Once upon a time, I was a foreign correspondent for the New York Times. Disillusioned by the paper’s support for starting wars, I resigned to start a Balkan “summer of love”. Needless to say, that didn’t go to plan. A tragi-comic caper ensued, as this memoir records. It probably didn’t help to do business with gangsters, but it seemed to make sense at the time. In the process, I learned how not to change the world, and why being enlightened isn’t the same as getting high…