On a summer Saturday, surfers line up within sight of a city bus stop for a shot at riding a wave. Yet this is Bavaria, in Germany; the nearest ocean is 400 miles away . So where are they going? Here on Munich’s Eisbach stream, the surf is always up. 

The Eisbach wave is artificial. Concrete blocks, placed under the water to calm the river a bit as it emerges from an underground channel, form a permanent three-foot swell as the water rushes up and over them. The water is only four feet  deep, but the current can slam surfers into the concrete-lined banks with a force comparable to a nine-foot ocean wave.

Grab a bitter leaf and chew. Then take another and another, letting the wad rest in your cheek. Soon you’ll feel less hungry, more alert, a little euphoric. That’s qat (pronounced cot, often spelled khat), a stimulant used for centuries in Yemen and Africa’s Horn by laborers for energy and by men to while away afternoons. Today, with increased urbanism, easier access to cash, and relaxed social mores, it’s taking deeper root. “People chew it in the early morning, on the street,” says psychologist Michael Odenwald. “Children and breast-feeding women chew it.”

In the world of giant pumpkins, a 500-pounder is a pip-squeak. “People don’t even blink at ’em,” says Danny Dill of Howard Dill Enterprises, which sells seeds whose DNA destines them for hugeness. The record is 1,689 pounds, set in 2007. “Within five years,” predicts Dill, “you’ll see a 2,000-pound pumpkin.”

Steve Holman, 52, is running 124.9 miles in the Sahara desert. All his food for the annual Marathon des Sables is in the 25-pound pack on his back (including potato chips he pulverized with a rolling pin to reduce bulk). In 100°F heat he struggles up a few 200-foot dunes, crawling on hands and knees at times. Alone in a sandstorm one night, not even sure he’s headed in the right direction, he thinks, Yes! This is why I’m here!

I'm used to folding laundry and bills. But when I was working on "Fold Everything," a short article about innovative uses of origami, my fingers began itching to try the ancient art of paper folding.

After all, there are people creating not only fantastic paper animal sculptures but using the mathematical principles of origami to build foldable telescope lenses and heart stents and to better understand how proteins fold. Origami for art’s sake has also come a long way. The father of 20th century origami, Akira Yoshizawa (1911-2005), created more than 50,000 unique figures. The most modern folders have something Mr. Yoshizawa didn’t: mathematical principals and computer programs that help them transform flat into functional, or just plain phenomenal.

In a downturn, begging goes on an upswing. “You do see more of it,” says Roughan MacNamara of Focus Ireland, which aids the homeless. A typical government response is to crack down. Ireland, for instance, is rewriting 1847 anti-vagrancy laws so that police officers can round up “aggressive” beggars, deemed a threat to pedestrians, businesses, and tourism.

The new movie Taking Woodstock tells the story of the classic rock festival through the eyes of Elliot Teichberg, the parent-pecked son of Catskill motel operators. The movie, directed by the great Ang Lee and based on a true story, is okay but a little dull at times and more than a little farfetched (Elliot keeps running into the same high school chum in the crowds of the weekend). Yet the film did make us curious to hear other true stories of the Woodstock weekend. Colleague Kathy Maher, a research editor, was happy to oblige with her memories. Film rights are available.

A couple of years ago I wrote a story for National Geographic about regional foods. Not the standard mascots like Philadelphia Cheesesteak or New England clam chowder, but the obscure, sometimes incongruous but often delicious concoctions that have managed to stay within state borders.

There are plenty of offbeat delicacies associated with just one state; a huge pastry called kringle in Wisconsin, for example, or the toasted ravioli cherished in Missouri. I recently learned in a New York Times article about a Utah favorite called a pastrami burger, which as it sounds, is an over-stuffed rendezvous of two red meats. There are also lots of dishes linked to what food historians call "micro regions." It's a fairly loose term, and can be used to describe an area within a state, or larger areas that may involve a couple of states or more.

Ferula asafoetida

I was shopping for Indian spices with a friend not long ago and she steered me toward a small yellow container of a powdered spice called asafoetida, or hing in Hindi. She explained that it tastes like onion or garlic, but that I’d have to fry it in oil to bring out that flavor; otherwise it would be highly unpalatable. Why, I mused, would anyone bother with asafoetida when onions, garlic or leeks were more predictable? My caution grew when I learned that the name of the spice is based on the Latin word “foetida,” meaning stinky, and that colloquially it is also known as Stinking Gum or Devil’s Dung.

My friend is a scholar of Jainism, one of India’s main religions. She explained that “devil’s dung” is one of the ways that Jains can add pungency to their cuisine without using onion or garlic, which are forbidden.

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UNESCO’s Index Translationum speaks volumes about topics and authors of global appeal. The bibliography of translations lists some 1.7 million books from 130 countries in 820 languages. Along with the authors above, works by Walt Disney Productions and the Old and New Testament are among the most widely translated. J. K. Rowling hasn’t cracked the top 50—yet. But lots of U.S. authors have. “Translation from other languages into American English,” says Rainer Schulte, of the Center for Translation Studies at the University of Texas, Dallas, “is limited in comparison to what gets translated from English into other languages.” —Diane Cole


Graphic: Oliver Uberti, NG Staff. Photo: Rebecca Hale, NG Staff

The Vietnamese used to hate motorcycle helmets. They called them "rice cookers"—hot and heavy on the head. They were not fans of helmet hair. In a nation of 26 million motorbikes, maybe one in three riders buckled in. That was before a December 2007 law levied fines of up to $12 on helmetless heads. Today most adult riders are helmeted; traffic fatalities fell by 1,400 in the first year of enforcement. Tran Le Tra, 37, of Hanoi, misses the wind in his hair but admits, "I feel safer."

If you live in Colorado, say, or Maine, maybe you’ve noticed a new kind of traffic: Amish horse buggies. They’re appearing in areas they’ve never been (or haven’t been for a very long time), as Amish farming communities take root in states far beyond their traditional heartland of Pennsylvania, Indiana, and Ohio.

And to think that I saw it on 17th Street!

With apologies to Dr. Seuss, I will say that nothing in his Mulberry Street children’s book can top the sight outside National Geographic’s windows last Friday afternoon in downtown Washington, D.C.

A groom was riding an elephant—in rush hour, yet!—to his wedding at the Mayflower Hotel. Indian music filled the air. Wedding guests and curious onlookers filled the streets. Commuters looked unhappy. A couple of government sharpshooters stood on the periphery, rifles at the ready.

The 2009 major league baseball season opened Saturday. It should be a great year, filled with box scores, bleacher seats, and ... a dirty little secret.

Hours before a game, beneath major league baseball’s newest stadium, one of the sport's oldest rituals is under way. Two Washington Nationals batboys are rubbing brown gunk on dozens of new balls, toweling them off once the wet dirt cakes. Only when they’re done can the umpire yell, “Play ball!”

Photo: April 1 is an excellent day to pluck spaghetti from the Swiss trees where it ripens.

As you probably know, April 1 is April Fool’s Day. It’s not an official holiday,  but it is celebrated the world over. So who better to ask about its history than Alex Boese, curator of the (online only) Museum of Hoaxes and author of The Museum of Hoaxes, Hippo Eats Dwarf, and Elephants on Acid.

I read a story online that said April Fool’s Day began in ancient Rome. Then it turned out that story was a prank perpetrated by a college professor! Will you promise that you won’t try to fool me with your answers?

Everything I say will be, as far as I know, the truth. 



If luxury-brand autos and SUVs—the trappings of conspicuous consumption and 46-cents-a-gallon gas—are the most visible things on Saudi Arabia’s highways, a close second may be non-Saudi chauffeurs. Women are not permitted to drive in Saudi Arabia, so opportunities abound for immigrants willing to take mothers shopping and daughters to school.

In New York City, senior gardener Abu Talib oversees the Taqwa Community Farm and its 13 chickens.

In 19th-century Manhattan, hogs roamed the streets and cattle grazed in public parks. Today, chickens are the urban livestock of choice, and not just in New York. City dwellers across the U.S. are adding hens to their yards and gardens, garnering fresh eggs, fertilizer, and community ties, with localities debating and updating their ordinances accordingly.

While New Yorkers put on all their green and stake out a prime spot on the parade route that is stumbling distance to an endless supply of Guinness, the Irish band members of Bell X1 will indulge in a diner breakfast, prep for an appearance on David Letterman, then jet off to Boston for a St. Patrick’s Day gig.

Bell X1 is perhaps best known for providing the soundtrack to a scene with two girls kissing to “Eve, the Apple of My Eye” on the teen drama The O.C., “We’ll take our breaks where we can get them,” said lead singer, Paul Noonan, at a recent show. The crowd sang along to their quirky lyrics and beats, which have been compared to Talking Heads and Coldplay.

Growing up in the suburbs of Dublin, Noonan says that on March 17th he would usually pin some clover on his jacket, watch the capital’s St. Patrick’s Day parade, and go home before the streets became “awash in vomit.”

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Have you made plans for Pi Day? Do you even know what Pi Day is? 

As the name implies, it’s a day to celebrate 3.14. The Exploratorium, a San Francisco museum, hosts an annual homage to the number that never knows when to stop. In fact, the museum claims to have invented this celebration 21 years ago. It has since spread across the country (among mathletes, at least).

We spoke to Larry Shaw, technical curator emeritus, who takes partial credit (or blame) for Pi Day’s conception.

It’s not every day that one gets to walk across the international border between two unfriendly countries in the grip of a major bilateral crisis. But that’s what I did late last year when I walked from India into Pakistan. It was Thanksgiving—the day after a wave of terrorist attacks began in Mumbai. I was visiting friends in the region where I had lived and worked for six years as a journalist.

The Wagah border, named for the village that straddles it, is the only official land crossing between India and Pakistan, countries that the 24-hour news networks won’t ever let us forget are “nuclear-armed neighbors.” The village lies in fertile farmland between Lahore, the capital of Pakistan’s Punjab province, and Amritsar, the Sikh religion’s hub in northwestern India. The two cities are just about 50 miles apart. When British colonial rule ended in 1947, creating Pakistan as a homeland for Indian Muslims next to independent India, Punjab was split in two, and Wagah, an unremarkable village along the Grand Trunk Road, sat on the dividing line.

Air travel has made the act of crossing boundaries perfunctory, mundane. But on foot, you can’t help but think about how magical it is to walk from one country into another. And this is a storied border. Over the years, its daily flag-lowering ceremony has become such a popular spectacle that bleachers have been set up to accommodate the crowds of Indians and Pakistanis who gather to watch and cheer on each side. The border guards of both nations put on a show-stopping performance at Wagah late every afternoon, full of choreographed stomping and fierce gestures, and the crowd goes wild.

Happy January!

Everyone knows January is the first month of the year. And in the dim recesses of our brains, we might even recall learning—in what was it, fourth grade?—that the month is named for Janus (below), the two-headed Roman god. Janus could look backward and forward at the same time, making him the perfect figurehead for a month that ushers in a new year, marks the change from days growing shorter to days growing longer, heralds a farewell to one American president and the inauguration of another, and starts the new season of American Idol, with a supercool fourth judge added to the tiresome old mix!

Perhaps you hit the eggnog a little too hard at the party last night. Or maybe champagne did you in, and now you're cursing that "friend" who kept filling your glass.

No matter how it happened, though, you now have a hangover and will do just about anything to get rid of it. Doctors advise drinking copious amounts of water and taking vitamins and aspirin. Some people swear by grease--burgers and fried eggs are popular antidotes in America. Others, like the Japanese, follow a more virtuous regimen of fruits and green tea. In this month's magazine and on our website, we take a look at some international suggestions for how to cope with the effects of one too many.

Last week, The Amazing Race featured a glistening soup made with chunks of sheep rump. Some contestants slurped. One gagged. A vegetarian tried but failed to take it down (thus losing out on a chance for the $1 million prize). And here at Pop Omnivore, we wondered. What is this dish all about? And what's up with using the backside?

First of all, a bit (more than what Borat taught us) about Kazakhstan. It is the ninth-largest country in the world. Its official language is Russian. Its state, or national, language is Kazakh. It is the world's seventh-largest producer of wheat. Its biggest city is Almaty, where the soup slurping took place, and the capital is Astana.

But what about its food?

New Orleans just declared the Sazerac its official cocktail. A city drink by law? Now that's a piece of legislation I can get behind!

But what exactly is it?

According to the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America, the Sazerac was invented in New Orleans in the early 1800s. It began with a pharmacist named Antoine Amédée Peychaud, who had created something called Peychaud's Bitters, a blend of herbs and alcohol he liked to mix with cognac for his pals.

Sewell Taylor, another local, made the drink famous. He owned the Sazerac Coffeehouse—a common name for bars at the time. And he started serving the drink - which he made with an imported cognac called Sazerac de Forge et Fils. So the name has two possible origins. Either way, it has stood the test of time. But the recipe has since evolved a bit. In addition to bitters, the drink now includes absinthe, sugar, and rye whiskey.

All of this was good to know. But as a journalist, I can’t stop with mere knowledge. I had to imbibe.

Two exotic-sounding ingredients have been making repeat performances on Bravo's Top Chef this season.

Ras el hanout has shown up in beet salad with goat cheese and in a foie gras mousse with peaches.

According to Larousse Gastronomique, ras el hanout is "a complex mixture of twenty or more ground spices, used mainly in Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. The literal meaning is "head" or "top of the shop." Since the mixture was traditionally made from a market's superior spices, the name is fitting.

Project Runway is over, but thank goodness for Project MOMA.

An extraordinary new show at New York’s Museum of Modern Art shows how scientists are designers too. The show is called “Design and the Elastic Mind,” and it is 3 parts technology, 1 part fashion, and 17 parts crazy.

If you can’t make it to New York for the show’s run (through May 12), here’s a sample of what you’ll be missing, and a “status report” on the products.

NON-STOP SHOES. They’re sneakers, finished in red horse hair and reflective plastic film. I really don’t want to use the “f” word but I can’t help myself – they’re totally fierce. But the fiercest thing of all is the technology these shoes are said to possess. They contain some kind of device that will capture and store the energy you put out all day long. You know, when you leave your desk to walk to the bathroom or run out to buy a mid-afternoon Red Bull. At the end of the day you can hook up the shoes to a special device that will harvest the stored energy and use it to power your home electronica. Status report: The MOMA exhibit did not explain exactly how these shoes work or when they will be on the shelf at Payless.

VICTIMLESS LEATHER. Dilemma: You love the look of leather but don’t want animals to give up their lives so you can have a hot new coat. Solution: Victimless leather! Here’s the theory: A “living layer” of animal tissue, grown in vitro and fed by a nutrient bath, could grow into a leather garment! No animals will be harmed. Status report: There is a prototype featuring a wee leather coat, from the so-called “Tissue and Art Project” at an Australian laboratory.

BEE VASE.  We appreciate all the honey, but why can’t bees work harder for us? A scientist created a scaffold that enabled bees to build a honeycomb in the shape of a lovely vase. What comes from flowers ends up creating a vessel for flowers! Status report: Totally real. The vase is on display. I’d pay $19.99 for it in a heartbeat.

PERSONAL IRRIGATOR. This cool white network of PVC pipes blow out “marine mineral concentrates” that will allegedly improve your immune system (don’t ask me how) and “the body’s elimination functions.” Plus, I bet you’ll always feel like you’re at the seashore from those salty minerals. Sweet! Status report: A French designer is working with biologists and others to produce a variety of devices that improve your “personal environment.”

DOG COMMUNICATOR. What does your dog really mean when it wags its tail? An LED light, calibrated to the connection between wpm (that’s wags per minute) and canine desires will spell out in red lights what a dog wants: 55 wpm means “WALKIES!” And 90wpm: “I REALLY LOVE YOU.” Awww, Fido! You’re the best. Status report: Two British designers created a prototype as part of the “Augmented Animals project.” No word on how they determined the meaning of wags per minute.

The museum shares this amazing stuff online, too.

P.S. Dear Project Runway designer Chris March: There’s a “Cotton thread and human hair” necklace created in Spain in 1996. So you’re not so weird after all!

-Marc Silver

I'm from Albany, NY, where they don't have anything I'd call "local" in the way of food. Growing up, I ate things like spaghetti, steak, pot roast, and chicken hearts (a foodie from the start, I think I'm the only one who ate this last item), and no matter where I went in the USA, these things - ok, not the hearts -  were always on the menu.

But when I started researching my story on regional foods for the September issue, I was surprised at how differently (at least from a gastronomical standpoint) other folks were raised. A friend from Maine told me she remembered her disappointment when, as a little girl, she discovered that they don't sell lobster rolls at every McDonald's. And, while I was busy eating routine chocolate ice cream cones, I had no idea other kids were getting exciting-sounding things like buckeye candies in Ohio and gooey cake in St. Louis. 

So now I know that there's more than one way to eat ravioli and there's more than one word for ground-up pig parts. What was on the table where you grew up? Remember how you felt when you realized that you couldn't find it once you left home? Is it still hard to find, or is it everywhere now? What do you think is the proper way to make it, and eat it?

— Catherine Barker