It's been a while since I've written anything substantial here--radio silence is not my normal style, and the preceding weeks have been anything but boring. After all, the Olympics and Paralympics, a Cubs divisional baseball pennant, the Democratic and Republican conventions and the fissure of the bloc comprising the Flemish Christian Democrats and the New Flemish Alliance have thus far passed without my comment. But as I recline in my Geneva-bound TGV seat, Grimbergen Blond in hand, there are some things which jump to mind.
Obama-a turning point?
I think the last week of the presidential campaign has left Democrat Barack Obama in the ascendancy. First by replying to Republican John McCain's bid to suspend campaigning during the economic crisis by saying to the effect that the public had a right to expect a president to be able to walk and chew gum simultaneously, and then by coming off as lucid, well-informed and well-tempered in the face of increasingly desperate lunges by McCain during the first presidential debate, Obama clearly demonstrated the demeanor of a viable President.
Add in the embarrassing display by McCain running mate Sarah Palin on a national news program, and Obama is now in a position to stake a claim on the 10+ percent of voters currently claiming to be undecided. Fold in the shift in campaign focus towards the economy, stronger ground for Obama, and the coming weeks should see a clear lead begin to emerge. Of course, the decisive factor come election day will be voter mobilization and peer-to-peer contact among voters. This was a key Obama strength in the primaries; whether it will be qualitatively and quantitatively superior to Republican efforts is still an open question.
Murderball Gold
Longtime readers of mine will recall my fondness for the 2005 documentary Murderball, which chronicled the fortunes of the US Wheelchair Rugby side during its unsuccessful quest for gold at the 2004 Athens Paralympics. While the deep portrayal of these gladiators (whose sport features quadriplegics slamming into each other in armor-plated wheelchairs) in Murderball illustrated that all that is golden in life is not necessarily so rewarded, the American boys came home with the Gold this year after a pitched finals battle with Australia.
What was less golden was the television coverage. For all of the hours of Olympic coverage on NBC in the US, there were very little of the Paralympics. The irony-while much was made of the personal stories of Olympians, the personal stories of paralympians like my personal hero, Mark Zupan, the tattooed and talismanic leader of US Wheelchair Rugby didn't make the air.
BBC coverage was much better--even allowing me to catch a half of quad rugby between Great Britain and eventual silver-winners Australia in a characteristically hard-hitting match.
As for seeing the US--I'll be ordering my London 2012 tickets as soon as they are available.
Domestic Affairs
After two months of achieving my long-sought return to Belgium, things are settling well. Sure there are issues, most of which pertain to an apartment with an absentee landlord which also happens to be 20 square meters too small for two.
Still, having welcomed a new flatmate, a Washington friend in his late 20s who is pursuing a grad degree here a few weeks ago, life is infinitely more interesting. Aside from the financial side (particularly acute as I have yet to secure coveted non-resident tax status here), having a flatmate has its appeal on a number of fronts. A good flatmate makes for a more convivial environment, particularly when it's time to pull beer from the fridge. Lost keys become less traumatic. Long absences are less filled with concern about ransacking.But what's most positive so far is that it's good practice to live with someone if one seeks to live with a sweetie in the future.
My main domestic project this year is to learn to be a better person to live with.
Blueberry Beer
At a recent visit to Delirium, a Brussels venue best described as beervana. I had the occasion to try a fascinating brew that defied all expectations.
While most Belgian fruit-spiked beers tend to be sweet, tangy and low in alcohol, Bon Secours avec Myrtilles (Bon Secours with Blueberries) was refreshing, dry and fairly strong at 7% alcohol. The blueberry flavor is very much pronounced, but missing all but the tiniest hint of sweetness. I suspect it would work well with most foods that pair with a light red wine, and is more than adequate on its own.
Its ceramic-topped bottle is reminiscent of a short Grolsch bottle.
And finally...
Was saddened by the passing of Paul Newman this weekend. While I loved Newman in a number of roles-Cool Hand Luke and Slapshot among others, none was the equal of Ari Ben Canaan, the Israeli independence fighter in Exodus.
I'll never forget the first time I saw Exodus. It was in 1982, in an air raid shelter/mess hall on an Israeli Army base in the Golan Heights. I was among the dozens of fervent young 16 year olds overnighting on the base, and there was no more receptive audience to the warm, smart and clear-headed fighter for his people and homeland that Newman portrayed--someone who exemplified that which was great about Israel then...and remains great about Israel to this very day.
Sleep well, Ari Ben Canaan. To my fellow tribespeople in KL18 land, Shana Tova. And to all my readers, welcome back and thank you. ---
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Surreal for Breakfast
August finds me back in Belgium--the long-sought objective of my decade-plus European wanderings and ponderings. Yet, as I pause my commute for an ever-so-unctuous Grimbergen Double, thoughts turn to the old Chinese curse, "be careful of what you wish for..."
August is a strange time to land in Belgium. This is the time of year when those wacky"Flems" and "Loons" with their fully-vested 32 vacation days blow the bulk of them in sunnier climes, and the time when I found out I would not be so generously vested until 2010. The place has a post-neutron bomb air to it, even as it retains its considerable visual, imbibatory and gustatory charms.
Waking up daily to quintessentially Bruxellois scenes is surreal for me--hence the term "surreal for breakfast." And waking up as an actual Employee of an honest-to-Buddha US multinational (with a concomitant cut to my comparatively lordly consulting pay across the Dutch border) makes things weirder still.
But in Belgium, weirdness is normal. Indeed, the second to last stop on my commute is named for it. "Weerde."
August is a strange time to land in Belgium. This is the time of year when those wacky"Flems" and "Loons" with their fully-vested 32 vacation days blow the bulk of them in sunnier climes, and the time when I found out I would not be so generously vested until 2010. The place has a post-neutron bomb air to it, even as it retains its considerable visual, imbibatory and gustatory charms.
Waking up daily to quintessentially Bruxellois scenes is surreal for me--hence the term "surreal for breakfast." And waking up as an actual Employee of an honest-to-Buddha US multinational (with a concomitant cut to my comparatively lordly consulting pay across the Dutch border) makes things weirder still.
But in Belgium, weirdness is normal. Indeed, the second to last stop on my commute is named for it. "Weerde."
Minnesota, Hats Off to Thee
Much of my August was spent at the spanking new offices of my global programme team in Suburban Minneapolis. That too resulted in weirdness. I actually liked the place-a lot. I actually liked the people-a lot.
Having avoided extended tours in the Midwest since my days at the University of Wisconsin (How 'bout dem Badgers, eh?), two weeks in The Twin Cities were a revelation. Great food, great people, nice lakes and rivers and a relocated Danish London Business School buddy who has adopted baseball's Minnesota Twins with unseemly fervor.
I'll effectively be splitting my time between Belgium and Minnesota for a while. It will be interesting to see who wins in the end.
Having avoided extended tours in the Midwest since my days at the University of Wisconsin (How 'bout dem Badgers, eh?), two weeks in The Twin Cities were a revelation. Great food, great people, nice lakes and rivers and a relocated Danish London Business School buddy who has adopted baseball's Minnesota Twins with unseemly fervor.
I'll effectively be splitting my time between Belgium and Minnesota for a while. It will be interesting to see who wins in the end.
Two Sides of the Beer Spectrum
Two recent brews are front of mind at the moment. In the Minnesota corner is Grain Belt Premium. Grain Belt is a beer the likes of which have all but disappeared in North America--a clean, fresh, malty, locally produced lager/pilsner to serve as an accompaniment to life's bigger and smaller occasions.
Having had several at Nye's Polonaise Polka Bar and Retro Emporium in Mpls (the perfect vinyl-upholstered old school setting for the quintessential old school American brew) I had wistful thoughts about the other local lagers that guided my early beer developments: Huber, Augsburger, Regal Brau, Point (which has been reduced to knocking off Belgian style wheat beer), Leinenkugel (before it started coloring its beers red) and the all-time classic, Genesee Cream Ale (mockingly called Genocide by thirsty but broke and resentful grad students at SUNY-Albany, where I spent a watershed year majoring in Buffalo Wings and minoring in wanting to leave Albany).
Grain Belt is distinctly American in flavor, but could compete well with Europe's commodity lagers. In contrast, Trappieter, my Belgian Beer for this month, is a unique combination of the citrusy flavor seen in many Belgian brews with an assertive (but not overwhelming) hoppiness evocative of English ales and American Microbrews.
Trappieter, at the moment, is not in mass production or circulation. Indeed, after sampling some with the brewer himself in a small beer cafe on Ghent's fabled Graslei canal, it became clear that Trappieter is, for the moment, a labor of love. It is brewed at the Proefbrouwerij in nearby Lochristi, a contract producer of recipes generated by independent brewers and brewenthusiasts. But despite the limited production, this struck me as a brew with some legs. At a comparatively weak 6.5% alcohol, it could be sold in the US and UK without facing hefty tax. At any rate, it's the first (and best) beer I've had in Belgium with the actual brewer at hand.
Until September, that's FlightKL18!
Having had several at Nye's Polonaise Polka Bar and Retro Emporium in Mpls (the perfect vinyl-upholstered old school setting for the quintessential old school American brew) I had wistful thoughts about the other local lagers that guided my early beer developments: Huber, Augsburger, Regal Brau, Point (which has been reduced to knocking off Belgian style wheat beer), Leinenkugel (before it started coloring its beers red) and the all-time classic, Genesee Cream Ale (mockingly called Genocide by thirsty but broke and resentful grad students at SUNY-Albany, where I spent a watershed year majoring in Buffalo Wings and minoring in wanting to leave Albany).
Grain Belt is distinctly American in flavor, but could compete well with Europe's commodity lagers. In contrast, Trappieter, my Belgian Beer for this month, is a unique combination of the citrusy flavor seen in many Belgian brews with an assertive (but not overwhelming) hoppiness evocative of English ales and American Microbrews.
Trappieter, at the moment, is not in mass production or circulation. Indeed, after sampling some with the brewer himself in a small beer cafe on Ghent's fabled Graslei canal, it became clear that Trappieter is, for the moment, a labor of love. It is brewed at the Proefbrouwerij in nearby Lochristi, a contract producer of recipes generated by independent brewers and brewenthusiasts. But despite the limited production, this struck me as a brew with some legs. At a comparatively weak 6.5% alcohol, it could be sold in the US and UK without facing hefty tax. At any rate, it's the first (and best) beer I've had in Belgium with the actual brewer at hand.
Until September, that's FlightKL18!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
An Update
My inevitable and inexorable drive to return to Brussels appears to be on track for an August move, as I head to De Hoofdstad van Europa to sign a job contract and, potentially, find a flat to move into as well.
While saying farewell to Shell was more pleasant than painful for a number of reasons, I can say I left behind many more friends than I left problems. I would assert that my enjoyable--and occasionally raucous--farewell dinner at Den Haag's excellent Cafe Rootz was testament of a year that was largely-if intermittently-a mutual success.
Many thanks to all of my Shell friends, and I look forward to welcoming you (and all of my readers) to Belgium soon.
While saying farewell to Shell was more pleasant than painful for a number of reasons, I can say I left behind many more friends than I left problems. I would assert that my enjoyable--and occasionally raucous--farewell dinner at Den Haag's excellent Cafe Rootz was testament of a year that was largely-if intermittently-a mutual success.
Many thanks to all of my Shell friends, and I look forward to welcoming you (and all of my readers) to Belgium soon.
EMELI '08
EMELI
In addition to winding down at Shell, the last few months have been occupied by my leadership of an event that was potentially quite risky for me--the Europe Middle East Leadership Institute for the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC).
I had been an IABC member intermittently since 2002, and often a public critic of the Association's overall direction. But at the same time, as the biggest international association of communications pros, IABC offers a degree of collegial depth that makes active participation worth it even if there are disagreements and items needing change.
Indeed, one of the great things about a room full of communicators is that they instinctively get what leadership and change are all about. So, in convening EMELI at Amsterdam's ABC Tree House conference center (a phenomenal self-service venue in the heart of the city) the challenge of understanding the change in mindset and tone required to take a 650 member association to 1000 members within two years was one, I think, which produced more light than heat.
I do despise event planning. And this event stretched me. But I see a major change--perhaps even a full-blown paradigm shift--has taken place within a group of very smart people. I'm glad to have taken the lead, and am pleased I will be leading EMELI'09 as well.
In addition to winding down at Shell, the last few months have been occupied by my leadership of an event that was potentially quite risky for me--the Europe Middle East Leadership Institute for the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC).
I had been an IABC member intermittently since 2002, and often a public critic of the Association's overall direction. But at the same time, as the biggest international association of communications pros, IABC offers a degree of collegial depth that makes active participation worth it even if there are disagreements and items needing change.
Indeed, one of the great things about a room full of communicators is that they instinctively get what leadership and change are all about. So, in convening EMELI at Amsterdam's ABC Tree House conference center (a phenomenal self-service venue in the heart of the city) the challenge of understanding the change in mindset and tone required to take a 650 member association to 1000 members within two years was one, I think, which produced more light than heat.
I do despise event planning. And this event stretched me. But I see a major change--perhaps even a full-blown paradigm shift--has taken place within a group of very smart people. I'm glad to have taken the lead, and am pleased I will be leading EMELI'09 as well.
Unfinished Business: My Letter to the Welsh Rugby Union
As you may imagine, as I prepare to move to another EU country, I have enormous gratitude to the United Kingdom for having granted me a passport that allows me to live and work in any EU nation.
There is one other benefit to such naturalisation, one which I had yet to take up, and as I approach my 43rd birthday next month, it is one whose value is nearing it's sell by date. I am requesting it in the letter below:
18 July 2008
Mr Davies (or is it Mr. Jones, Williams or Rhys)
Fearless Leader
Welsh Rugby Union
Millennium Stadium, Arms Park
Cardiff, Wales
Dear Sir,
I apologise for the tardiness of this letter.
Four years ago, I was awarded British Citizenship. But I only learned recently that naturalisation as a British citizen allowed me to declare my eligibility for one of the four British sporting nations-England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and, of course, the Principality of Wales.
I would like to declare my intention to declare my eligibility for Wales, and request due consideration to become the captain of the Welsh rugby side.
Sure, Wales has met with much success on the pitch, with your stunning thrashing of all comers in this year's Six Nations. And it is true that my playing experience, consisting of 10 minutes of actual play in Second Row while a student at London Business School, does not on the surface amount to much.
But what I can offer is access to a whole new market. An American-"Welsh" captain like me could sell a lot of shirts in the US. Plus, having a short, overweight, slow, aging Jewish guy on the pitch will require you to get even more out of your other players to keep them in peak position.
I realise my proposition would be risky for such a world class rugby country as Wales. But my debt to your principality--for bringing Brains Ale, Shirley Bassey, and Tom Jones to the masses--and for producing the best in-stadium singing on the planet--is such that I would be most remiss if I wilted from the challenge of offering my leadership, commitment, and bodily health to your cause.
You have my eternal loyalty.
Welshly,
Mike Klein
There is one other benefit to such naturalisation, one which I had yet to take up, and as I approach my 43rd birthday next month, it is one whose value is nearing it's sell by date. I am requesting it in the letter below:
18 July 2008
Mr Davies (or is it Mr. Jones, Williams or Rhys)
Fearless Leader
Welsh Rugby Union
Millennium Stadium, Arms Park
Cardiff, Wales
Dear Sir,
I apologise for the tardiness of this letter.
Four years ago, I was awarded British Citizenship. But I only learned recently that naturalisation as a British citizen allowed me to declare my eligibility for one of the four British sporting nations-England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and, of course, the Principality of Wales.
I would like to declare my intention to declare my eligibility for Wales, and request due consideration to become the captain of the Welsh rugby side.
Sure, Wales has met with much success on the pitch, with your stunning thrashing of all comers in this year's Six Nations. And it is true that my playing experience, consisting of 10 minutes of actual play in Second Row while a student at London Business School, does not on the surface amount to much.
But what I can offer is access to a whole new market. An American-"Welsh" captain like me could sell a lot of shirts in the US. Plus, having a short, overweight, slow, aging Jewish guy on the pitch will require you to get even more out of your other players to keep them in peak position.
I realise my proposition would be risky for such a world class rugby country as Wales. But my debt to your principality--for bringing Brains Ale, Shirley Bassey, and Tom Jones to the masses--and for producing the best in-stadium singing on the planet--is such that I would be most remiss if I wilted from the challenge of offering my leadership, commitment, and bodily health to your cause.
You have my eternal loyalty.
Welshly,
Mike Klein
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