Everything else that's interesting: February 2008 Archives

In the 20+ years I've been a Huey Lewis and the News fans I've seen countless "puns" involving their name in countless headlines, each written with the same stench of self-flattery for having been so clever in coming up with it.

I would never attempt to be so obvious myself. No, I just mean to fulfill my promise of a Huey Lewis-related post, and now seems a good time to do it since there actually is some news (some of it even relating to the News) to talk about.

Recent events have given me occasion to think about situations where old enemies eventually forgo hostilities and open up to each other.

One of the most touching examples of this came after September 11th, when in tribute to fallen Americans a British band played the "Star Spangled Banner." It wasn't just a nice gesture of support for a friend in its time of crisis. It was a moment of historical irony, seeing how Francis Scott Key had written the words to the "Star Spangled Banner" after a battle of the War of 1812. A war fought against our then enemy, and now friend, Britain.

We are perhaps less chummy with Russia and its communist disciple Vietnam, but now that arms have been laid down we are learning to open up to each other. As a result it's possible, on American TV, to watch an edition "Russia Today." One showing Vietnam celebrating the 35th anniversary of US withdrawal by honoring the 3000 Soviet troops, or "military experts," as they were called, who helped North Vietnamese soldiers defend against air raids. "We valued their equipment, it was better than the Americans'," said one former Vietnamese officer. "That's why we won the war."

Perhaps these aren't quite the friendliest of sentiments, but at least the openness that resulted from the dispensing of our mutual Cold War suspicions can remind us how in all wars there are people on the other side who believe in their cause as much as your side does in your own.

In early 1999 my TV was constantly filled with scenes of Kosovars fleeing to Albania and Macedonia with carts loaded with however many of their possessions they could carry. I don't know how many Americans saw these pictures -- I was living in France at the time, and this humanitarian nightmare seemed to be happening in my backyard.

Then in 2004 I had a chance to visit Kosovo in person. It was a profound experience to be somewhere where history was unfolding before your own eyes. Most of European history hangs in museums, but in Kosovo it was happening in the streets.

I'd forgotten how much fun a bike race can be. I'd seen a few before: a stage of the 1999 Giro d'Italia (Tour of Italy) as it spilled down from the Italian Alps into picturesque Borgo San Dalmazzo, and the mountaintop finish of 2002's Tour de France climb up Provence's looming Mount Ventoux. There's always such a festive energy surrounding them, the kind that a parade normally attracts. A really, really fast parade...

Some races, like the Tour de France, are led by an actual parade, "Le Caravan de Publicité," where costumed models toss sponsors' shwag into the crowd assembled along the race route from trucks-turned-outrageously-sculpted-parade-floats. But all road races are characterized by the cloud of fuss that surrounds the cyclists as they zip along to the finish.

This year's Tour of California bike race was no exception. One hundred twenty-nine (or so) riders sped down Bridgeway in Sausalito today, on their way to Highway 1 and about 95 more miles before later reaching Santa Rosa. Bridgeway being but a stone's throw from where I live, I went out to watch the race sail through. Preceded by motorcycles bearing cameramen, cop cars, and sedans carrying race VIPS, the peloton, with helicopters swirling overhead, tore onto the 101 onramp trailed by more cop cars, team cars with roofs crammed full with spare bikes, and an impatient population of local drivers who'd been kept off the road while the race passed through...

But then, all too quick (except for those inconvenienced local townspeople who are not amused by professional bike racing), it was over. The racers were well on their way through their scenic and self-propelled Tour of California.

And not of Iowa, which has its own scenic and self-propelled cycling tour, the much-less rapid and presumably much less rife with dopage "RAGBRAI," or "Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa." Blawger Rush Nigut finds himself daydreaming about this summer ride in this week's Blawg Review, from which I am linked.

Which may be particularly fitting. Although I've ridden bikes ever since my parents taught me at age six, it was an ex-boyfriend who really turned me onto the sport. We're no longer together, which may be apparent from my "I need a husband" post, a post that's apparently so popular that it's now been linked to Blawg Review twice...

I drafted much of the following last year, but was prompted to finally post the thoughts I had been mulling when I noticed that CBS has just started airing another season of Big Brother. I'm surprised it's still being made; it never seemed to capture the popular imagination in America like, say, Survivor did.

Or like it did in England. In England the Big Brother show, along with its sister show Celebrity Big Brother, are an amazing -- and, to an outsider at least, also fairly frightening -- phenomenon. Not only are there both series of shows themselves, but there are also parallel news and commentary shows that get broadcast along with them. In fact, news from the Big Brother house even makes national news, something I can't imagine the CBS version ever being culturally relevant enough in America to do.

Ironically, however, while this winter sees a new American version, there has been no new full-blown Celebrity Big Brother series in England this year. Not after the fuss over last year's season -- a fuss that says so much about celebrity, racism, and what it really means to live in a surveillance society.

The summer after I graduated college I backpacked around Europe. I went everywhere, from London in the west to St. Petersburg in the east, Narvik in the north to Rome in the south. I mostly eschewed commercial tours, instead taking a very Rick Steves approach in feeling I could get a greater sense of local flavor by traveling "through the back door," or like a native would. But even he has acknowledged that sometimes commercial tours can provide more efficient coverage of an area than independent traveling can. Like in Salzburg, with its "Sound of Music" tour.

The bus was full of people from all over the world. I sat up front with some other Americans. They were a family from Oklahoma: a man and his wife in their 50s or 60s, their 30 year old son, and his very demure southern wife. "Oh I could never do what you're doing!" she drawled in surprise upon finding out I was traveling solo. "Does your mama know?" the elder man inquired, with genuine concern, offering to call her for me when he got back to the states. I politely declined, somewhat surprised that my travel arrangements, seemingly normal to me, should cause such consternation. Even though we were from the same country, it was apparent that there clearly were some differences in our cultural orientation.

Which became even more clear as our conversation continued. "Where are you from?" they asked. "Berkeley," I said.

"Oh!" the elder man exclaimed. "You're one of them liberals!"

I had an unpleasant experience at a restaurant last night. Well, not entirely. Certain parts of the evening were very pleasant indeed: some friends of my mom, whom I'd never met before, were out visiting the area and had invited me to join them for dinner. One had been a fan of Scoma's in San Francisco, so I suggested we try out the one in Sausalito.