Word: plastics
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...weekend. The fact that the snowmen often block windshield visibility doesn't seem to bother anyone. Indeed, a certain joie de vivre in the face of danger is as Lebanese as the cedar tree. As my Lebanese skiing buddy, Alex, said when an errant snowboarder went crashing through the plastic orange protective webbing separating skiers and the lunchtime crowd sunning themselves at a base lodge: "They ski like they drive...
...crumbling, freestanding Italianate façades sprayed with bullets, splashed by rocket-propelled grenades and showing clear blue sky where their roofs and walls used to be. Somalia's capital is less a city than a collection of tribal neighborhoods. Its back alleys lie under several feet of dirt and plastic bags, traffic is regularly held up by armed privateers demanding payments, and the air is thick with gunfire...
...Kennedys, the first museum of its kind outside the U.S., was recently opened. It displays original and vintage Kennedy-clan photos, including familiar images and some previously unseen; film footage of his visit and seemingly random artifacts - from Ace bandages the President is supposed to have worn to his plastic comb. The museum is operated by Camera Work, a local photo company whose owners are ardent collectors of Kennedy memorabilia. Curator Andreas Etges, who also teaches history at Berlin's Free University, says the museum seeks to underscore how the Kennedys were not mere passive subjects of the camera. They...
...Delhi's most successful suburbs, Noida. On Dec. 29, body parts from 17 young women and pre-pubescent boys - one as young as three years old - were unearthed from the storm drain of the residence of a wealthy man on the border of rich Noida and impoverished Nithari. Plastic bags full of clothing were buried in the back yard of the three-story home. Fragments of human bones and burnt flesh were found in an oven on the top floor...
...masses. The police officers acted the role of genial Joes and Janes, whose main functions were to snap pictures of tourists on request and to say, at a hundred checkpoints, "You can't go there." But we, the CDEs, could go almost anywhere. A flash of our red plastic badges with the magic word CONFETTI, and sawhorses magically parted, as if we had backstage and dressing room passes at a Springsteen concert. It was a class society, and we were among the elite. As we strolled through restricted areas, the crowd a few feet away waved their sausage balloons imploringly...