Air Travel Blues

I recently completed trips to Poland and Hungary via Heathrow and Newark, Salt Lake City via Cincinnati and Kabul and Cairo via Dubai. I must say air travel experience is no longer what it used to be, a fact reently confirmed by the FAA reporting only 69.8% on time flights for 2007. And yes, I blame Al-Qaeda.

Newark (EWR) has a reputation for delayed flights, with one of the lowest on time departure ratings in the country. I've never been keen on it for that reason. Combine it with a flight on LOT, the Polish airline, and the receipe is one for frustration.

LOT is not an organization for high levels of communication and service. No reason was given for the delay nor expected new time of departure and despite promises of making up the time in the air, we were as late arriving as we had been departing. Combine this with the fact that the video system on the plane was broken and the toilets ran out of paper of all kinds and you get the idea.

I had expected British Air to be better. However, due to the tremendous storms in London that weekend, our flight from Budapest to London was delayed on the runway for two hours in the 102 degree heat. The heat apparently short-circuted a warning system computer, which led to another 3 hours delay on the runway as they tried to fix it (which they eventually did by rebooting it....). Kudos to the captain for telling us all this, and thanks for the extra leg room, but 5 hours?

Heathrow Airport (LHR) was a nightmare. A 4 hour line to get rebooked and assigned a hotel room was followed by a 1 hour bus ride to Gatwick for a transfer. I eventually by-passed the Brits, called the US, booked both myself, and left the line. This built the British Empire?

I went to collect my luggage for the transfer and found the baggage hall filled with untidy piles of luggage. I was told both that there was no order to the mess and that new luggage was not being unloaded until tomorrow due to the pile up. Of course, they couldn't transfer my luggage to Gatwick for me.

Gatwick (LGW) saw more queues. British Air does not pre-assign seats, so it was 3 hours to check even without my luggage. I watched women with children fight for line positions as the British Air staff melted away. It was generally ugly.

My luggage arrived several days later, just to be turned around for Salt Lake on a Delta flight delayed 3 hours departing from Raleigh (RDU) connecting with a Delta flight delayed 4 hours departing Cincinnati (CVG) for Salt Lake City (SLC).

Kam Air of Afghanistan is always a hit or miss proposition. I usually fly either Kam Air or Ariana Air from Dubai to get to Afghanistan. It doesn't much matter whether you are coming or going though; expect the times on your ticket to be meaningless. A few hours past departure, more or less, means little here. Manyana is the rule.

Kam Air is better than Afghanistan's other airline though. Ariana Air flights often just suddenly don't exist any more. And Kam Air actully offers an in-flight movie. Its the same movie every time you fly, and there are no headphones so you have to strain to hear it coming from overhead speakers, but they have one. Interesting contrast to LOT and BA's broken systems.

I can say that both Afghan airlines serve hot, real food both ways. That puts them one up on the US carriers. I en joyed my rice with roasted mystery-meat while watching Mr. Bean's Vacation in French for the second time. The joke by the Paris traffic police is much funnier in French, as is the waiter at the restaurant in the Gare de Lyon.

Then there's Kabul International (KBL) airport. Slowely being improved, its security process continue to get more thorough every time I vist. That's good, since I could have gotten a sub-nose of any caliber onto the plane the first trip I took. However, efficiency has not improved. So now there are three stops in half-hour queues standing outside in the parking lot before you reach the front door, followed by another half hour at ticketing and customs. Then you get to wait and see what time the airlines might decide to lift off.

Even Emirates sometimes fails spectacularly. My flight out of New York (JFK) left 2 hours late, but they still arrived in Dubai on time. That puts them one up on the Poles. However, I am now sitting in the lounge at Dubai Airport, Emirate's main hub, because my flight to Cairo has been delayed 5 hours. High marks for service and amenities, especially because I rate the business lounge with all my air miles (free food, Internet with unlimited wine!), but things break down fast when there's a problem.

So hooray for the Hungarians on Malev; the only international airline flight to get it right in the last 60 days. Even Budapest Airport (BUD) was efficient and clean, complete with a Sbarro's. I thoroughly enjoyed my second visit to Budapest as well.

My next stops are Berlin on Delta via JFK and Mexico City via some undetermined carrier and hub, probably Continental and Houston. We'll see how that goes....

Thoughts On The 4th Of July

Some you of may not know that my brother is a US naval officer. In June, my eldest daughter and I visited Newport R.I., Boston and points in between to celebrate his graduation from a course at the Naval War College. Here she is pictured with my brother and her two cousins.

New England is a region of the US steeped in colonial history. It is much like parts of North Carolina in this sense. However, North Carolina was a sleepy little colony compared to Boston's urban industry. Conflicts in North Carolina during the revolution were generally scattered skirmishes between Loyalists and revolutionaries, with county militia on each side. It is a much different picture than the city-wide bombardments, encircling fortifications, and British Army occupation of Boston.

RI is also the location of homes of some of the great captains of business our country has generated. A walk along the Breakers and a visit to the Vanderbilt Mansion were part of the trip.

My eldest daughter has a particular fascination with Paul Revere. As part of our trip we were sure to pilgrammige to all the relevant sites in downtown Boston including his home, the Old North Church (one if by land...), Bunker Hill and the USS Constitution, among others.

I've often said that if our country had relied on our German ancestors in Pennsylvania to start the Revolution, it would not have happened. The Scotch-Irish and English colonists, steeped in Boston's history culture of cantankerousness, were the ones to bring it about. My more recent reading of 1776 by David McCullough would seem to confirm this belief.
Coming right before the 4th of July, the trip brought back memories of the research I've done on the history of my family tree and aroused a bit of patriotic spirit. So I put together this little piece in celebration of our country and who we are.

"Freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better." --Albert Camus

I Am An American

by Karl Feld

I am an American.

I am descended of foreigners from many lands. Most of them came to our country speaking no English with little but their bodies, minds and a desire to succeed. Some sold everything they had to get here. Some sold themselves into servitude to reach our shores.

I am descended from farmers and tradesmen who accepted the risk and pursued the possibilities of choosing the challenging, the uncertain, the opportunity: people who rejected the reliable, dependable sameness of their existences for an opportunity with no guarantee of success but their own hard work.

I am descended from ordinary people who took to up rifles to protect what they had built with their own hands from a government who burned our cities, seized our money and quartered troops in our homes.

I am descended from people who fought to provide the opportunity to have our way of life to people they’d never met. Some fought their cousins to free others they didn’t know. Others volunteered to protect and assist other peoples they couldn't communicate with. All did it because they believed it was right.

I am descended from ordinary people who through their own hard work earned economic success, watched it erode from their fingers, and built it anew; people determined to build a better life for themselves and their families whatever the personal price.

I am descended from people who continue to demonstrate the same spirit, energy and stubbornness that brought their Dutch, German and English ancestors to our shores many generations before. I will do my best to pass it down to my own children and grandchildren as their heritage.

I am an American and this is who I am.

"We have enjoyed so much freedom for so long that we are perhaps in danger of forgetting how much blood it cost to establish the Bill of Rights." --Felix Frankfurter

A Wedding In Kabul

It could have been Provo.

The wedding hall was designed specifically for that purpose. Three stories high with wedding receptions running simultaneously on each every night. Alcohol could be had, but no-one bought any except one boy outside who didn't know his limits. Some rather benign dancing went on in front of a loud but innocuous band. No-one was privy to the ceremony itself except the couple and the family elders.

But there the similarity to Utah customs ends.

The reception is the third day of festivities in Afghanistan. It was explained to me that the previous two evenings are given over to the immediate families, and the third night is reserved for everyone who would otherwise complain about being excluded. This explained much, since most of the guests sat around their tables and said nothing, staring off into space.

That is until the food arrived late in the evening. Then the table came alive with hands and double-dipped spoons scraping food from common bowls; rice, dumplings, falafal and kebabs right off skewers which could be used to kill a man. Afghans are always ready to eat.

Utah readers note; only Coke products were served here.

They were a colorful lot. A wide mix of attire from bright suit and shirt combinations, to short sleeves for people who came from work, to peraan tunban with waskat and lungee or turban. And they were all men.

Afghan wedding receptions, like everything else in traditional Afghanistan, separate women from men. In this case a 7 foot high folding partition down the middle of the room. The reception hall had separate entrances for each gender. The children were allowed back and forth, but only the band could see over the wall from its raised platform. Now I know why the boys want to be rock stars....

The music was pop Indian, or Bollywood music. For those that don't know, India has its own film industry which dominates the East Asian film market. Yes, its named after Hollywood. Some of our staff speak passing Urdu from their film exposure. The music dominates the pop culture. The young men dancing at the wedding spread their arms and moved their hands in an Indian style, dancing with one another.

Men escaped the noise by going downstairs and out the "men's door". There they engaged in the traditional handshakes, hugging and cheek kissing. Some could be seen walking hand-in-hand, a custom among friends in Afghanistan.

It was an odd mix of old and new. The wedding hall stood on a road with many others, lit by neon signs proclaiming names like "Kabul-Paris Wedding Hall" (missing every other letter) over facades of glass. But in the foyers of each, men were called to evening prayer at the appropriate time, or they clicked their tasbih while sitting silently at the table. Outside, the couple's car, an '80s white stretch Lincoln Towncar festooned in white flowers and streamers, waited to carry them away along Kabul's dusty, potholed roads at the end of the night.

Music And Memories

Two weeks ago I performed with the North Carolina Master Chorale and the Tar River Philharmonic Orchestra our final concert of the season. Works on the program included Elegischer Gesang, Op. 118 by Beethoven, Little Requiem for Father Malachy Lynch by Tavener and Mozart's Requiem, K. 626. For the Mozart the Chorale was joined by the Wake County High School Honors Choir, a composite of Honors Choirs from across the county. For those of you who sang with me in the Honors Choir at Libertyville High, you'll understand the good memories the experience stirred up. The hairstyles have changed, but teenage singers remain the same.

As always, the concert was at the state's orchestral hall; Meymandi Concert Hall at the Progress Energy Center for the Performing Arts. I've spent a lot of time there in the last few weeks, as my eldest daughter rehearsed and performed there the following week with her grade school choir as part of the county's Annual Elementary Choral Celebration put on by the Raleigh Fine Arts Society. Its a great program, actually getting the kids into a concert hall at an early age.

Not sure what I'll be doing for music during the summer. The Chorale goes on hiatus, so I'll have to find something else to keep the voice in form.

The Power Of Words

My reading for this trip is "Approaching the Qur'an," the book which created controversy at the University of North Carolina when it was selected as required summer reading last year. The gist of the text is that the Qur'an is supposed to be transcendental simply because of the beauty of its language. When sung, the singing should move you as the word of God. Indeed, Mohammad is cited as saying that the beauty and perfection of the language and its power to move is the proof of its authenticity

The call to prayer sung from the minarets has always created a feeling of peace for me, even though I cannot understand it, in much the same way as a well-crafted Presbyterian sermon will do. Perhaps there is something to the power of beautiful language.

The ancient Egyptians believed this was the case. During my visit to the Egyptian museum I saw several instances of hieroglyphics where the cartouche containing the name of the Pharaoh had been chiseled away. The ancient Egyptians believed that the existence of the name in writing gave power to the dead to influence the living. Defacing the name erased that power. Oddly enough they'd leave the faces of the pharaohs intact in earlier dynasties, only choosing to scratch out eyes and ears later on.

Language is one way we reach out to others, and can convert strangers into friends. While at the museum I was approached by some Egyptian youth who assumed I was German and wanted to practice their language. A few words and we were buddies for the rest of our time in the museum.

Command of languages and the cultural habits that go with them can be a powerful thing. I often am mistaken for a German and do a passable job at blending in with them. Entry to the museum was a jostling, crowded affair for individual tourists. I went through once and was sent out again to store my camera outside. The next time in I mixed with a German tour group and was swept through the tourist entry in a matter of seconds. Ausgezeichnet!
Even in English language has power, turning strangers into friends during my trip to the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx. Belgian, Portuguese and American, we all enjoyed one another's company.

Fortunately, many Egyptians speak passable English, so it has been a tremendous tool to get to know folks on the street. Most educated Egyptians speak excellent English, and many university classes are taught in that language. I have found them all to be very polite and friendly.

Unfortunately, Egyptians around sites frequented by tourists are usually trying to use the power of their English to prise a few dollars out of your pocket. Though they haven't read it, they're are quite good applying the principles of indebtedness, similarity (through language) and co-location described in "The Psychology of Persuasion" to sell you things you really don't want.

Often they can be quite aggressive, even hostile in their approach. "Take this as a gift. No, I won't take it back. Forcing me to take it back is insulting. Now pay me." Here I learned the power of Arabic. You can say "No, thank you." in any Western language you please until you are blue in the face, but its like you never spoke. However, use the Arabic la shokram (thank you, no) and they disperse like leaves in the wind.

And for those hawkers that are confrontational there are the tourist police, aka the camel cops. The Pyramids are the site of horse-drawn carriage and camel rides, pushed on tourists like the t-shirts. Camels are bigger than t-shirts though, and here the camel cops come into play, running off hawkers in low speed camel chases amusing to watch. They also intervene on foot, pushing and shoving hawkers away from tourists when they are downright mean.

Cairo is crawling with uniformed police. Parking police, traffic police, antiquities police, secret police, customs police, hotel police. The city's districts are even defined by police stations.

It's a lot like DC actually, except that these police generally don't do anything. They and their officers sit along streets with their automatic rifles, loiter behind bulletproof riot positions, and sleep in their guard boxes. I've watched hotel guards put mirrors under cars but not look at mirrors, immigration officers flee their posts as soon as the crowd of foreigners appears at the airport, tourist police ignore metal detectors wailing alarms, and parking police shrug their shoulders when people are stuck in their parking spots. Its a running joke that law enforcement is a make-work project for the unemployed.

They're very friendly though and a few words will get you a big smile and a handshake.

My line of work requires more than a few words though, so there has always been plenty of opportunity for the traduttore, traditore. For those who do not speak more than one language, the reality is that languages translate imperfectly. Translation and interpretation, like music performance, remain one of the last great bastions of human-ness, where the mind is necessary to perceive and linguistically repackage concepts beyond language which are associated with words. It is not a mechanical function. As a result, it is often imperfect.

In survey research of we deal with precision in written and spoken language and its meaning. By definition we therefore are often victim to traduttore, traditore. Add to it that interpreters can only function for so long before their minds tire, and things can go downhill rapidly.

I spent Monday trying to control a room full of people in training through an interpreter who lagged a few minutes behind the instructor. Today was spent on a noisy street in front of a mosque with dozens of people staring at me while I tried to manage our subcontractor's job performance through an interpreter. Nothing like it to get a sense of how powerless a lack of words can make you, especially when your interpreter's batteries start to run low.

A Tricked Out Renault

Cairo is a city of contrasts. For a while I couldn't be sure if this was a pleasurable or undesirable thing. Traffic in Cairo is insane. The streets have lane lines, but they're optional. I've actually seen our driver clip two people in the last 24 hours. Anything that rolls is on the street, from ancient Ladas serving as taxi cabs cruising next to the newest Mercedes zipping silently by. I spent an hour standing still in this free-for-all on the freeway as we left the airport

Cars and traffic serve as a good metaphor for Cairo's contrasts. As I sat in the traffic, I had nothing to distract me from listening to the calming call to evening prayer from the minarets. I could admire the ancient, silent Pharaonic statuary in the median strip which looked like it was carved yesterday. I could watch the old men washing away the dirt on the highway banisters by hand, one pole at a time.

I could appreciate the tricked out Renault.

I wish I could have captured it on film. The car, checkered black and white, had to be 20 years old if a day. It glowed neon blue in the dark, with its interior and exterior add-on lights. Its aftermarket chrome hubcaps glinted from under the lifted fenders. Best of all it sported Loewenbraeu beer mudflaps on its rear wheels which swayed as it zigzagged through traffic, blasting away with its squeaky horn, while its passengers conversed in the dim blue light, oblivious.

For me, that Renault will always be Cairo. Old and new, jumbled together in a way that works, even if not in the most attractive manner. The city is the same way. New apartment buildings, intentionally unfinished on the topmost story to avoid taxation, creep their way from the Nile into Greater Cairo to threaten the foot of the Great Pyrimids. Pharaonic statues, unmarked by time, stand amidst buildings which look old and worn-out but were built yesterday in comparison. The city is scattered with billboards advertising familiar brands in Arabic, but held by European or American models.

The airport reminded me of the Luxor in Las Vegas, with stylized Egyptian building facades. The guards at the airport drive Jeep Liberty's and sport AK-47s, both built in Egypt. The office vehicles are Ford Explorers with cup holders, but the Egyptians fill them with plastic ash trays that look like little trash cans.

The riverboat casinos in the Nile cinched it for me. Some float. Most are buildings made to look like boats which will never move downriver. Many have neon paddle wheels flashing at the rear, none of which work. All glitz, no function. But they seem to attract people none-the-less, just like the Renault.

I'll give Cairo another chance tomorrow. After all, the hotel restaurant offers a hookah, called a "shisha" in Egypt, with your meal and belly dancing on Saturday nights....

Elgar's "Dream of Gerontius"

While not technically travel, this post is something which my family and friends could not attend, so I am including here.

As many of you know, I sing with the North Carolina Master Chorale (NCMC). The NCMC is regularly hired by the NC Symphony to perform large choral works. Last spring it was a work by Mahler. This quarter is was Elgar's "Gerontius".

The program read, "In a North Carolina premiere, Grant Llewellyn will lead the orchestra and the North Carolina Master Chorale in a work rarely performed outside of Britain. Cardinal Newman's poem tells of the journey of a man's soul after death – 'Gerontius' may be translated roughly as 'old man.' Elgar was given a copy of the poem in 1889 as a wedding present. 'This is Elgar’s greatest masterpiece,' says Llewellyn. 'It’s a large-scale chorus, a sweeping, emotional work.' "

I continue to return to this group specifically because of these opportunities. There is nothing to compare to performing with a world-class orchestra. The sound is incredible! It doesn't hurt that both our director and of course Grant Llewellyn treat rehersals and performances as professional, non-nonsense affairs. Appeals to my Germanic side... Grant's British public school accent doesn't hurt either.

I'd love to invite some of you to attend next year's performances. Next year's line up with the symphony currently includes;

September 28-29: an extraordinary semi-staged production of Mozart’s ever-popular opera, The Marriage of Figaro. Along with the North Carolina Master Chorale Chamber Choir, the world-class cast includes Sari Gruber, Christopheren Nomura, Krista River, and portraying Countess and Count Almaviva, a real-life married couple, Barbara Shirvis and Stephen Powell. Noted director Marc Verzatt, whose credits include the Lyric Opera of Chicago, Atlanta Opera, Toledo Opera, National Grand Opera and the Lyric Opera of Kansas City, will bring his considerable talents to this enterprise as the combined forces showcase Mozart at the very height of his powers.

Nov. 23-25, 2007: William Henry Curry, Resident Conductor North Carolina Master Chorale Holiday Pops Jingle up the winter season with the North Carolina Symphony’s beloved, traditional Holiday Pops concert featuring the North Carolina Master Chorale and the annual sing-along.

December 7: Handel's Messiah (unconfirmed)

Mar. 14-15, 2008: Grant Llewellyn, Music Director Peter Serkin, piano, North Carolina Master Chorale
Bach: Cantata No. 118, “O Jesu Christ, meins Lebens Licht” Stravinsky: Concerto for Piano and Wind Instruments Stravinsky: Concerto in E-flat (Dumbarton Oaks) Bach: Cantata No. 50, “Nun ist das heil” Bach: Keyboard Concerto No. 5 in F minor Stravinsky: Symphony of Psalms
In this unusual program, Grant Llewellyn explores the deep connection between Bach and Stravinsky, aided by his guest soloist, the incomparable Peter Serkin. Stravinsky’s fascination in the second half of his career with music of the Baroque, and his idol Bach in particular, is the inspiration for this program which bounces back and forth over 200 years of musical history. The concert ends with Stravinsky’s profound Symphony of Psalms, featuring the North Carolina Master Chorale.

Date Not Yet Set: Karel Husa: Violin Concerto Beethoven: Symphony No. 9, “Choral”
Steely-toned firebrand violinist Ilya Gringolts is featured in Karl Husa’s Violin Concerto. Husa, a national hero in his native Czechoslovakia, is one of the world’s most famous living composers and currently lives in Cary. His granddaughter, Maria Evola, plays in the violin section of the North Carolina Symphony. The concerto was written for the 150th anniversary of the New York Philharmonic. This powerful program closes with Beethoven’s supreme Symphony No. 9, “Choral,” featuring North Carolina Master Chorale, the Durham Choral Society Chamber Choir and a cast of extraordinary soloists

In case any of you wondered what professional musicians look like when they're not wearing black and white, I snapped a couple of photos during "dress" rehersals with my trusty cell phone.