Word: scene
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...scene is irresistible: smiling children in colorful clothes running and playing while behind them, green rice paddies stretch to distant mountains illuminated by a splash of sunshine off the gilded dome of a Buddhist temple. It is hard to imagine how this scene could be the latest weapon of a despotic military regime which continues to rule the Southeast Asian nation of Burma. But the scene is as dangerous as it is irresistible...
...This scene and others like it are the product of a new offensive by Burma's military government, which began with a "Visit Myanmar Year" in late 1996. The military junta of Burma--now officially known as Myanmar--hit upon a way to exploit further the country it has controlled since 1962: Western tourism. This government rules despite a popular election in 1990 in which the National League for Democracy, headed by Nobel Peace Laureate Aung Sun Suu Kyi, won 82 percent of the seats in the national assembly...
Moore decided to deal. He couldn't remove anything from the movie, he told Weinstein, but if Nike were to build a facility in Flint, Mich., he'd add a new scene. Heartened, Weinstein whipped out a notepad. Would that be a shoe factory or a warehouse? Moore, who can't keep a straight face at gunpoint, fought back tears of incredulity. Anything that'll employ 500 people at a livable wage, he replied. Weinstein promised to get back...
...French pianist Claude Bolling's big band. Smith describes being hounded for autographs by fans as young as 12 who can rattle off jazz history, whereas "kids back home don't even know who Billie Holiday is." Still, he hopes to move back to the States, describing the European scene as ultimately limiting. "Jazz belongs to Americans," he says. "You want a real croissant, you go to Paris, but you want a real pizza, you go to New York, you go to Chicago." Sticklers and Neapolitans might take issue with his analogy, but grant Smith--a real deal himself...
...mists of the Huang Shan mountains, I came upon a young man painting the scenery with traditional brush and ink on rice paper. He smiled proudly as he showed me his work. It was indeed quite beautiful...for a painting, but it paled in comparison to the living scene before my eyes: a silken shimmer of pastel clouds clinging in tendrils to the tops of mountains, an endless dance of wind and fog that alternately revealed and concealed subtle changes in the dark hills beneath. How futile it must feel for a mere mortal to try to capture that...