Residua

CLOWNS ONE AND ALL: A LETTER TO THE ECONOMIST

admin — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 16:14:14 +0000

You wonder why Italy is bored with the European Union (“Bored by Brussels,” July 31, 2010). Much of your article concerns Silvio Berlusconi, the chief Italian clown. “But Italy has been underperforming in Brussels for far longer than Berlusconi has been in charge,” you point out half-way through. “Whatever his shortcomings,” you also admit close to the end of the article, “Berlusconi has given Italy relatively stable government over the past nine years.” In short, perhaps all Italians are clowns. In which case your question gets a bit more serious: why is one of the major European countries punching below its weight in the European Union? Pardon me, but I cannot but give you an honest answer: Italians may well understand that Europeans are clowns one and all. Jesters. Comedians. Buffons. Entertainers… Clowns that Italians are, they know their clowns whenever and wherever they spot them.

THE NORTH CHIMNEY

admin — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 10:47:51 +0000

Ana Kalcic called me this morning from Motovun to tell me that one of the two chimneys on my house got hit by lightning during a recent storm. She could not tell me much more, though, and so I got in touch with Damir Gregorovic, my next-door neighbour. The north chimney got hit, he told me after a quick tour of the house, but the damage is not that bad. Apparently, there is a crack that will need looking into. However, he believes that the chimney will remain in one piece for a while longer. And then I called Nevio Premus from Brsec, who oversaw the refurbishment of the house eight years ago. He will come to check the chimney when my beloved and I return to town and then contact Lino Baskera from Pican, who rebuilt the roof and the chimneys. All the calls behind me, I sat down to think through the whole thing. “One chimney,” I could almost hear myself think, “five people!”

LA CAMERA MATRIMONIALE

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 17:21:11 +0000

When I was reserving a room in Cividale del Friuli, all I wanted was a room with a double bed, but the only way to get it was to order la camera matrimoniale. A room for those married, that is. When we arrived, the woman who led us to the room repeated its sacred status a few times. As we were checking out, the same thing happened once again. Matrimony is a big deal in Italy. And matriarchy starts with wedlock, it goes without saying. Everyone obliges, too. Up to a point, at least. And a room with a double bed is thus reserved for those who have exchanged their vows in church. In front of a priest. Even in Italy this is but an ideal, though. La camera matrimoniale is actually not reserved for those with a marriage certificate. Luckily for us, we were not asked for one either on arrival or departure. God forbid.

FLAILING

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 17:18:07 +0000

I dreamt that I was talking to a large number of people about the reason for leaving Croatia. It was a lecture of sorts, if I remember correctly. “It’s the mayor of Motovun!” I yelled by way of conclusion. “Slobodan Vugrinec!” I screamed, my arms flailing. The scream woke me up, too. Sadly, that is about all that I remember of the dream on the day of my return to Croatia following a dispiriting attempt to find a house in Italy. My only hope at this stage is that my detractor will leave Motovun instead.

ITALIA O MORTE!

admin — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 11:00:22 +0000

We need to change a large euro bill, which confuses everyone in Cividale del Friuli, and I ask a policeman for the closest bank. He shows us the way to Banca di Cividale not far from the Ponte del Diavolo that connects two parts of the old town forever divided by the deep Natisone. Everyone in the bank is most pleasant, but we immediately notice a curious exhibition right in the middle of the ample lobby. Life-sized sepia pictures of two soldiers greet us from the entrance. One is brandishing a knife, the other a hand-grenade. They look kind of ridiculous in their old-fashioned uniforms, but they are still menacing. When we approach other exhibits, we quickly realize that this is a celebration of Gabriele Danunzio, a proto-fascist poet who conquered with his “legionaires” Rijeka and Zadar, or Fiume and Zara in Italian, in the wake of World War I. Both were Austro-Hungarian to boot at the time, and now they are Croatian. One of his leaflets printed for the citizens of Rijeka declares ominously: “Italia o morte!” Two frayed flags are on display, too. One is red and it shouts: “Quis contra nos?” The other is black and it whispers: “Danunzio.” Irredentism pure and simple. And all this in the middle of the European Union an hour by car from Croatia, which is supposed to join the vaunted Union in a few short years!

BAD AND BREAKFAST

admin — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 10:00:02 +0000

Thus an ad that we stumbled upon in Cividale del Friuli soon upon our arrival. Not a bad ad, either. It sums the place up pretty well, although our own bed and breakfast is far from bad. The old town is nice and dandy, if not splendid on occasion, but its surroundings are the pits. “Pazin,” my beloved summed it up. Pazin, indeed. It did not take me long to realize that there was not a single house in the old town I would exchange for the house I have in Motovun. No chance. None whatsoever. My beloved agreed with me at once. The only question that remained for us was how to get out of Cividale del Friuli as fast as possible. After breakfast, it goes without saying. “Over-reacting a bit?” my beloved chuckled when she read what I had written.

BURGERNOMICS: A LETTER TO THE ECONOMIST

admin — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 22:20:40 +0000

I love your Big Mac index and I always read your articles about it with relish. The last one, showing that the euro is quite overvalued at the moment, is excellent, indeed (“When the Chips are Down,” July 24, 2010). Perhaps the only fault I find with it, as well as most of your articles about the index, is your apologetic tone about it. It is a “lighthearted attempt” to gauge how far currencies are from their fair value, you say. But what is so lighthearted about it, I wonder? It uses purchasing-power parity theory, which argues that exchange rates tend to equalize the price of an identical basket of goods across national borders—in this case a Big Mac hamburger. Clever, this. Given that the bulk of a hamburger’s cost depends on local inputs, such as rents and wages, the index is quite a feat of economics. And economics very much needs such feats nowadays. The more, the merrier.

CIVIDALE, HERE WE COME!

admin — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 22:15:00 +0000

We will be on the road before noon today. First we will go from Zagreb to Ljubljana, and thence southwest to Nova Gorica in Slovenia. Just across the border with Italy there is Gorizia, whence we will go west toward Udine. We will turn north just before entering the city and head for Cividale del Friuli in the foothills of Julian Alps. In my estimation, the whole trip will take us about three hours, just like the trip from Zagreb to Motovun. As soon as we drop our luggage off at the hotel in the center of the old town, we will take a leisurely walk around the place in search of a good restaurant. Delicious food and wine will be on our table in no time… Ah, what a joy it is to contemplate the rest of the day! As well as the rest of the week, it goes without saying. Cividale, here we come!

THE YOUTH PILL: A LETTER TO THE ECONOMIST

admin — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 09:34:13 +0000

Your review of David Stipp’s The Youth Pill: Scientists at the Brink of an Anti-Ageing Revolution (New York: Current, 2010) suggests that the book downplays near-starvation as a confirmed method to live longer and keep healthy along the way (“Methuselah’s Mixture,” July 24, 2010). As you point out, the benefits of near-starvation have been known to scientists for decades already. Animals such as mice and fruit flies can extend their lifespans by at least forty percent and improve their health, as well. However, this method has never caught on in spite of its indubitable efficacy. As the title of the book indicates, people are patiently waiting for the magic pill instead. All by itself, this says a great deal about our civilization. Near-starvation has worked rather well for millions of species over millions of years, but it works no longer. Too much pain for the modern tenderfoot to appreciate the palpable gain.

THE KNOCKOUT

admin — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 08:13:23 +0000

I dreamt that a young woman knocked out a young man her age in a Zagreb café. They were in their late teens or early twenties. Most likely he was her boyfriend. He was at least a head taller than her, but she was wiry and feisty. It was quite dark, but I could see the fight rather well. The outdoor café was terraced. It ran along a narrow and steep street. My beloved and I were sitting at a terrace just below the couple and many of their friends. The fight erupted without warning and it lasted about fifteen seconds only. She repeatedly punched him in the lower stomach with all her might. The punches came in quick succession. She must have punched him in the balls, as well. The attack pushed him over the bodies of his friends, who did not interfere in any way. Pushed all the way to the edge of the terrace, he collapsed over the railing. The knockout was spectacular, and I felt kind of proud of the young woman. “Let’s get out of here,” I said to my beloved, “for he may well fall over the railing.” And then I woke up, still in awe of the young woman’s pluck.