The stance is familiar to anyone of North American, Cuban, Central American or Venezuelan heritage. But it is not what it first might seem to anyone from those places. An anglophile, indophile, or carribophile will immediately recognize the bat our neighborhood friend is gripping. On any given day, on any given street in the country that currently holds the trophy as world champions in cricket, you are likely to see something like this. Continue reading
Every minute of this is fun. The 35th minute is particularly fun for those of us based in Kerala because members of our organization join the stage with the stars of this show.
About five months ago we were approached by a film production company about a show they were filming for National Geographic Channel. They told us that River Escapes was recommended to them as having the best houseboats in the Kerala backwaters (a bit of music to our ears). Then they proposed that their Kerala episode should be based on our houseboats (we danced to that music).
One volcano-related assumption which I’ve had to let go of since arriving in Central America is that a volcano is a volcano.
Anyone who grows up in Scotland knows that mountains are not just ‘mountains’. There are mountains, but there are also ranges, hills, Bens, and Munroes. There are the kind that, although tall, the fitter of us can walk up without much in the way of equipment; there are others which may be smaller but are impassable unless you really know what you’re doing.
I wasn't expecting it to be so blue...
Thomas Cole’s Long Lake Sketch 1846
“Nothing so fair, so pure, and at the same time so large, as a lake, perchance, lies on the surface of the earth. Sky water. It needs no fence. Nations come and go without defiling it. It is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose gilding Nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh; a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun’s hazy brush—this the light dust-cloth—which retains no breath that is breathed on it, but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface, and be reflected in its bosom still.” — Henry David Thoreau, Walden p177
Thoreau’s description of Walden and other lakes in New England came to mind this weekend as I was canoeing and swimming with friends across Lake Cayuga, Ithaca’s own majestic mirror (albeit a crinklier one than Walden, given our weather). Continue reading
Writing about that game, among other things, in this post (that breaks new media ground as a review in one magazine’s website of another magazine’s special edition on sports heroes), Giles Harvey reflects:
…he ends up missing—it’s the greatest goal never scored—but that hardly matters. If anything, the fact that he misses seems to intensify the aesthetic quality of the move. (As though Pelé were interested in something as utilitarian as scoring goals!)
The moment seemed to me to represent a summit not just of sporting prowess but of human civilization itself. Watching it, I felt what might be described as species pride: look what we’re able to do! Continue reading
Organikos 