Culture – Page 4 – Pat the Expat

Malta

Continuing our tour of obscure European locales which merit your traveling attention, we bring you: Malta.

Valletta is all ups-n-downs (note the famous enclosed Maltese balconies)

Again you’re thinking: “wait, I know this one! It’s an island. It’s small. It played some role in World War II. It has knights.” All true, and although the knights are all gone, their effect is lasting.

Located midway between Sicily and Libya at a narrow point in the Mediterranean, and also midway between Egypt and Gibraltar, Malta is the epitome of strategic location, whether in the age of knights, corsairs, or U-boats. The island boasts amazing weather, reminiscent of lakeside: sunny, warm, with a rainy season primarily in the winter, although it doesn’t get very cold here. Befitting its history, Malta is an odd mix of cultures, languages, and traditions. It has some of the oldest standing archaeological structures in existence, an amazing port, oodles (a technical term) of history, beaches and resorts. There is something for everyone here, and plenty of sunny weather to go and do it.

Cuisine is a mix of Italian and north African, with a dollop of recent English on top. The language is unique: it is Semitic, heavily influenced by Italian and French. It reminds me of Italian written by someone on a keyboard with the letter “x” stuck. But since the English grabbed Malta after Napoleon briefly had it, everybody understands English, although the locals all speak Maltese, too. They’re part of the EU, so travel is easy and the Euro is the currency.

Three of the embattled forts overlooking the Grand Harbor

St. Paul’s wrist on the left, part of the pillar where he was beheaded right

For thousands of years, Malta was a simple place most famous as a refuge for ships in its grand harbor. During the Roman Empire, Saint Paul was shipwrecked here on his way to Rome. He converted the locals, and other than that, it was a cozy, sleepy island in the sun. When the Ottoman Empire eyed the White Sea (their term for the Mediterranean) and Rome, Malta became contested territory. This led to Suleiman the Magnificent’s Great Siege of Malta in 1565 (Muchas Gracias to my friends who recommended the book Empire of the Sea!), an epic land battle where a few thousand Knights Hospitaller (formerly Knights of Saint John, later Knights of Malta) and Maltese militias held off tens-of-thousands of Muslim Janissaries, Sipahis (cavalry), cannons and ships. The land battle preceded the great naval battle of Lepanto which left the Ottoman Empire in control of only the east and south, with various Christian rulers in the north and west of the Mediterranean. The Knights built a new city/fortress in honor of their victorious commander, Jean de Valette, and Valletta was born.

Malta resumed its quiet history until World War II broke out, then it played a vital role preventing Axis’ domination of the Mediterranean. A German-Italian blockade brought the island and garrison within two weeks of surrender due to starvation, but it held out, and later was the headquarters for Eisenhower’s largest amphibious operation, Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily. (Great bar trivia bet: Husky was indeed larger–more troops, larger landing zones– than Overlord!).

Saw an open Church door, went in, found this stunner

But enough of all that history! Malta today is a thriving, independent nation. It is a very Catholic (literally) place: the only city where we saw as many churches as Valletta was Venice, and here the churches aren’t museums or art galleries, they’re active parishes! We stayed primarily in Valletta so we could walk around and take in the sights slowly. The challenge of driving a stick with the wrong hand on the wrong side of the road (apologies to my British friends) seemed unrelaxing, what?

The most surprising structure in Valletta is the co-Cathedral of St. John’s, the Knights’ own headquarters. From the outside, it is just another sandstone building, but when you enter, you’re confronted by a degree of baroque extravagance that is hard to fathom. The church was initially rather plain, befitting a military order full of men who took a vow of poverty. But as the Knights accrued wealth in their military campaigns, they donated it to the order, which kept adding to the opulence in their headquarters. This was the result:

The many side chapels belong to the national groupings and were decorated by them. The entire floor of the chapel comprises Knights’ burial plaques :

Finally, I can’t depart without showing Caravaggio’s Beheading of John the Baptist, a legendary work of chiaroscuro located in the Oratory:

Malta’s other military endeavor is also well represented by the Lascaris War Rooms, a series of underground bunkers which the Allied forces used to manage the defense of Malta and later the Sicily invasion. Like Churchill’s War Rooms in London, the facility has been restored to its original setting and is an impressive still-frame of history before the age of computers, satellites, and instant communications.

Belying the notion there is nothing new to see, we chanced upon a monastery housing a group of cloistered nuns who opened their original rooms for tours. . . for the first time in 400 years. Still no interactions with the Sisters, but we got to see how they lived and dedicated themselves for those centuries:

We took advantage of the English heritage to access some cuisine lacking at times back in Mexico: Chinese and Middle Eastern. But we also indulged local flavors:

Foreground: full English brekkie, background: Steak, egg, cheese Ftira

The nation of Malta includes three primary islands: Malta, Comino, and Gozo. Gozo is the less developed little brother with just as much scenery and history. We took a jeep (no really, a jeep, not a Jeep Wrangler) tour that left me with flashbacks from my Army days, but some stunning shots, too:

There were too many museums, forts, churches, and cafes to list. We enjoyed Fort St. Elmo and rabbit, the grandkids liked the Malta 5D experience with moving seats, wind gusts, and water spray.

The saluting battery, still used twice daily, this time set up for a wedding

We didn’t hit the resorts or beaches, but there were numerous ones to visit. I think water sports in general are a big thing here, and there are many small boat/sail tours which provide a day of sun, swim, and snorkel. We did enjoy the sights and tastes including rabbit, which comes close to being the national meat of choice:

Slovenia

Shhhhhhh. I’m going to let you in on a secret, but you have to promise not to tell ANYONE, OK? Covid is gone, or should I say, we’ve stopped caring about it, and travel is back with a vengeance. And that means the crowds are back: the tourist buses, the cruise crowds, the extended families in matching outfits traipsing through the museum. Add in social influencers taking selfies as if the whole world is their stage (“isn’t it?”) and digital nomads turning any neighborhood into an Air BnB wasteland, and well, you get the picture. The only thing missing at this point is the mega-tours of Chinese travelers, but wait another six months and they’ll be back, too.

The secret? Oh, that. You don’t have to deal with all of these travel annoyances. And you don’t have to be rich to avoid them. You just have to know where to go, and where NOT to go. The throngs tend to, well, “throng” at the same places at the same time. They don’t do their research, don’t consider their options. They travel as much to say they’ve been there as to experience anything in particular. If they visit a place no one else recognizes, it defeats the whole purpose for them. But this presents an opportunity for the savvy traveler.

A prime example is Slovenia. No, not Slovakia. You know, that little country directly east of Italy up by the Alps? Yes, that one!

It was a small but prosperous part of Yugoslavia until that country broke apart in 1991. It was ethnically distinct (Slavic and Catholic) and geographically compact, so after a brief ten-day “war” Yugoslavia let it go independent. Which was a real blessing, as Slovenia escaped all the bloodshed and turmoil witnessed by Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, et al. Slovenes instead busied themselves joining the EU and NATO, trading freely and building up their infrastructure.

What does Slovenia offer?

First off, convenience. It is centrally located in Europe and easy to get to. It’s small with an excellent road system: you can drive across the country in three hours. It uses the Euro, and because the education system incorporated mandatory English language classes, nearly everybody speaks English. Yes, the place names and Slovenian language are a challenge, but the Slovenes we met were happy with a “hvala” and “prosim” (thank you and please).

Second, it’s beautiful on multiple counts. Like rolling farms with vineyards and meadows? Check. Alpine hiking and views? Check. Pristine streams and lakes? Check. Hiking trails, ski resorts, caves? Triple-check. Quaint villages and local diners? Check. If you like your travel to include amazing landscapes, Slovenia has one specifically to take your breath away.

Third, it’s interesting. The cuisine is a mix of influences: Balkan, Austrian, Hungarian, Italian. The ingredients are very natural and organic: locals are interested in making and having the best of their produce, not labeling it, marketing it, and selling it elsewhere. Its history is Europe’s history. There are Roman, Venetian, even Byzantine ruins, little known World War I battlefields, baroque architecture recalling Vienna, and pieces of Yugoslav Communist kitsch.

Fourth, Slovenia is small-town friendly. There are only about two million Slovenes. Theirs is a developed nation with a rich history, but they don’t care to crow too much about it. Furthermore, they haven’t been inundated with tourists yet, so we’re still welcome here.

Fifth and finally, Slovenia is on sale. Being off the beaten path, undiscovered on TikTok, means prices are still reasonable. How so? Farm-stay bed-and-breakfast with huge breakfast buffet: 80 Euros a night. Dinner for two with apps and drinks: 60 Euros.

We stayed in the karst region, with all the caves, for three nights at the already-mentioned farm. It made for a leisurely pace to visit the massive caves at Postonja and the impressive castle at Predjama, which are only about ten kilometers apart. Postonja Jama (cave) is touristy in a good way: easy to get to, easy to park at, with a dual track mini-train doing the hard work of getting you deep into the system, and back out again, and solid audioguides to explain what you’re seeing. But as with any natural wonder, perhaps it’s better just to sit back and take in the beauty. No “turn out the lights” tricks or claims about ghosts, pirates or aliens; just a pretty, large, natural wonder.

Wheeeeeee. I enjoyed the train ride best.

Predjama castle bills itself as the “world’s largest cave castle”: who knew that was even a thing? It is an impressive structure with (of course) a medieval legend about a Robin Hood-esque knight. The tour highlights how the castle, built over and into the mouth of a cave system, provided safety above all else. But it also emphasized how ingenious the builders had been to make the place as livable as possible.

We did a day trip to Lake Bled, which may be the photo op extraordinaire of Slovenia. No doubt you’ve seen the pictures, even if you’ve never visited! The day was overcast with some light rain. We took the traditional pletna boat (rowed out to the island). There is no color/warmth editing in these photos:

You could easily walk around the lake in a few hours. . . you could, we didn’t, as the occasional rain told us to find a restaurant with this on serve:

Foreground: my pork filet over polenta. Background: Judy’s Slovenian style pizza, always with Union unfiltered dark beer!

It only took us thirty minutes to drive from Lake Bled to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. The old city is small and nestles around the river under a cliff-top castle. While the city has modern neighborhoods that sprawl out from there, the center is very walkable with good transportation options, including a free mini-bus even in the pedestrian zone. The influence of centuries under the Hapsburgs shows in numerous cafes and pocket parks. There are also interesting elements of baroque architecture (especially the Cathedral of St. Nicolas), art nouveau, and even brutalist buildings from Tito’s reign.

Sadly, the steady rain followed us from Lake Bled, so we spent the next few days dashing about under umbrellas and rain jackets. Happily, there are many (many) cafes and bars to duck into for a forced cappuccino or Aperol Spritz!

The old town area is achingly cute. You can barely turn a corner without seeing something quaint: a museum, a restaurant, a curio shop.

Slovene cuisine tends toward meat (especially sausage and game) and potatoes, although I did find a restaurant with pizza rolls in the menu, a sure sign of highly refined culinary culture!

Foreground: veal cheeks with dumplings, background: bacon-wrapped pork loin with roasted potatoes

There are a number of good museums covering music, art, natural history, national history and the like.

Ljubljana was a real winner in our book. Good food, great scenery, and a walkable environment. We met service staff that were very friendly, and others who were bored with their jobs. Tipping is minimal here, so perhaps that plays a role. Three days is a good visit, and that leaves you time to visit the natural beauty of the coast, the vineyards, the lakes, and of course the mountains.

But go soon, as Slovenia keeps popping up on travel sites as one of the next big things!

Tuscany

Most travelers either have gone, or someday plan to go, to Italy for the Big Three: Roma, Firenze (Florence), and Venezia (Venice). We’ve done it, and highly recommend it, staying at least three days in Rome, two in Florence, and one night in Venice. Such a visit is fairly easy to accomplish, with easy access to either end from international airports, and excellent train connections between them. And of course all three welcome tourists, although Venice has become a little more circumspect of late. It is well worth it, and each city presents unique and complementary aspects.

But I’m blogging today on a different kind of Italy visit: getting off the well-trod path of the Big Three and seeing the Italian countryside in a more personal, less touristy way. You can pick almost any region of Italy to do this kind of visit, but we’re staying in Tuscany, so that’s the example I will use.

Under the Tuscan clouds is none too shabby, either

What makes this kind of slow, local travel more interesting? First off, it’s the absence of the checklist effect. You know, the Rome? Colosseum: check. Vatican museum: check. Forum: check. And so on until you can’t remember what-you-saw-where or what-you-ate-when. The funny thing about staying in a small village or region is that there will still be nice museums, great restaurants, amazing views, friendly locals, cozy enotecas (wine bars) and pizzerias. You might not be at the one everybody else is doing TikTok videos from, but the one you’re at will be (1) less crowded, (2) less expensive, and (3) just as good.

The interesting thing about staying local in Italy is nearly every region, every village, has something interesting to do and very good places to eat. Italians take pride in how they live, and that extends to all aspects: a bad restaurant is an affront to the village, not just the owner. And as any Stanley Tucci fan knows, every region has unique local cuisine that must be tried and enjoyed. So don’t fret about staying in an out of the way place: it will be great!

What’s with the lion? I dunno, he just seemed to demand my attention

But where to stay, if you’re not in a tourist-friendly hotel chain near the center of a big city? I’d recommend choosing either a castle-stay or an agriturismo. Many entrepreneurs have renovated castles, keeps, or watchtowers into boutique hotels in Italy, and they are comfortable and available. They might be a little on the expensive side: you’re paying extra for the experience. And you might have to carry your bags across the moat. But then again, you’ll be able to complain about having to carry your bags across a moat. Who gets to do that?

As to agriturismos, these are government-regulated farm stays. To qualify for the government funding, the property must be an active farm which provides some measure of room and board. There are such farms which welcome you to join in the chores, and many more with a bed-n-breakfast(+) design. You’ll get farm-fresh meals, cozy accommodations, and a chance to meet real locals. While there are a wide range of prices, they can be very affordable.

Once you’ve selected a region and settled on a home base, now comes the fun part. Ask for local recommendations for things to do and places to eat, and limit how far you’re willing to drive. Did I mention driving? Many caution against driving in Italy, and I fully understand why. But that prohibition stands mostly for the big cities. Italian drivers are aggressive (not dangerous, just not defensive), city streets are narrow, parking is limited, gas is expensive, and there are ZTLs (Zona a Traffico Limitato): places where only registered locals can drive, where you as a tourist can get a big fine. But to get around the countryside, driving is fine. Here in Tuscany, the local roads are wind-y, narrow, and full of cyclists. Car trips take time, and the driver doesn’t get to enjoy the beautiful scenery as he/she dodges italianos bent on breaking a personal best on their Colnagos. Remember, the town, castle, or restaurant two hours away is probably no better (just different from) the one five minutes away. Stay at home and visit, and limit the driving.

Now go back to the same places at different times. In a week, you can become a veritable local at the village osteria! Or work your way down the village square hitting every local establishment. Ask for different gelato flavors every day at the nearby gelateria. You can drive yourself (literally) crazy chasing after the next-better wine tasting in Italy, since wines like Chianti Classico and Montepulciano d’Abruzzo aren’t that far apart. And that’s just the DOCs: don’t even try to compare vintners within each DOC: your liver will never make it! (I know, I tried).

We’ve stayed local in Tuscany twice now, and it’s been very rewarding. There are those little hang-ups which make the trip more memorable. Ever have a multi-hundred Euro heating bill at the Hilton? Of course not, but if you heat your castle room with propane, you might! But you forgot to bring your servants and firewood to the castle, now didn’t you?

My dear wife has made it her life’s work to eat Ribollita, the hearty (almost a stew) Tuscan vegetable-and-bread soup at nearly every restaurant; she can even discern the differences in which vegetables and bread are used! For my part, in smaller villages, I’ve found it possible to dress up a little bit and not have everybody automatically think I’m an American. . . of course, the minute I open my mouth . . .

You can still day-trip into those more famous places, experiencing those crowds and selfie-stick hordes, secure in the knowledge that when you’re fed up with it, you can hop back in your Fiat, motor off into the countryside and breathe!

Ever wish they would let the horses loose randomly, in the middle of the day?

The Cruellest Month

My very literate friends will immediately recognize the line from “The Waste Land.” T.S. Elliot began his epic poem with the line “April is the cruellest month, breeding. . .” With all due respect to the great poet, he must never have visited lakeside, for here all know that May, not April, is the cruellest month.

Now in most of the rest of the world, if you ask for a “bad-weather month” you might likely receive December or January in temperate climes, maybe August in tropical ones. Most of the Northern Hemisphere is quite nice and Spring-like in May, the Southern likewise Fall-ish. Lakeside is famous–even if erroneously so, since National Geographic magazine NEVER called it the second best climate in the world–for having great weather. And that much is true. But among all those sunny, dry, comfortable months, May stands out as the worst.

You see, May is the last full month of the dry season. We have not seen measurable precipitation since October, which is the norm. June will herald the arrival of the rainy season, not to be confused with a monsoon. Rather, here it is simply an acknowledgement that it will rain. After seven months without it, it is always welcome. People wander outside during the first real rainstorm just to feel it, much as the MesoAmericans must have with great thanksgiving. No more human sacrifices, though. There might have been a day in those seven months with a shower; for example, the day before yesterday we had a few drops for a few seconds. But that is not rainfall. It was more like what you’d expect if you turn on your yard sprinkler and realize it’s aimed directly at you. Splash, and then gone.

The mountains are uniformly brown, with a splotch of green here and there, from some uniquely-evolved native plant or tree which resists nature’s regulatory palette. The yards and the gardens remain green with an explosion of well-watered and cared-for flora. There is an omnipresent thin coat of dust which settles on all horizontal surfaces, and which magically recreates itself after each sweeping/cleaning. Wearing white or black pants is a newbie’s mistake.

May is the hottest month lakeside. Our average daily high temperature is 85° Fahrenheit, with a low of 60°. May stretches that high into the mid-90s. Now it’s true that temperature is for full sun exposure in the middle of the afternoon, which is why the culture has a siesta: only mad dogs and Gringos go out in the noonday Sun, as it were. And it’s also true the temperature moderates quickly down to a comfortably sleepy level by early evening.

You’re reading this and thinking, “Pat, you’re whining” and you’re right. We are spoiled by a great climate, or as I prefer to say, we just don’t have weather here. Which makes the few negatives stand out all the more. I have transitioned into a local for climatic purposes. I still use Fahrenheit over Celsius, but I swear that the metric measurement for temperature is superior. Why? Because there is no reason for temperatures below zero. We should just stop at 0° Celsius and say, “enough, it’s too cold, stop measuring it.” I haven’t taken to wearing gloves and ski jackets below 6o° as the Mexicans do, but I can see it in my future.

Therefore May is the perfect month to venture out of the slightly uncomfortable paradise at lakeside to the far ends of the globe. Most of the United States is lovely now, although there is the occasional hail of bullets. Europe is in shoulder season and at bargain prices. Heck, even Canada has ice-free roads (for a day or two).

May also heralds the departure of the snowbirds, those semi-annual visitors from up north, who begin returning home in April and finish up in May, leaving us year-round expats with time to savor unclogged roads and restaurant visits without reservations. Like the rain, after seven months we’ll even miss them and want them back!

I admit there is something magical about the four seasons as one experiences them in northern climes. Spring is especially welcome, what with the signs of new life. But June and the rainy season play a similar role here: it is a different world once the rains come. They are eagerly anticipated. Local legend has it that once the rainbirds (aka cicadas) start singing, the rains will come too. Some overly-eager (or is it literal) types compete to announce the rainbirds’ song. Perhaps they confuse correlation with causation. We did have dark clouds, wind, and a few drops the other day, and the rainbirds are giving tinnitus a run for its money.

Or as Eliot later wrote,

Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain.

There is a green cactus in there, but that don’t count!

Progressivism: . . . and the Ugly

Today’s Progressives seem to have all the good intentions of their earlier believers, but they seem to have learned little from their history. What makes the outcome ugly is their stubborn insistence that ‘this time it will be different’ married to the quasi-fervor that their ends justifies the means.

Today’s progressives remain true believers in science, but that “faith” has edged over into scientism, the belief that science can settle all questions, and can in fact itself be “settled.” Science can’t unlock the secret of love nor can it explain the evil mind. Science is settled only until it’s not, and if the recent pandemic taught the average person anything, it was to be very careful about expert opinion. Science is great at explaining how (and sometimes why) things work. It’s not so good at determining policies affecting people’s lives.

Another place where Progressivism today is worse than its predecessor is in its adoption of another -ism: presentism. Presentism is the belief that people today are superior (morally, ethically, intellectually) to those who came before, and we should judge the past by our superior standards. While today’s technology is undeniably better, I see no data which suggest people today are superior. Where’s today’s Jefferson, Michelangelo, da Vinci? Ranchers one-hundred years ago knew ecology better than most ecologists today. Farmers two centuries past produced surplus crops without modern irrigation or drones. Common people during the Middle Ages spoke a vernacular language as well as Latin, and they mastered trade skills as a way of life. Humanity today has better tools, but human nature remains unchanged. Societies can be more or less humane, but progress there is not certain.

As an example of presentism, I often mention that family structures in the US were more stable in the 1950s. I barely can finish posting that on social media when Progressives will retort that I “long for the patriarchy” or “forgot Jim Crow” or want to send people “back into the closet.” That’s presentism rearing its ugly head. Yes, all those things happened in the 1950s, including stable family structures. Now there is no evidence to suggest that limiting anyone’s freedom contributed to more stable families. I would argue stable families happened despite those challenges. Especially for black families, who faced so much oppression, yet were remarkably stable. Not any more. What happened? If you’re a progressive today, the notion there was anything good in the past has to be rejected, as only today, and the better future, matter.

You can hear presentism whenever a Progressive talks about being on “the right side of history.” Christians believe history has a direction, which is what led the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to famously say “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” But that’s a religious proposition, not a progressive one. Ultimate belief in one’s righteousness about ‘the side of history’ has been at the core of many of the worst examples of inhumanity in the past century.

Finally, Progressives also retain their fondness for change. As they have seen their ideas rejected by the courts and the voters, they now opt to argue for changing the system in toto. Progressives are proposing eliminating the Senate (because it equalizes all States and thus currently favors Republicans), enlarging the House of Representatives (because, yes, everybody agrees we need MORE politicians in Washington), term-limiting the Supreme Court (not mentioned when the octogenarian RBG wore the robes) or simply ignoring its rulings when they are not consistent with Progressive values (did they not learn about the South’s Massive Resistance in the 1960s?).

“We’d all love to change your head”

Rather than learning humility from their failed history, today’s progressives double-down on their beliefs. I still don’t question their motives. The original progressives were just as self-righteous, but they had an excuse in that history had not yet shown them their follies. Perhaps Progressivism will learn, change itself, and survive as a movement. But there’s a difference between being blind, and refusing to see. That’s from a really old book, but most progressives wouldn’t want to read it.

Progressivism: The Good . . .

I have friends of every political, religious, and ethnic stripe. I like to think it reflects kindly on my inclusivity, although I admit it reflects poorly on my friends’ judgment of character. Be that as it may, I often irritate my Progressive friends with my persistent questioning of their beliefs. I make an observation about some trend or incident in the public space, they respond with a mixture of shock and disgust that anyone they know could think the way I do. Rinse-n-repeat.

Today I want to try a different tack. Part of the problem is we all assume that others must see the world as we do, which leads us to jump to conclusions when we see an opposing opinion. People think, “you must see the world as I do (since I’m objectively correct), so if you disagree with me you must be ________ (stupid, evil, etc).” To help break through this cycle, this post will cover what I believe are the positive aspects of Progressivism in its American form. The next post will be on its negative components. I’ll leave it to your imagination where the third post will go. Let’s get started!

Progressivism grew out of the Enlightenment. Its basic belief set is that mankind can do better: through technology, through good government, through better education, through being more inclusive. Thus Progressives are the most optimistic pessimists on the planet. They look at what is today, or what was yesterday, and think “how can anyone have let this happen? We must do better.” And they imagine a future–never that far off–when best will arrive. So the first point for Progressives is their passion. They really want to make things better, and they won’t rest until things are.

The second point for Progressives is their compassion. Since they are always looking to improve things, they focus on the least fortunate among us: the poor, the sick, the mentally-ill, prisoners, women, children, immigrants, anyone marginalized by the system. It bears repeating that everyone should be focused on these groups and what places them at a disadvantage. It is undeniably good to be a voice for the oppressed, the misused, the abused.

The third positive aspect of Progressivism is its willingness to change. If you believe things can be better, you must be willing to suffer change. Question things. Don’t accept “that’s how we always did it” or “That’s just the way it is.”

The Progressive Anthem?

Progressives will never be satisfied with the status quo, nor are they afraid of change. Their constant challenges bring vitality to any political environment.

Finally, the Progressive movement is inclusive and bipartisan. My Republican friends may be scoffing at this, but hear me out. Progressives are happy to have any group join in their quest for improvement, and they are willing to extend their ‘big tent’ to newly-identified groups who are marginalized by society or government. And while Progressives almost exclusively occupy the left-wing of the Democratic Party in America today, they originally grew out of a different wing of the Republican Party in the early twentieth/late nineteenth century. I’ll talk more about this in my next post, but Progressivism flourishes when there is broad social/technological change.

In summary, I truly believe Progressivist theory has society’s best interests at heart, that it wants to improve things, that it is open to new ideas and concepts, that it will work tirelessly to achieve a better world. Why am I not then a Progressive? Part Two!

Mexico City Tips & Tricks

My old college roommate (aka cellmate) Creatch and his lovely wife Tammy visited with us last week, and we all went off to see Mexico City, which was a return trip for Judy and me. Some hints and suggestions from a great trip:

Facade of St. Augustine, in Polanco

Uber works quite well in CDMX. We used it for short trips inside the city, as well as longer trips to Xochimilco and Teotihuacan. As usual, it is cheaper, faster, and more reliable than the taxis. The only drawback is it is still a car on a road, so it is subject to the congestion which is endemic to Mexico City. Which leads to this tip:
Visit during the holiday periods of Christmas and Easter. Our first visit was with Charter Club Tours during Christmas week, and we learned that while most of the attractions are open, many chilangos (residents of the city) depart for elsewhere, so there is much less traffic. I checked with a local, who confirmed the same happens Semana Santa and Pascua (the week before and after Easter). Both are ideal times to visit.
The Mexico City metro is extensive, reliable, cheap, and safe. We used it frequently, and at $5 MXP per trip (about $.25 USD, regardless of length) it is quite a bargain. While it can get crowded, we never felt uncomfortable or threatened. You navigate by the distinct symbols for each station, as well as directions (the endpoints for each line), and there are plenty of signs and people willing to help. There are even cars/areas set aside for women and children, to avoid even the possibility of anyone bothering you. Best of all, no car traffic or congestion.
One thing from which you can’t get away is smog. It’s better when there are fewer cars on the road, but if pollution bothers you, you need to come prepared. And since you’re at 7300 ft elevation, you may feel it even more!
If your stay includes a Monday, many museums, attractions, etc. may be closed, so plan the rest of your schedule around what you can do that day. The Soumaya museum, Carlos Slim’s art gallery and tribute to his late wife, is open every day of the year, and you can spend an entire day there, so it’s a great wild card to visit whenever you have extra time. Oh, and take the elevator to the top and work your way down the spiral levels (less crowded, easier on your feet).
We stayed at the Pug Seal Anatole France, a boutique hotel in Polanco. I can’t recommend it enough if it is in your price range. It had great customer service, very comfortable rooms, a central location, and a made-to-order breakfast to die for.
If you’re going to visit the Teotihuacan pyramids or Chapultepec castle/palace, go early in the morning. It is hot, there is a lot of walking, not that much shade, and the tours/busses start arriving around 1100.
Xochimilco. What to say? If you don’t know, when the Mexica ruled Tenochtitlan, it was an island city in the middle of a great lake. The Mexica created islands (chinampas) around the city to use as farms, and a tiny fraction of those islands are still around, although greater Mexico City has enveloped them. About thirty years ago, some enterprising Chilango started offering boat rides on the remaining canal, where a family could come and picnic on the water. It became a local custom, and now there are a thousand or more little party boats, and other boats with mariachi bands, floating cafes, floating bars, floating trinket stores, you name it. It runs almost everyday, it’s a tourist attraction and a great party. But it has nothing to do with the original chinampas. We found a private eco-tour using the same type of boat, but it went out of the crowded tourist canal to the remaining farm islands, where Ricardo showed us his farm and treated us to a fresh meal of blue corn tortilla chips, vegetables & guacamole, tamales, café de olla, and horchata. The visit was educational, delicious, peaceful, and supported the return of farmers to the chinampas. I highly recommend it: De la chinampa.

We were able to attend the Balet Folklórico,a rousing performance of pre-Hispanic and Mexican culture, music, and dance, at the Palacio Bellas Artes. Both the building and the performance are not to be missed!
If you want to eat at any of the legendary restaurants in CDMX, like Pujol in Polanco, you need to make reservations about two months early, even for lunch. It’s worth it, but you need to plan ahead. There are many just great restaurants in every neighborhood, so you won’t go hungry and don’t need to break the bank.
Among those “must-do’s” are eating at the Casa de Azuelas in Centro Historico, where Sanborn’s has its flagship restaurant, and getting churros at any of the several el Moro franchise locations. They will check your passport to see if you have before you can leave CDMX . . . not really, but they should, and so should you!
Also, you must visit the Zocalo, the main square of Mexico City, which functions as a combination of Times Square, the National Mall in DC, and the Smithsonian. It’s huge, and has the world’s largest Mexican flag (which has raising and retiring ceremonies at varying times around dawn and dusk). It also has government buildings where you can reserve a tour to see fantastic murals of Mexican history, and the top of the original Mexica great temple (Templo Mayor) and the crazy leaning Catholic Cathedral. Note for first-timers: Mexico City is sinking (it was built on a lake-bed in a seismically-active zone) as much a several centimeters a year. As you walk around, you will get a vague sense that “something I am looking at is not quite right” which is caused by the many buildings leaning at weird angles. It’s not you; it’s the city. When you visit the Templo Mayor, just know that there is probably no other place on earth where more people have died: the Mexica practiced mass sacrifice daily for several centuries!
On a lighter note, among the great places to take a break and a picture are the cafe atop the Sears store next to the Palacio Bellas Artes, the restaurant near the top of the Torre LatinoAmericana, and the cafe (la Terraza) overlooking the Templo Mayor in the Centro Historico. Spectacular views for the cost of a cafe and a snack.
Even if you’re not Catholic, if you just want to understand Mexico better, take a quick trip to La Villa, the suburb where Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to Juan Diego (a Mexica) in 1531. There is a series of chapels and Basilicas there, built over the years, to hold the image of La Guadalupana (named for the hill) which miraculously appeared in Juan Diego’s tilma (or rough native cloak). Ignore the miraculous cures. Ignore the story of the anarchist who tried to blow up the image in 1921, destroying a golden crucifix but leaving the image unharmed. Ignore the fact that scientists can’t explain the image: the tilma should have disintegrated by now, the fact that the image is not painted on, in fact they don’t know how it is “there”, the fact that there are images within the image which are inexplicable. Instead, watch the faithful crawl across the stone and asphalt square on their knees to attend Mass. When Padre (later defrocked) Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla issued his grito to liberate Neuva España from Spain, his army marched under a banner of La Guadalupana. Regardless of faith, all Mexican revere her.
Finally, in Chapultepec park (much larger than Central Park, by-the-by), there is a cultural center called Los Pinos. It is the Mexican White House, and it is free to visit. The current Mexican President decided it was too pretentious, so he declined to move there and turned the various homes (several Presidentes build their own) into a museum open to the public. Undoubtedly the next Mexican President will move back in, and you’ll have visited while it was still available!

In the fullness of (another) time

“The fullness of time.” Sound familiar? It’s a Biblical phrase, referring to the fact that God allowed so many centuries between the fall of Adam & Eve and the birth of Jesus Christ, who came to save us from the effects of that first sin. Why Roman-occupied Judea, and why what we now call first century CE (Christian Era)? Only God Knows! I was always fond of the line from Judas’ closing song in Jesus Christ Superstar, where he asks “why’d you choose such a backward time and such a strange land?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VA0Uao6Od-w

The 70s haven’t aged well, have they?

Small confession: I still pull up the Superstar soundtrack and listen to it every year during Lent. Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice could make great musicals, even if their theology was weak.

We’re approaching Holy Week, and that may mean little to you, or a lot, or it may seem a little stale (even to believers). What happened “in the fullness of time” was extraordinary and extraordinarily strange. But it can become background noise to the Easter Bunny, Spring Break, and other accoutrements which crowd out the message. I wanted to share a little thought experiment that might help put the events in a differnt light.

Imagine for a moment it never happened. No Jesus Christ, no Passion, crucifixion, and resurrection. Rome remains Rome, Pantheon and all. Eventually it falls and the rest of European history happens, with Enlightenment humanism and Deism playing the role Christianity actually did. So for the purposes of our thought experiment, the world is much as it is today, just without Christianity.

Now imagine God chooses the present times for “the fullness of time.” What might that look like? Somewhere off the beaten path in the greatest power of the planet, there’s a story developing: certainly not in Manhattan, but perhaps just outside Manhattan, Kansas. News of a local phenom arrives on social media. He’s a Jew, a former union card-holding carpenter, but he laid down his tools and started preaching and teaching and developed a small following. Next there’s a claim he turned water-into-wine at a friend’s wedding, and that merits eyeballs and internet scrutiny.

His name, Yeshua Bar Yosef, is familiar. Some Instagram sleuth points out Yeshua already had his fifteen minutes of fame: yes, you might remember him as the American adolescent who disappeared on a Jewish Youth Summer trip to Israel. He was found days later deep in conversation with some rabbis at the Haredi Shul, unharmed and apparently unaware of the international concern his disappearance had raised. Now he’s back in the spotlight.

TikTok has video of the wedding in Cana, Texas, but it’s a drunken mess. No one is sure if they really ran out of wine, or when, or how they got more. Yeshua isn’t giving interviews, but clearly he has a message that resonates with others. Fat checkers point out he still lives with his mother, Mary, although the man he called dad (but who wasn’t listed on his birth certificate) has died.

Yeshua has a preternatural ability to charm those he meets, and to irritate the powers that be. It seems like everybody takes sides, especially in a divided America, but the divisions aren’t along traditional political lines. Groups claim him, only to be confounded when he doesn’t conform to their ideas.

When he storms through the Wynn/Encore casino in Las Vegas one Sunday, overturning the roulette tables and chasing out the inveterate gamblers, family values types are cheered but libertarians are aghast. His refusal to show up for the arraignment brings praise from Antifa and the Sovereign Nation: strange bedfellows indeed! Yet he still pays his taxes and tells his followers to obey the law. Social liberals are with him until he tells them God made them “male and female”; social conservatives balk when he tells them they should love their brothers, and everyone in need is “their brother.” Almost no one in America likes it when he says marriage is permanent, and divorce another form of adultery. Of course the government has no idea what to make of him, so the FBI has an open case file and plans to infiltrate “The Way.”

Now things really get weird.

Near Magdalena, New Mexico, Yeshua joins a prayer group outside the Planned Parenthood center. But some of the crowd leaves, after he tells them to put down their bullhorns and just talk with the women. He meets one local woman named Mary, who has an appointment to abort her six-month along fetus because it has been diagnosed with anencephaly. Yeshua prays with her, lays his hands on her abdomen, and convinces her to have faith. She leaves without the abortion, and later has a sonogram showing a totally normal child, which she will bear. Skeptics point out doctors make mistakes, and that’s all that’s happening here.

But then there’s the drug addicts. Neglected and ignored by society despite being in their midst, they are outcasts, and they are drawn to Yeshua, and he to them. Numerous addicts, even those addicted to opioids and heroin, seem to walk away from an encounter with Yeshua free from addiction. Likewise with sex workers, gamblers, internet porn addicts, and the mentally ill. Some claim miracles, others say it just goes to show the power of true friendship.

As his fame spreads, the government becomes more concerned. An FBI informant prompts Yeshua to denounce the government as corrupt and to deny paying it taxes. He asks for a dollar and says “whose image is this?” “George Washington’s” the informant responds. “Then give to Washington that which is his” Yeshua scolds.

Progressives want him to denounce capitalism, private property, and embrace government programs to fight poverty. He tells them “doesn’t the farmer reap what he sows? First, take what God has given you and share with the poor.” Neo-conservatives want him to affirm America’s status as a chosen people and the right to amass wealth as sign of special favor; he demurs, saying “God loves all His children, and those who have more, have been given more, to do more, not to keep more.”

Yeshua gets run out of the synagogue in his hometown after suggesting He is the answer to what they have been seeking. The nerve of the man, as if YHWH would send a savior to Kansas! More tension builds as he suggests there is something beyond America which demands a person’s primary allegiance, a message which resonates around the world but crosses a red-line for the America First crowd. The healings continue, as do several near-scrapes with local authorities and mobs.

Large crowds gather to hear him speak, and he tells them stories of love and kindness which stand traditional logic on its head. Don’t hate your political opponents, love them! Help anyone in need beyond just what they need! Don’t worry about tomorrow, just focus on doing God’s Will today! Pollsters find a dramatic change in attitude among those attending his rallies: less conflict, less anxiety, greater charity. But those protesting around the events grow ever angrier and violent.

And then, a good friend of Yeshua’s dies from a drug overdose in Bethany, New York. Yeshua eventually shows up (four days later), attends the open casket showing, and raises his buddy Lazaro from the dead. Of course it was all staged (according to some), but others question “how?” since Narcan can’t do its magic days later. But what else is there to explain it?

Yeshua announces that he plans to march to The Mall in Washington, DC, and his followers swell to a huge crowd which lines the road, welcoming him. Just as many counter-protesters are marshaling, too. The DC government denies him a permit, and threatens to mass arrest his followers if he ignores their decree. He calls their bluff and the immense crowd marches peacefully to the Lincoln Memorial, where he gives a moving sermon about the poor, the peacemakers and those who hunger for justice “having their fill.” As he blesses some baskets of food to share with the crowd, a murmur goes up as they realize the food he provides is seemingly without end.

At the summit of all this emotion, police move in to arrest him, while a gang of counter-protesters storms into the event. All hell breaks loose, and gunfire erupts. People are trampled and a melee of violence ensues while his followers try to flee. Yeshua is seen extending his arms as if to welcome the assault as police and thugs reach for him, and then beat him to death: all live-streamed for the world to see.

No one is sure who exactly did what; the video is as indistinct as it is horrific. Days later, there are reports that Yeshua’s body has disappeared from the morgue where he was held pending the investigation. And now some of his followers are claiming he has been raised from the dead!

Extraordinary, no? What would you believe?

Book Report: Adam & Eve after the Pill (revisited)

Mary Eberstadt is the senior research fellow at the Faith & Reason Institute and an insightful conservative observer of all things Americana. Her numerous books have outlined the increasingly evident (in hard data, not to mention public anecdote) paradox between the freedom Americans crave and the unhappiness which results when they get it. Her 2012 book Adam and Eve after the Pill rested squarely on broad sociological data that the economic freedom women gained with reliable cheap birth control (i.e., the Pill) had come with concomitant costs in terms of relationships and happiness. Her latest work reviews the continuing data supporting her hypothesis (more on that) and extends her analysis to the implications for the family, the nation, and the Church.

Eberstadt is no throw-back conservative polemicist pining for the golden age of the 1950s. She simply accepts that the Pill was perhaps the greatest change-agent in recent human history, then goes on to show “to what effect?” While some feminists reject anything other than worshipful consideration of birth control, Eberstadt puts forward the data and the stories (or narratives if you prefer the modern term), which are damning.

The Pill made the world safe for casual sex. Without the consequence of pregnancy, both premarital sex and marital infidelity rates rose. Accelerating infidelity undermined existing marriages, sparking a wave of divorces and ushering in “no fault” laws to streamline the process. Men were relieved of the quaint (but historical) need to take responsibility for their actions, since it was “her body, her choice.” Likewise, there had to be a fall-back in case contraception failed, which necessitated legalized abortion; after all, an unwanted child was the worst possible outcome for all concerned. All of these trends and repercussions undermined traditional family formation (i.e., a married husband and wife raising their biological children). Men questioned the need to get married in the first place, reminding all of the eternal joke about “free milk and a cow.”

Eventually, divorce rates decreased, but only because marriage rates collapsed first. Alternative family structures developed (so-called “chosen families”) to replace the traditional model. Most of the advantages accrued by traditional families (e.g., more resources, less poverty, better educational attainment, less truancy, less drug use, less unintended pregnancies, less self-harm, less suicide, etc.) were greatly reduced in the “chosen” models, regardless of composition. Women seeking motherhood increasingly did so in the absence of a stable male relationship, so much so that this is as common a parenting situation today as not.

Now all the chickens have come home to roost, with men reporting an unwillingness to have relationships other than for casual sex, and unhappy even then. They also complain about a lack of purpose, or of being unclear when their masculinity becomes “toxic.” Women report a lack of acceptable male life-partners and more fear of violence in their personal relationships. People in general are more unhappy and having sex less often, with the latest battlefield being the notion of “sexual consent.”

Eberstadt connects the dots from the Pill to the collapse of the family, the ongoing war between the sexes, and the decline of organized religion in the United States. Her style is witty if at times biting. The footnotes and links are all there if you want to dig deeper into the data. She rarely pronounces judgments since the data is convincing on its own. The exception is perhaps her section of the fate of “Christianity Lite”, the American Protestant sects which chose to jettison Biblical, historical, and moral opposition to contraception in favor of siding with the Spirit of the Times. Eberstadt cautions Catholic proponents of a similar rapprochement that all of these sects are on a steep and accelerating decline which means there won’t be any Episcopalians, Methodists, or Presbyterians around in America in five decades or so. The Spirit of the Times is a harsh god, indeed.

Regardless of how you view contraception (or religion), Eberstadt’s work demands your attention. So many of my friends and acquaintances look at the world around us and think “how did we get here?” Since time immemorial, successful society has linked sex with marriage and monogamy; those that didn’t perished. One fine day in the 1960s, science made it possible to change all that. It seems cognitively dissonant to suggest that this change didn’t play a major role in “how we got here.” It’s worth it to consider the possibility.

The Smiling Retiree, Part Four: Getting to the Smile

Many of you might have felt Part Three sounded pretty good, so what are we doing in Part Four? I’m going to argue that Parts One through Three are necessary but insufficient for Smiling Retirement. Part One is essential, because if you don’t understand the concept, you’ll get it wrong for sure. Part Two removes the greatest friction: resources. Part Three puts you in the right position, but just. By Part Three, you’re existing (as a retiree), but you’re not living. You can’t get to the smile until you’re living.

So what’s the next step? It’s the hardest one, I’m sorry to say.

Many people go through their whole lives just existing, not living. They work to provide shelter, food, and some degree of comfort. They rest to recharge and resume work. They recreate for the same reason. They procreate (or not) because, well, that’s what we do. This is consistent with all animal life on the planet. Whether you think what differentiates us from other animals is a soul or higher intellect (or both), there is a difference. What’s the purpose of the difference? It gives us the opportunity to consider the big questions that the higher intellect inevitably raises.

Who are you in particular? We often answer that question in terms of relationships (“I’m a father, a husband, a son”) or associations (“. . . a former official, a Catholic, a fan of . . . “). But who are you essentially?

Why are you? Not in contingent terms of “when your dad met your mother” but why you, why now? For what purpose?

These are tough questions, easily avoided while working to live (i.e., existing). But you understand the concept of retirement. You have prepared financially. You have vacay-ed and experimented to a place of comfort. You can ask those questions, and better yet, you can start to find answers!

What are those answers? Yours might be different from the ones I would share. Mine are based–as you no doubt have guessed–in the Gospels and my Catholic Faith. I believe in Truth (the capitalization is important here), and truths. The latter is contingent and personal, but must in the end lead to the former, if they are indeed “true.” So there is no reason to fear them. The search itself is satisfying.

Is it possible to just continue existing, and never address the hard questions? Sure. Birds do it, bees do it, even dogs do it. And billions of people do it too. Retirement as I have described it is a rare blessing, an opportunity not to be missed. And what an opportunity! Because seeking those answers (whether you find them or not) leads to a certain satisfaction. And that satisfaction generates a smile.

What’s with the emphasis on the smile? It’s a simple gesture, universally recognized. It’s a moderate emotion, not a belly-laugh. It’s pleasant. There is a degree of amiability, knowledge, and just plain old friendliness in a smile. And it’s genuine. It makes life easier, for the one smiling and for everyone who sees it.

Here’s hoping you not only retire, but you get to be a smiling retiree!