Fiction, reading odd

I don't think many people in the US know Chico Buarque, the Brazilian composer and musician. My friends know I love his music (I also love Antonio Carlos Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes), and this is why my pal Christie sent me this email, reprinted with permission:

"Is Chico Buarque a writer too, or is there another Chico Buarque? I saw this book called Budapest: a novel, and was leafing through it and noticed the author was CB. The book sounds very strange, which would make it right up your alley. I just thought I'd alert you to its existence. I was going to buy it, but I thought maybe you already have it. "

I didn't know Buarque wrote novels too. My curiosity totally piqued, I checked Amazon and found that this is Buarque's third novel. Clearly I've been sleeping on the job and not keeping up with foreign lit. Publishers Weekly reviews the book thusly:

José Costa, a vain ghostwriter and inveterate amateur linguist in his late 30s,is the narrator of this potent cross-cultural romp through Rio de Janeiro and Budapest. As Costa is returning to Brazil from an "anonymous authors' convention" in Istanbul, a bomb threat forces his plane to land in the Hungarian capital, where he is immediately bewitched by the Magyar language, "rumoured to be the only tongue in the world the devil respects." Back in Rio he starts to mouth Hungarian while asleep and ghostwrites The Gynographer, a farcically oversexed gothic autobiography. Growing tired of his job and sour marriage,Costa jets back to Budapest, where he stalks and seduces both the language and Kriska, a divorced mother who sadistically tutors him in Hungarian. Costa masters the language soon enough—too soon to be entirely believable—and begins ghostwriting in his adopted tongue until the authorities deport him on a visa violation. What ruse can get him back to Budapest and Kriska? Buarque( Turbulence; Benjamin), a renowned Brazilian composer and musician, concocts a predictable postmodern conceit to wrap things up, a smoke-and-mirrors metatextual gimmick. On the whole, however, this slim book—a hybrid travelogue-romance-satire-intro to literary theory recalling Gogol and Borges,among others—is anything but stale: dark comedy abounds, and Costa's metaphorical language about language is refreshingly lyrical, bracing and ruminative. -- Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed ElsevierInc. All rights reserved.

It sounds pretty weird, so needless to say, I've added this book to my list. It's only 192 pages anway, plus I want to see if Buarque's as good a writer as he is a composer. Besides, any book that has an abundance of dark comedy is a book for me. Amazon lets you read the first page, too. The book sounds totally promising.

Syringe, I have my own

Phrasebooks. They are the best tool for travelers who wish to make themselves understood in a foreign language. They come chock full of handy phrases that allow tourists and others to move around and do things like order food, reserve a hotel room, exchange money, etc. But they don't stop there, and also include many phrases that a traveler might need when adrift in a foreign land.

For example, the title of this post comes from a Lonely Planet Indonesian phrasebook. If you're on your way to Indonesia, memorize this: Saya punya suntikan saya sendiri (I have my own syringe). You never know when this phrase might come in handy, after all. If you are the kind of person who likes to party with heroin addicts, for example, you want to make it very clear to your friends that you don't share needles. And now, thanks to Lonely Planet, you can make yourself understood in flawless Indonesian and avoid a whole host of diseases, while at the same time impressing your friends with your knowledge of their language and your interest in hygiene.

If you're going to the Netherlands, you will want to master this phrase: Ik geef u een recept voor zetpillen, or "I'm going to prescribe some suppositories." It doesn't matter that you're not really a doctor; you can still do someone a good turn.

When you go to another country, it is always nice to say some words in the local language. Be sure to compliment people on their country, their history, their achievements, and even their looks. For example, if you find yourself in fair Wales, you may want to use this phrase: Mae bronnau ardderchog da hi, which means "She has excellent breasts." Try it on your hostess's husband and witness international friendship flourishing.

Say you're in Hawaii, and you plan to commit a series of murders, plus steal a couple of oxen and a horse. Who hasn't found himself in this kind of situation when traveling abroad, and felt frustrated at his inability to purchase needed items? Well, worry no more. Study this phrase: Heaha ko kela puu pahi umiumi, upa, pahi, kamaa lio me na lei-pipi? (How much for that lot of razors, scissors, knives, horseshoes, and yokes?)

Chechnya's lovely this time of year, and I know many of you avoid going there because you don't speak the language. However, if you study these three phrases from a 1997 phrasebook, you will do all right:

Tsun t'okhal doodush t'ai hintsa lattash dui? (Is the bridge still standing?)
Gerza ma tooghalah'! (Don't shoot!)
Minii aaree yolcha vugar vari ah'so? (Can you take me to the minefields?)

Do not be afraid (Ha baqin, in Somali) to express yourself. Even a few words in the local tongue will pay off in friendship. Remember you are an ambassador of goodwill when you travel, and using a few phrases in the language of the country you are visiting will reflect very well on yours. If you happen to be traveling to the lovely Magyar country (that'd be Hungary, see elsewhere on this blog for directions, or set your hovercraft controls to these coordinates: 47 00 N, 20 00 E), and only have time to learn one phrase, learn this one:

Légpárnás hajóm tele van angolnákkal -- My hovercraft is full of eels.

Wedding, nice day for a white

So my parents left for Europe today. They're going to be gone for about 10 days or so. One of my mother's relatives is getting married in Scotland, and this is one of those deals where you rent a castle and everything. Very exciting. A lot of people from my mom's side of the family are going. My mom is half Scottish and half Hungarian (it's a great combo to score excellent booze from both sides), and a lot of people from the Scottish side of the family will be there. Apparently it's going to be a big wedding, with the kilts and bagpipes and all. Well, if you get married in a castle, you might as well go all out.

El Geeko, also known now as Ferengie Steve ("Ferengie" apparently means "foreigner" in Punjabi, according to my pal Mark. And given that El Geeko loves Star Trek, it seems appropriate to give him this name. Thank you, Mark!) will remain behind with yours truly. I'm not going on the European trip because my friend Maria Eugenia will be arriving from Spain this week and will stay with us. That's going to be a lot of fun indeed, plus I get to practice my Spanish with a real Spanish person.

A downside of my parents being gone is that on Sunday we won't have the awesome buffet of insanely delicious Hungo food my mom makes every Sunday. If any of you think I'm going to step up to the plate (no pun intended), [1] you're sorely mistaken and [2]wot, have you got a death wish, mon?? (say this last part with a Jamaican accent). Oh, and my dad says he's counted the wine bottles, so we're screwed on that front too. But not to worry: Attila got me several bottles of some foreign wine that has screw caps instead of corks. Gag gift, and yes, it did make me gag. He made the cooler last night using some of that wine, and I have to be very honest with you here: Tokaj wine is so much better for the job. My compliments to the winemakers.

After the Scottish wedding my parents are going to go visit people in Hungary. Random people. They'll just knock on some doors and see what happens. Nah, they're going to go visit some relatives and friends and whatnot. I'm sure my dad will be calling me every hour to see if the wine's ok. It's more than ok, Dad. It's a symphony of violet-scented chestnuts and assorted fruits.

Speaking of fruits, the yearly boatload of peaches has arrived from Georgia and my uncle Géza has drafted me and others to help with the prepping. He makes pálinka every year and we've been helping since we were kids. Maria Eugenia's very excited about this whole thing and wants to help. No problem, the more the merrier. And she can make sangria!

America, poverty in

A couple of friends of mine recently visited a country in Europe. They wanted to go into a church in a very lovely old city. They were not allowed to go in without making a donation. In fact, they were accosted and harassed about this. When my friends say they wanted to go in to pray, they were told that they were rich Americans and they had to pay to go inside.

I've said this before but I'll repeat it: there is poverty in America.

Poverty in America? you ask. How can this be? Isn't America the richest country in the world? Clearly this is a widespread assumption. But, I have news for you: yes, there is poverty in America. Let's wake up and smell the real world, ok? There are people in America who live in boxes because they have no homes. There are Americans who go without food because they have no money to buy food. There are American children who are starving in this country.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau 35.9 million people in America live below the poverty line, and this includes 12.9 million children. That's over 3 times the population of, say, Hungary.

True, we're not in as dire a situation as other countries. But this doesn't mean all Americans are rich. So, if you see Americans abroad, don't assume they're loaded with dollars. Most likely, they're not. And remember that life is a continuum: America as a whole is better off than, say, Albania, but Albania's better off than Nigeria. Don't judge, and for the love of mike, don't assume that being American means we're rich by default. Do some research, and don't believe Hollywood. Their portrayal of America is most times completely fictitious.

Kings, the wine of

Tokaj wines are supposed to be some of the best wines in the world. There's a site that describes one of their wines thusly:

TOKAJI ASZU 6 Puttonyos (Oremus) -- The Ultimate Tokaj Experience. Luscious rich, a symphony of flavors ranging from violet-scented chestnuts to apricot and honey. The finish is seemingly never ending, the experience is so intense that it can produce "instant recall" weeks later. Every wine lover should taste this true nectar.

That's some wine, huh? Instant recall. Weeks later. And what are violet-scented chestnuts? Today I was buying a cup of green tea, and I was reading a sign for coffee from Ethiopia. The sign said the coffee had a "blueberry syrup finish." What the hell is that?? I want coffee that tastes like coffee, not blueberries. And why do people discuss coffee in wine terms? "It has a good nose." "A delicate finish." It's just coffee, people. Bean juice. But I digress.

Here's another description, not as lyrical, but still colorful (or rather, fruit-ful):

Oremus 1999 "Mandolás" Tokaji Furmint Dry -- This clear, brass-color wine presents rich and complex aromas of white fruit and butter, with almonds and hazelnuts as subtle background notes. Medium-bodied, fresh and tart, it's more youthful on the palate than the nose: juicy tropical fruit balanced by mouth-watering acidity, with snappy lemons in a very long finish.

This is one snappy, tarty wine. The term "mouth-watering acidity" is not enticing me to buy the wine, to be honest, and I don't like a wine that smells like butter. This one's listed for $9. Not bad. My dad buys the ones that go from $80 to over $300, for a better PTSD experience.

Anyway, Tokaj wines are supposed to be exquisite, legendary. I don't know. The ones my dad has taste too fruity to me. Which is why I got a bottle of the stuff to make the wine cooler, which caused a tsunami of righteous ire in my dad, who thinks it is heresy, nay, treason, to use this wine for sangria-like stuff. In my defense, I will say it was the only fruity wine I could find in the house. It's not my fault if he only buys expensive, lengendary wines that cause instant recall. How about buying some cheap Zinfadel every so often? I'd be happy to steal that.

Cup, watching the World

Becks

It's a big thing around here. My dad even got one of those large plasma TVs to put in the den so we can watch the games in high resolution and not miss a single detail. Next best thing to actually being on the ref's shoulders, I tell you.

So there's a whole bunch of people here: relatives, friends, a couple of neighbors. Everyone's riveted to the Cup, and in solidarity with the players (who surely get hungry and thirsty running around for 90 minutes) eating and drinking to beat the band. My mother's making lángos like she's a lángos factory on alert. Tip: try brushing them with garlic-infused oil. To die for. There are all kinds of food spread on the table, and it's not even lunch time.

Here's a really awesome drink Sára (she's Attila's girlfriend) made yesterday :

Get a light, fruity red wine (it can even come from a box...no big deal.. Word to the wise: avoid using your dad's Tokaji wine except in dire emergencies. He'll hit the roof). Then get the juice of 2 limes, 1/3 cup of sugar, ice, and lime wedges or garnish. In a large pitcher combine the lime juice and the sugar and stir until the sugar dissolves. Add the wine and stir. Pour the wine cooler over ice in chlled wine glasses and garnish with a wedge of lime.

This stuff is very good! This recipe serves about 6 to 8 people, so we quadrupled it. The more you drink of it, the less you care who wins or loses. We're making another batch of this thing today.

Right, summer's here and the time is

Looks like the yearly migration to beachy places and touristy destinations has started. A lot of people I know are getting ready to go on vacation or have already left and are sunning themselves and eating banana poe (yum!!!). I feel like the Left Behind characters (no, I haven't read the books...I just know they were Left Behind). I will travel a few miles to my uncle's place to ride horses and also to work at the stables (because who doesn't love horse poop?), and of course there will be the usual trips to NYC with Csilla, Attila, Sarah, and whoever else from my crew isn't touristing around or (gasp!) working this summer. There might be a trip to the Keys later, and more horse fun with a trip to Montana (You all like beaches, I like horses, m'k?).

America, homeless in

People in other countries have a glossy image of America as the land of milk and honey. This comes mostly from the media (especially films and TV shows) and although we can most definitely say America is better off than other nations, the glorified, shiny image is not at all realistic. The streets are not paved in gold. Not everyone carries a gun. We are not all rich and powerful and glamorous. There is poverty in this country, and homelessness, joblessness, strife, hunger, violence, inequality.

America is a wonderful country, and I love it. But it isn't Fantasyland. The Statue of Liberty has a beautiful inscription on it:

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Unfortunately, many times the immigrants that come through that "golden door" don't fare so well here. Many of the homeless and tempest-tossed remain homeless and tempest-tossed. Perhaps there should be a small addition to the inscription: Enter at your own risk.

Emma, a cat named

This is Emma the Cat. Isn't she adorable?

My friend Hajni has a new kitten and she named her Emma. I will post a picture of my feline namesake as soon as I get one. Unfortunately, Emma fell off a table and on her head a couple of days ago, but she's ok!