a walk through la place djemaa el fna in marrakech, morocco

ice skating on plastic in jerez de la frontera, spain

In this week's issue of the Nation, I've got a dispatch from last week's Nevada caucus. It was fascinating to say the least. The article's behind the subscriber wall -- which reminds me to remind you all: subscribe to the Nation! -- but I've posted the full text over at my site: www.chrishayes.org/articles/viva-la-restauracion/

Here's an excerpt from the piece, describing what I saw at the caucus location I went to:

Three precincts were supposed to be caucusing in the cafeteria, but instead there was chaos. Confused crowds surrounded several large tables strewn with registration sheets and preference cards. A black woman named Violet Dorn sat at the middle table, festooned with Hillary stickers and lording over the official registration papers. Across the table, a black man in a white-collared shirt and suit with an Obama button stood berating her. "Stop telling people this table is only for Hillary!" he shouted. "You cannot do that!" A small wrestling match commenced over the paperwork. Then a white man approached. "What kind of politics is this?" he yelled. "Is this the politics of change?" His shirt featured a picture of Obama and the words He's Black and I'm Proud.

Meanwhile, the caucus attendees circled and paced, looking for some sign of order and finding none. Hobbling behind a walker, one woman explained that she'd come with fellow residents of a nearby senior citizen center looking to vote, but their names hadn't been on the rolls. (That shouldn't have stopped her, since the caucuses offered same-day registration.) Eventually she was allowed to caucus. Some people left; others just watched and steamed, frustrated and powerless. The confusion stretched on, twenty minutes, half an hour...

"This is so unorganized," one man exclaimed. "This is so unorganized!"

"Well, it doesn't help when you yell!" answered a woman in a Clinton shirt.

"You call this organized? It's a mess!"

The atmosphere grew more panicked as everyone realized no one was in charge. Because of my press credentials, people mistook me for a party official, asking where they were supposed to go, what to do if their name wasn't on the rolls and which precinct they belonged in. I took to looking up precinct locations on my phone. The room seemed to teeter on the precipice of a general melee. Volunteers scurried off to call for backup. I phoned the state Democratic Party and told them they had to send someone to Rancho High School immediately.

On Christmas eve, I boarded an overnight plane to Lisbon. I landed at dawn on christmas morning. The taxi took me through the lit streets of lisboa. I had the city to myself. Kay was already at the hostel, sleeping but awoke to welcome me and we had a nice laughy reunion before i stretched out on the bed in luxury and slept deliciously until the afternoon. Then we ventured out. Though rainy, we walked around to see the Se Cathedral and clambered over the ruins and ramparts of the Castelo on top of the hill ("this way -->"). As it was Christmas, nothing was open so we had a Yuletide dinner at an Indian/Italian restaurant. We cheered Jeebus's birthday over korma, naan and Cobra beer.

The next day we walked around the Bairro Alto, Baixa, Alfama, Estrela and other 'hoods. We got lost trying to find the Monastery but got to see this ridiculous watchtower -- the Torre de Belem -- built in the ocean before finding the monastery at last. We returned to the Lisbon Lounge hostel and cooked dinner, featuring Indian curry veggies from a can, microwave rice, naan, cheese, olive tapenade, a can of baked beans and my very special vegetarian pate in a tube which I put on everything. We drank and read all night, trying to plan the rest of the trip(s), including our day trip to Sintra the next day.