Category: Travels

The Nepali Times in Kathmandu recommends Marginal Revolution.

Markets in everything: a bus trip from London to Sydney.  That’s 12 weeks, in case you are wondering.

Thanks to Jose for the pointer.

1. Calypso song about a Vermont native: "Guests of Rudy Vallee", and of course Vallee was a central figure behind the popularization of calypso in the United States.

2. Philosopher: John Dewey.  I can’t actually stand to read him, but if you recast everything he said, you can come up with some profound positions.

3. Undeserving Nobel Laureate: Pearl Buck.

4. Man with an iron rail through his brain: Phineas Gage.

5. Composer: Carl Ruggles – his 16-minute Sun Treader is one of the most underappreciated pieces of great American music.

That’s all I can think of right now.  I’m headed up to Middlebury for a day and a bit, as guest of David Colander.

The Sultanahmet Camii or "Blue Mosque" in Istanbul.

On the famous Galata bridge fisherman cast from the top level while outdoor restaurants line the walkway below.  The fishermen’s lines are hard to see so dining at dusk you are surprised when silvery fish, glittering in the last light of the sun ascend to the sky as if swimming to the heavens.

In July I will have one day in Denver, what should I do?  Mentions of superb spicy food are not to be ruled out.

There is no sun in Chengdu.  Or in Ningbo, where I am tonight.  The humidity and the coal-burning power plants blot out the sun.  There is light, but it is never sunny.  It is my understanding that I shall not see the sun except when we are in an airplane.

Here is more, from a loyal MR reader.

Oslo first struck me as more like Scotland than Sweden, most of all the craggy, weather-beaten faces and the wandering derelicts.  I mean Inverness and Aberdeen, not Edinburgh.  How could such a wealthy and well-organized country have such an ugly capital city?  Only the surrounding waters and greenery were pretty.  And why were so many people so poorly dressed?  Then we went to Bergen — a "Hansa-Stadt" — which felt like familiar emotional territory.  People were stylish and the faces were happier and everything seemed more intellectual.  The visual synthesis of land, water, industry, and homes was first-rate, and yes sardine factories in the right setting are stunning.  Usually I end up liking the uglier city more.  Which city is the real Norway, or must I now see Trondheim?  How can this country be the best place in the world to hear jazz?  It is the young who listen, not the old; the players are sincere and convincing, imagine a blond guy named Thor Gustavsen riffing around a flattened third.  We went almost every night, taking one break to hear Varese’s Ameriques, by the Oslo Symphony Orchestra.  Yana loved it.  The fjords bored me.  They are as good as scenery comes, but they felt like a repetition of southern Chile and New Zealand.  I admired the homes which had outlets only to the water.  I wished I had brought an iPod full of heavy metal for that boat trip.

I asked for Voss water on several occasions, but no one had it.  Not even in the train station in Voss.  Some Norwegian servers had never heard of it.

I kept on toying with the theory that the country moved quickly from folk paganism to postwar secularism, with only a short Christian interlude in between.

We were never willing to spend on splendid food and the less than splendid food never came cheap.  In Bergen I had one of the best fish and chips servings of my life, I told the happy cook he was a genius, equaled only by the fish and chips geniuses of New Zealand.  I like to eat fish and chips at least once in every country I visit.  Somehow that was my favorite moment of my travels.  He gave us a free piece of fish and chips.

Does it make sense to wonder in which countries people are "the most normal" or "the least normal"?  I’m fine with the exercise being about the wonderer, not the subjects.  On the Continent the French seem the most normal to me.  In the North the Swedes seem the most normal.

The joke ends with the exchange: "A: Does it always rain here in Bergen?  B: I don’t know, I’m only fourteen years old."

Yes, I would buy Tanzania Fund. 

The calm and reserved Dar Es Salaam is remarkably safe; I haven’t once felt threatened or even
"watched."  It is the women who stare, not the men, as is common in Islamic countries.  Throughout East Africa the country has a reputation for
politeness and courtesy. 

If a 45-year-old Muslim woman tells you she took out a micro-credit
loan to open a "saloon," she usually means a "salon."  In the interviews the Tanzanians are eager to be helpful, but they do not take over
the conversation, as might happen in West Africa.

Although there are no tourist sites of note, the city is a
pleasant green and backs into the water.  You might see an Indian Dhow
pulling into the harbor.  Every now and then you see an impressive Masai walking down the street.

Food prices are falling and the economy is
booming.  Per capita gdp in Tanzania is about $700 but the city is
prosperous.  Squalor can be found,  but only with effort.  There are plenty
of new buildings, a few real bookshops, and a bunch of OK shopping
malls.  Spiderman 3 is already in the theatres.  Given that
migration is possible, and the city is not crushingly overcrowded, how
bad can the countryside be?  (Don’t answer that one.)

They carry eggs on the bicycles and everything else on the top of
womens’ heads.  SUVs are common.  Crafts are not impressive.  Tanzania,
though large and populous, is far from an African cultural leader.

The Indian and Chinese restaurants are spicy and genuine.  The crab and the vegetables are superb.  Ugali is the native
dish; you get some ground cornmeal, roll it in a ball with your
fingers, and then dip it into a coconut sauce with vegetables.  They
cook "pullau" rice with cloves, cinnamon, black pepper, and coriander.  Goat biryani is also common; it bears only a passing resemblance to the Indian concept of the same name.

Zanzibar, a two hour ferry ride away, has splendid old Arabic and
Indian doors and many Arabic-style buildings.  Children play in the
narrow streets.  Most of the women wear headscarves and a few wear the
full veil.  The beaches appear perfect though I did not have time to
swim.  For nightly street food there is spicy lobster, grilled fish,
large fresh prawns, and french fries.

My guide in Zanzibar explained:

I decide to sell to muzungu [in Swahili this means "white person," plus
some local nuances of expression] for my living.  The Tanzanian custom is go to witch doctors.  The muzungu custom is go to travels.