Sorority Saga: Let's See Who's Getting the Boot Now.

Last month I wrote about the Delta Zeta sorority kicking out women in its DePauw chapter who are not conventionally pretty.

As a former DZ told CNN, she and her sorority sisters were told by Delta Zeta's national leaders, "You need to be more sexually appealing; you need to make the guys want you." (Full story.)

How anachronistic is that? More to the point, how icky is that?

Ewwww. These are supposed to be well-educated women!

But I'll bite my tongue and move on.

Officials at DePauw were ticked off at the sackings, but it was Delta Zeta's response that drove them to evict the sorority from its campus. Sam Dillon followed up his February report in the New York Times today.

After the initial fuss, which received widespread national attention, Delta Zeta posted a weak apology on its website.

“Delta Zeta National apologizes to any of our women at DePauw who felt personally hurt by our actions. It was never our intention to disparage or hurt any of our members during this chapter reorganization process.”

But, not able to leave well enough alone, "the sorority posted statements critical of the women forced out of the DePauw chapter and of faculty members who supported them.," writes Dillon.

For DePauw officials, that was the last straw.

University President Robert G. Bottoms said beginning this fall Delta Zeta would no longer be permitted to house students in its Greek-columned residence on the DePauw campus in Greencastle, Indiana.

Let the punishment fit the crime.

It's high time for Delta Zeta's leadership to refine their understanding of an apology. There really is an art to saying "sorry." For starters, they can listen to Amy Dickinson, who explained it in Talk of the Nation on NPR last week.

You can listen to that discussion here.

Maltese Tenor Joseph Calleja Fills In for Villazon.

Poor Rolando wasn't feeling very good Friday night. So just an hour an a half before going onstage in the Vienna State Opera's La Boheme, he pulled out, and was replaced by 29-year old Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja.

There's been a lot of interest in this young man especially since Malta joined the European Union in 2004. His style is said to be "reminiscent of the great tenors of opera's golden age." (from Decca)

The Times of Malta reports the audience was so pumped about going to see Rolando that they were furious when they found out he wasn't going to show. Still, Joseph Calleja won them over, including Austria's largest paper, Die Presser:

"Joseph Calleja... swiftly managed to allay the discontent.

"He was (along with Boaz Daniel as Marcello) the best thing on this evening. (Mr) Calleja has a glorious, gratifyingly old-fashioned timbre, a terrific upper register and an ongoingly improving technique."

The Kurier Vienna amped up the praise: "The judgment of many people: A voice that radiates even more lyricism than Villazon's tenor."

I imagine Rolando is now doing his best to get better and back on stage! We recommend he stay away from mechanical bulls for a while.

But I'm glad for Joseph Calleja. The more top-notch tenors around, the better, I say.

Read more about Calleja on Wikipedia, and in this article from Music and Vision.

The Sound of Singapore.

In my last post I mentioned that I was born in Singapore. There's been quite a bit of reporting from that country of late on The World, as their correspondent Patrick Cox sends in stories on the island nation. The last, aired on Friday, was about the country's unique expression of the English language: Singlish.

Here's the link to listen to the report, and some samples of that language.

All I can say is, in the school I attended, teachers didn't encourage Singlish. Some of them simply wouldn't tolerate it. For me, it was just one of several "languages," dialects and other variants I spoke growing up. "Proper" English at school and most of the time at home. A smattering of Peranakan Malay with my paternal grandmother. A dash of Cantonese with my maternal grandmother and our maid. A forced dose of Mandarin as my mandatory second language in school. And of course, Singlish, as the company or occasion demanded. I also understood a tiny bit of two other Chinese dialects, Hokkien and Teochew, widely used in Singapore. This was not at all unusual: most Singaporeans switch from one language or dialect to another without batting an eyelash.

For all this, it pains me to say that today it is only my first language with which I am very comfortable. When necessary, I can stumble through rudimentary Mandarin and Cantonese. But fortunately, great expressions and phrases in Singlish are easy to recall.

One example: catch no ball

A word-for-word translation of a Hokkien phrase liak bo kyew, it's used when someone is trying to say they don't comprehend something. For example, if a math teacher launches into an explanation of some esoteric concept, a student who failed to grasp it could mutter, "Sir, (I) catch no ball!" Isn't that a great expression? So economical!

Here are more examples of Singlish.

And this is a linguist's take on Singlish on Wikipedia.

So, like dat, lah!

Asian Mothers and Daughters, In the Kitchen.

"Your mother is in your bones!"
- Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club

This morning, I watched the delightful Australian chef Kylie Kwong on the the Discovery Home Channel. Kylie is fourth-generation Chinese.

This morning’s episode of Simply Magic was entitled A Chinese Family: Mothers and Daughters.

Mum stepped in to Kylie’s kitchen, and I’m telling you – the exchange was déjà vu for just about every Asian daughter.

As she toasted sesame seeds to toss in a pickled celery salad, Kylie said if her Mum ever gave her "a certain look," she’d be reduced to the size of a sesame seed, in seconds. Asian daughters everywhere, I ask you, does this not resonate?

When offered a cup of tea. Mum promptly asked for a simpler vessel, saying the proffered cup was too special and she was afraid to break it. Asian daughters know that sentiment well, getting frustrated because Mother refuses to use the new sheets or tablecloth or blouse or china they sent, because it’s too special.

Daughters also know that competition and conflict with Mother can translate itself into culinary tasks with mother is in the kitchen, as Kylie demonstrated in a mashed potato challenge.

Mum made her mash the way most of us do, boiling potatoes, draining, mashing with the old trust masher and adding butter and milk. Just one pot to wash.

Kylie's method involved steaming potatoes (boiling makes the spuds absorb too much water, she said) for 35 minutes, then running them through her French mouli, (food mill). Next, she melted French butter, and heated milk. “Cold milk shocks the potatoes,” she said. Mum: “I didn’t know potatoes could be shocked.” Setting her mouli over the milk and butter, she turned the handle and the mashed potato fell into the creamy mix.

The judgement came from Mrs. Kwong’s granddaughter, Indy. In favor of Kylie. Then Indy slyly said, “Kylie, can I have my money now?”

Precious. If only all mother-daughter exchanges in the kitchen could be so innocuous!

Watch Kylie's show if you can. The dishes are simple, very healthy, traditional but with a modern Asia-Pacific twist, and gorgeous.

(L: Stir-fried King prawns)

I think you’ll really enjoy her warmth and self-effacing of humor. She's not corny, and doesn't show off. Apart from Ming Tsai and Martin Yan, I can’t think of any other Chinese chefs on TV. What a shame the Food Network can’t find any time in a whole week of oft-repeated shows to work in a measly half hour of Asian cooking.

Asian Mothers and Daughters, Part 2

(Part 2 is made necessary by Blogger's 200-character limit on each post)

Mrs. Kwong made the point that her mashed potatoes made use of a trusty old pot and a masher that cost only a few dollars, and involved a lot less washing up. Beat that, Kylie, she all but said.

In so many movies involving Asian families, scenes involving food are memorable, because that area really is where the raw elements in relationships are distilled. Often, Mother knows best, and there is simply no other way. Daughter may grudgingly go along with it as she struggles with her life lesson of the moment, at complete odds with what she has heard all her life from Mother.

As for my own Asian background, I’m Straits Chinese, also known as Perankan, Baba and Nonya, from Singapore. The short-form description of my culture: after the British established its three settlements in the Straits of Malacca, immigrants poured in to Penang, Malacca and Singapore. Some of the men from southern China married the local Malay women, and the resulting blend of cultures became separate and distinct. The language was a patois of Malay with Hokkien (Fujian) inflections, the women wore the sarong kebaya, which looks more Malay than Chinese.

As for Peranakan food, it's a fabulous blend of Chinese and Malay ingredients and techniques. It’s a very time-consuming to prepare this food, with a ridiculous amount of attention given to prep and mise-en-place. Back in the day, Nonya matchmakers would arrive at a prospective bride’s home in the mid-morning, when the girl would be preparing lunch; the matchmaker (and sometimes, the mother-in-law to be) would listen to the sound of the mortar and pestle (lesong) and were said to be able to tell from that alone if the young lady was a good cook. So, it boiled down to these factors – was she strong enough to wield a heavy granite pestle, could she cook well, and bear numerous sons?

Naturally, once the girl married into a family her actions were scrutinized, and many a conflict would play itself out in the kitchen.

I say, so long as the skills are passed on from one generation to another, c’est la vie, eh?


I plan to get Kylie's books soon.

From everything I've seen and read, her books are as beautiful as they are good. They are:

• Heart and Soul


• Kylie Kwong: Recipes and Stories


• Kylie Kwong: Simple Chinese Cooking

The War on Terror: How Long? Ted Koppel Investigates, and Tells Me About It.

Bring home the troops, say many Americans.

But when each and every one comes back home, does that mean the War on Terror is over?

U.S military officials say forget that.

Just look at what al Qaeda is doing: gearing up to take on the U.S for the next hundred years. That means generations to come will have to fight an unconventional war.

Outgoing Centcomm commander General John Abizaid coined the term The Long War to describe the coming struggle.

Ted Koppel examines this in his third special report for the Discovery Channel, airing this Sunday at 9PM.

I talked to Ted on Monday morning about the program, Our Children's Children's War.



Ted was anchor of ABC's Nightline for 25 years. He's now a senior news analyst for National Public Radio (here's his NPR bio) and managing editor for the Discovery Channel.

I admit to being nervous before speaking to him, but once the interview was in progress became so absorbed in what Ted had to say, and settled down. He made a point of asking how to pronounce my name, and addressed me a few times during out chat. In addition to the riveting subject, Ted's beautiful, clear and unhurried manner, plus that rich, sonorous old-style delivery, can really hold your attention. We only had 10 minutes. Each of his answers was substantial. There wasn't nearly enough time to ask everything I wanted.

A seven-minute edit aired on Northwest Public Radio Friday during Morning Edition.


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Here's the audio and transcript of the unedited interview.

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This is the third special report Ted's done for Discovery. The first one, aired five years after the September 11th attacks, was The Price of Security. In conjunction with that program, NPR jointly produced a town hall meeting with Discovery.

Above: Ted Koppel hosts the town hall meeting in Silver Spring, Md., Sept. 10, 2006.

NPR blogged about producing that event for TV and radio simultaneously.

Here are questions and answers from that town hall meeting.

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NPR's interview with Ted Koppel on the same subject aired on Morning Edition on Friday. Read or listen to it here.

More Barnyard Animal News Today,

Will those wisecracking California cows be TRULY happy at this news?

California Dairies Inc., a huge Central Valley dairy co-op says it's going to stop using BGH, Bovine Growth Hormone, in its cows.



Suddenly conscious of animal welfare? Health concerns?

No. It all boils down to MONEY.

As San Jacinto dairy farmer Sid Sybrandy tells the Los Angeles Times, any increased production wasn't worth the expense of the drug and the extra wear he saw in the animals.

"If it is 40 cents a cow per day, times 1,000 cows, it's $400. After a month, it is an extra $12,000," Sybrandy said. "The dairy industry would have been better off if the product would have never been used. We all would have made more money."

Further, California Dairies Inc. said its biggest customers such as Vons and Safeway didn't want it in the cows. The co-op also supplies brands such as Foster Farms, Knudsen Farms and Producers Dairy.

Then, there's Starbucks -- we think of its coffee, but did you know it is one of the biggest sellers of milk in the country? That's a lotta latte. They've stopped using milk from cows injected with the hormone from more than a third of its establishments and plans to gradually increase that to at least half of its U.S. company-operated coffeehouses.

BGH is made by Monsanto.

Read the Los Angeles Times article.

One Great Picture After Another: Gracias, Rolando.

Rolando Villazon is rapidly becoming my favorite opera personality. That’s PERSONALITY. Earlier this morning I posted the picture of him flying off a mechanical bull (scroll down) - now I’ve found another picture of him, screaming for a caption.



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I received some great caption suggestions! These include: (names hidden to protect the guilty):

• Look at the shine coming off that thing! I can see my tonsils! (LH)


• You used my lotion again? Have you no sense of personal property? (LH)


• Oh my gosh! What kind of moisturizer are you using? I simply must get a bottle for myself! (RR)


• So THIS is what you've been hiding! (Unprintable!) :) (RR)

AND THE WINNER IS:

With one misstep, Anna turns the performance into a soprano duet.

(Scott, from comments)

Thanks for the caption ideas, friends, and keep sending in those entries!

The lovely lady with Rolando here is the Russian soprano Anna Netrebko. In the picture above, they are playing Alfredo and Violetta in Verdi's La Traviata. The two work so well together, any production or recording teaming them is virtually guaranteed success.

If you want to hear Rolando and Anna sing, click here. A clip of them singing the Brindisi will start playing. The performance is from the 2005 Salzburg Festival, and features Eastern Washington’s favorite operatic son, Thomas Hampson.

We Interrupt This Broadcast...

...with this test of the Emergency Alert System."

The National Weather Service test cut into our program at 7:56 this morning, interrupting Frank DeFord's piece on NPR listeners' name suggestions for the brothers of the racehorse Barbaro.

To hear the interrupted piece, click on this link to read or listen to DeFord's commentary.

In Every Opera, There's Downfall.

(AP Photo/Roberto Pfeil, Pool)

What the hell was Rolando Villazon doing Saturday on German TV?

Seems the Mexican superstar was riding a mechanical bull, wearing a jacket of what appears to be a red velvet. I don't know if that was meant to evoke the matador, seeing as he was on a bull (of sorts.) Was it maybe a stray costume from Carmen? At any rate, it's a pretty discordant convergence: velvet, mechanical bull, airborne tenor.

A mechanical bull. Will he soon come up with an album of re-interpreted country songs? (My hero Placido took his pipes to Annie's Song, which is...well...oh, never mind.) Will Rolando belt out The Yellow Rose of Texas? Well if he does, it will have to wait. His album just released last month contains zarzuela arias, with the orchestra conducted by none other than: Placido Domingo. I have to get it! Rolando really is excellent: I love that dark-chocolate-and-brandy feeling of his voice. Gotta hear how he interprets those zarzuelas, which often ooze raw emotion.

I hope Rolando has a good chiropractor.

And an ego somewhat sturdier than Roberto Alagna's.

If you understand German, here's the video of Rolando's German interview.

From an earlier post: opera writer Michael White says Rolando looks like Mr. Bean.

Salaam, Mira Nair.

Can't wait for Friday! That's when one of my favorite books comes to the big screen.



Mira Nair is responsible for the film adaptation of the brilliant novel The Namesake, by Jhumpa Lahiri.



I really love the work of South Asian (Deshi) writers, and this one is among my favorites. It tells the story of a Bengali immigrant couple and their struggle to adapt to Western life. Their first child is born in Massachusetts, and they name him Gogol, after the Russian writer.

The Namesake was a resounding success for Jhumpa Lahiri, but she didn’t let that go to her head. Get an insight into this down-to-earth writer in her interview with the Washington Post in 2003.

Now combine her craft with that of the brilliant Mira Nair.

Salaam Bombay, Monsoon Wedding, Mississippi Masala and Vanity Fair (ironically, I just wrote about it in my March 1st post on the Bollywood craze among young white Brits.) Watch those films, and I need say no more.

I wonder how much the film will depart from the novel, though. According to IMDb, the film is a comedy/drama. The novel really didn't strike me as comedic, so - must wait and see.

Nair gave a very nice interview on Fresh Air with Terry Gross on Tuesday. You can listen to it here.

Finally, the face behind the voice!!

This is the voice of Eliza Dolittle in "My Fair Lady." This is who you heard in "West Side Story" as Maria. And she is also the voice behind Anna in "The King and I."

She is Marni Nixon, the woman whose voice supported Audrey, Natalie and Deborah in the musical film roles. I've only seen Marni in a little (singing) role as one of the nuns in The Sound of Music, complaining about the problem (like Maria.)

Now 77, Mrs. Nixon is in the New York Philharmonic’s concert-style revival of "My Fair Lady" at Lincoln Center this week.

Here's the story.

30 minutes? Try a dish in 30 SECONDS.

On Saturday morning, I caught an episode of Jacques Pepin’s public television show, Fast Food My Way, and felt a renewed appreciation for the skill, mastery and frugality of this elegant chef’s creations.

He opens each show with a simple dish whipped out in about 30 seconds!

There’s a cold black bean soup, which begins with a can of black beans pureed in a food processor with garlic, olive oil and hot sauce, then garnished with a little bit of sour cream, cilantro, sliced banana and crushed tortillas.

In the episode I watched, he tossed canned sliced beets with salt, pepper and sour cream, and set them on a bed of endive leaves. Took him about 15 very calm seconds, delivered in his reassuring voice.

I had the great pleasure of meeting and chatting with him (“please call me Jacques!”) last November at a private gathering and demonstration the night before his Yakima Town Hall lecture. We talked a little bit about his show, about Singapore food (it’s impossible to talk about Singapore without the subject of food coming up fairly quickly), and ingredients: we both agreed that the egg is completely underrated in American cooking. Apart from breakfast dishes, how often do you see eggs as the star of an entrée? He told me about a couple of simple sauces that elevate the humble egg. I told him about the days when I raised chickens on a mix of free range, vegetable scraps and grain, and was totally spoiled by having an unlimited access to fresh eggs with yolks so orange my cakes almost looked like they had food coloring added. It was something to which Jacques could relate from his boyhood in France.

Throughout the evening, Jacques showed a frugal sensibility, which also comes across on the show. He peppered his demonstration mentioning how much one could save by using one ingredient instead of another with no sacrifice in taste. Or, as he took the wings off a whole chicken and turned them inside out to form a “lollipop,” quickly calculated it would cost $6.50 as an appetizer in a restaurant. THAT, my friends, is a real chef – one who keeps a constant eye on the bottom line.

So I share now Jacques’ tips on the economical use of mushrooms.

The simple button mushroom, he said, has at least as much flavor as the more expensive varieties.



We’ve heard that the way to pick mushrooms in the store is to look for those with tight caps, with no separation from the stem. Yet Jacques said he often looks for the mushrooms in the bargain bin, a little past display prime, but with even more flavor with their age. And they're very cheap, to boot!

I can support the bit about flavor. There was once when I left a paper bag of these mushrooms on my counter before leaving on a vacation. When I came back, the caps had shriveled, but hadn’t gone bad. I tossed them into a pot of water with other vegetables and ended up with the richest vegetable broth I have ever made. Following that discovery, in the summer I sometimes dry mushrooms exactly like that, in a paper bag. They make particularly rich sauces and stews. (None of the local supermarkets has a bargain bin that I know of; but there is one in the food co-op - I should start paying more attention to what it has to offer.)

Jacques’ other fungus tip: - it’s okay to wash the little guys. Merci beaucoup!!! Wiping mushrooms with a damp cloth – it’s just too Martha for me. And if you’ve ever examined the amount of gunk that washes off those caps, you’d get rid of them damp cloth and dunk the ‘shrooms in a bowl of water too. But Jacques did say it’s key to wash them only immediately before use.

I’ll write more about my meeting with Jacques Pepin in future posts. Meantime, if you haven’t watched his show or read any of his books, I highly recommend them. He’s the real deal, trained in the old school where chefs had to start at the very bottom of the brutal kitchen hierarchy and work their way up by grueling labor and mastery of technique. He was a chef before it was a fashionable and lucrative career. In this day of celebrity chefs, it’s so refreshing to see a modest yet utterly charming gentleman go about his work without bluster. May the culinary world raise more of his ilk.

Teens Accused of Making Ostrich Impotent

This Associated Press story comes from Germany, where three teenagers could face a hefty fine if a court finds their firecrackers scared the libido right out of an ostrich named Gustav.

The bird’s owner claims that fireworks set off by the boys made the previously lustful Gustav both apathetic and depressed, and thus unable to perform for a half-a-year with his two female breeding partners.

The farmer estimates he lost out on 14 ostrich offspring -- worth $460 apiece.

Here’s the full story.

No word if manufacturers of ED drugs are interested in helping Gustav.

Last post on "literally." I promise.

I found some information on how the poor word came to its current state of abuse, and apparently it goes back a very long way!! Check out these articles:

Robert Fulford's column

Jesse Scheidlower: The Word We Love to Hate. Literally.

Abusers include Louisa May Alcott, Mark Twain, and F. Scott Fitzgerald! I had no idea. Never really noticed it until the last couple of years, frankly. Wonder if the misuse has just accelerated dramatically.

Like, literally.

It just occured to me (duh!) that like is often used where the speaker means something occurred literally , e.g.:

"The icicles were, like, falling off the roof."

Often people say literally in situations where something is like another thing, e.g.:

"My hands and feet were literally burning." ("My hands and feet felt like they were burning.") Or: "She was literally a father and mother to him." (Only one case where this could apply, that I know of - Cartman!!)

Another example of a constantly changing language: last week on Fresh Air I heard Maureen Corrigan's review of Ben Yagoda's When You Catch an Adjective, Kill It. She mentioned Pimp My Ride, where the first word has morphed from noun to verb, and the last word from verb to noun.

My faith restored! Literally.

For the last couple of days, Morning Edition has carried stories that somehow related to my posts written the day before. Funny how that happens.

Today, it's a big hurrah for NPR's Renee Montagne for correct usage of literal! She introduced a story was about a material that allows light to pass through as easily as it goes through air; that is to say, with no glare. Renee Montagne correctly used literally:

“The following story is no reflection on you. Literally, in this case. Scientists in New York have used nanotechnology to create an optical coating that virtually eliminates the reflection when you shine a light on it.”

The first time I’ve heard it used correctly in a long time.

Read or listen to the story, New Material Makes the Most of Light.

And to further my hope for a better future for the word literal, Northwest Public Radio's Robin Rilette just asked me if she could get on the studio computer to check something, saying "it will literally take me one minute."

I'm going to have a nice Friday.

Illiterate about "literal."

What has happened to the word literal?

For one thing, it’s become very popular. While flipping channels over a ten-minute period one afternoon, I heard it at least 6 times, incorrectly, in every instance. Literally! One example:

“My brain was literally on fire.”

I get irony, really. But it seems to me that more often than not, the word literal is used by people who think it means the exact opposite.

From the web site Common Errors in English by WSU's Paul Brians: “literally has been so overused as a sort of vague intensifier that it is in danger of losing its literal meaning. It should be used to distinguish between a figurative and a literal meaning of a phrase."

How did this happen, I wonder?

Something similar happened with déjà vu. It was funny when Yogi Berra used redundancy: “it was déjà vu all over again.” It caught on, but eventually most people who used that phrase had no clue of the joke - or if they did, gave no indication they were in on the irony. For years now, that phrase has irked me. It’s just not funny anymore.

So, back to literal.

“I was, like, literally heartbroken!” (The dead continue to speak!)

“My head like, literally exploded.” (And the mouth still can’t, like, shut up?)

“My skin was literally crawling.” (Where to? The flayed look is so last millennium.)

Oh, for goodness’ sake. Like and literal are not synonyms, not by a long shot! Using them together in sentences annoys me greatly! LITERALLY!!!!!! It grates on my nerves. Figuratively.

I have to wonder: is there a link between like and literal?

Given the gross overuse of like, in cases where one might have heard such as, compared to, as in, et cetera….can we detect a growing inability to use language accurately? Or perhaps, people speak with exaggeration and hyperbole as a matter of course, so much so they've found they need a way to say when they really mean something?

I still would love to know how this misuse began, so if anyone has answers, share and enlighten, please!

You know what prompted me to write this tirade?

Yesterday afternoon on the program The World,” the guest host said of the son of a late musician from Mali: “He’s literally following in his father’s footsteps.” (Read or listen to it here.) I waited to hear where exactly the son was trekking, retracing his father’s footsteps. I was disappointed. Of course, the son was following in the father’s figurative career footsteps.

And this on PUBLIC RADIO!! That, for me, was the last straw. (The last straw that literally broke the camel's back? I'm KNOW I read or heard that somewhere lately!)

Ye gods.

I really don’t know how literal came to be so abused. But apparently, I am far from alone in my irritation. After I started writing this, I Googled misuse word literal – and lo and behold, 380,000 results!

This one is fun: an “English language grammar blog tracking abuse of the word literally”: Literally, A Web Log. Some hysterical examples collected on this site, such as she literally jumped out of her skin. Worth a few good laughs!

A brief digression to the word like. I tried my best to reduce its egregious use by my children, a couple of summers ago. Each time they used the word meaninglessly, as a filler, the offending party would be fined a nickel. If I did it, the fine was a quarter. (We used the money for ice cream at the end of the summer.) The exercise didn't obliterate the word from our home, but my sons, at least, don't pepper their speech liberally with the word. With my daughter, corrections are still required on occasion.

Maybe my next goal should be to discourage the misuse of literal and literally. I want to encourage the use of the following in its place: practically, virtually, actually, really. Or use nothing at all, in sentences such as I [literally] couldn't wait for the show to start.

Rant over. I feel much better! Literally!

Happy birthday, Cat in the Hat!

Dr. Seuss created the character 50 years ago today.

I swear, I didn't know that when I wrote the titles to the last two posts!

Morning Edition investigated the genesis of The Cat this morning.

Happy Birthday, Cat in the Hat!

Jolly Good, Bollywood!

Fish and chips have been supplanted by chicken tikka masala as Britain's favorite dish. And now comes the news that the country's South Asian wave has hit the theater and popular culture. The BBC reports Bollywood dancing has really caught on in Yorkshire.

White English youths are crazy about it in this northern county. We're talking about James Herriot territory, here! The land of Siegfried, James and Tristan!

Young Yorshire folk love Bollywood dancing, described as "a fusion of Indian classical dancing with Western dance moves".

"It's exciting, its physically testing, it's graceful and above all it's fun," says one teenager, auditioning to dance in a play called Bollywood Jane.

Alastair Lawson writes, "It seems as if the people of Yorkshire have embraced Bollywood with the same kind of enthusiasm that many cricket fans in India have for the batsman Geoffrey Boycott. The mention of his name in India still prompts the refrain of "eh up Geoffrey".

Relations between the two cultures have not always been cordial. I was reminded of this recently when I watched David Lean's A Passage to India, and re-read E.M. Forster's novel of the same title. Another recent movie night, I discovered Lagaan, a good example of the ambigious relationship between the Indians and their colonizers. Still, the cultural flow of ideas between the two peoples has been rich, with examples ranging from mundane to profound. Did you know it was the British who are responsible for the word curry? Hard to imagine curry coming from anyone but Asians, isn't it?

Indian song and dance seem an excellent addition to Britain's culture.

One of my favorite movies, Gurinder Chadha's Bride and Prejudice, successfully translated a beloved English novel into the Bollywood idiom. Director Mira Nair brought some Indian elements into her film of Thackeray's Vanity Fair. That may have betrayed authenticity, but the result was visually very appealing.

Very much my cuppa chai.

How Now Low Dow?

Wow!

Ow.

Wish I could take credit for the great headline, but it's by Slate's Daniel Gross.

The piece is about Tuesday's sharp plunge in the markets.

Read the article here.

Could this gain the same notoriety of the Variety headline in 1935, Sticks Nix Hick Pix?

Viva assonance!

Not my cup of tea, but...

I would never dream of going to a place like Robert's Steak House on West 45th Street in Manhattan, for any number of reasons. But I always enjoy good, funny writing. Frank Bruni's review carries the wonderful heading, "Where Only the Salad is Properly Dressed."

Havens for Italy's Abandoned Babies Go Hi-Tech

Every now and then we get a news story about live babies found abandoned, sometimes in disgusting places - dumpsters, public bathrooms. What’s most surprising is when these cases take place in states such as Washington, where there is a “safe haven” law.

This law permits a person -- usually a parent -- to abandon a newborn baby at certain places, such as hospitals, police stations or firehouses. The first state to enact the law was Texas, in 1999. As of 2006, all but 4 states had similar laws, bearing names such as Safe Place, Baby Moses Law, Safe Arms for Newborns, Safe Delivery, Safe Surrender.

In Washington state, the law states a baby up to 3 days old may be abandoned without penalty if given to an employee or volunteer at a fire station or hospital. With such a shield, it's hard to know why people continue to dump their infants anywhere other than the places specified. Ignorance? Sheer callousness? Who's to know.

This sort of thing goes back to Biblical times, when Pharoah ordered the drowning of every newborn Hebrew boy. The mother of Moses put him in a basket, nestled it in the reeds in the Nile. He was found and adopted, by no less than Pharoah's daughter.

The Middle Ages devised the “foundling wheel” which allowed women to deposit their offspring without being seen.

And now technology has transformed the foundling wheel in Italy. It's a sophisticated system to provide for the safety of abandoned newborns. In today’s New York Times, Elisabetta Povoledo writes:

“Now a Rome hospital, the Casilino Polyclinic, has introduced a technologically advanced version of the foundling wheel — not at all a wheel but very much like an A.T.M. booth. For the first time a new mother left her baby there on Saturday night, and on Monday the child, a boy about 3 months old, was doing well.”

"The baby was deposited in a small structure equipped with a heated cradle and lifesaving instruments, including a respirator.

"As in bygone days, it is possible for a woman to leave a baby without being seen, but the moment the child is abandoned an alarm goes off in the hospital’s emergency room, ensuring that the baby receives immediate first aid from a team of specialists."

Here’s the whole article: Updating an Old Way to Leave the Baby on the Doorstep.

I found this interesting: Povoledo says, "many common family names in Italy can be traced to a foundling past: Esposito (because children were sometimes “exposed” on the steps of a convent), Proietti (from the Latin proicio, to throw away) or Innocenti (as in innocent of their father’s sin)."

And back to Washington state: just last month, a baby was abandoned on the steps of a Mount Vernon church. Here’s the Seattle Post Intelligencer’s report.

Here are some links:

Safe Place for Newborns

religioustolerance.org
(Their page on this topic has information on the history, enactment and effectiveness of safe haven laws.)

Great concert, Wenatchee!

What a pleasure to host another concert of the Wenatchee Valley Symphony. Maestro Marty Zyskowski conducted a great program. It opened with Sousa's Liberty Bell March, which was used as the opening them of Monty Python's Flying Circus. As I told the audience, that piece was written with the title of The Devil's Deputy. It didn't sit well with Sousa's band manager. The name change was a good idea!

After the opening, the Wenatchee High School Percussion section, clad in their purle and yellow uniforms, came onstage with their director Jim Kovach, to join in John Williams's music for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The scoring also called for a celeste and piano. This was the only piece keyboardist Jill had to be perform that night.

The orchestra made us feel nostalgic with The Sound of Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein, and Mancini Memories with selections from Breakfast at Tiffany's and Hatari.

In researching Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld I discovered that the operetta was even funnier than I remembered - in fact, it's a complete send-up of the Greek legend. In this version, Eurydice is not in love with Orpheus. So much so she’s having an affair with someone else! She moans and complains and tries to get out of her relationship, which is fine with Orpheus, who's much more in love with his fiddle....but a character named Public Opinion will not stand for it. So Orpheus is forced to get rid of his wife's lover. But in the madcap attempt, Eurydice dies as an unintended event. Orpheus is quite all right with it, but Public Opinion is decidely not. Now Orpheus he has to go into Hades and get Eurydice back.

It's truly a madcap romp from Mount Olympus to Hades and back, and the operetta gave us lots of catchy melodies. Who among us isn't tempted to hum along to the Can-Can?

After intermission, the WVS gave an excellent performance of Dvorak's 9th Symphony, better known as the New World Symphony. As I told the audience, it was written in the late 1800s, when there wasn't a distinctly American form of classical music. New Yorker Jeanette Thurber did some pretty clever fundraising to start the National Conservatory to pursue this. Ironically, they hired a Czech to create this American sound! But what a sound. People who heard the spiritual "Going Home" would say, "oh, that's where Dvorak got that lovely theme." Fact is, the melody was written by Dvorak, and borrowed to create the spiritual! What a gorgeous melody. No wonder this is One Of The Most Beloved Symphonies Ever Written.

A lively encore of Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever closed another great concert.

Then, it was time for coffee and dessert.



And time to visit with listeners.




Above: That's our station manager Roger Johnson in the black suit, with listeners taking a look at our display with pictures of radio personalities, both national hosts and those at Northwest Public Radio.



Above: I spoke to longtime NWPR supporters and classical music fans Larry and Penny Tobiska.

We couldnt' have put on the reception without the help of volunteers. Thanks, guys!

Here are some of those terrific volunteers, with our Woman in Wenatchee, Rita Brown (with the name tag.)



For all the exuberant performances and humor in the music, though, there was a tinge of sadness around the edges of this evening. The concert was dedicated to a member of the symphony, violinist Angela Schuster Svendsen. The former Young Artist winner was killed in a car accident this month. Angela was 31.

I was also very sad to hear that conductor Marty Zyskowski's wife Char is struggling with cancer. I met Char last year and enjoyed chatting with her. She's a cheerful, sunny woman. This illness is very hard on her as well as for Marty. You are both in my thoughts and prayers.

Prayers and good thoughts also to my Northwest Public Radio colleague in Wenatchee, sales executive Kathy Allen, undergoing treatment for brain cancer. Kathy was previously with the Wenatchee Downtown Association before joining us in October last year, and is a well-known person in Wenatchee. She's mother of a toddler, and sister-in-law to a former NWPR employee, Kelly Allen (you may remember her show, Saturday Jazz.) An account has been set up for Kathy at People's Bank. If you'd like to make a donation, you can do so at any branch. It's really been heartbreaking to all of us at NWPR; needless to say, we're all rooting for you, Kathy.

And looking ahead now to the final concert of the Wenatchee Valley Symphony's 60th year: that will be on April 15th, with pianist Dr. Jody Graves. The birthday celebration begins with a silent auction at 6PM, and of course, there'll be cake! So, good folks of Wenatchee, turn out and help your great orchestra have a successful fundraiser. They get better every time I hear them, and with your support, they can continue to bloom and grow, bloom and grow, for-e........ver...... (Well, they were playing Edelweiss tonight! I get my inspiration where I can.)

News Bits and Pieces.

A headline in South Korea: Olympic skier Toby Dawson, adopted by an American couple at an orphanage in Seoul when he was three years old, has been reunited with his biological father. Dawson's adoption story received international attention when he won the bronze in Moguls At the Turin Olympics in 2006. That's when dozens of South Koreans came forward, claiming to be his biological parents (Don't they know about DNA testing?) The BBC reports Dawson has "mixed feelings" about meeting the bus driver who says Toby was stolen from him at a street fair.

Costco is tightening its money-back return policy on electronics, because the wholesaler (based in Issaquah, WA) was losing "tens of millions of dollars" in returns. Read the full story in the Seattle P-I.

Krispy Kreme is now making WHOLE WHEAT doughnuts! No word on what the glaze will contain. I saw this Associated Press story on the Washington Post.

Pizza burger, burger pizza. Pizza taco, taco pizza. More and more, restaurant chains are offering mashups of unhealthy food options, making them even unhealthier in the process. Health and nutrition advocates call these creations hybrid horribles. Here's the Los Angeles Times report.

Truly Regal.

I missed the Oscar show last night, while having a great time with the Wenatchee Valley Symphony (more on that coming, soon as I get a hold of some pictures from the evening.) Caught some news clips on TV this morning, and was happy to see a royal pair of wins, so to speak: Forest Whitaker for "The Last King of Scotland, and Helen Mirren for The Queen.

As stars go, Dame Helen is in a constellation all her own, as far as I'm concerned. It's somewhat strange that for her supreme acting, she hasn't been awarded an Oscar till now. I was absorbed in her brilliant, multi-dimensional performances, among them as Detective Chief Inspector Jane Tennison in the Prime Suspect series, as Ayn Rand in The Passion of Ayn Rand, and in Gosford Park, Calendar Girls, and lately, as queens Elizabeth I and Elizabeth II.

But there's so much to enjoy about Helen Mirren apart from her supreme craft. There's always a cheeky sense about her, of which I caught a glimpse on Oprah's day-after-the-Oscars show.



(image from from oprah.com)

See her black T-shirt in this photo? I couldn't make out everything on it, but did decipher these words in a close-up shot:

lah dee dah

As Meryl Streep sang out upon meeting Helen Mirren recently, "There's Nothing Like a Dame!"

On the Road Again!

I'm off to Wenatchee tomorrow to emcee a concert of the Wenatchee Valley Symphony tomorrow. While the Oscars are being presented, Marty Zyskowski conducts a program of "Classics, Movies and More!" John Williams, Henry Mancini, Rodgers and Hammerstein - along with Dvorak's New World Symphony and the overture to Offenbach's "Orpheus in the Underworld."

It's a four-hour drive to Wenatchee, but I always look forward to getting out into our listener communities.

Northwest Public Radio is treating concert-goers to post-symphony dessert and coffee, so if you're able to join us at the Wenatchee High School auditorium starting at 7PM (Sunday), please stop by and say hello.

Sorority Fights Stereotypes, Boots Out Non-Conformists

The New York Times reports in Sunday's edition that the Delta Zeta sorority was so concerned about what DePauw students perceived about that house on the Indiana campus, it was moved to action.

Sam Dillon writes:

"Worried that a negative stereotype of the sorority was contributing to a decline in membership that had left its Greek-columned house here half empty, Delta Zeta’s national officers interviewed 35 DePauw members in November, quizzing them about their dedication to recruitment. They judged 23 of the women insufficiently committed and later told them to vacate the sorority house.

"The 23 members included every woman who was overweight. They also included the only black, Korean and Vietnamese members. The dozen students allowed to stay were slender and popular with fraternity men — conventionally pretty women the sorority hoped could attract new recruits. Six of the 12 were so infuriated they quit.

“Virtually everyone who didn’t fit a certain sorority member archetype was told to leave,” said Kate Holloway, a senior who withdrew from the chapter during its reorganization."

What on earth were they thinking, that being overweight or a racial minority amounts to a negative image?

Dillon writes:

"Asked for clarification, the sorority’s public relations representative e-mailed a statement saying its actions were aimed at the “enrichment of student life at DePauw.”

Well, can't wait to see how they explain that one.

Now that Delta Zeta's actions have caught national attention, that ought to take care of any "negative stereotype", then, eh?

Here's a link to the whole article.

Weather we should depend on the meteorologist.

All it takes a few warm, sunny February days, and people start thinking of spring. You see them buying seed packets and little potting trays.

Ah, the folly. Every year the false promise of spring dupes many of us into putting away the parka and snow shovel a few weeks too early.

Yesterday the Inland Northwest saw a resurgence of winter weather, with snow and rain across the region. Still, residents of the Palouse were not quite prepared for heavy snow that blanketed the area rapidly in the afternoon. I was sitting in a doctor’s office with my son between 3 and 4, when big snowflakes began swirling. By the time we were done with the appointment, my car was covered with nearly an inch of the stuff!

Last night, I received an e-mail on the subject, from a listener who works on the Washington State University campus in Pullman. It reads, in part:

“…I realize that we have listeners all over the area but I assume it originates here & we like to know what weather to expect. Like today, we received no warning of this, pardon the pun, ‘coldsnow’.”

This, in part, was my reply:

“...to your complaint that I did not give any warning of snow in the afternoon, let me show you the 4AM National Weather Service forecast for the Palouse, which I used to prepare my announcement:

IDZ003-WAZ033-222300-
IDAHO PALOUSE-WASHINGTON PALOUSE-INCLUDING THE CITIES OF...MOSCOW...PULLMAN
402 AM PST THU FEB 22 2007

TODAY: SNOW IN THE MORNING...THEN RAIN OR SNOW BY MIDDAY.
SNOW ACCUMULATION OF 1 TO 2 INCHES ABOVE 2500 FEET THIS MORNING. (emphasis mine.) HIGHS IN THE LOWER 40S. SOUTHEAST WIND 10 TO 15 MPH IN THE MORNING SHIFTING TO THE WEST IN THE AFTERNOON. CHANCE OF PRECIPITATION 90 PERCENT.

As you can see, there was no indication that the area would be hit hardest with snow in the afternoon. In fact, I was out with my young child when the snow began coming down hard, caught unawares as many other people were.”

I forgot to tell the listener that the updated forecast issued at 6:30AM showed no change to the forecast; that only came at 3:30PM:

IDZ003-WAZ033-231145-
IDAHO PALOUSE-WASHINGTON PALOUSE-INCLUDING THE CITIES OF...MOSCOW...PULLMAN
332 PM PST THU FEB 22 2007

TONIGHT: MOSTLY CLOUDY WITH NUMEROUS SNOW SHOWERS THROUGH EARLY EVENING...THEN SCATTERED SNOW SHOWERS. SNOW ACCUMULATION NEAR AN INCH MAINLY ABOVE 2000 FEET. LOWS IN THE MID 20S. WEST WIND 10 TO 15 MPH. CHANCE OF PRECIPITATION 70 PERCENT.

But get this: a snow advisory for the Palouse, sent at – 7PM!!!

IDZ003-004-WAZ033-230600-
/O.CON.KOTX.SN.Y.0011.000000T0000Z-070223T0600Z/
IDAHO PALOUSE-CENTRAL PANHANDLE MOUNTAINS-WASHINGTON PALOUSE-INCLUDING THE CITIES OF...MOSCOW...ST. MARIES...KELLOGG ...PINEHURST...OSBURN...WALLACE...MULLAN...PULLMAN
658 PM PST THU FEB 22 2007

...SNOW ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 10 PM PST THIS EVENING ABOVE 2500 FEET...

At my house just east of Moscow, the snow was pretty much done by the time that advisory was issued. Then again, I don't know what conditions were in the areas to the north of the Palouse named in the advisory, and they may well have had to deal with snowfall until 10PM. More on my reply to the Pullman listener:

“Had the weather service revised its forecast at any point during my shift (which ends at 9AM), the information would most certainly have been announced. I take this responsibility seriously, but the reality is, I am not a meteorologist; I depend on forecasts from the National Weather Service for information to relay to listeners.”

I’ve worked at Northwest Public Radio for 14 years now, and the subject of HOW to deliver weather forecasts has been a big debate the whole time. Just take a look at the size of our coverage area, and that explains part of the problem. If we had unlimited time to discuss the weather vagaries from Puget Sound to the Blue Mountains, from British Columbia to the Camas Prairie of Idaho, that would be one thing: but in radio, we have so much to say and so little time in which to do it. Live and die by the clock!

That said, many's the afternoon I've taken my dogs on a long walk, following a whole morning announcing a forecast of partly sunny skies. I've ended those afternoons drenched, shivering...and absolutely mortified.

So, the meteorologists have some ways to go toward accuracy, though I'll say they do a good job most of the time. With all their fancy satellite images and moving maps, it's hard to remember they don't control the speed and direction of a jet stream!

That being said, I am always open to comments and suggestions. REALLY.

Meantime, you can follow this link to the latest weather forecast for your area on the Northwest Public Radio website.

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Turning a La Scala Tradition on its Ear.

As I prepped for my shift this morning with the BBC World Service in the background, my ears perked up at the mention of La Scala. The host was saying the world's premiere opera house has all sorts of rules, such as: you can’t wear purple there (I wish he said why!), and no encores, except on special days.

Bear in mind, an encore in an Italian opera house is not the same as an encore in most places – that is, at the very end of the concert. Rather, their version of an encore (a French word) is called bis (the Italian word for again, as in biscotti, the twice-baked cookie.) The bis is done in the manner of an instant replay. The audience doesn’t want to wait for the very end of the opera (or even an act of the opera). So with prolonged applause, cheering and calls of “bis! bis!” the conductor picks up the aria again, and the singer pipes up - this time usually out of character. I’ve read that the bis has been requested at the end of a death scene, which entails the now-dead character resurrecting temporarily to appease audience demand, then reassuming the death pose when the opera action resumes. As I’ve noted in previous posts, ludicrousness is just one of the things that make me love opera so! But Toscanini hated the way these encores broke the flow of an opera and put a ban on the practice.

Anyway, back to this week’s breach of the 74-year old bis ban.

On Tuesday night’s performance of La Fille du Regiment by Donizetti, rising Peruvian tenor Juan Diego Florez stirred the La Scala crowd in the aria Ah mes amis that has NINE high C’s! Count them! The applause went on for four, five minutes. The conductor caved. Picked up the baton, Juan let ‘er rip – and Toscanini rolled in his grave.

The BBC talked to opera critic Michael White about the incident this morning. He’s always very entertaining. He said Juan Diego Florez has immense appeal. “He looks like Errol Flynn,” said White.



As a point of comparison, White mentioned another top-notch young tenor, the Mexican Rolando Villazon, every bit as accomplished as Diego Florez. But, White said, he's not likely to cause the same stir, because "he looks like Mr. Bean!”



You decide.


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Three Cheers for...oh wait, how do we do this properly?

When I first saw today's Morning Edition rundown and came across the piece about plans to build a cheerleader hall of fame, my first response was to roll my eyes and mutter "oh, PLEASE.". When Bruce Bradberry came in for his shift, he scoffed considerably more.

Before I joined in, I caught myself and remembered discovering there's more to cheerleading than meets the eye. I was thinking about the TV series called "Faking It." It was on a few years ago, first on BBC America, then on TLC. Individuals are given one month to transform completely--punk musician morphs into classical conductor, burger flipper steps into the role of gourmet chef, web surfer turns wave surfer, and (my favorite) sheep shearer turns hairdresser. I found the stories instructive and thoroughly entertaining.

One TLC episode threw a bookish Harvard grad student into the dizzying (tempted to say "ditzying"?) world of cheerleaders for the Atlanta Falcons. Her initial attitude was not unlike Bruce's and mine this morning - that is, barely concealing disdain. Her lack of enthusiasm and interest for cheerleading was evident, and she put in the corresponding amount of effort into her task. Needless to say, she was then forced to hear her mentor's pronouncement of disappointment, and pleas to "try harder!" "I believe in you!"

To the best of my recollection, the young woman learned just how hard it is to jump around in unison with the other women who bounded across the field with the surefootedness of mountain goats, beaming broadly from ear to ear, all the while remembering every bit of the routine and executing it perfect time. I do remember her realization, with humility, how difficult it is to do even a short routine, and not look like a complete fool. All her preconceived notions of airheads, ditzes and so on - out the window. At the end, experienced judges had to observe 4 cheerleaders, and figure out which one was the fake - and the Harvard faker successfully slid under their radar. She looked truly proud of her accomplishments in her month of faking it.

So - even knowing that cheerleading is a lot harder than meets the eye, why do so many people still maintain a whiff of scorn? I suspect it's not the activity, it's the stereotype of the people it draws. Maybe it's because the women who participate (and it is, still, largely a female activity) are so perfectly ripped, bleached and tanned that we think that's all they do, work on looking great. Maybe it's the scandals, such as the Texas mom who hired a hit man to kill a junior high school cheerleader so her daughter could get a spot on the squad. Maybe it's because those of us who just can't get excited about sports don't see the point of it all. Any thoughts to share?

I'm still learning - walk a mile in another's shoes before passing judgement. (But can't I at least roll my eyes at the kind of shoes they're wearing before slipping them on?)

At any rate, there seems to be no shortage of interest in cheerleaders/ing in popular culture. In movies, there's "Bring It On" (2000) and "The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader-Murdering Mom" (1993), to name just a couple. And on TV, next month, a new reality series, Cheerleader Nation, returns for another season on Lifetime, billing itself a "real-life mother-daughter drama of blood, seat and tears." Rah rah rah.

Playtime in Milan!

Our first full day in Milan, we toured the Duomo, the Galleria, La Scala and viewed Leonardo's great fresco. A short stroll from Santa Maria delle Grazie, we found ourselves ready for lunch in the city.



On one of the streets we found a casual restaurant bedecked in pastels, bearing the somewhat improbable name "Playtime." When the restaurant owner saw Arianna, he beamed and directed his staff to serve us with deep-fried zucchini blossoms.





We had a very polite Chinese waiter. It was a little dissonant to be conversing with a person of my own race in Italian, in which neither of us was fluent. Yet it was the only language we had in common. The waiter spoke no English, and his Chinese dialect was not familiar to me at all. Still, we understood each other very well in Italian, and I was extremely pleased with my prawn and aritchoke risotto.

Aesthetically, though, my risotto could not measure up to the insalata di polpi, octopus salad. Blaine took this picture of his lunch:



Sidebar: If you want to really get to know octopus, I suggest you read about Miss Sueann Ramella's octo-orgy in South Korea.

Isn't that pink tablecloth gorgeous?

One other note on the Chinese in Italy: Sandi and Blaine made it to a Chinese restaurant in Genoa, where they were served breadsticks - and a sweet-and-sour dipping sauce. (When in Rome....) They ordered moo goo gai pin, but the restaurant staff couldn't decipher that! When speaking Chinese, it's all in the four tones - five tones in some dialects.

Why La Scala really is opera's highest temple.

All this drama made me remember heearing, in Milan, that there is a secret passageway between La Scala and the Duomo. Word is, Toscanini used it as a quick getaway from divas' jealous husbands!

Their domestic life must be an opera in itself.

Roberto Alagna's wife, the Romanian soprano Angela Gheorghiu, is also known for her diva displays. The New York Times writes:

"Mr. Alagna’s wife, Angela Gheorghiu, has just withdrawn from a Royal Opera production of “Don Carlo” in London next season. A company spokesman said she was “uncomfortable” with the role.

"The couple have had their problems in the past. Ms. Gheorghiu refused to wear a blond wig during a Metropolitan Opera tour of “Carmen” in Japan and was replaced by her understudy for a performance. The Met also withdrew a contract for the couple for “La Traviata,” apparently over a dispute about the set design. They have since been invited back."

I've read Roberto and Angela are called ``the Bonnie and Clyde'' of opera, and Gheorghiu has been called 'Draculette.'

But unlike Alagna, Ms. Gheorghiu is a darling of La Scala. So when her husband threatened that the both of them would withdraw from performances there, she can't have been too happy.

Wouldn't you love to be fly on their wall? Impromptu opera!

Singing backup? Do it at La Scala!

The end of the now-infamous Aida performance brought a 9-minute ovation, much of it for the man who took Roberto Alagna's place after the insulted tenor stormed off stage.

Antonello Palombi went on stage still dressed in jeans and a long black shirt. Why wouldn't an understudy have been fully prepped to step into the role at a moment's notice? Curious, don't you think?

Get this: apparently, Palombi was the third understudy in line! Was he just a lot quicker on the draw than the first understudy, was in full costume? Was #1 snoozing, and therefore losing this grand opportunity? All that press!

Three understudies - that we know of. Just how deep of a bench do they have at La Scala, anyway? And remember: the Italian government pays for 90 percent of La Scala's costs! Tickets account for only ten percent of its operating budget. No fundraising. This public radio employee is beyond green with envy!

Here's Corriere della Sera's report, in English, on the December 9th drama.

Gillian Coldsnow

And petulance at La Scala!

No tempest in a teacup, this. Tenor Roberto Alagna, singing Radames on Sunday night (December 9) just couldn't stomach the boos coming from the tough loggionisti (balcony spectators) at La Scala and stomped off the stage, leaving his leading lady to struggle through the duet by herself.

Everyone's talking about it. Even people who don't care for opera have heard about it. It seems that the diva tantrums of yore really don't happen very much these days (oh, wait, of course, there WAS Kathleen Battle) - so that this big tenor hissy fit made news all over the world.

I found a blog of an opera lover in Milan who gives all the dirt, and then some (!) on this incident and its continuing fallout. Read Opera Chic for some good old-fashioned opera-drama-behind-the-scenes!

I really love what one opera critic said on the BBC. When asked why Alagna would jeopardize his career by stomping of the stage of THE temple of opera, the critic said, "well, tenors are notoriously fragile creatures."

Gillian Coldsnow

Opening Night at La Scala!!

The La Scala season always begins on December 7th, because it's the feast day of Milan's patron saint, Ambrose.

Don't even think about trying to score tickets for the star-studded affair, which rivals any Hollywood red carpet affair.

The opening show? Possibly Italy's most beloved opera, Verdi's Aida. Director Franco Zeffirelli says it's the best production of Aida La Scala has ever seen.

THE STANDING OVATION LASTED 15 MINUTES.

Was it, as Playbill writes, "the Aida of Aidas?"

Since I couldn't be there (boo!! hisss!!!) I'm sending you to the Beeb for pictures.

Duke, duke, duke of....Milan, Milan Milan.

Above: What is distracting Sandi and Ljiljana? It was early and there were few other people in the square at that hour.

Our first full day in Italy took us to Milan's Piazza del Duomo. (Aaaaaargh!! Get those bloody pigeons off me!!) Between the ornate cathedral and the statue of Italy's king Vittorio Emmanuele, our guide for the day, Marica, gave us a primer on the city's complicated list of rulers. She pulled people from the crowd to stand in for Milanese dukes, Austrian princesses, French kings and the like, as she narrated. She had to use almost every person in the large group to get through the presentation!


Above: Marica picks Blaine to represent the first Duke of Milan.

Prada purse slung over her shoulder, Marica told us (in a wonderful Cockney accent with German and Italian inflections!) Milan was first ruled by lords from the house of Della Torre, then the lords of the house of Visconti.

To the best of my memory, the tenth Visconti ruler gave himself the ducal title, making him to Duke of Milan #1.

The son who became Duke #2 continued a legacy of cruelty, for which he was assassinated.

His brother became Duke #3. This guy had no sons, so hired a mercernary for battlefield duty. He was happy to have a good warrior on staff, and to make sure this soldier didn't freelance with other states, #3 offered his six-year old daughter in marriage. Never mind that this soldier, Francesco, was 24 years older than the child. Never mind that Francesco was already married.

To cut a long story short: #3 dies, last of his line. Buh-bye, Viscontis. Francesco marries the child, becomes Duke #4 and establishes his own dynasty. Hello, Sforzas. Your name will always be associated with Milan, and the castle Francesco builds, bearing your name, will be one of the city's best-known landmarks, the Castello Sforzesco.

And thus begins the Ambrosian Republic (named for the city's patron saint.)

Francesco's son in Duke #5. We think he poisoned his mother, a pretty tough chick who kept her finger in Milanese politics. He's nasty. He's assassinated.

The title goes to his 7-year old brother. Duke #6 obviously isn't ready for ducal duty, so his uncle does the job. #6 mysteriously dies from poisoning (oh, the rumor mill had quite a workout that year!)....

And Uncle Lodovico becomes Duke #7. He loses Milan to the French!! Then the Swiss get involved, Milan goes back to #7 - briefly. Then it goes back to the French. Then it goes to Lodovico's son....

Maximilian Sforza is Duke #8.

Thereafter, it was French rule, Spanish rule, Austrian rule, rule by the Holy Roman Empire - not necessarily in that order.

The only reason I remember as much of the history lesson as I do, was because of Marica's very lively and informed presentation - in three languages. Since our group was combined with two other groups for the morning, there were Spanish, German and English speakers, and Marica repeated each chapter effortlessly in each of those languages.

Coming from Milan with its rich multi-cultural heritage, it's no wonder its citizens, such as Marica are such accomplished multi-linguists! Arianna, also a Milanesa, speaks English, French, Spanish and Swedish, and the Milanese dialect.

Milan's colorful political history stablized (at least temporarily) under the reign of King Vittorio Emanuel II, who united Italy.



This statue of Vittorio Emanuele (Aaaaaargh!! Get those bloody pigeons off me!!) is one of the main features of the Piazza del Duomo, and the incredible Galleria that links the Duomo and La Scala piazze is also named for him.

Here are links to my earlier Milan posts:

The Duomo and Galleria

Saturday afternoon in the Piazza del Duomo

On the roof of the Duomo

Gillian Coldsnow

La Scala. It's so much more than opera.

If you've been following this blog since the beginning, you know that chief among the things that move me are opera, Puccini, food and the Italian notion of bella figura.



I found them all in my day at La Scala, followed by the performance of Massenet's Manon we attended that evening.

Here's how the whole evening played out.

We rode the subway for three short stops to the Piazza del Duomo, then strolled to La Scala with the intention of partaking in the city's tradition of aperitivo, a pre-dinner drink and snack. So into the elegant La Scala restaurant we went, right into the midst of the Milanese crowd, proudly displaying the fashion for which their city is renowned. Any time I've gone to the opera or classical concert here in the U.S., audiences are predominantly dressed in black; but here was an explosion of color, from pastels to electric blues, greens and fuschia. Teenagers to grandparents, clad in designer duds. Suits impeccably tailored. Shoes - well, they're not just Italian shoes, they're in MILAN - need I say more? They engaged in animated conversation, sipped their drinks and nibbled on olives, chips of parmigiano reggiano, grissini wrapped in prosciutto, and various other bocconcini (literally, "little bites.")

As I enjoy people-watching, the wait was not a problem. There were many multi-generational family groups, which was wonderful to see. Not so wonderful is getting elbowed. It seems waiting in line is not the best way to get service. Instead, one should be pro-active: cut the line, as the staff attends to whomever catches their attention first at the front of the counter. You watch, you learn, and then you give a little elbow yourself!

I picked up some aperitivo terminology and tips: to order a small beer one asks for un bock di birra; freshly-squeezed juice is spremuta. And my all-time favorite aperitif, Campari, is also available is a clear and slightly sweeter version. (I'll stick to the red. Some habits die hard.)

Arianna had booked tables for a post-opera dinner at a nearby restaurant named Nabucco (Would we have been humming Va, pensiero over the salad?) But the long winded and utterly self-absorbed Manon, waxing over and over about her beauty,
didn't quit her narcissistic fit till after 11:30! And Nabucco, sadly, closes at midnight...so it was back to the La Scala restaurant for dinner. We were told it was a very good restaurant, and the prices surprisingly on par with those of the surrounding eateries.

The wait staff was dressed beautifully, service was excellent and properly unobstrusive. (Don't you hate waiters who present the list of specials by waiting for an imaginary spotlight to illuminate their importance before they begin the recitation? I'm here for the food, bozo, not you!) My entree was a filet mignon in a reduced barolo sauce topped with truffle butter. Talk about "try a little tenderness!" I could have tossed the knife and sliced through that beef with the fork alone. The presentation was sparsely elegant, on an oversized white platter with drizzles of truffle butter and a light dusting of minced parsley around the rim; the magenta sauce and dark beef playing beautifully against the creamy white truffle slivers. The wine, suggested by the sommelier,was a perfect pairing - of course. Any annoyance at Manon was forgotten for the night.

If you love opera, you'll get yourself to the performance even if it's not one of your favorites. Let's face it - there are many things about the genre that are open to ridicule - from improbable story lines to stage manAging disasters (the prop master forgetting to put a knife in Tosca's fruit bowl, so she has to improvise and stab Scarpia with a banana, for example!) No, you go for the experience: size up the singers and staging. Sometimes you giggle at the disproportionate angst-ridden responses. Sometimes a performance is so powerful you just give in to the emotions and allow your senses shift into overdrive. And if the senses are treated to a great meal after the show - well, that's just the ticket to planning a repeat pilgrimage to La Scala.

Gillian Coldsnow

Venetian Fishing Rules.

Way before environmental studies became popular, the administrators of La Serenissima were conscious of the need for conservation.



This plaque is set into the walls of the fish market at the Rialto, listing the varieties of fish and the minimum size of each. Any smaller, and they would have to be tossed back into the drink.

Horse lovers, avert your eyes.

Did you happen to catch any of the recent Senate debate on the slaughter of horses for human consumption? H.R. 503 is the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act.

This is what the Washington Post's Dana Milbank had to say about it.

The debate was emotional. And really sentimental. Equine admirers spoke out.

Rep. John Spratt (D-S.C.): "They are as close to humans as any animal can get," asserted

Rep. Mac Thornberry (R-Tex.): "I have as much appreciation and admiration for these creatures as anyone in this body."

Jonathan Swift would have whinnied his approval. However, this horsemeat shop in Venice's Rialto Market would have really upset him, and probably many Americans as well.




The store also had some cured donkey (or mule) sausage hanging in the window.

I vaguely remember seeing another Macelleria Equina while walking through Milan. Apparently, Italians don't bear the same sentiments about consuming horse meat.

Gillian Coldsnow