LDWorldWide

Rome is a World Wonder, one that ought to be seen at least once in a lifetime. But once, for me, is quite enough. (I guess I have actually been there three times, but two of those were essentially in transit). Rome’s antiquities and architecture, and, of course, its food, are quite amazing. I am glad to say that I have “been there and done that,” but I feel no need to return.

The story of my brother-in-law getting his wallet stolen on Rome’s Metro yesterday reminds me of the many things that make me uneasy about the place. Upon our arrival back in ‘98, Brian, too, was swarmed by a gaggle of Roma girls who no doubt were after his credit card. By some good fortune (probably his immediate impulse to start swatting at them, derived from his withered patience after more than a year in Macedonia), they did not succeed. Our experience was further undermined by the ubiquitous appearance of sad-looking people dully hawking noisy, colorful toys on the street. We figured them to be among the legions of Bangladeshis and other virtual slaves from Southeast Asia who arrive in the country illegally and are cruelly maintained by some sinister mafia. Also in Rome, we had one of our most unpleasant hostel stays ever: the “Oliver”-like conditions along a long table at its one, 30-minute breakfast sitting, hosted by sneering proprietors, are particularly memorable. We constantly found ourselves lost in the city, unaided by its almost defiantly unhelpful signage. Finally, the Vatican, while objectively gorgeous in all of its over-the-top riches and opulence, struck us as … a bit distasteful.

Anyway, I hope the snatched wallet does not cloud the remainder of Scotty’s trip to Italy. Fortunately, the majority of his time will be spent in Florence and Venice.

I received a call recently from an old friend who will travel with her family to Cairo next month, staying for a year to study at the American University in Cairo. In discussing places to live, she reminded me that AUC is no longer located in the heart of the city. Rather, it moved a couple of years ago from its cramped, crumbling buildings in Tahrir Square, near the Nile, out to “New Cairo.” The university now occupies a well equipped but sterile facility in the sandy, creepy suburbs outside of the city’s notorious Ring Road. “Oh, my,” I said, neglecting to censor myself. “You wouldn’t want to live there.”

Turns out, according to the Chronicle of Higher Education, it’s not much fun to go to school there, either:

Students complained of the long commutes to and from the campus, which averaged two to three hours a day, round-trip. And they were unhappy that they were socially and geographically isolated on a largely English-speaking campus with a student body who came mainly from the upper classes of Egypt.

For these reasons, some lucky language students now get to return to the downtown space. Indeed, why go to Cairo, if not for the grit, grime, and culture shock?

Power! After 50 hours. In the summer time, no less. Although with the 100+ temperature moderated, the lack of air conditioning has not been a problem. Apparently the local power company called in help from Ohio, which arrived today. Peter, the all-day television watcher, has suffered most. I was quite put out Monday morning with no coffee, but this morning Starbucks, otherwise closed, had a carafe on the sidewalk. Potomac was essentially out of business until this afternoon. There were 100+ traffic lights out in lower Montgomery County — and I just learned that you treat a out-of-service traffic light like a four-way stop. Peter and I ate out two nights — once at MacDonald’s down River Road (a four-way stop on River Road is tricky) and once in Cabin John Mall (Broadway Pizza is not wonderful). It’s good to have the power restored.

Sheesh! We were wondering around here. Glad they survived. Curious how the all-day television watcher managed without his money-honies.

I can totally relate to this post from Texas in Africa about the absurdity (”collective irrationality”) of money being rejected in certain societies for the silly reason that a bill contains a small rip or tear. This happened to us in Egypt all the time, not with American currency, but with Egyptian pounds, which more often than not are ripped or torn.

Once I handed a slightly mangled 10 LE note to a parking attendant who refused to take it, insisting that it was worthless. “That’s just stupid,” I said to him, incredulous. “You’re stupid,” was his reply.

Egyptians are rarely so rude. I stared at him in in surprise and handed him another note.

Heartless corporations often have very handy return policies. Of course, one would prefer not be sold crappy products, but I appreciate the practice of making good without a fuss.

A few weeks ago, Whole Foods sold me some over-ripe cherries at an embarrassingly high price. Had they not been so expensive, I may not have felt compelled to return the mushy, gushy specimens — in this case, though, my indignation was not so easily dissipated. I quickly received a cash refund for the amount paid, even though I had picked through and eaten the edible fruit in the bunch.

This morning, Lowes handed me a new lawn-mower when I rolled in the one I purchased 11 months ago. Granted, I give the thing a beating when I slam it around our craggy landscape, but that is not an especially good reason for the engine to emit black smoke. I liked that the skinny kid in the red vest felt empowered to make the exchange without seeking approval from higher-ups. Contrary to character, I had remembered to save my receipt, so the transaction was over in no time.

Both children are tucked away at camp this week, so I am free to think deep thoughts about (a) the agricultural economy and food security in Uganda; and (2) faster, better ways to determine roadblocks to economic growth (and devise commensurate solutions) in local economies (you know, cities, regions, towns). Fun for me!

Me: Dear G: These days, I am enjoying the process of integrating your food security chapter with the rest of the report. It is a pleasure to read and I am learning a lot. I have a question, though, concerning your discussion of pastoralists. You say they need access to milk and to … blood? Really? What do they do with it? I would have thought you meant “meat,” but after your reference to “bleeding the cows,” I realize I need to be a bit more informed.

G: Louise — The east African pastoralists often bleed cattle for two nutritional purposes as far as I know - for the iron and for the protein/carbohydrates in the blood. The Somalis, Borena and Masai all do it, getting the blood from the animal’s jugular. Blood and milk seem to be the main things they get from their cattle - rarely meat.

Me: They DRINK the blood? Sorry, but you really have to paint me a picture.

I am eagerly awaiting his reply.

Update: He responded:

Try this link.

Actually, I think they do eat meat quite a bit, but since they don’t have to kill an animal to get the blood (and animals denote wealth and status), I think that blood is consumed more than we realize. I know the Masai mix it with milk as well. The animal doesn’t feel too much and after they have stopped the bleeding — it just carries on as though nothing has happened.

The practice contributes a lot to the sustainability of the pastoralist lifestyle. If you had to keep killing your animals to live (and you don’t hang around long enough in one spot to grow a crop), you would need an awful lot of animals to survive. This way, a family can live on much less. I am sure they have lots of different ways of using the blood.

(I think the bit with the bow is tradition for the cameras, and not always done like that - a sharp stone or a knife would be easier!)

My work in the West Bank (along with that of several others) has finally seen the light of day. I wrote the chapters on licenses, employing workers, and enforcing contracts (courts), as well as the introduction.

Every minute of this summer has been wonderful, but the travel time is adding up: Western North Carolina. Myrtle Beach. Upstate New York. LA. New York, again. Ontario. Michigan. Back to North Carolina. Maryland’s Eastern Shore, and back again.

Chapel Hill, North Carolina is no fewer than five hours from Everything.

Tomorrow: Evie heads back up to Gananoque, with me driving her 2/3 of the way (her hostess will meet us in Wilkes Barre, PA). And then back again.

Of course, they should have called it “Kung Fu” Kid. Great movie! I especially liked the “family moving into a new and weird environment” and “third-culture kid” plot aspects.