I’m a sucker for writers reminiscing about cities they know and love, and this issue of Eurozine feeds that craving. Levente Polyák in “Coherent fragmentation” provides a good summary of what’s special about Central Europe:
If a city is text, then the Central European city is hypertext. Street names and even parts of cities have no choice but to bear the names of other parts of the region – think of the Krakovo district of Ljubljana or the Praga district of Warsaw. It is the Central European mix of languages, words, signs and melodies which crystallizes in urban space, with the theatres scattered over the territory of the Monarchy in the style of the Fellner and Hellmer workshop, or the startling buildings of Joze Plecnik. Perhaps it’s the notion of “radical eclecticism”, which the architect László Rajk used to try to put into words Budapest’s architectural traditions and sources of inspiration, refers to these temporal and spatial wanderings of symbols. An alternative city guide describes Warsaw as an “eclectic cocktail”.
I particularly recommend Jirí Trávnícek’s article on “Brno and its literary image,” which suggests that Brno has poetry but not much else in the way of literature (the two stories that native son Milan Kundera devoted to it were removed from his collected works), and Juraj Spitzer’s “Castle, cathedral and river: The soul of Bratislava,” which laments the destruction of much of the old multicultural Prespork and describes the author’s astonishment on coming to the city from mountainous central Slovakia some sixty years ago. (If you can’t stand urban nostalgia, please ignore this post!)
Spitzer’s article is 10 years old and a lot has changed since then – Suché mýto, for example, has undergone serious revitalization and while it never again will look like this, it certainly isn’t a concrete jungle anymore. Which, by the way, is a strange usage of the term – it’s usually reserved for communist-era apartment buildings like the ones in Petržalka. Café Štefánka (where I had the most amazing apple pie ever) still stands or at least the building does. Last time I checked, it was closed and apparently there were some property disputes going on, but that was a year ago, time to check in again.
As for the nostalgia for the old multicultural multilingual Prešporok, I find it difficult to get behind and not just because I’m a recent transplant from Eastern Slovakia who doesn’t get it. Most old Prešpuráci who talk and write books about old Prešporok were not there – it was pretty much gone by late 1930s – and their nostalgia rings hollow. Also, I’m not sure it ever really existed – until the early years of the Czechoslovak republic, Bratislava was a predominantly German city and the multilingual population was confined to a portion of the higher classes. It’s that class undertone I hear every time someone speaks of old Bratislava, i.e. Bratislava before all those dirty villagers/Czechs/Easterners fucked it all up. But hey, I’m a cynical pinko bastard, so take that with a truckload of salt.
What remains irrevocably true is that there have been many barbaric deeds done to the face of “our scarred city” as one pundit called it during a recent episode of the never-ending debate on the urban design of Bratislava. Item 1 on the indictment will definitely be the tearing down of the Jewish quarter and the fisherman villages (collectively referred to as Podhradie) to make place for that monstrosity of a bridge. And one small barbaric deed follows another, like the glass palaces of the nouveau riche towering over the city or high-rise building in historic quarters where the going rate in bribes is apparently 10.000 € for each additional storey. My favorite of the new ones is the redesign of a section of Hviezdoslavovo námestie ordered by our servile right-wing politicians solely for the purpose of increasing security (by adding a goddamn checkpoint) for the US embassy. “Our contribution to the fight against terrorism,” one right-wing nutjob pundit called it. With assholes like this one and the former mayor who approved the works, I don’t expect the face of this city to heal any time soon.
Your Wikilink says that the Nový Most (I thought that name by international conventon was reserved for the oldest bridge in town) “[…] is the world’s longest cable-stayed bridge to have one pylon and one cable-stayed plane. […] It is an asymmetrical cable-stayed bridge with a main span length of 303 metres. […] The total length of the bridge is 430.8 metres […]”. But my local single-pylon cable-stayed bridge, Grenlandsbrua, is 608 m long with a main span of 305 m.
I’m not an expert (and our resident architect is out of the office today), but I think the difference is in the “one cable-stayed plane” bit: Grenlandsbrua has cables coming out of each support tower which connect to the respective sides of the bridge, whereas on Nový Most, the all the cable are connected to the center of the bridge.
Ah, thanks, that makes sense. I read it as refering to a one-piece bridge deck (not that that made any sense either). That’s what I get for not knowing terminology.
That’s what I like about Language Hat, the discussion may include European structural engineering trends. One further question: single-tower suspension bridges are so common nowadays; are they cheaper to build than an equivalent span with two towers or is it a fashion statement started by Calatrava, or both? (Or neither?)
I may not be the best source for the cutting edge of current trends. At least not according to my daughter.
Single-tower bridges, at least the asymmetric ones, are usually cable-stayed, not suspension bridges. They are definitely more expensive (unless there are geological reasons to concentrate the foundations in one spot). In the case of Grenlandsbrua, the reason was the winning architectural design of Lund + Slaatto and Lunde og Løvseth, capturing the different shapes of the landmass on both sides. I don’t remember the exact factor of increase of estimated costs, but I think it was around 2, having to do with both the need for a higher tower and more complicated building of the deck.
Someone I once knew defended the engineering of a particular, single tower, cable-stayed bridge by saying it overcame a problem of poor ground conditions (for foundations) on one side of the river. The bridge, he said, was held by the cables so that it barely touched the soft ground on the side without the tower.
While this is plausible, it might also be a smoke-screen rationalisation concealing an aesthetic judgement.
When form is obliged to follow function, in my view, sometimes the function is recast until it leads, apparently inevitably, to the preferred form.
pk: When form is obliged to follow function, in my view, sometimes the function is recast until it leads, apparently inevitably, to the preferred form.
That’s right, and it’s a good thing – what do you want: function rules, the garbage cans right by the entry because it’s more convenient for the truck? It’s called “interpreting the program”.
Yes, the cable-stayed bridge is very good for poor ground, and I think this is the main reason for the renaissance of the design from 1990 or so. With towers in the first and third quarterpoints, each half-deck is suspended in perfect balance. Sure, this goes for a suspension bridge too, but while the suspension bridge needs a massive anchor on each side for the cable force, the cable-stayed bridge can be self-anchored (except for wind). (Strictly speaking a suspension bridge can be self-anchored too, but it’s harder to achieve.)
Let me also say that my badly hidden love for bridges is orthogonal to Bulbul’s lament for the old quarters that were wiped out. I’m perfectly capable of harbouring both loves, and one should be able ro plan society accordingly.
On the subject of Central Europe and architects, this is an amusing little vignette (short version; Chinese property developers hire German architects to design a typical German town for a suburb of Shanghai, and the architects came up with typical post-war Neubauten that no-one in China wants to live in). I don’t imagine those architects will get much more business from that part of the world.
AJP… That’s right, and it’s a good thing…
I don’t necessarily disagree except when there is a kind of intellectual fraud going in which mangled rationales are used to support an otherwise respectable subjective choice.
I was at a client meeting where the eminent architect was being berated by the client about blue glazed bricks. ‘Why do we have to have them imported from Belgium?’ he fumed.
‘Because I like them!’ said the architect.
Bravo! No twisting in the air looking for a dubious justification here (and it silenced the client.)
I am an engineet but I wouldn’t want to live in a world where the perfect drainage layout set the geometry of the city. Engineering should serve the higher ambitions. But let’s not make the enginneering perjure itself in defining those ambitions.
I’m perfectly capable of harbouring both loves
So am I. Alas, the planners of the 1960s were not.
BTW, here is a set of pictures and maps that’ll give you a better idea of what was lost.
I think bulbul is right that too much nostalgia for Hapsburg-era multiculturalism/urbanity skips over the various illiberal aspects of Habsburg rule which were causally implicated in those nice surface features. (And, in general, too many people who think that Multilingual Societies Are Way Cool are reluctant to consider that they tend to do better in highly illiberal political environments.) Juraj Spitzer (1919-95) was old enough to remember the old Bratislava architecturally speaking but born just a little bit too late to have had direct experience of Hapsburg rule. But on the other hand he had considerable experience of the varied even-worse alternatives the denizens of both Pressburg and rural Slovakia subsequently managed to stumble upon and/or have foisted upon them.
Frankfurter Architektenbüro Albert Speer & Partner did zer masterplan. I love the idea of opening a German-Austrian restaurant in China.
Multilingual societies tend to do better in highly illiberal political environments
San Francisco, New York, London…?
pk: Oh, a fellow engineer! So I probably explained the obvious up there.
If only Siganus came along, we could try to crowd out the architects.
bulbul: That’s all gone? What a loss.
I didn’t notice before now that the bridge was finished in 1972. That was at the culmination of the age of demolition. And I mean everywhere, not only in Communist Europe. In Bergen the Hanseatic quarter of Bryggen (Hat’s filter has a grudge on Unesco, so copy the link and add the naughtylooking letter in http://whc.unesc.org/en/list/59) was almost demolished for an upgrade of the road along the waterfront. In Oslo the tide turned after the demolition of the old worker’s quarter of Enerhaugen in the sixties, saving neighbouring quarters like Kampen. In my town it lasted a little longer — thiswas torn down and replaced by this in the seventies and early eighties.
AJPC: sustainably multilingual over time w/o constant new immigration. Works best when the boundaries between social groups speaking different languages are comparatively impermeable because you can’t easily marry across them and you can’t easily have access to different economic/political/social opportunities than your ancestors in your particular group did. A government with no interest in educating you or concern about how you might vote is also a plus here. Ottoman-era Salonika is a nice example: how did Greek/Macedonian/Turkish/Ladino (with Albanians and Vlachs passing through as well . . .) all coexist for so long?
If a city is text, then the Central European city is hypertext. Street names and even parts of cities have no choice but to bear the names of other parts of the region – think of the Krakovo district of Ljubljana or the Praga district of Warsaw.
That is surely not unique to Central Europe, but something true of almost all cities. To take London, you could probably tick off most of a British gazetteer from its street names, and include a considerable part of the rest of the world as well.
pk, (sorry, I missed seeing your reply) ‘Because I like them!’ said the architect. Bravo!
See, I tried that once when I was a student and this very eminent guy on the jury said “Well, but then I just have to say ‘I don’t like them’, it’s no argument, no way to convince anyone else”. He was right, I think. I haven’t done it since.
Trond, it’s amazing that they considered putting a road through Bryggen in Bergen, especially when you look at what had happened to it during the war. From Norwegian Wikipedia, my translation (you need to know that Bergen was part of the Hanseatic League, and that Bryggen was the wharf area):
Man, I never know what posts are going to develop such interesting discussions (though I did intend this as bulbul-bait). Kudos to all; my architectural education is continuing apace!
Yes, I too like the free architecture education. I am a little confused about modern bridge architecture, but I guess I should just consult wikipedia.
Boston has the widest cable-stayed bridge.
The Triune Monarchy of Scythia-Pannonia-Transbalkania was also multilingual:
–Avram Davidson, “Polly Charms, the Sleeping Woman”
There is evidence that Gothic was spoken mostly in Scythia, Avar mostly in Pannonia, and Vlox mostly in Vlox-Majore and Vlox-Minore aka The Mud. This last name is apparently not a variant of Vlach, but a mispronunciation of the endonym Veloshchii. Next to the Triune Monarchy are Ruritania and Graustark, where German is spoken (or was until all these countries collapsed after WWI), though their onomastics clearly show a substratum of non-Germanic languages in both.
AJP: Now that I think of it, the Bryggen story looks a bit suspect, so I guess I should do some research. In my youth in Beregn it was told as a scary tale of the bad old fifties and sixties, and I never questioned it, but it may have been just a proposition from some chamber-of-commerce-like group, not an official plan with political backing. But I do remember a TV clip of an angry man in the street being asked about Bryggen and saying Riv hele skiten! “Tear down the whole shit!”. Part of it was — paradoxically in light of your wartime story — its percieved connection to Germany. An important part of the conservation effort was to have it renamed from Tyskebryggen “The German Wharf”. Another story I might research.
I didn’t know you were from Bergen – a beautiful city, my favourite in Norway (except for the rain), I love its cobbled street paving with fan patterns and non-slip ramps (for horses to be able to climb when they pulled heavy loads) on the hills. This article says cobbles (brostein) are at least four times more expensive to lay than asphalt, but on the other hand, they last six times longer. Also they slow traffic (a good thing in the middle of a city).
It says on the Norwegian wikipedia that it’s also known as Hansabryggen, which seems to me a better name than Tyskebryggen.
The English wikipedia has better Bryggen pictures, as well as a tiny video.
Avram Davidson was a wonderful and sadly underappreciated writer, and I recommend his Doctor Esterhazy stories (about the Triune Monarchy of Scythia-Pannonia-Transbalkania) to all and sundry.
Of course, that sentence John Cowan quoted is a better advertisement for Davidson than anything I could write; I still remember it many years after reading the story.
My family moved a couple of times, but I had my teens in Bergen. Too late to pick up the language but early enough to pick up the football team.
I do love the city and the old quarters clinging to the hillsides. Sadly, half of Nordnes was destroyed in the Vågen explosion of 1944.
The idea of demolishing Bryggen to upgrade the road should be understood in the context of the clogged traffic of the narrow old streets. Bergen’s problems weren’t solved until they built the “roadtoll ring”, innovative of its time, in 1985 or so. Now there are bridges and tunnels everywhere, and the current project is a light rail line to the airport.
For some value of “solved”, of course.
Trond,
That’s all gone?
All gone.
That was at the culmination of the age of demolition.
It started in the early sixties over here and one of these days I’d love to see a detailed study of the decision making process, because this is modern Slovakia in a nutshell: modernity vs. conservativism, christian nationalism vs. communism, technocrats (communist ones at that) vs. traditionalists and the requisite foreign influence.
hat,
though I did intend this as bulbul-bait
I know, I know…
I recommend his Doctor Esterhazy stories
Ordered!
Ooh, I do want to hear what an actual Central European thinks of the Doctor Eszterhazy tales. Please blog them!
Seconded!
their onomastics clearly show a substratum of non-Germanic languages in both.
I don’t want to spoil the fun, but this reminds me that I would like to find a good source about the non-Indo-European element in Germanic (not recent borrowings of course).
I’ll try. Can’t promise more than that, seeing as while shit remains fucked up, I barely have time for reading…
Marie-Lucie: in answer to your question, I can tell you that, as a non-Indo-Europeanist, the most impressive article (sober and informative) on the topic I have ever read is Eric P. Hamp’s “The Pre-Indo-European Language of Northern Europe”, in John Greppin and T.L. Markey (Eds) WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE: INDO-EUROPEANS AND PRE-INDO-EUROPEANS (Karoma, 1990). You might also want to take a look at the work of Theo Vennemann: while his work on early language contact involving Germanic is controversial (to say the least), scholars whose judgment I trust have assured me that his bibliography on the topic is exemplary in its thoroughness.
…and bulbul, if you have any thoughts on the Slovakian reaction to the Euro crisis I’d be very interested to hear them.
AJP,
my initial reaction can be found on FB. In short, I think this is nothing but posturing by a bunch of populist clowns trying to fire up their base.
In short, I think this is nothing but posturing by a bunch of populist clowns trying to fire up their base.
I think that goes a long way to explain the whole damn’ economic meltdown. And as the meltdown progresses, so does the posturing and the populism. 1933, here we come!
(With the caveat that populism may be a dangerous word to use, with very different connotations in different countries.)
With the caveat that populism may be a dangerous word to use
Absolutely. In fact, I paused just after posting it because where I come from, the usual definition of populism is “saying whatever gets the most people on your side” and that is not what the d-bag in question is doing. He is just using a popular, but by no means majority, sentinment to play to his base.
I think this is nothing but posturing by a bunch of populist clowns trying to fire up their base.
Ok, but €10 billion here and €10 billion there, and pretty soon we’re talking about real money.
There’s one good thing to say about the handling of this crisis: It gives a lot of mediocrats, on both sides of the Atlantic, their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to pose as masters of the universe.
I was inspired by this thread to pick up “The Avram Davidson Treasury” from a local public library. Not sure how much Esterhazy it will have in it, but the intro to a story featuring other made-up Mitteleuropaische ethnicities (the Slovos and the Huzzaks, who apparently did not get on particularly well as neighbors in the old country and are now slowly assimilating into American-ness in a town called Parlour’s Ferry) gives a quote from a letter from Davidson discussing real ethnic groups from bulbul’s neck of the woods:
“Local attitudes in Yonkers [where AD grew up before WW2] went like this: ‘What about the Czechs?’ ‘The Czechs . . . The Czechs are all right. They have funny names but basically they are all right.’ ‘And the Slovacks [sic]?’ ‘Well . . . the Slovacks . . . they work hard . . .. but on Saturday night they get drunk and beat up their wives and kids, the Slovacks . . . they don’t wear hats . . . they wear _caps_!’ ‘And the Carpatho-Ruthenians?’ Answer: ‘Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!’ I never heard anybody mention them without laughing. To this day I don’t know what is or is supposed to be so damned funny about the Carpath-Russian-Ruthenians. NO idea.”
the Slovacks . . . they don’t wear hats . . . they wear _caps_!
I vehemently object to this vicious slander. Of course we wear hats.
But do you wear hats in Yonkers? That’s the question.
Where are Yonkers, anyway?
Way over yonder, I presume…
Over the Bronx, actually, rather than over Yonder.
Surely a cap is a kind of hat. And no doubt a Yonk is a kind of Bronk, too.
Alas, we never heard back from bulbul on Doctor Eszterhazy, either here or there (at least according to Dr. Google). Bulbul?
Bulbul??
Bulbul? Say it ain’t so!
(In summoning, the third time is said to be the charm, something that perhaps accounts for the popularity of the third-date rule.)
So here’s a thing, y’all: I bought the book on December 1st 2011. I actually remember the day I got it: it was a particularly shitty one, the kind where water was falling from the sky and it worked its usual magic by turning every Bratislava driver’s brain into mush, so while I tried to get to work, I actually had to turn at the halfway point and head home. I even managed to get through the first few pages of the first story “Cornet Eszterhazy” and I remember chuckling at “Slovatchko Christian Socialists”. But then I got home and back to my shitty work and grad school applications and the book ended up on the ‘to-read’ pile. Here I am, five years later, still PhD-less (but soon!), still working the same shitty job (but only for the next two months!) and the book still remains unread and will probably continue to do so for some months to come as I need to focus my energies (such as they are) and my intellectual capacities (such as they are) on the thesis.
Also, Mr. Cowan’s “third date” comment begs for a joke, but alas, I don’t have one. Or any. My sincerest apologies.
My commiserations on your prolonged PhD hell and your prospective joblessness (leavened by the pleasure of leaving shittiness behind), and I wish you the best in terms of finishing the thesis, finding a better job, and finally achieving the leisure that will allow you to read the book and report back.
And so say all of us. <we-do-but-jest>But when you do get the time to read it, I expect you to REPORT, dammit. You are uniquely qualified to do so.</we-do-but-jest>
Bulbul: having myself gone through a most hellish final year obtaining my PhD (I have yet to determine whether the three letters in fact stand for “Piled Higher and Deeper” or “Pretty Head-damaged”, as massive empirical support for both positions was and remains easily found), be assured you have my complete sympathy.
For what it’s worth: Chocolate, plenty of sleep, reading DILBERT comics and watching that fine British comedy, YES MINISTER/YES PRIME MINISTER, all did me a great deal of good and made the hell a tad less unbearable.
Yay! A Bulbul sighting! ^_^
Thank you for your support, gentlemen.
Etienne,
“Piled Higher and Deeper” or “Pretty Head-damaged”
“Pretty Heavy Drinker” is what some of my colleagues came up with. I haven’t given up on my teetotalism yet, though.
reading DILBERT comics
I think I’ll pass. First, the author is a right-wing nutjob of the worst sort and second, I don’t need to read about it, I live that shit.
Yeah, he’s not mocking our bosses, he’s mocking us.
The comic was a lot funnier when it was just a (highly lucrative) thing he did on the side, while still having an actual real job.
I thought so then too, but that was before I knew what I know now.
Passed High-school with Difficulty
Bulbul????
Porca troia, has it really been more than a year??? Kurvaperkele.
But, good news, there is light at the end of the tunnel – the data is annotated, the dissertation now contains 139 pages, I have a great hook for chapter 8, so… Soon. Like February.
Awesome!
Bulbul: That is wonderful news! Good luck, and let us know when you are out of the tunnel: I imagine we will all have some reading to do then…
And soon, you will, at long last, be one of US…(Insert sound of rain and thunder here, followed by a sinister-sounding movie theme) BOOWAHAHAHAHAHAAA…As a fictional politician (whose equally fictional political career is actually of some use if you wish to understand Department Chairs’ psychological make-up) might have put it, “The PhD dissertation is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural”.
Great, Bulbul! You will be out of the tunnel pretty soon!
And soon, you will, at long last, be one of US
Ooops, I haven’t joined the anointed class yet (red face). But reading bulbul’s words, I don’t know if I want to go through that hell…
I long ago abandoned all thoughts of Phuditude, though my employers and near-employers are sometimes (over)impressed by the fact that my time spent in a PhD program in Social Systems Science still appears on my resume.
I am tremendously thankful that I did my doctorate in a field where the written dissertation was not of particular importance.
What’s it like in Australia? It differs a lot between countries. French theses have to be over in three years, for example (you can apply for a fourth year, but you won’t necessarily get it).
David: in the Letters at least, only for the contractuels, those paid with a state scholarship.
Russian folk saying:
PhD dissertation is three years of doing nothing, three months of hell, thirty minutes of shame, three hours of drinking and thirty years of happiness.
“PhD” is not a word I would normally expect to hear in a folk saying. I can just imagine a remote village full of scholars in traditional garb scientifically discussing the local flora and fauna.
urban folk – urban folklore
urban folk – urban folklore
I’d even say that most of the living folklore in Western society is urban folklore; a lot of what one generally is served under the rubric folklore (traditional dances, traditional songs, traditional garb, traditional folktales) is just museum pieces on life support due to the efforts of a small number of enthusiasts or leading a zombie life feeding on the brains – sorry, wallets – of tourists.
Yes, and a lot of what are thought of as “folk songs” were written by known people in the 19th century and became popular, their origins forgotten. The invention of tradition is definitely a thing, and for some reason we love the idea of anonymous collective “folk” creation.
I can just imagine a remote village full of scholars in traditional garb scientifically discussing the local flora and fauna.
You’re in it, right here.
Ha!
“Remember the Great Folk Music Scare of the Fifties? That shit almost caught on.” —Martin Mull
By the folk process (see WP article), “Fifties” changed to “Sixties”.
Bulbul: It’s February. Almost March.
I think Bulbul is celebrating. I’m not sure if that means he’s in a condition of metathesis or epithesis.
More likely epenthesis: one more subject inserted itself into the thesis, possibly caused by the untimely publication of a paper by someone else.
John,
It’s February. Almost March.
First rule of project management: Everyone you work with is a fucking idiot, plan accordingly.
Second rule of project management: Any estimate must be increased by 50%.
Mikulka’s commentary on the Second rule of project management: Second rule of project management is way too optimistic.
SFReader,
PhD dissertation is three years of doing nothing, three months of hell, thirty minutes of shame, three hours of drinking and thirty years of happiness.
5 years, four months, I have no shame, I don’t drink and from your comment to God’s ears.
I’m not sure what the word is, but one subject was removed from the thesis and thus the thesis is, bless Vishnu, now complete. I’m still catching typos, but an imprimatur has been delivered unto me from upon high where my advisor sits and so come next week, I shall hasten myself into a printing shop and be done with this thing.
(David is almost right, though: there has been an untimely publication, but luckily, only tangentially relevant, so it was handled with but a short paragraph; apparently my thesis is too long as it is.)
I don’t know about celebrating; I originally planned a trip to somewhere where they have beaches and speak a language I can’t understand, but alas, no rest for the wicked. So I plan to quietly crash. At least it will give me time to read.
Almost there. Aaaaalmost there.
Crash in peace and comfort, my friend. We’re all pulling for you.
Actually, my rule for scheduling is “Double the time estimate and move up to the next time unit.” So if something can be done in a day, say “Two weeks”.
What hat said.
I originally planned a trip to somewhere where they have beaches and speak a language I can’t understand, but alas, no rest for the wicked.
Beaches? OK, I’ve seen photos. But a language you can’t understand? No, that was a totally unrealistic plan, anyway.
And what David said,
Bulbul: What Hat, David and Trond all said (or, rather, what Hat said, David seconded, and Trond thirded: I was about to write that I “fourthed” Hat’s comment, but to my admittedly non-native ears the verb somehow doesn’t seem quite right).
Advice of my own: Don’t forget to take the time to read/watch things utterly unrelated to anything even tangentially related to the dimmest approximation of your field of study, or indeed of Academia in general. Also, here are a few things you must “unlearn”: Ramen + pot noodles are not a food group, and neither is coffee (empirical evidence drawn from your fellow students’ eating habits notwithstanding), tenured professors are not vampires, (empirical evidence drawn from your observation of tenured professors’ behavior is likewise irrelevant), and your fellow graduate students are not zombies (the same disclaimer applies).
P.S. Hmm, a place which has both a beach and a language you can’t understand…from your neck of the woods, I would guess the closest such place would be some coastal resort town in the Basque country (not that you would want to go there this time of year, of course).
somewhere where they have beaches and speak a language I can’t understand
For most Europeans, Malta would be an obvious choice, but…
Yeah, no, I recommend Hǎinán. Probably warm, too.
…Yeah, for polyglots that would be tricky. I’d have recommended Saaremaa, but 1) the language might still be familiar, and 2) still not at this time of the year.
Hat, David, Trond, Etienne,
awww, thank you 🙂
John,
my rule for scheduling is “Double the time estimate and move up to the next time unit.”
I dub thee Cowan’s Corollary.
Etienne,
read/watch things utterly unrelated to anything even tangentially related to the dimmest approximation of your field of study
There’s a whole stack / Netflix queue.
Ramen + pot noodles are not a food group
Unless you count proper ramen, the last time I had pot noodles or instant ramen was 15 or so years ago.
and neither is coffee
Yeah, I’m thinking about giving up on it anyway…
tenured professors are not vampires
Things work differently here…
your fellow graduate students are not zombies
They’re usually kids and I love and hate them in equal measure.
a place which has both a beach and a language you can’t understand…
The original idea was Zanzibar, but I’m also looking at Ghana and Twi… It’s not about physical proximity per se, more about the price of airfare.
Y,
or Hungary. Or Romania. Or the Baltic states. The latter is not a bad idea, but a) no beaches of the kind I have in mind and b) not before summer.
David,
Hǎinán
Uncle bulbul does not fuck with them tones, kids.
Etienne: Fourthed is really no odder than thirded to my ear.
But I would wait a long time before claiming that professors in the Balkans are not vampires….
Is there a way to get *wemh₁‑pih₃-ro- to work…?
Is there a way to get *wemh₁‑pih₃-ro- to work…?
Is that a PIE pun?
Proto-Indo-Transylvanian, more like.
“Puke-greasy”? Or “fatspewer”? I’ll suggest *wenh₁ “love” with assimilation of -n- and semantic drift resulting in two very different senses, “craving for nutrition” and “friend of prosperity”.
Umpire, like adder ‘snake’, is actually a metanalysis < OFr. nonpere ‘unequal, odd number, third party to arbitrate between two disputants’.
That’s an ad hoc formation Medieval English had to resort to since a better etymology was unavailable at the time.
Sort of; currently reading this, which is a bit overwhelming, I was wondering if vampire and umpire could be “explained” as o-grade and 0-grade of the same thing. Trond is doing it better.
Peerless!
If Hainan, stay away from Sanya. Crowds of Chinese tourists, beaches fenced off. And you’re likely to run into Russian tourists.
Unless things have changed, you might like Qizi Bay where there is a beach with zero amenities, not even a drinks stand. You can walk along the cliffs; good seafood in the one restaurant in town. But probably a bit isolated and gruelling.
You don’t need to catch a plane; just get to Moscow, take the Trans-Siberian, and take it from there. 🙂
If you really want to be an exotic-language tourist—go someplace where you won’t hear any large language, but still enjoy a nice time by the beach—that’s tough.
I probably should have used >s rather than commas between the three senses of nonpere.
If you really want to be an exotic-language tourist—go someplace where you won’t hear any large language, but still enjoy a nice time by the beach—that’s tough.
Yeah. Everyone speaks English those days, and in the few places where people don’t actually speak much English, they tend to end up speaking [regional prestige language] instead, which usually isn’t much better.
I guess one could try to go to those bits of Eastern Africa where [regional prestige language] is Swahili… that’s Tanzania, I think?
[EDIT: Congo – either of them – is apparently better in terms of linguistic diversity, but much worse in terms of, well, general safety.]
I suppose there are locals-only beaches in Madagascar, where few speak much French. Probably a lot of English-less beaches in India.
When I was staying on Inishmaan, my travel companion and I enjoyed a pristine, beautiful beach on an island full of Irish-speakers, but that was almost a half-century ago — I imagine the beach is no longer pristine and the locals won’t speak Irish with you.
bulbul: Are you back from the beach? If so, Doctor⁷ Eszterhazy has been waiting for seven long years now. What’s the story?
Also, even the child soldiers speak French.
Bumping this in hopes that bulbul has had the Eszterhazy experience…
Bumping it again …. BUL – BUL …. YOO – HOOOO ….
Eh, it’s probably so far down in the book stack as to be unfindable by now.
Go to the beach in Denmark and you will be able to order an ice cream in English or German, but you won’t be spoken to in either language unless you have a flag on your hat or something.