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by Michael E. Campana
(being a semi-fictional account of my sabbatical adventures, designed to amuse; to be read with a dose of skepticism)
4 October 2002
I walked into the men's room a few weeks ago, and there, in the sink, were about 30 bottles of Heineken beer with cold water running over them. I immediately and correctly deduced that those Safeguards Division pranksters were at it again, doing physics experiments in the bathroom. As later explained to me by Deputy Assistant Chief Sub-Inspector Nhu Tron, they were preparing for Iraq inspections. How so? Well, he explained, assume each Heineken is a nuclear fuel rod filled with nasty, heat-generating, weapons-grade plutonium. Now, assume the running water simulates coolant. How long will it take each fuel rod to cool to a safe temperature so that it can be safely handled by an IAEA inspector? Oh, those physicists! They were simply verifying some calculations by performing lab experiments. However, their previous experiment -- a fluid mechanics test in one of the women's rooms -- went horribly awry, as it unexpectedly coincided with the Director General's wife's visit during the Cafeteria's ill-fated "Mexican food" week. As a result, the "experimentalists" had to clean up the resulting mess and the Commissary privileges of the entire Division were suspended for a week.
It was exciting at the IAEA this past week. "Exciting" around here usually means someone gets busted for selling counterfeit Sachertortes outside the main gate, but not last week. Not only did the Commissary have a big sale on George W. Bush bobble-head dolls, but the Iraqis were here! Yes, a delegation from Iraq met with Dr. Hans "Mr. Fix" Blix, head of the nuclear inspection team, to try to work out a mutually acceptable inspection protocol. The satellite trucks and reporters from many of the great networks were here: Austria's ORF, Italy's RAI, Telemundo, Germany's ZDF, CNN, Lifetime, BBC, France's ORTF, Comedy Central, Fox News (such as it is), and others. The reporters camped inside the main entry hall where a small stage had been set up; a troupe of French mimes recalling highlights of the last inspection visit entertained them. Even the IAEA knows a good publicity op when it sees one - the Safeguards Division had been allowed to set up some displays touting its skills but had been told to avoid some of its more notorious experiments (see above). The Division's main job was to keep those pesky reporters, desperate for a story, away from the Commissary. If you read the news reports, they had you believe that the big hang-up was allowing the inspection of Saddam Hussein's 8 presidential palaces. Not so; I know what the real problems were. The Iraqi delegation had made the following demands (outcomes/compromises shown in parentheses):
I actually learned that a German geochemist/hydrologist - Hugo Furst - was included on the last inspection team. He sampled natural waters for radioactive isotopes and tested the inspection team's drinking water before each meal. There's a nice little memorial to him next to our coffee machine.
Here's the gratuitous unfunny paragraph, with some facts about Greater Vienna. It has slightly fewer than 2,000,000 people and occupies about 160 square miles. It is one of Austria's 9 federal provinces and is the capital and financial center of the country. It is divided into 23 districts; districts 1-9 comprise the city center, with District 1 being the Innere Stadt. I live in District 2 Leopoldstadt, right near downtown. The city has a great transit system: a subway (U-Bahn), trams (Strassenbahn) and buses (Autobus). All three use the same tickets and you can transfer among them. There are also commuter trains (Schnellbahn) to the suburbs, and trains (Bundesbahn) to the rest of the country and elsewhere (if you think "bahn" has something to do with "train", you have great language skills). Vienna has the largest shopping mall in Europe- Shopping City Sud (south). Vienna was originally a Celtic settlement and in the first century A.D. the Romans established an outpost (Vindobona) and restaurant here. Vienna's association with coffee is interesting. As the story goes, when the Ottoman Turks failed for the last time to conquer Vienna in 1683, they left some sacks of coffee beans behind. The Viennese took them, and the rest is history. The first coffee house was opened by an Armenian named Folger, who, in return for his heroic efforts during the Turkish siege, was granted the exclusive franchise to such establishments by the grateful city fathers. Alas, the harbinger of Starbucks.
Wieners (southern Germans, too) often greet each other with "Gruss Gott!", which means "God's greetings!". Until my accent came back, I would say "Gross Gott!", which means "Big God!". I got lots of funny looks, or the occasional reply, "Ja, Gott ist gross!"
Speaking of southern Germany, a Polish friend of mine who has worked in Munich (Bavaria) for 20 years dropped by yesterday. He is a mathematician with a sense of humor. We first met at a conference in Germany in 1991, where I gave a paper, spiced with my usual sense of humor, which went over like a screen door in a submarine. He and a few others thought I was hilarious, and he later came up to me to tell me. I told him I had to be funny because my results and methodology sucked. He howled, and said "Yes, this is true, but you are still funny" (he had internalized the German sense of tact very well). At that point, or rather, after a few beers, he introduced me to the fact that in Germany, the collective sense of humor drops off dramatically as you head north from Bavaria, where people are happier/funnier (think Oktoberfest, which is now winding down), until you get to Berlin and the Baltic coast - forget it. No humor for you here! He had developed a "mathematical proof" and was going to publish a paper "On the Humor Gradient in Germany" in the European equivalent of the Journal of Irreproducible Results. I asked him about the paper. "It was rejected", he said. Why? "They said it was not funny", he replied. The editor comes from Berlin.
This next item comes under the "I've-been-gone-for-a-few-weeks-and-the-country-has-gone-to-pot category", but before you read it and get upset, realize that some of my good friends, what few remain, come from or live in the place under discussion. I recently read in USA Today that the coolest place in the USA is - of all places -- Orange County, CA. Not Orange County, FL -- that would be understandable -- but Orange County, CA? Yes, it's 798 square miles of Southern California, home of Richard M. Nixon, Disneyland, rock-ribbed conservative Republicans, an airport named for someone (John Wayne) whose exploits were entirely fictitious, and where haute cuisine is In-N-Out Burgers. You ask, "How can this be"? Some say, "Okay, consider the source". I say, "Listen up!" Using its world-renowned investigative reporting skills, USAT reached its conclusion by documenting all the cool companies headquartered in OC. I would list them, but I have never heard of most of them, except for Oakley, which makes my sunglasses, guaranteeing protection against thermonuclear weaponry. Also duly noted: the cool beach and music (??) scenes, shopping at Fashion Island, ubiquitous Jim Click Ford dealerships, and the presence of California State University-Fullerton. Now, I do not wish to offend my many friends who hail from OC, but I initially had a tough time buying this. But then I thought wait a minute, cognoscenti (I have no idea what that word means, but it sounds so European) have always known that OC is cool, but now, it's coming out of the closet so people who read nothing but USAT now know it, too. "Why", you inquire, "has OC always been cool?" I say, "Many reasons." The beach/surfing scene. Cal State-Fullerton (aka Cal State-Disneyland), where you can major in partying and test your latest theories each weekend in Dana Point. And how about Troy High School, initially believed to be the model for "Fast Times at Ridgemont High", but it's far too wild. And OC's one of the few places in the world with a hydrological cycle that's almost completely engineered (I know, I need to get out more often). And finally, OC has the infamous Taco Bell in Laguna Beach, the establishment once (still?) known as the place where you could get anything you wanted in the way of, shall we say, mood-altering substances (they had "special sauce" long before McDonald's). I grew up 3000 miles away and I knew of the Taco Bell but could never get the car keys for the necessary two weeks (a 120-mile trip to Philadelphia to watch paint dry on the Delaware River Bridge was the best I could ever do). So yes, my children, that is why Orange County, California, has always been a cool place. Would you like to buy that bridge?
I read an article recently in the International Herald Tribune about the Rolling Stones. The author bemoaned the fact that a 40-year-old band with 60-year-old members is still the number one draw on the concert tour. He attributed this to all kinds of things: the decline of Western civilization, the Antichrist, blah, blah, but mainly to the moribund state of popular music. However, he missed the real reason the Stones are still tops. It has nothing to do with the moribund state of music, or Western civilization's denouement, but the fact that there are too many old folks like me, who have too much money, whose musical tastes are trapped in 1965, and who view the Stones as a portal to their youth. Simple as that. By the way, has anyone noticed how Keith Richards has not aged in 40 years? He has always looked like a corpse.
And speaking of music, it's amazing what a beautiful, unifying force it can be. What can I say? It can bring people of disparate backgrounds together, transcending, yes, even going beyond, all differences. When we returned from the OSCE retreat a few weekends ago, six of us took the long way home to stop at a couple of castles along the way. At one point, "Take It Easy" by the Eagles came on the radio. All six of us -- an American, Australian, Romanian, Italian, German and Albanian, three men and three women, ranging between 25 and 54 -- knew the words (I did have to explain the significance of "Winslow, Arizona") and sang along. After the song ended, there was silence, broken only by the mellow tones of "Psychotic Reaction" by the Count Five, which came on the radio. We all looked at each other, just realizing the significance of what had transpired. Absolutely moved, tears of joy welled up in our eyes, and we hugged each other (except for the driver). We then resumed telling ethnic jokes.
I don't have cable TV in my apartment, so I get just three over-the-air channels, one of which is the government channel ORF. While "surfing" the other night, I encountered "Die Nanny", Fran Drescher's show. Now, for you shut-ins (count your blessings), Fran's "shtick" is her whining voice with its over-the-top (or, perhaps, under-the-bottom) New York accent. However, the woman dubbing her voice in German had quite a pleasant voice. What I have discovered is that I can now watch "The Nanny" for more than 5 minutes without getting a migraine. In fact, it's a great show, although I have no idea what's going on. It should be noted "The Nanny" is famous in USA TV annals because its audience would drop off by an average of 90% after 5 minutes, except in the NYC boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens.
Gerhard Schroeder pulled out a slim victory in the recent German elections. The margin was provided by his ex-wives (3) and tailors (4). No comments from the peanut gallery, please.
Tony "May I take your coat, Mr. President?" Blair has taken somewhat of a drubbing in the UK press (but then again, everyone takes a drubbing in the UK press, which is why it is fun to read). One pundit referred to him to as "the governor of the 51st state." I took umbrage (please take that too, Tony) at that -- I like the PM - and think he's a great governor.
And speaking of the UK press, Prince Charles, the Sage of St. James and Whiner of Windsor, has also taken a beating there. He's apparently an inveterate (means "no backbone") letter-writer to MPs and government ministers, and this has caused problems with the Royal Family trying to influence legislation. Columnists have been merciless. One wag said he was "a purported purveyor of common sense and supporter of the common man, but he has none of the former and is definitely not one of the latter." Ouch! He took the greatest heat for threatening to leave the country if Parliament banned fox hunting, which he said "would destroy country life." Many letters to the editor offered to buy him tickets to a location of his choice -- most suggested France, whereas a few others suggested that he try farming in Zimbabwe. He also decried the UKs "compensation culture", which reminded me of the adage about people in glass houses throwing stones. One writer referred to him as the "Bozo of Balmoral." I almost shed a tear.
Gotta go now. Will be in Utah next week. Heinie Assen (yes, that IS his real
name!) asked me if I wanted to have some laughs watching them deliver schwarzkopters.
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