Drinking great beer is one of my favorite hobbies. I go to tastings weekly, I try new beers with a group of friends monthly, and I go to dinners and festivals regularly.
I love beer for a number of reasons. It's a social drink. You go to the pub and have a pint and talk the the person next to you. I find beer countries to be open and friendly. Beer is also cheap. An exceptional bottle of beer costs $8-15, less than the cost of an average bottle of wine. Beer also has incredible range and can go from light to dark, sweet to sour, low alcohol to over 20 percent. Beer is a creative venture. Brewers create new beers and explore new techniques all the time, yet there are styles that have existed for over 1000 years.
From time to time, I will post information on different beers or beer events. I don't have a particular favorite style, but some of my favorites are Russian Imperial Stouts, Belgian Strong Ales, and India Pale Ales. Cheers!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
I love this guy
This is Jon Lajoie, a French-canadian comedian who makes music videos for youtube. As far as I know, his only outlet to date is youtube. His videos are hilarious exercises on contrasts. Be warned, he is VERY raunchy.
Warning: Video contains profanity
Warning: Video contains profanity
On the cusp of a new American moment
A piece I wrote on the eve of the election:
I have had two full-time jobs the fast few months. In addition to my job as a tutor (the one that pays the bills), I have also been a full-time election addict, splitting my time in the blogosphere trying to decide if the minute gaffe Joe Biden made on Tuesday (really, on any day) has cost Obama’s chance at victory to slip from 96.4% to 94.9% on 538.com. Nate Silver has become our national electoral therapist. I wake up to the polls every morning, and routinely check liberal blogs several times per day. For my part, I have also canvassed New Hampshire five times and have called more than 2000 people in support of Pre…I mean Senator Obama.
I have finally let it sink in that, barring unforeseeable circumstances, Barack Obama will become the 44th president of the United States. The vaunted McCain comeback did not happen. Obama is widening his lead in the national polls. If you only cherry picked the state polls most favorable to McCain, Obama would STILL have over 300 electoral votes. Barack Obama has a better chance of winning Arizona than McCain has of winning Pennsylvania, Colorado, or Nevada. The only question most pollsters have will be where on the continuum Obama’s victory will lie, from a 3%, 286-252 electoral college victory to a 12%, 400-138 blowout.
Like so many other people out there, this election feels deeply personal to me, so much so that I sometimes tear up a little thinking about an Obama victory, and sing “We Will Overcome” in the car. I am not alone. I have spoken to many others who share my obsession. CNN even had a news segment on EOS, Election Obsession Syndrome.
The question is why? Certainly, part of the answer is Senator Obama himself, and his historic candidacy. He is the singularly most impressive political talent I have ever seen. Obama combines a keen intellect, a reassuring temperament, a soaring oratory, and a fundamental decency. He is able to balance icy resolve and pragmatic determination with idealism and optimism, an incredibly lethal combination. He has allowed the Clinton and Republican machines to defeat themselves while incurring barely a scratch (his approval ratings actually IMPROVED during the Ayers/terrorist/socialist silly season). He does it was with a preternatural calm and a disarming smile.
He is also the man of the moment. What an Obama victory tells the world about America, and tells America about itself, is urgently important to our collective identity. An Obama victory tells the world that America does not equal Bush and Cheney, and that America values cooperation and communication. We will listen. An Obama victory tells Americans that we have turned the page of the divisiveness of the last 40 years, and that we have embraced the diversity that is changing the American landscape. His victory will help heal racial wounds that have been open for decades. Barack Obama is the face of America's future.
An Obama victory will signal a new American moment. I think this moment, even more than Obama himself, has fueled my emotional connection to this election. Because this new American moment is mine. Ours. This moment is a testament to our wonderful diversity, which, like Obama’s face and family, is of colors of every hue.
It is also a moment of the liberal fusion of reason and emotion. Since Kennedy, Democratic candidates have spectacularly failed to emotionally connect with Americans, with the notable exception of Clinton, whose emotional connection was more personal than liberal. Reagan and Bush were the feel good connectors. Obama combines that personal connection with an oratory unseen since King. Obama has changed the landscape, and has found a language, OUR LANGUAGE, to describe a progressive vision of America that resonates on both an emotional and intellectual level.
Finally, in this moment, we can put an end to the liberal/conservative trench warfare that has defined our country since Vietnam. Obama is progressive, more progressive in fact, than any candidate in our lifetime. But he is not partisan. He is more of a "small d" democrat than a "big D" Democrat. He is willing to reach across the metaphorical aisle and embrace voters who Democrats have long ago stopped trying to reach. That’s why he has a chance to win the kind of massive electoral victory undreamed of by Democrats in over 40 years. Since 1980, Democrats have been afraid of themselves and their beliefs. They have allowed liberal to become a dirty word. Gore, Kerry, and Clinton all had the stench of political fear, afraid if they were to reveal their true selves, they would lose their elections. None of them ever articulated a full throated support of progressive taxation, universal health care, or collective responsibility for fear these messages would not resonate. They were wrong. Obama does not have the stench of fear. He has the scent of hope and optimism, and has lifted these important but long forgotten values onto American consciousness. Obama is also not afraid to embrace “conservative” ideas such as individual responsibility. Of course, individual responsibility is also a progressive value, but no progressive has talked about it for 40 years, because in the war for America’s soul during the Vietnam era, personal responsibility fell on the side of Nixon’s silent majority, and has stayed there ever since.
I also think in this moment, we are seeing the extinction burst of the hysterical right. An extinction burst is a behavioral term that describes a spike in a behavior right before it extinguishes. I think this is what we are seeing at the McCain/Palin rallies and in the angry delusional rhetoric of the Rush Limbaughs and Shean Hannitys of the world. They sense their moment is over. They are angry and hurting, and are taking their last shots before they recede into acceptance. Of course, there is a dangerous strain out there of those who will not accept, and they need to be watched closely. Some will not accept that their moment has passed by. But is has. The moment is ours. But if we use this moment to lord it over the Hannitys and Limbaughs, we risk creating the same rift in the country that happened to our parents’ generation 40 years ago. We can use this moment to bring out our better angels. We can use our moment to heal and to help, to embrace those we are inclined to reject. Obama has. We can too. Yes we can!!!!!!
I have had two full-time jobs the fast few months. In addition to my job as a tutor (the one that pays the bills), I have also been a full-time election addict, splitting my time in the blogosphere trying to decide if the minute gaffe Joe Biden made on Tuesday (really, on any day) has cost Obama’s chance at victory to slip from 96.4% to 94.9% on 538.com. Nate Silver has become our national electoral therapist. I wake up to the polls every morning, and routinely check liberal blogs several times per day. For my part, I have also canvassed New Hampshire five times and have called more than 2000 people in support of Pre…I mean Senator Obama.
I have finally let it sink in that, barring unforeseeable circumstances, Barack Obama will become the 44th president of the United States. The vaunted McCain comeback did not happen. Obama is widening his lead in the national polls. If you only cherry picked the state polls most favorable to McCain, Obama would STILL have over 300 electoral votes. Barack Obama has a better chance of winning Arizona than McCain has of winning Pennsylvania, Colorado, or Nevada. The only question most pollsters have will be where on the continuum Obama’s victory will lie, from a 3%, 286-252 electoral college victory to a 12%, 400-138 blowout.
Like so many other people out there, this election feels deeply personal to me, so much so that I sometimes tear up a little thinking about an Obama victory, and sing “We Will Overcome” in the car. I am not alone. I have spoken to many others who share my obsession. CNN even had a news segment on EOS, Election Obsession Syndrome.
The question is why? Certainly, part of the answer is Senator Obama himself, and his historic candidacy. He is the singularly most impressive political talent I have ever seen. Obama combines a keen intellect, a reassuring temperament, a soaring oratory, and a fundamental decency. He is able to balance icy resolve and pragmatic determination with idealism and optimism, an incredibly lethal combination. He has allowed the Clinton and Republican machines to defeat themselves while incurring barely a scratch (his approval ratings actually IMPROVED during the Ayers/terrorist/socialist silly season). He does it was with a preternatural calm and a disarming smile.
He is also the man of the moment. What an Obama victory tells the world about America, and tells America about itself, is urgently important to our collective identity. An Obama victory tells the world that America does not equal Bush and Cheney, and that America values cooperation and communication. We will listen. An Obama victory tells Americans that we have turned the page of the divisiveness of the last 40 years, and that we have embraced the diversity that is changing the American landscape. His victory will help heal racial wounds that have been open for decades. Barack Obama is the face of America's future.
An Obama victory will signal a new American moment. I think this moment, even more than Obama himself, has fueled my emotional connection to this election. Because this new American moment is mine. Ours. This moment is a testament to our wonderful diversity, which, like Obama’s face and family, is of colors of every hue.
It is also a moment of the liberal fusion of reason and emotion. Since Kennedy, Democratic candidates have spectacularly failed to emotionally connect with Americans, with the notable exception of Clinton, whose emotional connection was more personal than liberal. Reagan and Bush were the feel good connectors. Obama combines that personal connection with an oratory unseen since King. Obama has changed the landscape, and has found a language, OUR LANGUAGE, to describe a progressive vision of America that resonates on both an emotional and intellectual level.
Finally, in this moment, we can put an end to the liberal/conservative trench warfare that has defined our country since Vietnam. Obama is progressive, more progressive in fact, than any candidate in our lifetime. But he is not partisan. He is more of a "small d" democrat than a "big D" Democrat. He is willing to reach across the metaphorical aisle and embrace voters who Democrats have long ago stopped trying to reach. That’s why he has a chance to win the kind of massive electoral victory undreamed of by Democrats in over 40 years. Since 1980, Democrats have been afraid of themselves and their beliefs. They have allowed liberal to become a dirty word. Gore, Kerry, and Clinton all had the stench of political fear, afraid if they were to reveal their true selves, they would lose their elections. None of them ever articulated a full throated support of progressive taxation, universal health care, or collective responsibility for fear these messages would not resonate. They were wrong. Obama does not have the stench of fear. He has the scent of hope and optimism, and has lifted these important but long forgotten values onto American consciousness. Obama is also not afraid to embrace “conservative” ideas such as individual responsibility. Of course, individual responsibility is also a progressive value, but no progressive has talked about it for 40 years, because in the war for America’s soul during the Vietnam era, personal responsibility fell on the side of Nixon’s silent majority, and has stayed there ever since.
I also think in this moment, we are seeing the extinction burst of the hysterical right. An extinction burst is a behavioral term that describes a spike in a behavior right before it extinguishes. I think this is what we are seeing at the McCain/Palin rallies and in the angry delusional rhetoric of the Rush Limbaughs and Shean Hannitys of the world. They sense their moment is over. They are angry and hurting, and are taking their last shots before they recede into acceptance. Of course, there is a dangerous strain out there of those who will not accept, and they need to be watched closely. Some will not accept that their moment has passed by. But is has. The moment is ours. But if we use this moment to lord it over the Hannitys and Limbaughs, we risk creating the same rift in the country that happened to our parents’ generation 40 years ago. We can use this moment to bring out our better angels. We can use our moment to heal and to help, to embrace those we are inclined to reject. Obama has. We can too. Yes we can!!!!!!
Pilgrim mind
I spent a month in Europe this past summer. When I returned, I gave a sermon at my church, Bell Street Chapel. This is the text:
A week before I left on my journey to Europe, I was talking about my trip with Lee Clasper Torch, a religion teacher at Moses Brown. He said that there were two different mindsets people bring to a journey, “Tourist Mind” and “Pilgrim Mind”. Although I had a sense of what he was talking about, I did not understand what he meant in any way that I could put into words. After two months of travel and reflection, I think I finally understand.
When you have a tourist mind, your primary role is that of consumer. You consume a cultural experience, whether that experience is a museum, a tour, or a pre-set three-course meal from a “tourist menu.” The people you meet are there to sell you a cultural experience. The tourist industry is, after all, an industry, and a large one at that. The people involved in the tourist industry aim to make money, whether they manage an intercontinental hotel, hock souvenirs, or organize city tours. It is an efficient industry, ushering people seamlessly from one cultural experience to another, away from the real lives of its city’s or town’s denizens. The tourist industry creates a barrier between person and place. Human connection, while not impossible, is found only in those narrow spaces between cultural experience and income. After a while, all the main tourist areas, Temple Bar in Dublin, The Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Grand Place in Brussels,and so on, all began to look the same, filled with the same kinds of souvenir stores, the same kinds of restaurants, and the same kinds of cheesy museums. The food and the souvenirs were different, but the feeling was the same.
There is nothing wrong with having a tourist mind. Many people, including myself, visit places to observe a culture or to see phenomenal sights. I went on my fair share of tours and museum trips. I even, regrettably, ate from a three-course tourist menu in Paris. But these pre-packaged experiences are not lasting or meaningful, at least not to me. They maintain our walls with other people, rather than bring them down.
When you have a pilgrim mind, your primary goal is not to consume prepackaged experiences but to create and learn from new and unique experiences. In the American heritage dictionary, one of the definitions for pilgrim is "One who embarks on a quest for something conceived of as sacred." This notion of a quest was an important one for my journey. In fact, I had several “quests” for my journey; for each city I visited, I tried to have a meaningful conversation with a local, exchange contact information with someone, and try the local food and drink. I reached my goals in all cities except Venice. I was also on a quest for the perfect beer. While I may or may not have found that beer in a 2000 Stille Nacht in Antwerp, my beer quest lead me to many a free beer, great conversations, and long nights of laughter. I was also on a quest to learn about myself, to see how I would fare visiting 14 cities in 8 countries with nothing but a 20-pound backpack. I had thought of some of my quests well in advance, but others only became clear to me throughout my journey.
The notion of the sacred was equally important. I found the sacred in all sorts of surprising places, both great and small. The first sacred place I found was, surprisingly, well, not that surprisingly to those who know me, in an empty bar, on the edge of the Dublin’s Temple Bar district during my second night. I had been to Temple Bar and Gogarty’s, large famous bars that were packed with tourists, Irish music, and expensive Guinness’s. While I enjoyed the music, I found it difficult to have a conversation in either one. I walked down the street and popped my head into an empty bar on the second floor above a restaurant. I turned to leave, but something told me to stay. So I did. I met George, the owner, a former engineer, who loves his wife and feels Dublin has lost its soul, despite its thriving economy. A couple of hours later, Darrough came to replace George. Darrough was younger and loved the new Dublin, and saw it brimming withpossibilities. Darrough, George, and I and talked to the wee hours of the night, way past closing time. It was the first of many such nights I had on my journey. Sometimes, it’s the quiet and empty spaces that have the most to offer.
I found the sacred in Paris. First, I must admit I struggled in Paris, despite my best efforts, which even included taking French for three months. I didn’t understand how people could charge 3 euro 50 for a coffee and found the people to be rude. However, on my second night, I saw one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. On the pedestrian bridge across from the Louvre, hundreds of people gathered in groups of 6 or 8, with bread, cheese, wine, homemade food, and guitars, and picnicked. They were living life as it was meant to be lived, with friends and family in community, accompanied by good food, drink, and music. In that moment, I understood the romance so many people have with Paris.
I found the sacred in Rome, in a bar called “Ma Che Siete Venuti a Fa,” where the owner, Emanuele, sat with me for 3 hours and shared with me some of the world’s greatest beers, gave me a t-shirt, and refused to take a dime, because to him, the authenticity of my enthusiasm and appreciation was payment enough.
Everywhere I went I met people who were open, friendly and generous. These were not the people paid to provide me a cultural experience, but just normal, everyday people, some of them fellow travelers, but mostly just people I met in restaurants, bars, or parks who returned my hello, or initiated it.
To be alone in a foreign country can be a freeing experience. It can also be a vulnerable one. In order to connect with others, I often had to go outside of my comfort zone, to force myself to talk to people. I had to bring a pilgrim mind and an open heart. Each time I did though, the rewards far outweighed the drawbacks.
Without bringing a pilgrim mind and an open heart, I would not have met Viola, an Opera singer from Cologne, Germany, whom I spent a day with in Bruges and Oostende, laughing and walking barefoot on the beach. I now count Viola among my friends, and we’ve chatted regularly since my return.
I would not have met Anna, a young German woman taking her first vacation in seven years, who recently regained her family farm, more than 20 years after the East German government took it away. I would not have met Frank, a Czech writer struggling with the competing demands of marriage, children, a full-time job, and a dissertation.I would not have met Noemi, a pierced tattooed circus performer from Bologna, who said she likes Rome because people do not stare at her like she’s a freak, like they do in the rest of Italy.
And I would not have met Emanuele, the bar owner from Rome, who uses a common love of beer as an opportunity to practice radical hospitality.I learned from all of these people and many more.
Their main gifts to me were their openness, their willingness to engage. In order to receive their gifts, I had to be equally open. And that connection, that connection to others, I think, lies at the heart of my journey. I feel as though I left as a citizen of the United States, but I returned as a citizen of the world.
For all the amazing art, the enormous buildings, the rich history, and the varied landscapes, what I’ll remember most are the people I met, their smiles and their laughs, The conversations with and generosity of friends and strangers alike.
Although I have been back for more than a month, my journey isn’t finished yet. I don’t know who will remain in my life from the scores of people I met along the way, and I don’t know how I’ll integrate the lessons of trip into my everyday life. But I do know, that for a month anyway, as a pilgrim in a not so strange land, I was my better self, and I saw the best in others. I’m already planning my next journey to Southeast Asia next summer. But maybe, between journeys, I’ll show the next pilgrim I meet the same radical hospitality that so many people showed to me.
A week before I left on my journey to Europe, I was talking about my trip with Lee Clasper Torch, a religion teacher at Moses Brown. He said that there were two different mindsets people bring to a journey, “Tourist Mind” and “Pilgrim Mind”. Although I had a sense of what he was talking about, I did not understand what he meant in any way that I could put into words. After two months of travel and reflection, I think I finally understand.
When you have a tourist mind, your primary role is that of consumer. You consume a cultural experience, whether that experience is a museum, a tour, or a pre-set three-course meal from a “tourist menu.” The people you meet are there to sell you a cultural experience. The tourist industry is, after all, an industry, and a large one at that. The people involved in the tourist industry aim to make money, whether they manage an intercontinental hotel, hock souvenirs, or organize city tours. It is an efficient industry, ushering people seamlessly from one cultural experience to another, away from the real lives of its city’s or town’s denizens. The tourist industry creates a barrier between person and place. Human connection, while not impossible, is found only in those narrow spaces between cultural experience and income. After a while, all the main tourist areas, Temple Bar in Dublin, The Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Grand Place in Brussels,and so on, all began to look the same, filled with the same kinds of souvenir stores, the same kinds of restaurants, and the same kinds of cheesy museums. The food and the souvenirs were different, but the feeling was the same.
There is nothing wrong with having a tourist mind. Many people, including myself, visit places to observe a culture or to see phenomenal sights. I went on my fair share of tours and museum trips. I even, regrettably, ate from a three-course tourist menu in Paris. But these pre-packaged experiences are not lasting or meaningful, at least not to me. They maintain our walls with other people, rather than bring them down.
When you have a pilgrim mind, your primary goal is not to consume prepackaged experiences but to create and learn from new and unique experiences. In the American heritage dictionary, one of the definitions for pilgrim is "One who embarks on a quest for something conceived of as sacred." This notion of a quest was an important one for my journey. In fact, I had several “quests” for my journey; for each city I visited, I tried to have a meaningful conversation with a local, exchange contact information with someone, and try the local food and drink. I reached my goals in all cities except Venice. I was also on a quest for the perfect beer. While I may or may not have found that beer in a 2000 Stille Nacht in Antwerp, my beer quest lead me to many a free beer, great conversations, and long nights of laughter. I was also on a quest to learn about myself, to see how I would fare visiting 14 cities in 8 countries with nothing but a 20-pound backpack. I had thought of some of my quests well in advance, but others only became clear to me throughout my journey.
The notion of the sacred was equally important. I found the sacred in all sorts of surprising places, both great and small. The first sacred place I found was, surprisingly, well, not that surprisingly to those who know me, in an empty bar, on the edge of the Dublin’s Temple Bar district during my second night. I had been to Temple Bar and Gogarty’s, large famous bars that were packed with tourists, Irish music, and expensive Guinness’s. While I enjoyed the music, I found it difficult to have a conversation in either one. I walked down the street and popped my head into an empty bar on the second floor above a restaurant. I turned to leave, but something told me to stay. So I did. I met George, the owner, a former engineer, who loves his wife and feels Dublin has lost its soul, despite its thriving economy. A couple of hours later, Darrough came to replace George. Darrough was younger and loved the new Dublin, and saw it brimming withpossibilities. Darrough, George, and I and talked to the wee hours of the night, way past closing time. It was the first of many such nights I had on my journey. Sometimes, it’s the quiet and empty spaces that have the most to offer.
I found the sacred in Paris. First, I must admit I struggled in Paris, despite my best efforts, which even included taking French for three months. I didn’t understand how people could charge 3 euro 50 for a coffee and found the people to be rude. However, on my second night, I saw one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. On the pedestrian bridge across from the Louvre, hundreds of people gathered in groups of 6 or 8, with bread, cheese, wine, homemade food, and guitars, and picnicked. They were living life as it was meant to be lived, with friends and family in community, accompanied by good food, drink, and music. In that moment, I understood the romance so many people have with Paris.
I found the sacred in Rome, in a bar called “Ma Che Siete Venuti a Fa,” where the owner, Emanuele, sat with me for 3 hours and shared with me some of the world’s greatest beers, gave me a t-shirt, and refused to take a dime, because to him, the authenticity of my enthusiasm and appreciation was payment enough.
Everywhere I went I met people who were open, friendly and generous. These were not the people paid to provide me a cultural experience, but just normal, everyday people, some of them fellow travelers, but mostly just people I met in restaurants, bars, or parks who returned my hello, or initiated it.
To be alone in a foreign country can be a freeing experience. It can also be a vulnerable one. In order to connect with others, I often had to go outside of my comfort zone, to force myself to talk to people. I had to bring a pilgrim mind and an open heart. Each time I did though, the rewards far outweighed the drawbacks.
Without bringing a pilgrim mind and an open heart, I would not have met Viola, an Opera singer from Cologne, Germany, whom I spent a day with in Bruges and Oostende, laughing and walking barefoot on the beach. I now count Viola among my friends, and we’ve chatted regularly since my return.
I would not have met Anna, a young German woman taking her first vacation in seven years, who recently regained her family farm, more than 20 years after the East German government took it away. I would not have met Frank, a Czech writer struggling with the competing demands of marriage, children, a full-time job, and a dissertation.I would not have met Noemi, a pierced tattooed circus performer from Bologna, who said she likes Rome because people do not stare at her like she’s a freak, like they do in the rest of Italy.
And I would not have met Emanuele, the bar owner from Rome, who uses a common love of beer as an opportunity to practice radical hospitality.I learned from all of these people and many more.
Their main gifts to me were their openness, their willingness to engage. In order to receive their gifts, I had to be equally open. And that connection, that connection to others, I think, lies at the heart of my journey. I feel as though I left as a citizen of the United States, but I returned as a citizen of the world.
For all the amazing art, the enormous buildings, the rich history, and the varied landscapes, what I’ll remember most are the people I met, their smiles and their laughs, The conversations with and generosity of friends and strangers alike.
Although I have been back for more than a month, my journey isn’t finished yet. I don’t know who will remain in my life from the scores of people I met along the way, and I don’t know how I’ll integrate the lessons of trip into my everyday life. But I do know, that for a month anyway, as a pilgrim in a not so strange land, I was my better self, and I saw the best in others. I’m already planning my next journey to Southeast Asia next summer. But maybe, between journeys, I’ll show the next pilgrim I meet the same radical hospitality that so many people showed to me.
Welcome
Welcome to the Progressive Pilgrim. I'm Dan Greco. I'm 38, live in Providence, RI, and am a self-employed professional tutor. I have interests in politics, sports, religion (Unitarian Universalism), popular culture, and beer. I hope to use this blog to provoke thought, to challenge, and to entertain. I welcome any feedback.
Dan Greco,
the progressive pilgrim
Dan Greco,
the progressive pilgrim
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