them right, coming down here and not even offering a kidney. Dammit, you have two, and that guy begging at the corner in front of the WalMart probably needs at least one. But there was nothing savage to see here. Just speed boats, and people water-skiing. I grabbed the tequila and headed up Colon to get some comida.

My companion was in the bar and motioned me to join him. Next to him sat a square-jawed, Marine-looking character. He said his name was William, but I was sure it’s Bill, or Billy, or Mac or Buddy.

“As your doctor, I advise you to order the chilaquiles with the two-for-one Bloody Mary” my companion intoned. Billy interjected, “I didn’t know you were a doctor. . .” but I cut him off.

“He’s not. It’s a Goddamn border promotion. He’s a podiatrist, but don’t let him anywhere near your feet, as he has outstanding malpractice cases in ten states.” “Wh-wh-what?” Billy stammered, but I laid it on thicker and heavier, “you should have seen it. He actually attached a sixth toe on a man’s foot and tried to charge him extra for it!” My companion was just staring down at his migas while Billy sat with his square jaw now hanging open.

After I ordered the chilaquiles and Bloody Mary duo, Billy tried to break the uncomfortable silence: “So you’re here to cover the water skiing competition?” I glared at my companion, but he put both palms up and mouthed “not me.” Of course not. Pueblito or small town, it’s all the same: everybody knows everybody else’s business. There was no way I was going to cover that crap, even if it involved somebody being severed in half. I needed another reason to be here. I glanced suspiciously to both sides, then whispered, “William, you look like a former Marine, can you keep a secret?” “Semper Fi!” he growled.

“That water-skiing competition is just a cover.” He looked at me, puzzled but obviously interested. “I’m down here for the company.” I paused for effect, and he stared, unblinking, like a near-sighted lizard. “The agency. Do I need to spell it out? CI-A!” I spat out the acronym “see-ah” the way the locals do, for added authenticity, and I could see the hook was set.

“I always thought that water-skiing thing was crazy,” he replied. I continued, “Just crazy enough. My companion and I are recon for the beaches here. As a Marine, I assume you know the strategic importance of beaches?” He was nodding his head yes, but his eyes said no. “Beaches?” he whispered, “but for what?” “Good God, man, for the invasion!” I muttered. He was clearly struggling with the concept, but desperately wanted to buy-in, “but it’s a lake, how do they get here?” I slammed the empty Bloody Mary glass down on the table for emphasis, “where have you been? Don’t you know about Space Force? The Space Marines? What do you think we have them for?”

“Oh, yeah, them. And they’ll have the element of surprise” he added, now fully on board. I should have stopped there, but my third and fourth Bloody Marys arrived, so I chugged one down and then took it to the limit, one more time: “We did have surprise, but now we come to find out there’s a rat. Somebody down here has been talking, and when we find the rat-bastard, well, we’ll take both his kidneys!” Billy’s eyes were wide as saucers, “What do you mean?”

“William,” I paused and leaned closer, “you don’t think the Mexicans left all that crap out in the lake for shits-n-grins, do you? Barbed wire, electrical lines, hell there’s probably a slew of mines and hedgehogs down there, too. They are waiting for us!” “No shit? That makes soooooo much more sense!” he nodded. I needed to make good my escape, so I looked around, then waited for the mesera to walk past: “We have to find the rat. If you hear any gringo down here talking smack about ‘Merica, call me at this number.” I wrote the digits down on the napkin and handed it over. “If I sound confused, I’m just pretending not to know you because it’s an open line. Just keep calling me and giving me any names you have. Can you do that for me, Marine?”

“Yes, sir!” he replied, and I threw down a two hundred peso note on the table and made my way out. What the CBP desk at George H. W. Bush International airport was going to do with this information was not my problem.

———————Afternoon————————

Now that the lake skiing gig was dead in the water, I needed an alternative subject for an article to justify my advance. I was sitting in the plaza, el centro del centro, smoking a fine Cuban cigar. Here I was, deep in the heart of the expat dream, and it was time to figure it all out. This place was right out of some spaghetti western knock-off of a 1950’s horror flick.: small Mexican fishing village suddenly invaded by a ragtag army of aging hippy-zombies followed by soul-less real estate speculators, working side-by-side in some bizarre Hitler-Stalin non-aggression pact to destroy paradise. How the Canadians fit in to the plot, who knows, but I swear I’ll run my Tsuru over the next pair of socks-and sandal-ed feet I see!

I saw my companion discretely making his way into the plaza, headed straight for me. Or at least he was trying to be discrete, as only a six-foot four-inch Irishman weighing well-nigh twenty stone can be. He had on cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, aviator sun glasses and a mop of bright red hair. Which went well with the permanent rash-red color of his skin; the tropics are not kind to sons of Erin who choose to ignore sunscreen.

He approached and handed me a margarita, saying, “As your lawyer, I suggest you hydrate with this before you go mad in the noon-day sun.” It was true: I was half-mad with thirst. And he was a lawyer, a pretty good one at that. Faced with the unrelenting stream of malpractice claims, he had finished law school and defended himself, ably motioning and delaying until he could either exhaust the plaintiffs or flee to another part of the country. I admired his courtroom demeanor, even if I would still never let him touch my feet.

“What in the hell is going on here?” I wailed. “Does Mexico even know it’s being invaded? Do they not care? Don’t they see what the gringos did to California, not to mention Tejas! Arizona is like some sinister re-creation of The Villages without the redeeming quality of an occasional hurricane.” I paused to lick some salt off the rim of the plastic margarita glass. “Where did you get this anyway?” I asked, waving the drink at my companion. “There was man with a little stand selling them on the street. I told him to put yours in a glass, because you hate sucking your drinks through a straw in a plastic bag.” “Did you see what he put in it? Was there any alcohol? Who knows what else is in there? Stem cells? Human growth hormone? What were you thinking?”

My companion just smiled and shrugged. “You’re too wound up. You need to take in the local vibe. This is Mexico. Don’t get hostile, don’t ask too many questions, just sit back and enjoy what it is.” “What it is, is a cocktail from hell,” I retorted. I refilled the glass with tequila from my litro and resumed: “Mexico lives by the Pirate code, everything is ‘more of a guideline than a rule.’ But they don’t know what they don’t know, as Rummy once said. They have this little piece of paradise, and they haven’t figured out what is happening to it.” “Maybe they do know,” my companion said, “but they are ok with it.”

I glanced around the plaza. The tie-dyed shirts, the man buns with crazy, gray, wire-hairs sticking out? Didn’t fool me for a second. They were just the first wave, harmless enough looking, to put the locals at ease. Gringos locos. Next there’d be the aging Jane Fonda wanna-bees, dressed in 80’s chic (torn sweatshirts and leggings, of course). And the fresh-faced retirees, from Middletown, USA, buying up the hillsides and crowding the markets, marveling at the prices while giving a loud “Bone-ASS DEE-ass” to the frightened locals.

I don’t know what they were all up to, but the sun felt good on my shoulders, and the man-with-the-margarita stand came by and refilled mine before the ice could melt. I would get to the bottom of it, the glass and the invasion. But it was gonna’ take some time.

Book Report: How the World Really Works

Subtitled “A scientist’s guide to our past, present, and future,” this NY Times best-seller was written by Vaclav Smil, a Czech-Canadian scientist and policy analyst. His has authored deep studies in energy and agriculture, but he excels in interdisciplinary studies and describing complex problems without lapsing into confusing jargon. As I used to tell my analysts, “anybody can show how complex a problem is; your job is to make all that complexity instantly understandable.” Smil, the Distinguished Professor Emeritus at the University of Manitoba, provides just enough data while wading through vast quantities of the same across multiple fields of endeavor to show why some policies are possible in the real world, and others are not.

Take the synergy between food and oil, for example. Smil details how even if we abandon fuel for automobiles, oil and its products were essential to the earlier green revolution in agriculture, and cannot be replaced (easily) in airplane fuel, fertilizer, or plastics. In the absence of technological advances to replace these products (technological advances which are not being seriously sought), there is no way to feed the current eight billion people on the planet, let alone assumed population growth. Reducing waste, changing diets, and investing in research can get us about halfway there, but would leave us returned to a world where half the population faces imminent starvation: hardly a desirable state. Thus Petroleum, Oil, and Lubricants (POL) remain essential products for the foreseeable future (say, fifty years), regardless of how many of us drive electric cars. De-carbonization is a non-starter, as long as we value eating.

Smil takes a rhetorical axe to several sacred cows beside de-carbonization, including globalization, climate change, artificial intelligence (AI), and space colonization. He is not a polemicist or a denier; he just insists on scientific facts in place of assumptions, tweets, and narratives. For example:

  • He shows how globalization has come in waves (the first when Rome ruled, another during the early 20th Century, a third in the 1980s, all driven by a combination of technological and political change. It is neither a “force of nature” (pace President Clinton) nor inevitable, and it can and has waned recently. He demonstrates how the economic wisdom of relying on a single source of medical protective gear (China) left the entire world vulnerable during the covid pandemic, and also led to the ridiculous point that Canada, a nation with the world’s largest supply of usable forests, imports nearly all its toothpicks and toliet paper from China, a place with few such resources. Globalization is a policy choice which has winners and losers, not a wave which cannot be resisted.
  • Smil turns things on its head when he professes his complete acceptance of the “science of global warming” while criticizing the “religion of climate change.” He has no time for climate deniers: he demonstrates that the relationship between carbon and global temperature was first identified by American scientist Eunice Foote in 1856, and the Swedish chemist Svante Arrhenius correctly identified how much and where the warming would occur in 1896! None of this was especially controversial until the science of global warming evolved into the public policy debates and the catastrophic predictions of climate change proponents. Note Smil is certain we need to both reduce carbon sources and mitigate its effects; yet he brooks no fools. His take down of Emmanuel Macron’s famous tweet (“Our house is burning. Literally. The Amazon rainforest–the lungs which produces (sic) 20% of our planet’s oxygen–is on fire.”) points out that (1) lungs don’t create oxygen, they use it, (2) plants in general use as much oxygen as they make, and (3) at current rates of consumption, it would take 1500 years to reduce Earth’s oxygen-rich atmosphere by three percent (the equivalent of moving from New York City to Salt Lake City).
  • Smil is a true environmentalist, but he will not succumb to hyperbole or exaggeration for effect. He points out that all of our increasingly complex climate models have barely changed Arrhenius’ 1896 forecast, and that the key driver of increasing atmospheric carbon content was the rise of China. In a single generation China moved almost a billion people from near-starvation to owning automobiles and air conditioners, at the cost of huge increases in atmospheric carbon. India and Africa are now poised to make the same ascent: how do we deny them? Or what do we do to accommodate them?
  • Regarding the replacement of real things (like concrete, ammonia, plastic and steel, what he calls the four pillars of modern civilization) with virtual things, Smil can barely conceal his contempt. He shows how modern civilization is based on the former four, while the latter is a recent offshoot which also requires enormous amounts of silicon and energy. The virtual world relies on this invisible connection, and while the virtual world can change quickly, it is entirely dependent on the less-easily changed real world. Thus the real world always trumps the virtual one.
  • As to the growth of artificial intelligence, he asks how that played out during the pandemic (answer: it didn’t). In the end, “the best we could do is what the residents of Italian towns did in the Middle Ages: stay away from others, stay inside for 40 days, isolate for quaranta giorni.” And the singularity (when artificial intelligence merges with and replaces human intelligence)? He views it as a weird, metaphysical bit of wishful science fiction. The recent claim by a Google engineer that its LaMDA chatbot model was sentient is a case study: while it can hold elaborate conversations that are eerily human, it also cannot correctly answer a question like “when did Saturn pass through the Panama Canal?” Any six-year old can quickly discern the conceptual impossibility of a planet passing through an earthly canal, but these are only words to the best AI we have.
  • Finally, space travel and colonization, even of nearby Mars, faces so many staggering challenges that it only serves to underline the necessity of safeguarding the one planet and one environment in which our species is uniquely suited to thrive.

His final chapters on risk (like how likely you are to die from visiting a hospital versus being killed by a terrorist) are instructive, and he even delves into how we understate risks where we feel we have control (driving a car) and overstate those where we apparently don’t (a plane crash). Smil even shows how our successful effort to increase longevity created a larger pool of older people vulnerable to a pandemic, and true enough, the elderly were vastly overrepresented in the covid death rolls.

As you might imagine, Smil is something of an iconoclast. He lives a frugal, thoughtful life embodying his beliefs in less consumption and reduced energy use. He debunks conservative and liberal shibboleths alike (he shreds the notion there is nothing America can do about gun violence, for example). He doesn’t argue for inaction; he says we face serious challenges and need to act, but we need to understand what we’re doing first, and avoid simplistic solutions (like de-carbonization). He does discuss reasonable changes in diet, better ways to improve agricultural production, increases in insulation and water use that could make a huge difference.

As you can probably tell, I enjoyed his book immensely. The statistical presentation (using scientific notation frequently, like 1 x 10-2 for example) gets a little annoying over time, but it is forgivable and necessary. At the beginning, throughout, and in the end, he reminds the reader he is neither a magician nor a prophet, just a person who seeks to understand things before leaping to policy conclusions. That’s refreshing!

Travel Tsunami

Lessons learned from our three-week excursion to France & Italy:

  • The days of pandemic-limited travel are over. There are a few hold-outs: China is acting like the authoritarian bully it always was, Japan is “inviting” a few tourists, and New Zealand has officially announced it is seceding from planet Earth and no longer welcomes humans. I was only kidding about that last one . . . I think.
  • The US administration which touted “following the science” continued to insist on masks when almost no one else did (is the EU anti-science? the WHO?). Now they have given in and removed the mask mandate for airlines and airports. But you still need to carry a mask, and sometimes wear it, although the general trend is no masks and no tests if you are vaccinated. If not vaccinated, countries either refuse entry (to tourists, mostly) or demand negative tests, which are becoming increasingly difficult to find.
  • The bad news is people have the itch to get out, some money and/or vacation saved from all that work-from-home, and they want to travel. Remember how the lack of available goods (supply chain disruption) sparks shortages and inflation? In the travel sector, the airlines and cruise ships and hotels and theme parks and museums and restaurants and everything else are short staffed. And they can’t surge to keep up with demand. So prices are sky-rocketing while service is dropping. Examples:
    1. KLM airlines cancelled European (local) flights into its Schipol (Amersterdam) hub one weekend because it only had enough staff on hand to service international (i.e., intercontinental) arrivals! No problem for US arrivals, but your connection may have been cancelled too, since it was a local departure and there were no local arrivals!
    2. Paris airport workers conducted a surprise mini-strike (due to overwork) the day we were leaving Charles DeGaulle airport (CDG), bringing it to a standstill just after we got out.
    3. Museums and exhibits have limited hours and tours. Most nicer restaurants insisted on dinner reservations.
  • All this will get rapidly worse starting this week. There were many Americans who were afraid to travel because they were concerned they might (1) get sick somewhere else, (2) test positive before leaving and forfeit a planned vacation, or (3) test positive overseas and get stuck in a perhaps costly quarantine. This was a sizable group that was planning domestic trips in lieu of international travel, and now with $5.00 a gallon gas and no testing requirement, they will spring for the airports.
  • Delays and missed connections are rampant. Mexico City Benito Juarex (MEX) international airport has two seperate terminals, but they closed their luggage re-check desk for international arrivals, which meant we had to leave security, pick up our luggage and drag it to another terminal then re-check as if we just departing. We would have missed our flight, but of course, it was delayed ninety minutes too! Lines are long everywhere; Amsterdam Schipol had a six hour regular security line! For this reason, I strongly recommend availing yourself of every shortcut you can. Examples:
    1. We have Global Entry (GE), which allows us to line cut both US Immigration and Customs when entering the US. One stop at a kiosk and go. GE also gives us TSA Pre-check at US airports gratis. GE costs $100 (per person) and is good for five years. It does require a short questionnaire and an interview, but unless you’re a felon or smuggled something illegally before and got caught, you will probably get approved. TSA pre-check costs $85 (per person) for five years and covers children under twelve, but does NOT get you Global Entry. Some airline loyalty programs and credit cards will reimburse you for TSA Pre-check, GE, or Clear.
    2. Speaking of which, we also signed up for Clear, which is a private security program for airports, concerts, sporting events, etc. in the US. Again, it is a line-cutting program that speeds you through based on biometric data. It takes about ten minutes to sign up at the airport, costs $179 per year, and you can add three family members for $50 each (per year). These programs (GE, TSA Pre-check, Clear) work in combination. At the airport, they may have four different security lines: Regular, Clear, TSA Precheck, and TSA PreCheck with Clear. We have used the latter at O’hare (Chicago) and Hartsfield-Jackson (Atlanta), two of the world’s busiest, during peak hours. The result: no line whatsoever. We were escorted past crowds of hundreds to the front of the line and put through the “minimum security” (belt/shoes on, liquids & electronics stay in bag) lane in seconds.
    3. At the very least, download the free Customs & Border Protection (CBP) Mobile Passport Control (MPC) App, which automates part of your re-entry to the US. While there were multiple options earlier, CBP now only accepts this one. It will work well and quickly, IF your arrival airport uses it and the CBP personnel are staffing it. GE costs more, but has always worked for us, and the MPC app does nothing for clearing Customs. Sometimes there are no Customs checks (honor system) when you arrive in the US, but if there are, there is no avoiding the lines without GE.
    4. SIgn up for airline loyalty programs with any airline you fly. Sometimes it will get you an improved security line status. Also, ask your airline about upgrades at check in or purchasing access to priority security lines. Sometimes there are cheap upgrades or only a few dollars cost for priority security check in. It never hurts to ask!
    5. Get airline lounge access. This is tricky, because lounge access can be available based on your ticket status, frequent flyer status, credit card status, or simply purchased. However, due to rising demand, airlines are starting to turn away some forms of access or limit it by number of hours or type of flight (arrival/departure). So you have to figure out what works for your travel style and price. But outside the lounges, the airport waiting areas are packed: it’s noisy, uncomfortable, and there may be nowhere to sit down. Inside the lounges, there are food and drinks, plenty of seats, showers and bathrooms and spa treatments. It’s an expensive-but-worthwhile oasis in a travel tsunami!
  • Book early for hotels, flights, and rental cars. Not only are prices rising well above inflation throught the peak summer months, but next Thanksgiving & Christmas will probably be the first major holidays AFTER pandemic restrictions are lifted, and everybody will be out on the move. Not only will you save money, but by waiting you risk being told nothing is available at any price!
  • Plan on unexpected challenges during travel days. What if your flight is cancelled (restaurants or hotels in the airport? What if anything does the airline owe you?), delayed (purchase lounge access?), or re-routed (our Air France flight MEX-CDG decided to make a refuel in Cancun!). Luggage is getting lost, flights missed, and itineraries ruined in record numbers. Just be prepared!

Patience is the order of the day. Travel was difficult-but-possible during the pandemic. If you prepare and plan ahead, you can weather the travel storm now, too.

Ravenna

words escape me

Our last stop in Italy, a day trip back in time to the final days of the Western Christian Empire. Ravenna is a city near the Adriatic coast in the Emilia-Romagna region, north-east of Florence. As Rome became a punching bag for various barbarian tribes in the 5th century AD, the Romans moved the capital to Ravenna, which they felt was more defensible (they were misinformed) because it is surrounded by swampy lands. Ravenna was occupied by the Ostrogoth King Theodoric the Great, becoming his capital, before being liberated by armies sent by Justinian I, the Eastern Roman Emperor, in 540 AD. It was during this Byzantine period that most of Ravenna’s great monuments were completed.

Who needs Pisa? Yes, it is leaning that much

What you’ll find in Ravenna is a series of brick structures dating from the 5th and 6th centuries in odd patterns: not just the traditional cruciform shape with a long nave, but also small circles and octagons. Inside, the walls are decorated with immense, colorful mosaic depictions of the early Church: saints and Bible scenes and other religious imagery. They are vivid and spring to life in indirect sunlight. Most amazing is that many of the structures and art are intact and in situ: you are seeing the art where it was meant to be seen when it was completed over fifteen hundred years ago! I found the art more than a little overwhelming. First, there was so much to see, you’ll need an appreciation of art to take it all in. Second, you need time just to digest it all. And third, I was struck by the juxtaposition of mosaic art, which I associate with Eastern Orthodoxy, in ancient Roman churches. But this art style, which is Byzantine, predates by several centuries the Great Schism between Rome and Constantinople. It is a clash of styles, not beliefs.*

The Basilica of San Vitale:

Inside the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, and the Baptistry:

Basilica de Sant’Apollonare:

Theodoric chartered this one

From the Bishop’s palace:

Oh and some famous guy called Dante lived here. We associate him with Firenze (he was Florentine, after all), but he was in exile when he wrote the Divine Comedy and died in Ravenna. They’ve kept him ever since, much to Florence’s regret.

Ravenna is off the beaten path, so you probably must make an effort to visit. Those who enjoy great art, architecture, or church history will find it a rewarding trip!

*somewhere out there is a fellow fervent believer who would quickly point out that these churches were dedicated by schismatic followers of the Arian heresy, which for a time dominated throughout the Roman Church. But let’s not get into an argument over homoousis, shall we?

Eataly

No, not the retailer, the real thing.

Our sojourn in France has ended, and we’ve made it safe and sound to our daughter and son-in-law’s place in Italy. Random thoughts:

Some places are pretty boring to fly in to. Atlanta is like that. There is a city center out there in the distance, and a lot of suburbia beneath you, and you land and . . . that’s it. Reagan National airport in DC sits on reclaimed land in the Potomac river, so you get an amazing view of DC or the Pentagon, and sometimes a bonus: a harrowing hard right turn at about 300 ft. above the river! Mexico City, like Tokyo, seems to stretch to infinity, especially landing at night. But Marco Polo airport for Venice is special:

Iconic and hard to beat

Our daughter’s apartment is part of a former Palazzo in Vicenza (lucky her). The building is from the 16th century, but her apartment was just renovated. There are fifty-four steps just to get in, and parking is a squeeze. The doors close sometimes, the windows don’t have screens but do have shutters, the floors creak, there are odd power outlets and vents and switches, and things are almost never plumb. It’s marvellous in the way only an old European building can be.

It would be hard to top our experience eating in France, but of course Italy is up for the challenge. Judy posted pictures of our 4oth anniversary feast: fresh breads, French olive oils and tapenades, soft cheeses, salami & bresaola & proscioutto, Aperol and Lambrusco and Valpolicella. Just what we picked up at the local grocery. They do know how to live here.

Unlike France and Spain, it is still easy to find a church in Italy. Oh, there’s a church building every other block in all three countries, but in the first two, the church is now a museum, or a gallery, or a bar, or a . . . you get the picture. In Italy, while it’s just as secular, they insist on maintaining the local parishes, even if they’re only a few blocks apart. Not as many parishioners, not as many priests, not as many masses, but still some.

We took a day trip to Bassano del Grappa, home of the eponymous Italian liquor, grappa. It’s at the base of the Dolomites, what the locals call the first range of the Alps in Italy. The town has a famous old woooden bridge (Ponte Vecchio), many timber houses, a museum of the Alpini soldiers, and plenty of grappa.

I’m glad to see photographic evidence for the metal rhinocerous. After the grappa museum, I wasn’t sure whether it was just me or . . . And while studying grappa up close, I found this map of European liquors, which should answer all your questions about vodka and brandy and calvados, too:

You’re welcome (hiccup)

No trip in Italy is complete without a meal, so here’s our selection from the local bruscheterria:

Ciao, for now!