Life seems to have returned to the city, where just a few years ago the trees in the public parks were cut down for firewood and the Olympic ice rink was used as a makeshift morgue.
Yesterday I went to see Thievery Corp and Massive Attack playing at the Greek Theater in Berkeley.
The titan arum or Amorphophallus titanum (from Ancient Greek amorphos, “without form, misshapen” + phallos, “penis”, and titan, “giant”) is a flowering plant with the largest unbranched inflorescence in the world.
Taking cover from death, I live in a tomb. My CHU (Containerized Housing Unit) is tightly girded by twelve-foot-high concrete T-walls.
My Vietnamese name is Le Hoang Dung. My American name is Donald Lipscomb.
After the post-election glow, Baghdad is back in the real world. The streets are clogged with vehicles honking and people hawking.
Three days after Iraqis voted amid a barrage of bombs and Hollywood awarded Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker six Academy Awards (including Best Picture and Best Director), I’m at Baghdad’s General Counter Explosive Directorate, the center of Iraq’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal programs.
Under the quarter moon, in the high beams of their armored vehicles, US soldiers are gearing up for the most important day of the Iraq War.
Friday. A day for prayer. Two days before the national elections. Still warm and sunny.
Pickup trucks, SUVs, military trucks, Humvees, fire trucks, ambulances. Honking. Singing. It all looks like a big tailgate party.