The world is full of iniquity. Guys shoot up college classes; they also shoot up churches, malls, and elementary schools. Little kids get shot playing on their front porches. A hospital gets bombed and its doctors die. Drug companies raise prices of drugs for sick people by obscene amounts. Gun advocates keep the country locked and loaded. And that’s just in the past week and the good Lord knows what’s going to happen between the time I write this and the time it’s published. It’s so depressingly unsolvable out there, no redemption possible. So the counter-balances to iniquity are precious. Which is why I’m all irate about the small-scale, silly, stupid problem of noisy restaurants. Continue reading
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about eating meat–as in, whether it’s a thing I still want to do–and thought now was a good time to revisit this post from two years ago about whale.
Whales are impressive, enormous, beloved animals. Whaling has been banned since the 1980s, but it still goes on in a few pockets of the world. I spent three years of my life in two of those pockets, Norway and Japan, but somehow had never eaten any whale meat. Until this spring.
Over the 17th of May, Norway’s national holiday, I visited my friend Veronica and her family in the Lofoten Islands, an archipelago that extends into the Norwegian Sea north of the Arctic Circle like a cyclist signaling a left turn. It’s a rugged place, an unbelievably beautiful land of green fields and craggy peaks, exposed to the ocean’s storms. It’s a center for fishing and whaling. Continue reading
The first memory I know for sure is the smell of rain. I remember a screen door with holes in it big enough to let in a hummingbird, and outside I could see blue bellies of clouds over a dirt road. I can only figure it was somewhere in Arizona where I was born.
I’ve always been a water person. Even though I partly grew up in the desert — or because of that — I am mesmerized by its presence. At the root of what I know is rain.
Whenever a new discovery arrives, liquid water found on the surface of Mars or a shell of water vapor found around a quasar at the far end of the visible universe, I send up a private hooray! We’ve done it again, we’ve found more water. The media usually celebrates these finds along with me, which I take as proof that I am not alone.
Last week, NASA confirmed evidence of liquid water on Mars. Fluid erosion and deposition patterns appear to be ongoing, increasing during warm seasons, decreasing in cooler seasons. It is a melt and flow pattern, evidence that Earth is not alone in the solar system with liquid water. Continue reading
Sep 28 – Oct 2, 2015
Ok so Jennifer’s face looks a little older. Does anybody have a problem with that? Do babies? potential mates? Does natural selection? Anybody? No? Then screw it.
New Person of LWON (oh joy!) Rose Eveleth got a new puppy. So cute. So energetic. So barky. So depressing. What can be wrong with Rose, sitting on the kitchen floor with her new puppy and crying?
Guest Krista Langlois follows the boardwalk to the inside of Bowen Falls. She’s soaking wet, can’t breathe, can’t see, is all-but-knocked flat, and is strangely comforted.
We’re killing cormorants right and left, says Michelle. Supposedly we’re culling them, we certainly have good reason to. Or maybe we just don’t like ’em.
Erik has a splendid idea: instead of describing other countries by stereotypes, why not figure out their keywords? My vote for Italy would be “connection.”
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puppy: Ângela Antunes
Living in a foreign country can be exhilarating. Every time you step out your front door you are exploring a strange and exciting land. It’s like you are always on vacation. Likewise, reporting in a foreign country can be amazing as you get to dig into another culture in a way that no one else does.
It can also be a pain in the ass. You are continually sticking your foot in your mouth and missing cues. You can’t be sure what you are missing but you can always be sure you’re missing something. And you are often trapped by stereotypes that you may not even be aware of and that change for every country. Americans are too direct. They’re pushy. They don’t say what they mean. They’re too soft. They’re too hard.
All of this is only fair, since we Americans have our own stereotypes about other cultures. Germans are precise and exacting. Italians are hot-blooded. Australians are out of their bloody minds, mate. Continue reading
East Sand Island, a slim strip of sand, sludge, and beachgrass near the mouth of the Columbia River, is home to an estimated 28,000 cormorants. Make that 26,800 cormorants: Since Memorial Day, crews from the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Wildlife Services have shot more than 1,200 adult birds and doused more than 5,000 nests with vegetable oil, suffocating developing cormorant chicks within their shells. By 2016, if all goes according to plan, the East Sand Island colony — the largest breeding colony of cormorants in North America — will have been shot and smothered down to less than half its current size.
It has been raining for three days now, really raining, the kind of rain that can only occur in a place that receives upwards of 7 meters of rain a year. Three days ago, water began pouring out of the sky the way it might during a tropical afternoon storm or a monsoon — a kind of rain that comes quickly and leaves a short while later. But this rain doesn’t leave.
I’m spending a summer in Fiordland National Park, on New Zealand’s South Island, and the Kiwis I live with want to show me how powerful water can be in one of the wettest places on the planet. So on Monday, having played board games, baked and watched movies for far too long, we gear up. Everyone digs out the most protective waterproof combination they can find. I put on a dry suit, neoprene booties, neoprene gloves, a neoprene balaclava and my diving mask. Then we pile in the back of a van and drive to Bowen Falls. Continue reading
Anybody who knows me at all, in any context, probably knows that I adopted a dog two weeks ago. It’s all I talk about all the time. Sources know that she might try to get in my lap during an interview. Friends know that they’re invited over any time to see her and teach her how to play nice. My family knows because I already brag about how much better behaved she is than their dogs.
What they probably don’t know is that for a few days in a row last week I came home from running errands and sat on my floor and cried. Continue reading