Ancient Scrolls, Medieval Castles, and For All You Sports Fans........

The National Geographic Society Museum is a treat this month. I have not yet given it the attention it deserves.

For one thing, it is exhibiting several papyrus pages of the 4th century scrolls, recently found in Egypt and now being studied, including the Gospel of Judas. The scrolls are obviously fascinating to look at, and the explanations are very interesting, going into the discovery, the creation of the scrolls, the language, the contents, the dating and the preservation. You can also watch on a small screen tv the NG cable show where all this is visualized.

I can't say that I understand the Gospel of Judas, other than to know that, until now everyone assumed (and most probably still do) that Judas was evil, and this Gospel makes him a good guy. Of course, I don't understand fundamental Christian theology at all. I don't know what makes someone good or bad in Christian religious terms. As I understand the thinking, God put Jesus on earth to suffer and die for the sins of mankind, and Judas, along with Pontius Pilate and a bunch of Romans and some Jewish leaders, went along and assisted in the suffer and die part. Does that make them bad because they made Jesus suffer and die? Or does that make them good, because they were fulfilling God's plan? It seems to me you can't have it both ways.

But what do I know?

In any event, after you ponder all of this, you are transported about 1000 years later, and you see very large and detailed models of a Crusader Castle and of an Arab bazaar. Very neat. And there is signage to tell you all about the many, many crusader castles, with maps, descriptions of architecture and usage and photos and individual descriptive information about (I would guess 20 to 30 of them).

And, if that is not enough, you get a third exhibit (and this museum is pretty small) about how soccer is played around the world. Not that I found this one very interesting: pictures of people playing soccer in Africa and in Europe and in Latin America. Folks, no matter where it is, they seem to play the same and dress the same.

But, forget about the pictures on the wall. What you get is a VERY large screen projection TV, tuned to ESPN2, showing you World Cup action live, with bleachers built so about 25 people can watch at any time.

The scrolls leave June 9; the other exhibits are there until September, along with a photographic exhibit about to open featuring pictures taken by someone named Reza who has been photographing wars and tragedies for decades.

A Noted Sociological Phenomenon

Traditional Muslim women do not attend baseball games.

Bethesda/Chevy Chase

Friends of ours invited us to a party held last night in honor of their son and future daughter in law. The wedding is to take place elsewhere and this was the celebration for their Washington friends.

The save the date card came eons ago and we marked our calendars. The invitation came about six or eight weeks ago. We looked at it and remembered it was to be held at the Chevy Chase Women's Club.

Yesterday, we looked at the invitation again to check the time, and left our house driving up Connecticut Avenue to the affair. The parking lot at the Women's Club was 100% empty.

We were not sure what happened. We knew we had the date and time and venue correctly. We knew there was to be a party because we saw a number of the attendees earlier in the day. All we could think of was that they had changed the locale and told everyone but us. It made little sense.

Driving home, we pondered. Arriving home, we looked at the invitation, and saw that the party was at the Bethesda Women's Club. Who knew that there was a Bethesda Women's Club? There is a single Chevy Chase-Bethesda High School. Neither Chevy Chase nor Bethesda is a political jurisdiction, so there are no definitive boundaries between them. Why would there be two locations? And why would they choose this one, which we were not even familiar with.

Back in the car, back out Connecticut Avenue, but this time clipping over East West Highway and Old Georgetown Road. We got to the party almost an hour late (but in time for the food).

Telling our tale to the host, he told me that he had recently been to a function at the Chevy Chase Women's Club given by a Jewish lady and how that never would have happened in the olden days because the club was restricted. I didn't know that, but perhaps that is why there was a separate Bethesda Club. Maybe that was the club that Christians could not go to. I don't know.

Neither of these clubs seem like clubs. They are white painted one storey brick buildings with what looks like a vestibule, a party room and a kitchen. Do they have members? What do they do there? Can men join? There certainly is not Chevy Chase or Bethesda Men's Club.

Is there?

Bob Seeger (2 cents)

I am at a client reception last night, and the talk turns to Bob Seeger. I say "never heard of him. The only Seeger I know is Pete Seeger". At first, no one believes me and then, as they realize that I at least think I am telling the truth, another form of disbelief enters their mind.

I now understand that he is a rock and roll singer.

I am posting this for two reasons. First, it may help remember Bob Seeger the next time his name comes up. And second, when it does, I will be able to say: "Do I know Bob Seeger? Not only do I know who he is, I have written about him."

Food Report

Lest anyone think I have not sampled the city's restaurants since I have been home, I have eaten at the Pacific Bar and Restaurant, a Vietnamese restaurant on Capitol Hill, the Parthenon and Arucola in Chevy Chase, McCormick and Schmick on K Street, the L'Enfant Plaza Hotel, Cosi's, Au Bon Pain and Rose Mexicano. Ranking my meals, I would say Arucola, McCormick and Schmick, L'Enfant Plaza Hotel, Cosi, Rosa Mexicano, Parthenon and Pacific Bar and Restaurant in that order.

Man on the Street (2 cents)

So, i walk out of my office today and turn down 17th Street towards K. I see a homeless man (at least by all appearances) near the corner with a half gallon of milk in one hand, and what looks like some sort of a sandwich or wrap in the other. He alternates between bites and sips. Then, he must be full, without having finished either. Near the corner are a row of newpaper vendor stands of various sorts. He opens one that contains free newspapers. It is about half full with papers not yet taken by passersby by. He puts the lid on the milk carton and wraps up his sandwich. He lays them neatly on the newspapers in the vendor stand, closes it up, and walks down the street.

Colleen Wagner's "The Monument" (16 cents)

is playing at the Theater Alliance on H Street NE. It is a two person, one act play (80 minutes long) dealing with a young man who, in the [unnamed] war committed many atrocities including the rape and murder of 23 women. A woman rescues him from execution as a war criminal by making with him a pseudo-Mephistophiclean agreement that he can live as long as he will do anything she asks, whatever it may be. He agrees.

She winds up torturing him.

Well, the play, which won some Canadian awards, and has been well reviewed by the Post, has some good dramatic moments, but more that are a bit tedious, distasteful and tendentious (whatever that means). It is very well acted.

Moral dilemmas. Sure, he did awful things. But at what point does the good soldier turn into the war criminal? At what point is an eye for an eye good moral policy? Is his savior/torturer any better than he is? Are the two of them in fact peas of a sort of pod, bound together for life?

We saw a play years ago called "Extremities", where a woman captures her would-be rapist and tortures him. We saw Ariel Dorfman's "Death and the Maiden", where a former tortured female prisoner in an unamed Latin American country confronts her torturer years later, by chance.

All these plays present questions. None give any answers. Perhaps there are none.

Should you see this play (which closes this weekend)? If you like staged torture scenes which are well performed, why not?

My Parking Garage

The attendants at my garage are an international bunch. I don't know where all of them come from.

I am sure that they are just a fine group of fellows, but.......

on some level, I am convinced that, when the revolution comes, this group is going to lead the forces that will be out to get me. I see it in their eyes.

Michelle Asks About Prague

She is correct. On the Israel trip, I did finish the 'Travelers' Tales Guide' book: "Prague and the Czech Republic". Although I had read the vast majority of it earlier.

It is an extraordinary book.

It is one of a series of anthologies written by and for travelers to various countries and cities across the world. Whether the others are as good, I don't know. I do know that the others cannot be any better.

There are 42 separate first party stories of traveling to, or living in, Prague or other parts of the Czech Republic. Almost everyone of them is a gem, both informative, humorous, and individual.

We spent several days in Prague last summer; I had been there once before during its dark Communist days. I noted many things about Prague on these short visits. Every single one of them is noted in one or more of these short pieces.

I won't even try to describe the stories. You have to read them yourselves. I will say that, as I ended the book, I thought to myself: the only thing they missed was the Velkopopovicky dark beer that we discovered and liked so much.

And there it was, on page 301 of this 302 page book. "They can't afford to go to the old vinamas in their own neighborhoods any more...only tourists can afford that place, Anna will say with contempt, as if she never wanted to go there anyway, thought it was once her pub, where she could get a glass of Volkopopopvicky Kozel for a dime."

As I said, this book is perfect.

Viva Mexico (2 cents)

Congratulations to Mexico on its 3-1 World Cup victory over Iran.

I am not sure what my reaction would have been if today's Iran had won a World Cup match in a stadium in Nuremberg.

Even for me, that would have been too much.

Embarrassing Readings?

I hate to admit it, but my reading on my Israel trip left a lot to be desired.

My goal was to read a book called "The Coffee Trader" by David Liss, which I understood to be the story of how a Jewish merchant and a Dutch widow worked together to bring coffee to the market in 17th century Amsterday, popularizing a drink designed to sharpen the wits of businessmen, and which had previously been drunk only in places like Turkey and other parts of the middle east. My disappointment was that the book was a historical novel; I did not know that and had expected a history. My disappointment was increased when I discovered that the book was not particularly well written. I closed the book after about 100 pages.

Then, I got busy and it was not until I had a chance to fish around in a couple of used book stores in Jerusalem (there are many there) that I found a couple of signed, English language books which I acquired.

Well, the first one that I decided to read was the autobiography of, believe it or not, Grace Slick, who had been the Jefferson Airplane vocalist among other things. 'A rock and roll memoir' says that cover page. Well, if anything can convince you that a life of sex, drugs and rock and roll is dull, dull, dull, this book can. Dull, dull, dull.

Then, I moved to a book that I assumed would be equally worthless as a read, but for different reasons. Called "Visions and Jewels", written by Moyshe Oyved, and published in the 1920's, it tells the story of a restless Jewish teenager from Poland, who with a friend runs away to England at age 16 (in 1903) and, after several twists and turns, becomes a successful jeweler, re-named Edward Good, and owner of a shop called the Cameo Corner. In fact, the book, which tells of the trials and tribulations of a talented but impoverished immigrant into London's East End, and not only how he builds a retail business, but how he develops his literary sensibilities and becomes not only a multi-book author, but a friend to London's Jewish and non-Jewish literary community. In fact, it was a fascinating find.

The Dog Days of Israel (1 cent)

This morning, here in Washington, I was taking an early walk and passed a woman and her very handsome Boston terrier.

I like watching dogs, although I have always believed they should lead independent lives, not be house pets, and have all of the rights of other citizens, but no more. I certainly do not want to have, or be tied down by, a canine.

Having said that, this morning's terrier reminded me of the extraordinary number of dogs that you see in Israel, and how proud and handsome they appear, whether walking with their owners or on their own (if Israel has leash laws, they do not seem to be enforced).

So, next time you think about Israel, it's ok to think about the Jews and the Muslims, but don't forget the dogs. And when you see newscasts about the suicide bombers and all that other stuff, it is ok to bemoan all of that (of course), but don't forget the dogs. Perhaps they shall inherit the promised land. The dog days of Israel.

Think of a laboratory mouse in a cage (22 cents)

The cage is rectangular and has three or four mouse-treadmills. The circular kind, shaped like a ferris wheel. The mouse runs and runs on the bottom, the treadmill goes around and around, and the mouse gets nowhere.

The mouse gets tired of the particular treadmill it is on, and moves to one of the others, where the scene is simply repeated.

On and on it goes, infinitely running and changing treadmills. You would expect it will do this 'til its last breath.

The mouse is frustrated. It wishes it were not on a treadmill. It believes that there must be a way to combine the treadmills, so it does not have to go from one to another. Maybe this would happen if it went faster,....or slower. The mouse knows that if it could only bring the treadmills together, it would end the confusion of its life and enter into that period of bliss and relaxation that has always escaped it.

This is what I thought of the night before last, as I listened to Ariel Dorfman speak at the Nextbook Author Series. Ariel Dorfman, on the Anglo treadmill, the Latino treadmill, the Jewish treadmill, the defender-of-the-downtrodden treadmill, the writer treadmill, the talking head treadmill, the academic treadmill, the family treadmill.

Whew. If only he didn't seem to approach everything just like my imagined laboratory mouse.

Plumb Out of Explanations (31 cents)

Here is the short version:

1. Our kitchen sink spigot needs a new thingamagig, because water has begun to splay in all directions when you turn it on. An upstairs bathroom sink spigot needs a new internal thingamabob, because when you turn it off, unless you point it all the way to "cold", there remains a slow, annoying drip.

2. I leave the country for twelve days; my wife stays home.

3. I return and there is a new, perfectly functioning thingamagig on the kitchen spigot and a new, perfectly functioning thingamabob on the bathroom sink spigot.

4. My wife says that there was no plumber in the house while I was gone, and that, while she noticed everything was fixed as well, she has no explanation.

Let's Start With Something Important (26 cents)

Obviously, blogging from Israel did not work, and I think I will write up the trip elsewhere, so we are starting here from scratch.

Let's start with something important: Zips.

If you get your clothes into Zips by 9 a.m., you can get them back the same day by 5 p.m. It was when I was leaving the house, with the intention of going to Zips and dropping my clothes off on the way to the office, that it struck me: it was 9:05 a.m. That meant that I would not be able to get my clothes back until tomorrow.

I was furious that I had missed this important deadline. Of course, I did not need my clothes back at 5 p.m. today. And, in fact, even if I had arrived at Zips at 8:59, I had not even intended to pick up my clothes today (and in fact it would be logistically impossible because of my schedule tonight). But I was very mad at myself. And still am.

I have heard of road rage. Can someone explain to me the psychology of clothes rage?

Caroline Is a Must; Yellow Brick Bank a Bust (14 cents)

Caroline, or Change (something like that), Tony Kushner's musical at the Studio is an absolute MUST. It is clear that the reviews (it is now in previews) will say that, but you heard it here first. (No time now for details)

We went to Shepardstown to have a nice lunch before I leave town for two weeks, and went to the Yellow Brick Bank, where we have had several very nice meals. Well, their lunch menu is not their dinner menu, so don't go there before the sun goes down.

Before the theater we did have a good meal at Viridian (a shade of green I am told, the comes when copper oxidizes--I am leaving a couple of pennies outside to see) next door to the Studio. Its speciality is artistic presentation, the food is good but not quite as good as the presentation and a little too expensive, and the sun comes in as the sun goes down. Do it again? Only perhaps.

Off to Israel in 30 minutes for 12 days. With luck and connections, the blog will continue from there. If not, i will pick up on June 3.

Messages from Above (Hard to Believe, But True) (54 cents)

So, God tells Pat Robertson that there might be a strong tsunami in Washington or Oregon. Worried?

Well, listen to this one.

On the various same night, God tells me that Pat Robertson is a fool and should never be believed!!

So here we seem to have God saying two, totally irreconcilable things.

If you can't trust God to be truthful, whom can you trust?

"This I Cannot Forget" (41 cents)

"This I Cannot Forget" is a remarkable book by Anna Larina Bukharina, the widow of Bolshevik Nicholai Bukharin, who spent twenty years in the Siberian Gulag, returning to Moscow in 1959, and writing her memoirs of her life with Bukharin thirty years later.

The book is remarkable in several respects. Most importantly, the author was not onlly the wife of a prominent Bolshevike leader murdered during the Stalinist purges of the 1960s, but the daughter of another. In fact, her husband was a contemporary of her father's, thirty years older than she. Because of her background, she knew everyone - Lenin, Stalin, Beria, you name him; she knew him. And she knew their spouses and their children. Thus her story of life in the exciting days of the revolution through the extraordinarily tragic days of Stalin's regime comes from a perspective like none other. And her portraits of all of these famous Russian politicians is unmatched.

Secondly, her husband was a remarkable man, breaking with Stalin on a number of things, but most significantly on whether there was a need to collectivize the peasantry with all of the horror and dislocation which went along with it. As Stalin grew more power hungry and paranoid, as allies became traitors, as friends became stool pigeons, you could see a world crumble, a world created by like minded people who grew more and more fearful and venal.

And, you see the gulag itself. Prisons and workcamps scattered across the vast Russian expanses, and the amount of work that went into keeping the system going. Work by dedicated (and terrified) Communists, who themselves would become victims the next month or the next year. Like the Nazi concentration camps, we have an extraordinary amount of organization and expense and activity---and for what?

The style of the book is also unique. It is not quite chronological. She is thinking back to her time in prison, and thinking back to her thoughts, while in prison, of her childhood and her adolescence. It is flashback upon flashback, without rhyme or reason as to sequence, it would seem, but bringing about a fascinating weave of reminiscences.

How accurate are her extraordinarily detailed memories of events and conversations and speeches and gossip of 60 years before? I obviously don't know. But they sound accurate. And she comes across as brilliant.

She says that there are two more books to be written. A book about her twenty years in the gulag, not concentrating on Bukharin, but on her contemporary experiences more and over a longer period of time. And a book about her life after she was freed, and after her late husband was brought back into repute by Gorbachev. But they never will be written it appears, as she died in her upper 80s about ten years ago without writing them.

Do you have to be a Russian devotee to read the book? Yes, to understand the cast of characters. But not at all to get a feel for the author, the times, and the people. This book is to be highly recommended.

Sweet Basil, a Thai restaurant in Bethesda, gets a 10 out of 10

The St. Petersburg Trio is not the Nairobi Three (6 cents)

Do you remember Ernie Kovacs' Nairobi Three (speaking of politically correct!)?

Well, the St. Petersburg Trio is very different. It is composed of three members of the Washington Balalaika Society (maybe the only three?, who are each graduates of the Rimsky Korsakov Conservatory. They are all terrific musicians, and the best is probably Svetlana Nikonova, who plays the domra. The domra is a small mandolin, with only three strings, and she gets an extraordinary tone from it, both in quality and volume. Her two partners of Vladimar Zakharevitch, who plays the bayan, a Russian accordian like instruments, with buttons on both sides and no keyboard, and Andrey Saveliev, who plays the very large, and very bass balalaika k-bass. They played today at the Church of the Epiphany.

Their program had two parts: classical and folk. Every single song was familiar.

It must be said that it became apparent why Strauss, Mozart, Bach and Brahms did not write for a trio comprised of a domra, a bayan and a balalaika k-bass. But, considering what they were playing, they sure made the most of it. The folk songs (Russian and gypsy) were equally well performed.

The concert ran over its allotted 50 minutes, and nobody left.