Eamonn Fitzgerald's Rainy Day

This week's choice is babblogue blog, the self-described "?random musings of Maura McHugh, a geek-girl living in Galway, Ireland, but observing the world through the window of the web." Sharp, witty, feisty — that's Maura, and all these qualities are in play in a posting called "Oh the Irish love to drink", in which she comments on a recent programme shown by RTE, the national TV service, which dwelt on the shocking fact that there's been a 50 per cent increase in alcohol consumption in Ireland in the past ten years:

"Ireland is a country that is in the grips of a massive transition from comely maids dancing on the village green, ruled over by repressive clergy and bureaucrats, to a place enamoured with consumerist pleasures, multi-cultural and multi-racial, kicking up its heels with abandon. Transition periods are always painful, and as a society we will have to face issues that we've never been confronted with before. Alcohol abuse is a symptom of these growing pains, but it's not the root cause. I think that as a people we need to re-define our identity as being Irish, within a European community, and a larger global culture. We have to figure out what's important to us, and what patterns of behaviour we need to adjust. The old models won't work anymore. De Valera is dead and gone (thank goodness), the Catholic Church is disintegrating under the weight of scandals and its own inertia, and our Politicians are scurrying into the woodwork to avoid having to answer hard questions.

What makes us Irish? What gives us our identity? Where do we fit in a modern, multi-racial/faith/cultural world? And let's hope the answer isn't: drink."

Excellent. Now, coincidentally, Rainy Day has focussed on Maura McHugh's blog in the same week that Lisa Guernsey's "Telling All Online: It's a Man's World (Isn't It?)" appeared in the New York Times. What I though was a woefully weak piece really annoyed Jeff Jarvis, however:

"(1) Anyone of any gender who wants to start a blog can. Nobody will stop them. So you can't argue that some bigger power structure — blog executives, the old blog boys club — is stopping them. The only thing stopping nonbloggers from blogging is themselves. That, after all, is the whole point of this new medium: It's anybody's. It's everybody's.

(2) There are many, many great women bloggers. I don't need to start listing them. You know them.

Even the writer has to admit that there is no frigging point to her story: 'But women are, in fact, blogging in big numbers.' So why write it? Why print it? Just because it fits?"

Why didn't Guernsey interview more female bloggers? What about Moira Breen? Meg Hourihan? Natalie Solent? Gillian Hadley? Andrea Harris?

Girls, prove Guernsey wrong. Get blogging and check out Maura McHugh while you're at it.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 30 November 2002 at 8:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Took delivery of two eagerly awaited books this week: Prey by Michael Crichton and Smart Mobs by Howard Rheingold. Flicking through the first few pages of each I noticed a word that had not been at the forefront of my vocabulary: "flocking". And what's more, it's a concept central to each book. Crichton's novel is about evil clouds of nanocomponents that are fond of "flocking":

"Flocking was not hard wired. There was nothing in the bird brain that said, 'When thus-and-such happens, start flocking.' On the contrary, flocking simply emerged within the group as a result of much simpler, low-level rules. Rules like, 'Stay close to the birds nearest you, but don't bump them.' From those rules, the entire group flocked in smooth co-ordination.

Because flocking arose from low-level rules, it was called emergent behaviour. The technical definition of emergent behaviour was behaviour that occurred in a group but was not programmed into any member of the group. Emergent behaviour could occur in any population, including a computer population. Or a robot population. Or a nanoswarm."

I'm a Crichton fan and the book, so far, is proving a great read. By the way, it will appear in German on Monday with the title Beute.

Unlike Michael Crichton, Howard Rheingold doesn't do thrillers, but what both writers have in common is their interest in the impact of technology on society. Rheingold was ahead of the pack in the 80's in anticipating the power of the PC and he also foresaw the Internet revolution of the 90's. Now, in Smart Mobs, he's predicting the next techno-cultural shift. And what might that be? Well, at the heart of it all are the wireless devices — mobile phones, PDAs, pagers — that are making instant communication ubiquitous. Edgey technology converges with pop culture and creates a new kind of social connectivity. And flocking? On the first page of Rheingold's book, we meet the author standing outside the Shibuya subway station in Tokyo. Hundreds of people mill around. "Cliques and flocks assemble and diffuse". Standing at the Shibuya Crossing and watching people using their keitai (mobile phones) for talking, texting and surfing, (this is DoCoMo i-mode country, after all), he observes:

"The crosswalk works on the scramble system. Every time the lights turn green, 1,500 people cross from eight directions at once, performing a complex, collective, ad hoc choreography that accomplishes the opposite of flocking; people co-operate with immediate neighbours in order to go in different directions. In addition to negotiating a split-second co-ordination with moving strangers, many in the crowd carry on simultaneous conversations with people located elsewhere."

Yes, flocking. Looks like we've got a meme here.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 29 November 2002 at 7:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

What makes great journalism? The integrity of an institution such as the BBC or Der Spiegel or the character of an individual like Ryszard Kapuscinski or Christopher Hitchens? I'm sure you could make a case for other criteria just as easily as one for selecting different examples. Regardless, there is such a thing as great journalism and it's instantly recognisable when encountered. For many bloggers, there's a lot to be gained by being able to identify and emulate quality journalism, because quality blogging won't win the respect it deserves until it delivers the goods in the right wrapping.

In attempting to understand the nature of great journalism, I've been studying the writings of Nico Colchester recently. Colchester had the rare ability to make words dance and fortunate readers of The Economist and the Financial Times enjoyed his elegant writing until his untimely death in 1996 at the age of 49. Here's a sample of his work. Called "Crunchiness", it first appeared in The Economist in August 1988.

"Crunchiness brings wealth. Wealth leads to sogginess. Sogginess brings poverty. Poverty creates crunchiness. From this immutable cycle we know that to hang on to wealth, you must keep things crunchy."

Notice the absence of fancy phrasing? The first four sentences are as snappy as the jabs of Sugar Ray Leonard in his heyday.

"Crunchy systems are those in which small changes have big effects leaving those affected by them in no doubt whether they are up or down, rich or broke, winning or losing, dead or alive. The going was crunchy for Captain Scott as he plodded southwards across the sastrugi. He was either on top of the snow-crust and smiling, or floundering thigh-deep. The farther south he marched the crunchier his predicament became."

Colchester never deployed his erudition gratuitously, but when he called upon his learning and reading the effect was deeply satisfying. The Scott example is palpable.

"Sogginess is comfortable uncertainty. The modern Scott is unsure how deeply he is in it. He can radio for an airlift, or drop in on an American early-warning station for a hot toddy. The richer a society becomes, the soggier its systems get. Light-switches no longer turn on or off: they dim."

The imagery in that final sentence is immediately convincing for the reader feeling queasy about change and decay.

"Intelligent questions replace the church's absolute faith. Seat belts are worn. Words (like these) are not written down, but processed endlessly. Exam papers are no longer passed or failed but graded, with no one quite sure what grade is needed for what."

Colchester has been called "timeless", and with justification. This year's A Level marking scandal in Britain shows how aware he was of the rot that had taken hold in so many bureaucracies.

"Stalin was crunchy in his own way. Gorbachev needs somehow to become a lot crunchier in his. Mrs Thatcher is certainly crunchy. Her policies towards the Falkland Islands, the British coalmining union and the dwindling worth of the pound were crunchiness writ large. Inflation is acutely soggy, leaching away the wealth of savers and the obligations of debtors, transferring national income from the uncomplaining to the militant. But after nine crunchy years fighting inflation Mrs Thatcher seems to be flirting with sogginess today. Her desire to keep sterling floating rather than link it firmly to the D-mark is uncrunchy too — the Bundesbank being the crunchiest institution in a country that is rapidly becoming Europe's soggiest. President Reagan? Crunchy but with a sentimentally soft centre. Munchy perhaps."

What can one say? Thirteen years after Colchester's article appeared, Germany has completely fulfilled his prophecy. Those who blame reunification for the damage are being disingenuous because the degeneration was obvious in 1988. And, now, the final inspirational paragraph:

"A crunchy policy is not necessarily right, only more certain than a soggy one to deliver the results that it deserves. Run your country, or your company, or your life as you think fit. But whatever you decide, keep things crunchy."

Let us honour Nico Colchester with crunchy blogging. He would have approved.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 28 November 2002 at 7:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Chardonnay is America's benchmark wine. However, it's omnipresence has become oppressive for some, with the result that many New World drinkers and growers are desperately seeking high and low for a chardonnay substitute and a few feel that they've found it in pinot gris. The jury is still out, though. Fact is, the white burgundy grape is ideally suited to the American climate, culture and palate, regardless of what wine snobs may say.

We tried a Haywood Estate 1997 and it lived up to our chardonnay expectations. Tasting notes: deep yellow colour, pear aroma, full body, flavours of tropical fruit that finish with a suggestion of smoky apples. At €10, this Californian import is somewhat overpriced, however.

Mention of apples there reminds me of a tip for a delicious nibble that I picked up yesterday from Megnut, currently dallying in Paris. She got it from Textism, long time resident of Pompignan. Here goes: slice a Gala apple and spread a thin layer of fresh Roquefort cheese on one side. Eat. Scrummy!

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 27 November 2002 at 7:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Why do I find The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen so moving? Easy. My father is in the same age bracket as the character Alfred Lambert. Luckily for us he doesn't suffer from dementia, as Albert does, but there's no escaping what age and infirmity have wrought on him. And this is Franzen's genius. In a time of youth obsession and body cults, he has fearlessly and sympathetically tackled the issues that Douglas Coupland, Bret Easton Ellis and so many others have avoided: decay, illness, irrelevance, incontinence, Alzheimer's and Parkinson's, to mention but a few of the indignities age has a gift for bestowing on people.

Despite the honesty about the ageing and the raging against the dying of the light, as Dylan Thomas put it, Franzen's book is not morbid. Far from it. He skewers the tenure racket, the dot com mania and the nuclear family with irreverent humour, while taking amusingly accurate pot-shots at food fads and confused sexuality. The result is a bookful of characters that'll remain with you long after you've done reading about their very human lives.

I have a paperback copy of the book, by the way, and I discovered something while reading it that forced me to contact the Publicity Department of Farrar, Straus & Giroux at 19 Union Square West New York, NY 10003. Here's our correspondence on the matter:

Dear Sir or Madam I have a question regarding "The Corrections" that you may be able to help me with. I am reading the paperback version (Picador USA, ISBN 0-312-98429-4) and am enjoying the book hugely. However, I am perplexed by the following: page 442 is followed by page 411. The same text again for 30 pages! Is this a Joycean device or a printing error? Is there a press release on the matter that you can point me to? Is the author aware of this? I look forward to your response.

Yours faithfully

Eamonn Fitzgerald

Dear Eamonn, What you found must have been a printing mistake in your particular copy. Thank you for bringing it to our attention. Sincerely, Sarah Moriarty Publicity Assistant

Do I now have a rare copy of The Corrections on my hands? Should I see how much it would bring on e-Bay?

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 26 November 2002 at 7:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Over at Spotlight magazine, the December issue asks "Is America the New Rome?" Hmmm. I was pondering that same question three weeks ago while examining a series of stonework maps on the outside wall of the Forum. The first one shows a swampy habitation on the banks of the Tiber and the final one shows a vast empire embracing Europe, the Middle East and North Africa. And then a couple asked me if I'd take their photo with their digital camera. "Sic transit gloria mundi," as the old Romans used to say.

So, what then, if anything, can those on the banks of the Potomac today learn from Rome's ruins? Well, by the time of the philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius (161-180), Rome was suffering from overreach, although the senators and citizens didn't see it like that. Their city had more than 1.5 million inhabitants and its wealth was reflected in temples, theatres, circuses and libraries. The aqueducts provided public baths with hydrous spectacles and private houses with running water and flush toilets. Visitors from the hinterland gaped in awe at the Colloseo. The list of wonders was lengthy. Ominously, however, Marcus Aurelius spent 14 years of his reign fighting the barbarians, regarded at the time, no doubt, as terrorists. It was the beginning of the end of empire.

A stroll today through the majestic ruins reminds us of how great Rome really was. But the same ruins also prompt vexing questions about the limits of military might, so let's hope that some of those advising the Boy Emperor have read Gibbons' Decline and Fall. It might be too much, though, to expect that they know Aurelius' Meditations, one of which reads:

"Time is like a river made up of the events which happen, and its current is strong; no sooner does anything appear than it is swept away, and another comes in its place, and will be swept away too."

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 25 November 2002 at 7:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Google Search, Google Images, Google Groups, Google News?where will it all end? While you're thinking about that, check out Google Glossary, an experimental interface for searching online glossaries. Can it deliver the goods? I asked it to search for "scope creep" and here's what it dredged up from the Web:

Scope creep is the slow and continuous expansion of the scope or a project, such as data type or routine, resulting in a broad, unfocused, and unmanageable scope and usually leads to cost-overruns, missed deadlines, and loss of original goals. http://it.ojp.gov/

What happens when people have bright ideas for minor improvements to the design. Great ideas they may be (like Hey! It'd be really cool to separate delivery and invoice addresses to allow gifts), but if they're not in the agreed scope, you don't do them without a Change Request being accepted. Otherwise your work ends up being substantially more than you agreed to, but your budget and timescales haven't changed. http://test.evolt.org/

The gradual addition of extra effort or size of deliverables. Each addition may be so small that it could be overlooked in terms of its impact on the completion of the project, but the cumulative effect could be considerable. http://www.wm.edu/

The tendency for the size and expense of projects to grow while they are being worked on - and after original budgets and designs have been approved. http://governing.com/

Cool, eh? And the results came with the advice: "Look up scope creep at Dictionary.com or Merriam-Webster".

Only English definitions are featured at the moment; enter anything in another language and you get bizarre results. I tried with the German "Zukunftsvision" and was directed to the charmingly named "Serendipity corner", where the offerings included: "Pleurisy, Stock Dividend, Richter Scale, Transcoding, Budget Adjustment, web-casting, Asking bid, felsic." According to the Encarta World English Dictionary, that last word means: "containing light-coloured silicate minerals: used to describe igneous rocks or minerals that are light in colour, indicating relatively high levels of quartz and feldspars".

Whither Google Glossary? Beefed up with a thesaurus section? Included in the main-stream search? Added to the toolbar? There's a feedback button and a discussion forum for those who wish to suggest features for the next release. So, translators, teachers, language students, editors and writers take a look and help build a useful language tool.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 24 November 2002 at 7:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The future of computing is what the current issue of The Economist tackles. Its verdict: a computer in every pocket. In other words, the next big thing after the PC will be some kind of "smartphone". This puts the computer industry and the mobile phone industry on a collision course says the weekly and predicts the mother of all technology battles between Microsoftand Nokia. And the winner when the dust clears?

"The answer is that there is unlikely to be a single winner this time around. IBM ruled in mainframes because it owned the dominant hardware and software standards. In the PC era, hardware became an open standard (in the form of the IBM-compatible PC), and Microsoft held sway by virtue of its ownership of Windows, the dominant software standard. But the direction of both computing and communications, on the Internet and in mobile telecoms, is towards open standards: communication devices are less useful if they cannot all talk to each other. Makers of pocket communicators, smartphones and whatever else emerges will thus have to compete on design and branding, logistics, and their ability to innovate around such open standards."

Declaring a switch to mobile devices the next logical computing step, The Economist concludes:

"At the moment, these considerations seem to favour Nokia more than any other company. But Nokia faces a direct challenge as Microsoft leads the computer industry on to its turf; its continued dominance of the mobile-phone industry is by no means assured, since it is not based on the ownership of proprietary standards. Microsoft, for its part, will try to exploit its dominance of the PC industry to help force its way into the new market. But it may well fail."

By the way, the same idea was approached in a somewhat different fashion on Thursday in Salon. Farhad Manjoo, in a fine article called "Microsoft wants your cellphone", looked at how, Opera, the small Norwegian browser company, is faring against Redmond in the race to be the browser of choice with the mobile phone makers. If you thought that the browser wars were over and that Microsoft had won, think again says Manjoo. Opera is looking good, better, in fact, than Internet Explorer on small devices and it could have a viable future if (and this is a big "if") Microsoft is willing to let multiple operating systems bloom. Don't bet on that, though, Manjoo writes.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 23 November 2002 at 8:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Instead of he usual critiqued site, our blog of the week this time is an event, a conference. Called "Revenge of the blog", it's being hosted by the Information Society Project at Yale University. The project's goals are to promote democratic values in a digital age, to study how new media alter culture and society and to investigate how law and technology interact. Sadly, I can't be there but the "blogosphere" will resonate with the results over the weekend.

The keynote address will be delivered by Glenn Reynolds the Tennessee law professor whose Instapundit blog now attracts 75,000 visits a day. That, by the way, is a larger digital circulation than most US newspapers, and probably a larger readership. The first session of the day is called "Law and Blogs" and will be moderated by Ernest Miller (LawMeme). The panelists are:

• Denise Howell (Bag and Baggage)
• Jenny Levine (The Shifted Librarian)
• Seth Schoen (Consensus at Lawyerpoint)
• Donna Wentworth (GrepLaw)

The afternoon session kicks off with a talk by that trailblazing blogger whose postings now earn him a nice living at Slate, Mickey Kaus (Kausfiles), and the day ends with a star-studded "Blogs and Journalism" discussion. The moderator is Caio Mario da Silva Pereira Neto (LawMeme) and panelists are:

• David F. Gallagher (lightningfield.com) and The New York Times


• John Hiler (Microcontent News)


• Jeff Jarvis (WarLog: World War III)


• Josh Micah Marshall (Talking Points Memo)

The American writer A.J. Liebling once famously said, "Freedom of the press is guaranteed only to those who own one," but owning a press is a rather expensive business. Because blogging isn't expensive it promises to democratize publishing and that's going to have far-reaching consequences for media and society.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 22 November 2002 at 7:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For the German press, the NATO summit in Prague so far is as much about President Bush shaking Chancellor Schr??s hand as it is about the alliance's future. The relationship between the "partners" remains frosty and Bush seems to be in no hurry to heal the rift. His speech yesterday was full of digs and pointed references that included "U-boats" and "Munich":

Who should ponder those lines? Certainly those close to the tyrant of Baghdad should. If they wish to avoid being tried as war criminals, they must act soon otherwise an invasion by the US is inevitable. There is still a chance that a war with massive bombing and horrific street fighting can be avoided, but it's slim. We have reached "this important now."

The people of China might also benefit if Hu Jintao studies Dryden's lines. Hu was selected last week to succeed Jiang Zemin but if anyone thinks that he might be some kind of eastern Gorbachev they should bear in mind that he's the man who, in 1989, imposed martial law on Tibet and who was the first Chinese regional party secretary to send a congratulatory telegram to the central government after the Tiananmen Square massacre.

China's Communist tyrants have developed a policy of granting economic freedoms on a larger and larger scale but there's no guarantee that civil freedoms will follow from this. The recent crackdown on the Internet is salutary. Still, for China and for Hu this is an "important now".

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on at 7:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Rheingau is Germany's classic wine producing region. Almost all of the vineyards are planted with the aristocratic Riesling grape and in great years the area produces extraordinary wines. Those who know their grapes know that Rieslings contain significant amounts of residual sugar and that without a compensatory amount of acidity they'd simply taste like fruity sugar water. Aware that they need to retain acidity, the Rheingau winemakers don't subject their vintages to malolactic or secondary fermentation as the makers of high-acid wines such as Chablis do. The result is brilliantly balanced wine.

We enjoyed a bottle of Riesling from Weingut Robert Weil in Kiedrich, where 52 hectares of vineyards (96% Riesling and 4% Pinot Noir) are cultivated in an environmentally friendly manner with organic fertilizer and without herbicides. This leads to elegant, complex wines with many nuances of flavour and bouquet and a distinctive fruitiness. Our tasting notes: 2001 Qualit䴳wein Trocken; perfect interplay of acidity with natural sweetness supported by a mineral character that speaks of slate; hints of apple, spice, apricot, honey, orange; medium-bodied with a memorably flavourful finish. Excellent value for 10 euros.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 20 November 2002 at 7:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Adam Fox is a London paediatrician who has compiled a list of medical slang from doctors' notes and medical reports. His hilarious and slightly terrifying collection was excerpted in the British Medical Journal earlier this year and has now been picked up by Harper's magazine, where is appears in the current Lexicon column under the heading "Hippocratic Oafs". Here's a sample:

Ash cash: money paid for signing cremation forms
Code brown: incontinence-related emergency
Cold-tea sign: refers to the several cups of cold tea on the bedside cabinet beside a dead geriatric
Departure lounge: geriatric ward
Eternal care: intensive care
Flower sign: fresh flowers at the bedside imply patient has a supportive family
FTF: failure to fly, for attempted suicide victims
Guessing tubes: stethoscope
Handbag positive: Used to denote a patient (usually an old lady) lying in her hospital bed clutching her handbag, a sign she is confused and disoriented
House red: blood
PFO: pissed, fell over
Psychoceramics: geriatrics
Q-sign: follows the O sign, when the terminal patient's tongue hangs out of his open mouth
Sieve: a doctor who admits almost every patient he sees
TMB: too many birthdays
Treat n'street: quick patient turnaround
TUBE: totally unnecessary breast examination
Woolworth's test: used by anaesthetists. If you can imagine the patient shopping in Woolworth's then he is fit enough for an anaesthetic
Wrinkly: geriatric

Shocked? Don't be. Repairing people for a living can be rewarding but it's also is stressful, tiring and sometimes just awful. It couldn't be done without humour.

If you think that the slang Adam Fox has collected is too bizarre to be used by medical staff, consider this observation by Martha Swierczynski, who works in the Human Resources Directorate of the Department of Health in Leeds. In a British Medical Journal article called "Induction courses for international doctors", she writes:

"But even though international doctors working in the NHS have proved adequate English to practise safely, this does not mean that they are able to understand the broad accents and colloquialisms that they encounter in parts of Britain. They need introducing to the different uses of the English language and some of the slang they may hear.

The language of the health service is full of abbreviations. Although most international doctors are aware of the proper English terms for diseases and procedures, they have rarely encountered the abbreviations that are commonly used in hospitals and surgeries."

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 19 November 2002 at 7:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Back in September, I said that the German government's general election campaign was a low, dishonest affair and time has certainly proven me right. You may remember that the great theme of the campaign was Iraq, although what that had to do with the central challenges facing German society — sclerotic labour market, redundant pension system, malignant bureaucracy, punitive taxes — was never made clear. It was, of course, a re-election ruse. On a wave of populist anti-American sentiment, the SPD-Green coalition just managed to scrape back into power and the end was seen as justifying the means. Now, however, it's morning in Germany. And, brrrrrrr, it's cold.

With the world preparing for a post-Saddam scenario in which Germany will play little or no role, the coalition has been forced to face up to the need for some domestic "regime change" of its own, but it's running scared. If the reaction to the pensions crisis is anything to go by, those who can vote with their feet should. Otherwise they'll be bled dry paying for a pension system that lost touch with reality a long time ago. Although, enormously complicated in its administration, the German pension system can be reduced to the following: workers hand over money to the government, which then hands it on to pensioners. Simple. Everything is rosy in this garden as long as there are sufficient workers earning enough for 45 years in a full-time job and the birth rate is balancing the death rate. But when high unemployment arrives and at a time, too, when jobs-for-life have disappeared and more people are working part-time, or moving between the worlds of employed and self-employed, it's a different story. Add, then, a declining birth rate to the reality of increasing longevity and you get, yes, that's right, a horrid mess.

Hard demographic facts: In 1960, the over-60s comprised 17 percent of the German population. Today it's 24 percent. In 2040 it will be 40 percent. The future vista, then, is of a dwindling number of younger workers supporting a growing number of retirees expecting pensions that represent 70 percent of their salaries. It's a recipe for generational warfare.

Solution? Radical reform in the shape of private pensions, delayed retirement, more immigration, new thinking... Expectation? Higher taxes and more bureaucracy. Oh, and there's always Iraq.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 18 November 2002 at 7:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ever needed to conjugate a verb in Asturian, Gaelic or Klingon? What about Vulgar Latin or Zarma? WebVerbix is a free on-line conjugator that supports 102 languages. This is the tool for you if you need to parse in such language groups as Bantu, Celtic, Creole, Germanic, Romance, Turkic, Ugric or good old Misc. Conjugate online or download the desktop-based application from the site. Wicked! OK, sometimes you get error messages saying "The program cannot recognize X as a Wolofian verb stem" but it's still a fantastic resource.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 17 November 2002 at 7:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (1)

The only thing Jamie Oliver isn't doing at the moment is writing a blog. But it wouldn't surprise me if started one. The man's a hurricane of creativity. One day he's cooking in Munich, the next he's in San Francisco. He's written four books and sold five million copies of them, ranking second in British sales only to Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling. Then there are the TV shows. After dominating the British small screen for two years, he's exploded onto the American scene and can now be seen broiling, grilling, baking, roasting, poaching, simmering, frying and stewing six days a week on three shows airing on the Food Network cable channel: The Naked Chef, Oliver's Twist and Pukka Tukka. Phew!

Next on the list is a soon-to-open London restaurant, 15, which will be an eclectic take on Italian food with touches of French and Chinese cuisine. The name comes from Oliver's idea of hiring 15 disadvantaged youths and offering them training for a cooking career. And while all this is going on, he's juggling the roles of husband, father, consultant, columnist and drummer.

Here's a sample Oliver recipe that gives zest to the old sandwich idea. For men, especially, who have been out of the kitchen for some time, this is a great way of rediscovering the joy of cooking.

Jamie's steak sarnie

Serves: 2, cooking time: 8 minutes: preparation time: 14 minutes

Ingredients:

1 baguette or 2 medium ciabatta loaves
2 slices of rump steak
2 sprigs of fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard
1 handful of arugula
1 lemon
Extra virgin olive oil
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Instructions:

Place the steak slices between plastic wrap and bash them with a heavy object (pot, hammer, fist) until thin. Season and sprinkle with the rosemary and rub with a little extra virgin olive oil. Place on very hot griddle or frying pan and cook each side to your taste — rare, medium, well done. Warm the bread in the oven at 225 degrees. Remove steak to a plate, squeeze over the lemon juice and allow to cool while you cut the bread in half lengthways and drizzle the cut sides with a little olive oil. Spread the mustard over the bread, put your steak and arugula on top, then drizzle over any juice from the meat. Eat! Mmmmm!

Sounds simple. Is, too. Today, I'm going to have a go at his "Warm bread salad of crispy pancetta, parmesan and poached egg".

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 16 November 2002 at 8:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If you've ever tried to learn another language, you'll know that the day comes when neither the teacher nor the textbook can fulfil your need for those electric phrases that distinguish classroom communication from street talk. The static nature of textbooks versus the dynamic of slang is partly to blame, but it's sometimes the case that the teacher's out of touch or the language is too graphic to be taught without embarrassment. Idea: This has to be an area where the power of the blog (edgy, multimedia) can be used to good effect. No?

If it's Spanish slang you're looking for, try Inside Europe: Iberian Notes. "News, politics, culture, history, languages, all live from Barcelona by John and Antonio" is the blog's motto and when they're not castigating ridiculous Catalan reactionaries or documenting the up-and-down fortunes of FC Barcelona, they sprinkle the site with the kind of slang that's guaranteed to give your Spanish cred.

Imagine the admiring eyebrows you'd raise if you used el quinto pino ("the fifth pine tree") when speaking about some Godforsaken place? It's a hip expression. If you are given to a more florid turn of phrase, you could use d?? Jesucristo perdi??s alpargatas ("where Jesus lost his sandals") instead. Lots of silent applause for that effort. And if you like a bit of the vulgar, you could always resort to el quinto co?? ("the fifth cunt") when referring to that nowhere place. Note: the "C" word is much more common in Spanish than in English so don't be too PC about its usage. You'll only make yourself appear more of an obvious outsider that you already are.

Need to call someone "a nerd"? Use un empoll; "nerdy" is cursi, btw. What's a pijo? It's a snobby rich kid. And here's the added value from John and Antonio: "Speaks, stereotypically, with an exaggerated low-high-low intonation in his sentences and slightly drawled vowels. Probably comes from Sarri?ant Gervasi in Barcelona..."

When he isn't teaching, John is translating and this can lead to unusual assignments:

"?Then, today, I get this phone call from my London Irish pal Murph. He says that our American pal Mitch, who works for an Internet company here in Barcelona, has a job for us. He has a contact in London who wants us to translate some pornographic websites from English to Spanish. Of course, I said, 'Sure. How much do we get paid?' So that's what we'll be occupied doing for the next few days. It'll probably be more fun than that enormous horribly dull thing we did on car painting. I think I'll get my business cards changed. Right now they describe me as 'English teacher. Translator.' I want them to say 'English teacher. Translator. Pornographer.' "

What's made "Inside Europe: Iberian Notes" so enjoyable of late is the blog's Fisking of Baltasar Porcel, a nutty leftist who writes a column for La Vanguardia. Like all Euro lapdog intellectuals fattened with taxpayer's money (the Catalan government has set him up in an institute), Porcel is reflexively anti-American. Here's his take on Halloween, as translated by John and Antonio:

"One surprise — for me — from All Souls Day was that the American party called Halloween is imposing itself strongly upon us. Above all, among the children, often in the schools. Another example that Anglo-Saxon culture has begotten horrendous vestiges, from the repulsive Dracula to that frenzied Freddy Krueger, including the repugnant Frankenstein, the idiotic Mummy, and whatever. The cinema is committing atrocities here. It appears that for the Anglo-Saxons death consists, boiled down to it, in a maniacal succession of horrors between grotesque and sadistic, totally opposed to the dignified behaviour and "cult of the dead" of the Greco-Latin or Chinese cultures, those which have survived longest on this planet."

Porcel rants and raves in this vein on a weekly basis but the good news is that John and Antonio are on the case. Blog on, amigos!

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 15 November 2002 at 7:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

"?the common denominator of all we see is always, transparently, shamelessly, the implacable 'I' ", wrote Joan Didion in her 1969 collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. The book established her as an important American writer. In an observation that bloggers might do well to keep in mind, Didion recounts in Slouching Towards Bethlehem that she kept a notebook not so much to much to collect facts but feelings, "an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its maker" and sometimes not for her. Here's the key passage:

"I sometimes delude myself about why I keep a notebook, imagine that some thrifty virtue derives from preserving everything observed. See enough and write it down, I tell myself, and then some morning when the world seems drained of wonder, some day when I am only going through the motions of doing what I am supposed to do, which is write — on that bankrupt morning I will simply open my notebook and there it will all be, a forgotten account with accumulated interest, paid passage back to the world out there: dialogue overhead in hotels and elevators and at the hat-check counter in Pavillion (one middle-aged man who shows his hat-check to another says, "That's my old football number"); impressions of Bettina Aptheker and Benjamin Sonnenberg and Teddy ("Mr. Acapulco") Stauffer; careful aperçus about tennis bums and failed fashion models and Greek shipping heiresses, one of whom taught me a significant lesson (a lesson I could have learned from F. Scott Fitzgerald, but perhaps we all must meet the very rich for ourselves) by asking, when I arrived to interview her in her orchid-filled sitting room on the second day of a paralyzing New York blizzard, whether it was snowing outside."

If forced to pick a favourite sentence from Didion's notebook, I'd opt for: "I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be?"

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 14 November 2002 at 7:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I grew up speaking what linguists call Hiberno-English, an Irish dialect of English. How does it differ from Standard English? Well, first of all, it is full of words and phrases from the Irish language imported directly or Anglicised. Take "galore" (plentiful), a word that's now part of Standard English usage. It's an Anglicisation of the Irish go leor, meaning "in abundance". Or another example: in Ireland, the noun "rake" can have the standard meanings of "garden tool with long handle" or "man who gambles and drinks a lot", but in Hiberno-English it has the separate meaning of "a large quantity":

"She bought a rake of books from Amazon yesterday."

The Hiberno-English vocabulary also comprises words obsolete in Standard English. So a verb like "cog", meaning to cheat in an exam, is still widely used in Ireland. Similarly, words such as "bowsey" (ruffian), "delph" (crockery) and "oxter" (armpit), which passed out of Standard English around 1800, survive in Hiberno-English.

Then there's Hiberno-English grammar. Because Irish Gaelic has no words for "yes" and "no", the verb in a question is repeated in an answer. As a result, Irish people tend to avoid using "yes" or "no" when speaking English:

"Are you finished reading that book?" "I am." "Is your project going well?" "It is."

Irish Gaelic verbs have two present continuous tenses, one indicating what is happening at the moment and the other indicating ongoing activity. To convey the latter present continuous, Hiberno-English speakers use a "does be/do be" construction:

"He does be training every day for the marathon."

"They do be discussing investment strategies a lot."

The Gaelic phrase tar eis, which means "after", is used by Hiberno-English speakers to modify verbs to indicate that an activity has been completed recently. So, instead of using the standard English present perfect " We have just finished our dinner," Hiberno-English speakers opt for: "We're after finishing our dinner just now."

I'm after finishing blogging for today now, but I'll take another look at Hiberno-English next week. Meanwhile, I can highly recommend Terence Patrick Dolan's Dictionary of Hiberno-English, if you're interested in the subject.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 13 November 2002 at 7:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

The Italian word Piemonte means "foot of the mountain" and that's where one of the world's great wine-producing region finds itself: in the north-western corner of the country, where the Alpine chain separates Italy from France and Switzerland. The region produces some 50 million cases of wine a year, with the best-known appellations being Asti Spumante, Barolo and Barbaresco.

Grapes used in Piemonte include Dolcetto, Barbera, Freisa and Grignolino. Surprisingly, despite its fame, less than three percent of the acreage is given over to the Nebbiolo grape, which is the primary variety used for Barolo, Barbaresco, Boca, Carema, Fara, Ghemme, Roero, and, of course, Nebbiolo d'Alba and Nebbiolo delle Langhe.

Nebbiolo is one of the two great red-wine grapes of Italy. The other is Tuscany's Sangiovese. Its name comes from nebbia, or "fog", because it ripens best and gives its finest wines in places where there is a good deal of morning fog during the harvest. One of those places is the Monferrato hills in the south of the province of Asti and that's where the Araldica co-operative has 2,000 acres of vinyards. In partnership with Martin Shaw, the star Australian winemaker, Araldica bottles Alasia, a wine that exemplifies modern techniques while retaining the characteristic Italian taste of the region's limestone-clay soil.

The bottle we drank was an Alasia Langhe Nebbiolo, 1995. Here are our tasting notes: fine red colour. Good nose with hints of toffee, cherry and fruitcake. Medium-bodied. Hint of sweetness on the palate, pleasantly grapey. Can still improve. Slightly pricey, though, at 10 euros.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 12 November 2002 at 7:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Watched the first series of the hit BBC programme The Office at the weekend. Brilliant. Hilarious. The show is a savage parody of motivational management gibberish and has deservedly attracted a huge following in Britain. Ricky Gervais is superb. As well as co-writing and co-directing each episode, he plays the main character, David Brent, a manager at dysfunctional paper merchant Wernham Hogg who torments his colleagues with lecherousness and boorishness. Brent's most loyal staff member is Gareth Keenan, an ex-army fanatic. Their Dilbertian exchanges are vicious:

"Today I?m doing the staff appraisals, and some people get a little bit nervous about that ?cos they think they?re walking the long mile to put their head on the block. But they?re wrong, it?s a chance for them to tell me where we?re going wrong. It?s very much an opportunity?? ?To separate the wheat from the chaff.? ?Well, no, that sounds bad. It?s not a witch-hunt, we?re not trying to find out who the worst people are.? ?Well, we know who they are already.? ?Well, no.? ?I?ve written them down on my form.? ?You shouldn?t have written them on your form.? ?I?ve underlined the worst ones.? ?You?re missing the point.? [David looks at Gareth?s form] ?Yep.?

The Office is set in a drab industrial estate in Slough, a dormitory town situated between Reading and London that the show does its best to rubbish. Poet John Betjeman immortalised the dullness of the place 60 years ago when he wrote: "Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough/It isn't fit for humans now." The Germans spared Slough, though, and thanks to The Office pub quiz I've learned that it went on to become home to an ice skating arena where Torvill and Dean once trained. Oh, and Mars Bars are made there. Here's David contemplating Slough and his future:

"Slough?s a big place. And when I?ve finished with Slough, there?s Reading, Aldershot, Bracknall, you know I?ve got to-Didcott, Yately. You know. My-Winersh, Taplow.

Because I am my own boss, I can wake up one morning and go ?Ooh, I don?t feel like working today, can I just stay in bed?? ?Ooh, don?t know, better ask the boss.? ?David can I stay in bed all day?? ?Yes you can David.? And, by the way, that?s not me in bed with another bloke called David.?

The second series of The Office ended its run with record DVD sales and figures of 4.4 million viewers for each Monday night episode. Fans, and I'm one now, hope that Gervais will commit to a third series. Let's leave the last word to David:

?You?ve seen me entertain, and raise money, but maybe I?d like to do that in the future for a living you know. Use my humour and my profile to both help and amuse people, you know. And if it?s ideas for TV shows, game shows or whatever you want, I?m your man. I?m already exploring the entertainment avenue with my management training, but I?d like to do that on a global scale really.

And that?s not going ?Ooh, look at me today, I?m entertaining whilst saving lives aren?t I brilliant??, it?s going ?If you think I?m brilliant, then give generously and help save these guys who are starving, but are also brilliant?-not as entertainers, a lot of them can?t even speak English, but you know don?t give them their own game show, but save them from dying at least. And then maybe they could do something in their own country, on television or whatever they have, the wireless or I don?t know, give them a job on the world service or something.?

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 11 November 2002 at 7:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's not quite "See-Europe-In-Seven-Days" but Ryan Adams is on a whirlwind Grand Tour at the moment. He played Basel last night and it's on now to the Royal Festival Hall in London for tomorrow night's gig. He's in Cork on Wednesday, and from the city on the Lee he goes to Helsinki and thence to Stockholm on Sunday. On and on he weaves between the cities and countries of the old continent

On Thursday night, in a half-filled, draughty Circus Krone in Munich, we saw him give an erratic performance that included many cigarettes, a few cocktails, a bit of rambling self-derision and lots of fine work on piano and guitar — acoustic and electric.

With the reputation of mercurial artist to live up to, Adams has put himself in a position where fans expect the unpredictable. Is he going to be tempestuous and order out anyone who mistakes him for that other Adams (Bryan), or will he appear in a tired and emotional state as he did last year in Munich? On Thursday, he was in subdued form. He had a few quibbles about the intensity of the spotlights but there were no tantrums.

He kicked off with Oh My Sweet Carolina from his solo debut album, Heartbreaker and this set the tone for what proved to be an evening of melancholy that was re-enforced at times by exquisite cello and violin accompaniment. Sure, there were lively moments — To Be Young (Is to Be Sad, Is to Be High) done with a blues accent and a hillbilly version of Hank Williams' Lovesick Blues — but these were rare. Sylvia Plath, his ballad tribute to the suicidal poet, and the Rolling Stones' Brown Sugar performed as a lament, were indicative of the evening's mood.

Ryan Adams is one of the most gifted singer-songwriters of our time but he needs to mature as an entertainer. Tours are designed for the purpose of promoting albums and although this may be a chore for an artist, concertgoers are entitled to a minimum of substance. So, Ryan, less mercury and more concrete, please.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 10 November 2002 at 8:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I met Max for the first, and last, time when I was at home in June for the parents' golden wedding anniversary. He had joined the family in early spring after a rigorous selection process. Max was a dog, I should add.

My mother is very fussy about dogs and she surely tested a dozen before settling on Max. The unsuccessful candidates failed either because they weren't gentle companions or didn't bark loud enough at strangers or were overly fond of sheep. Finding a dog that combines friendship with wariness and restraint is not an easy task because those virtues are somewhat contradictory. Good watchdogs tend to be fierce, and it isn't easy to get them to step out of the role; good canine companions tend to be trusting and that's not always the best quality in a rural Ireland where gangs of young blackguards have made robbing isolated farmhouses their profession. And then there's the sheep. Most dogs sense that the wool bearers are dim creatures and they enjoy a bit of laugh by chasing them around the fields. The trouble with this fun is that it usually ends in tears as the dogs don't give up until the sheep have run themselves through fences or over cliffs. Given the economics of mutton and wool, the sheep owners get upset at the loss and the dogs have to die.

Die Max did but it wasn't because of rustling. No, he was doing some roadwork when a neighbour drove over him last month. It's the kind of thing that happens in the countryside. The roads are narrow, the drivers young and the vehicles ever more powerful.

A family from the Cork side turned up with Toby. Apparently, the children had tired of her. The name, which is usually associated with males, dates from puppyhood and confusion about the dog's gender. He was actually a she but the name stuck. My mother writes:

"Toby is going good. When she's let loose she'll stay outside the back door with bones. So far she can't get out of the yard. The sheep will be the next investigation. I'd say if she got out the field she' run after them. That would be too bad."

I want Toby to succeed.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 9 November 2002 at 7:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This week's choice stretches the definition of "blog" to breaking point but, with 100,000 postings a day, I think it meets the basic criteria of regular updating. And another reason for including it is that it's the site that can help blogs get the kind of notice that will enable their authors to be taken seriously as journalists. We're talking about Google News.

Overwhelmed one day by the drudgery of searching for news in the Web's incessant flood of information, Google research scientist Krishna Bharat asked himself: Who has the time anymore to click from page to page while battling with banners and pop up ads just to read a particular story? And so the Bangalorean with a degree in computer science from IIT-Madras set to coding a way to gather and assemble in one place news from different sources.

At the core of his program is a clustering algorithm — a mathematical operation that finds similarities between things and then groups them. In practice, it looks at articles from different news sources and assesses factors such as a story's timeliness and ranking. What's unique about Bharat's program is that it scans the full text of the articles, rather than just headlines, allowing it to analyse and group stories according to the complete content. Working like a combination of librarian and editor the program searches matches and collects the articles. The result is that every story on the Google News homepage has a headline linked to its source, a blurb, the time it was last updated, headlines from other sources and links to sites with similar stories. The program crawls through 4,000 news sources in real time every fifteen minutes and posts 100,000 articles daily

Because stories are selected by a mathematical process Google says bias is avoided. The program pulls news from traditional and non-traditional sources and this means more exposure for blogs. With the 150 million unique visitors that hit Google daily that's a lot of attention. This opens up the possibility that the service could become a syndicate like Reuters or Associated Press for "minor league" journalists but there are difficult legal issues involved here. Would some sites cut off access if Google got into the news business? What's the situation if the site were to profit from someone else's content?

Is Google News the future of journalism? No, said Bharat in a recent interview, "But it will be part of the future of journalism," he added.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 8 November 2002 at 8:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Before the Dubliners turned into a musical parody in pursuit of a pension, they actually represented something worth listening to. Their compelling anarchy rested on a solid foundation — John Sheahan's fiddling, Barney McKenna's banjo, Ciaran Bourke's tin whistle, Ronnie Drew's gravelly voice and, above all, Luke Kelly's majestic singing. One of Kelly's great songs was Peggy Gordon, a ballad of troubled love with verses such as:

Peggy Gordon is the first song on Sinéad O'Connor's new album, Sean-nós nua (literally "the new old-style"), which draws its material and inspiration from the ballad singing culture that produced the Dubliners. Right away, I have to say that O'Connor's managed to do something I'd considered impossible: resuscitate songs that had yielded their lustre after decades of being mutilated in bars and clubs from Ahane to Zwickau. Her Báidín Fheilimí assertively banishes memories of all those twee children's choirs that hijacked it three decades ago; her Peggy Gordon is filled with love and loss, and the twinkling version of I'll Tell Me Ma is a clever way of rounding out a collection of songs that's long on, well, longing.

Now, some of those with a knowledge of Irish folk music might argue that the presence of songs on this recording such as Molly Malone and The Singing Bird is very much at odds with the tradition of unaccompanied singing in Gaelic that sean-nós really is. Darach O' Cathain and other masters of the sean-nós would hardly be found recording such hackneyed stuff, would they?

O'Connor's album is titled Sean-nós nua, however, and it's the nua bit that tends to be overlooked by those expecting more songs from the island's ancient rural culture and fewer from its modern urban one. Regardless of the divide between title and content, her ethereal version of My Lagan Love is up there with the great interpretations of Irish song. The expression, the emphasis on rhythm and the broad vocal range employed show a deep understanding of the tradition.

Even though she's no longer a sensation, Sinéad O'Connor remains original. Sean-nós nua is impressive.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 7 November 2002 at 7:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One of the most interesting people I know hasn't owned a TV for 14 years. To be sure, it's not the only reason why he's one of the most interesting people I know, but it's a contributory one. The fact that more and more people are dreadfully boring must be connected with the hours they spend in front of "the box". An article in the February edition of Scientific American revealed the frightening nature of the situation we find ourselves in:

"The amount of time people spend watching television is astonishing. On average, individuals in the industrialized world devote three hours a day to the pursuit — fully half of their leisure time, and more than on any single activity save work and sleep. At this rate, someone who lives to 75 would spend nine years in front of the tube."

Sadly, one country where TV has made enormously destructive inroads is Ireland. In homes and pubs, television cannot be avoided anymore. And what's worse, the most popular programmes are soaps such as Coronation Street and Eastenders. In the space of a few years TV has displaced civil conversation and replaced it with the very worst of British mass entertainment. So much for Ireland's efforts to establish a culture independent of colonial influences. Disturbing, too, is the way TV has affected the internal architecture of homes in Ireland. There was a time when chairs and couches were arranged in kitchens and living rooms for conversation, music making and reading. No more.

The next TV-Turnoff Week isn't until April (21-27), but it's never too early to reduce television's presence in your life. The TV-Turnoff site lists 101 Screen Free Activities ideas such as gardening, stargazing or going to a book shop.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 6 November 2002 at 7:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Travel does broaden the mind, especially if during the flight one is fortunate enough to have a copy of the Lufthansa magazine at hand. The October issue featured a very amusing interview with that shooting star of German letters, Vladimir Kaminer. Born in Moscow in 1967, Kaminer moved to Berlin in 1990 and became a sensation two years ago with his endearingly odd book about immigrants in the German capital, Russian Disco. His latest volume, Die Reise nach Trulala (Journey to Trulala), describes a place in the south Russian steppe, where top agents of the KGB, the Soviet secret service, go for their holidays. In sunny spring, the location serves as Paris and in misty autumn it acts as London.

With his German, Russian and Jewish identities, Kaminer is kept busy these days explaining his worldview. He does it with surreal wit as this exchange from the magazine shows:

Lufthansa Magazine: "You once said that alcohol consumption in Russia was a part of life in the same way that back pain was something everyone suffers from in Germany. Wouldn't you agree that that's a bizarre comparison?"

Vladimir Kaminer: "The Russians are more anarchistic, the Germans are more dissatisfied, although they have less reason to be so. Yet the reason they don't complain is not because they're in such a bad mood, but because they identify with the state. The Russians, on the other hand, would never expect honesty from their politicians. If you ask a Russian politician if he meant what he said at a personal level, he wouldn't even understand the question."

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 5 November 2002 at 7:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

From today until Friday Charles, Prince of Wales, is in Italy with stops in Florence, Rome and Naples. In the city that burned Savonarola and banished Machiavelli, Charles will visit Villa La Pietra, once owned by the British historian Sir Harold Acton. He bequeathed the lot to New York University, which is restoring both the villa and its gardens, matters dear to HRH's heart. Tomorrow, Charles is at The European University Institute, a uniquely European doctoral and postdoctoral academic institution located at the splendid Badia Fiesolana which Lorenzo the Magnificent used as a refuge from the city's summer heat.

I don't know if the prince intends to visit the British Institute of Florence, but reports suggest that an appearance would be welcomed. Apparently, business is not what it once was. The venerable institute generates most of its income through the teaching of English and Italian but competition in that sector is fierce. Sure, the institute offers other courses as well. For example, from 11 to 13 November you can spend three days studying the 15th century Florentine painter Alessandro Botticelli, and for your $230 there are talks and a guided visit to the Uffizi to experience such masterpieces as the Birth of Venus and the Primavera. Trouble is, Florence is expensive, and the punters have been shaken by 11 September and unnerved by a skittish global economy.

It was all very different in the years following the success of the Merchant Ivory film, A Room With A View. Back then, huge numbers wanted to relive E.M. Forster's 1908 light-hearted tale of Edwardian manners. Remember? Helena Bonham Carter and Maggie Smith travel to Florence where they meet an unconventional Englishman played by Denholm Elliott, and his romantically unhappy son, George (Julian Sands). Among the other British icons in the cast were Daniel Day-Lewis, Judi Dench and Simon Callow. It was a blockbuster and people couldn't get enough of British Florence. Now it appears that they have. There were hopes that Tea with Mussolini would help revive the franchise. The scene is Florence over the course of the 1930s and 1940s and the story is the raising of the illegitimate son of an Italian merchant by a group of prim English ladies whose passion for Italian culture have made them permanent residents. With the rise of Mussolini and the outbreak of war, the ladies are interned as prisoners, and the boy risks his life to help them.

Lushly photographed by Franco Zeffirelli, it's loosely based on his life as a youth in World War II-era Italy. It's also a load of nonsense. The combination of Cher, Judi Dench, Joan Plowright, Maggie Smith, Lily Tomlin, Zeffirelli and John Mortimer is simply too much for the digestion.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 4 November 2002 at 6:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

...eat.

Reasons to dine at Ketumbar include loads of insanely attractive Romans, food that combines Japanese and Italian influences (noodles with duck and fried parsnip, meat-and-vegetable ravioli in soy sauce) and the fact that it is located in Testaccio, the in neighbourhood right now. Sushi meets Rome in low-lit bars and exotic dining rooms. Dinner for two with wine runs to 100 euros. Via Galvani, 24, phone (0039) 06 573 05338.

Il Desiderio Preso per la Coda is a little-known jewel near the Piazza Navona. Serious Italian food this: rigatoni with porcini, risotto with fresh figs, carpaccio of sea bass, all with incredibly reasonably priced wine. The crockery is colourful and mismatched, and the restaurant's card advertises locations in New York, Paris, Mombasa and Hanoi ? none of which exist. Dinner for two with drinks: 70 euros. Vicolo della Palomba 23, phone (0039) 06 683 07522.

Doc offers such treats as petto di galletto alla finocchiella (breast of chicken with wild fennel), tonnarelli pesce spada e capperi (fresh pasta with swordfish and capers). Originally a wine bar (the cellar is impressive), Doc has done what an awful lot of bars and restaurants have failed to do this year in Testaccio — survive and make an impression. Dinner for two with wine is about 70 euros. Via Beniamino Franklin 9, phone (0039) 06 574 4236.

Hot and hip right now is F.I.S.H. (Fine International Seafood House). Small and sleek, it offers exceptional sushi and sashimi, plus specialities such as swordfish tandoori and calamari stuffed with curried couscous. Dinner for two with wine is about 90 euros. Via dei Serpenti 16, phone (0039) 06 4782 4962.

Prefer something simpler, quicker and less expensive? L'Insalata Ricca has dozens of creative salads, with ingredients like spinach, salmon, hearts of palm, lobster and bufala mozzarella. Lunch or dinner for two with wine and great bread, costs no more than 30 euros. There are locations throughout Rome, with the biggest and best one located near Campo dei Fiori at Largo dei Chiavari, 85/86, phone (0039) 06 688 03656.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 3 November 2002 at 8:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Here I am, in the heart of Rome, beside the Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore and just a five-minute walk from Termini railway station and the Coliseum. Opinions are divided about Casa Olmata, my residence. One guest from Perth wrote:

"I just returned from touring around Italy, and in all my time in this country, my favorite hostel was Casa Olmata in Rome...The staff are very friendly and cheerful, always happy to help. The hostel has a terrace on the roof with amazing views of Rome and the Colosseum. Twice every week, Marco and Mirela prepare a spaghetti party - they cook a load of pizza and pasta, and provide sangria, all for free. Its just a great atmosphere there, very laid back and I would totally recommend it to anyone going to Rome."

Susie from Britian had a different experience:

"We chose and booked this hostel because of its location, but were given a room in a different building, without the promised Internet access or reception but with the added bonuses of a dodgy main lock, lights hanging by wires off the walls, grubby bedding and temperamental electricity and hot water (i.e. we got up to find there wasn't any of either)... We'd paid the extra for our own room, but unlocked it one night to find people asleep in what had been our beds. Nobody had bothered to tell us we were changing rooms, they just bundled our belongings together and moved them on. If you don?t mind paying to stay somewhere like this then go there at your own risk - you can guarantee I won't be in the room next door."

Hmmn. The thing about Rome is that one can pay more than 500 euros a night at the top of the market for a standard double at the Hotel de Russie or 180 a night in the Hotel Villa Borghese, where the never-ending traffic on the road outside the door is guaranteed to ruin your stay. At 52 euros a night for a double room, Casa Olmata makes no pretensions about its function. And you?ll have enough cash left over to enjoy Rome when you?re awake. That's the idea, after all, isn't it?

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 2 November 2002 at 7:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If it looks like a blog (discrete chunks of information) and acts like a blog (posts arranged in reverse-chronological order), even though, unlike most blogs, it has a vast readership. On those grounds, then, it deserves to be included in our weekly blog critique. So, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, Rainy Day presents that wonder of the information age — Slashdot. In the past five years, the site has published 50,000 articles, served 500 million pages and attracted an audience estimated at two million people. "News for nerds. Stuff that matters" is the slogan and if you're involved with open source code (and who isn't nowadays?) this has to be the first port of call each day.

It's a geeky place, Slashdot, and there's a whiff of the fanatical about it all but that's what has helped make it successful. And another thing, as New Economy glossy after glossy bites the dirt (Upside and Forbes ASAP being the latest), Slashdot is actually turning a profit. If you're looking for an Internet publishing model, check this site out. The secret appears to be: keep costs low, have cred and employ editors with wit and sharp eyes.

Finally, if you're looking for a blogging tool and you'd like to host on your own sever, Slash, the code that powers Slashdot. It's open source software, which means that you can download, install and use it for free. It's released under the GNU General Public License.

Posted by Eamonn Fitzgerald on 1 November 2002 at 9:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)