Category: Happy

See Barry’s magical picture of the view out of our breakfast room window.

I just want to make it perfectly clear, and right now: I can’t speak for the rest of the Northeast, but there is no “havoc” in Manhattan. There is only a beautiful winter wonderland and zillions of people outside enjoying it and each other.

New York can’t do it, and probably no other American city could either. New Delhi, a city with a dense population of some 14 million, has completed the first five miles (ultimately to extend over 62 miles) of a new, modern subway system, on budget and on time. The NYTimes says it’s a rarity in Indian public works projects, but we all know its a rarity, if not unique, for any public works projects in this the firstest of the first world nations.

In a feat of engineering, construction workers are building almost seven miles of underground tunnels and nearly 32 miles of above-ground track without closing major roads. Down the center of busy avenues, precast 50-ton blocks of reinforced concrete are being fashioned into an overheard track. Cranes lift sections at night when there is little traffic. During the day, tens of thousands of cars speed underneath as workers secure the track.

Riders are ecstatic. I’m ecstatic.

The trains arrive with a whisper, speak with a computerized voice and at times are driven by women. Passengers board quickly and quietly at stations that are clean and airy, with graceful 30-foot arched ceilings and computerized entryways.
In a city of 14 million people that otherwise tends toward controlled anarchy, it is a pride-inspiring marvel.
New Delhi’s new $2 billion subway system, barely more than a month old, is altering Indians’ view of themselves and their capital.
For Shashi Brabha and Sohan Sing, two beaming college students taking a ride purely for the pleasure of it, it represents all that India can be. “It was good,” a grinning Ms. Brabha said after her first ride. “It was modern.”

Noah Taylor, the actor who portrays Adolf Hitler in “Max” explains his approach to an intimidating assignment in a tiny item of the NYTimes today, “Seeking the Dictator Within.”

Speaking of obstacles, there were some lines that must have presented a challenge. “‘I’m Hitler, Adolf Hitler.’ It was hard to say that without sounding like, ‘Bond, James Bond,’ ” Mr. Taylor said. “But John [Cusack] had the hardest one: ‘C’mon, Hitler, I’ll buy you a lemonade.'”

As a born-again atheist, it’s the only way I can bring myself to relate in any way to the Xmas madness. It has something to do with a connection to my ethnic heritage. After tonight, the only feast I will celebrate this year is the pagan German Yule, or, interchangeably, the pagan Roman Satunalia.
Yum.
Tonight’s just-about-impromptu supper at home, was certainly more Italian (Roman?) than German, and it and its kind are part of the reason for my weblog-ing negligence of late:
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Thinly-sliced Italian hot copa sausage on a bed of baby arugula seasoned and laced with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, together with a sturdy Puglian bread.
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“Risotto alla Milanese,” or a risotto composed of red onions, home-made vegetable stock, saffron threads, vermouth and grated parmesan cheese.
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“Caposante in Padella con Capperi,” or diver scallops pan-fried with capers, sage and meyer lemon juice.
Served with baby spinach quickly braised with oil and lemon.
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French cheeses, a soft St. Felicien and a semi-soft St. Nectaire, served with thinly-sliced crusty bread.
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Espresso-flavored gelato with ground espresso “sprinkles.”
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Turkish dried figs
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Espresso
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Well, actually, it wasn’t really much work, since a lot of it was already composed (somewhere), or, in the case of the risotto, left from the night before. Still very yum, and a great format both for music and good conversation with Barry.

He was checking out the chantrelle in the Whole Foods Market at the end of our block today, and I was too respectful of his privacy to indicate that I recognized him. But I didn’t give a damn about his celebrity celebrity, rather wishing I could only tell Sam Waterston how much I appreciated and admired his activism and his work marketing The Nation.
“NOBODY OWNS THE NATION. THAT’S WHY SO MANY SOMEBODIES READ IT”
Hi, Sam. Thanks.
Oh, and you look great, sexier than ever.

There’s at least a little bit of Andrés in most of the people who will take the time to read his story, and so it will really mean a lot to most. Still, I sure wish I had more of this guy’s courage.

Mr. Zambrano, who left Ecuador when he was 14, is now a 19-year-old junior at Bard College, a liberal arts school 90 miles north of New York City. There, he revels in the works of new writers, and writes poems of his own. With a probing mind, he questions everything from politics to religion.
And he fears nothing. Because at Bard, he need not worry about being called names, or getting beaten up for reading under a tree. Nor does he worry that others might chastise him for writing poetry in his room.
Since he left Ecuador, he says, he has had to live with such fears in the places you might expect to be the safest havens from them: at home and in his community.
His stepfather, whom Mr. Zambrano described as macho, often belittled him for his intellect. He was told time and time again, he said, that a real man works.

If you have access to today’s NYTimes, look for the wonderful picture which accompanies this article in The Times Neediest Cases series.

As if we didn’t already have plenty to worry about when flying!

Three men [sailors returning to their homes in the central Pacific nation of Kiribati] carrying strange-looking documents who took turns locking themselves in the toilets before take-off on a plane leaving Paris for Hong Kong, were thrown off the plane after causing a terrorism alert.
It then became clear they had only been relieving sexual urges, airport officials said.
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Police officers then discovered that the documents carried by the men in fact contained pornographic material and said this apparently explained why they had been in a hurry to visit the toilet.
Despite the innocent explanation, the plane’s captain refused to let the men travel on his flight and they were taken off the aircraft, airport officials said.

Jeesh. There are less than a hundred thousand people in the entire country! If Kirbati is anything like the U.S., they might as well forget any privacy for the rest of their lives. On the other hand, if Kirbati is like the U.S. today, they might be able to build whole careers on their hapless airplane apprehending.
[story scoop courtesy of Bill Dobbs]

No name yet.
This little guy (gal?) essentially flew into our apartment this afternoon.
I was in the kitchen when I heard a soft thump at the window of the breakfast room. I looked up and saw a bright little fuzzy splotch in sort-of-a-chartreuse hue clinging desperately to a tiny steel muntin.
Fully aware that my next move might determine both of our fates, I opened the abutting window to the very cold air with very mixed feelings. He/she didn’t need much encouragement at all, and soon ended up inside. An hour later it was sitting on my shoulder. By all appearances and movements, our guest is a very healthy young adult.
No one knew of any budgerigars in the building. I checked.
By the end of the afternoon all three of us were in posession of a parakeet home starter set, complete with, and this is my favorite, a colorful playgym combination abacus, mirror, feedcup and perch.
I mean, we didn’t go out and buy a pet; the beautiful little creature dropped in on us.
When I explained to Douglas, our neighborhood pet store clerk, why I needed just a few ounces of seed, I still thought I had a choice. Maybe so, but he at least cinched my decision with, “Hey, it’s got to mean something. Besides it’ll bring all that serenity.”
But I don’t think it’s working that way yet.
A better picture soon.

I’ve always called it my magic carpet, for the, to me, obvious reasons of its magical appearances (usually) and ease of operation (also only usually), but for many New Yorkers it’s a truck as well. It’s the subway!

While other Americans may arrange their purchases neatly in capacious car trunks, New Yorkers are towing theirs mightily through the turnstiles. While other Americans may strap surfboards atop PT Cruisers, New Yorkers are dragging theirs onto the A train to Far Rockaway. And while other Americans try to lock in a good radio station on the highway, New Yorkers are trying to figure out how to hang onto the pole in a packed train without losing control of the briefcase, the overcoat, the gym shoes, the large box of Pampers and the Big Brown Bag from Bloomingdale’s.

The article includes a modest but impressive list of cartage phenomena sited in the last hundred years.