Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘rrythmia’ Category

In some circles, to arrive at the office without having read the Wall Street Journal is like turning up in your boxer shorts and a sneaker. In other circles, the same can be said of CT, as it is known to regular readers, who include virtually everyone of influence in the evangelical movement in America. (more…)

Advertisement

Read Full Post »

Shame on you, Pimsleur, for making us wait more than five years for the successor to this unparalleled introduction to Modern Hebrew. (more…)

Read Full Post »

While finishing up a PhD at Cambridge and preparing to move back to my country of origin, one of the small but solid griefs of that process was saying goodbye to the familiar Oxford English Dictionary, whose massive volumes lay 13 steps to the right of my desk in Cambridge’s Tyndale House Library. In the three and a half years before that parting, I must have worn a rut in the carpeting during my frequent and satisfying sallies to the OED for help, rescue, and—occasionally—delightful surprise. (more…)

Read Full Post »

A perfect chaos absorbs the street of Cairo, the most splendid disregard for safe conduct that the mind can imagine.

It is as though millennia of human experience in self-preservation have been sucked out of the atmosphere, leaving men and women to fling themselves moth-like into the lamp, banging time and time against glass, seeking out with obsessive will the consuming flame, loving ten times more the wick than the placid darkness where a moth might fly all night long to its heart’s content. (more…)

Read Full Post »

    Concepción pastors a Pentecostal church down on the hot Pacific coast. The serious eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses and his solid frame—somewhere on the way to portly without actually getting there—contrast with his name, which sounds like it ought to belong to a Venezuelan shortstop. His ‘to-do’ list includes looking after the denomination to which his church belongs. By the time you factor in his family—he once brought his eldest son to meet his prof—Octavio is not a man with a lot of free time. (more…)

Read Full Post »

‘That’s monte’, the local Costa Rican grass guy says in answer to the offering my wife gingerly holds before his expert eye. ‘You’ve got to get rid of all of that.’ (more…)

Read Full Post »

The time on my watch is two hours behind Charlotte’s languid late-morning minute hand. It’s ‘Going Home Day’, that passage of my journeys which begins far from the hearth, often with colleagues and friends, occasionally in the faux hominess of a hotel room, and ends—finally, it ends—amid familiar smells, domestic jokes, wagging tails, and loving arms. (more…)

Read Full Post »

An airplane seat is one of the loneliest places on earth. Tonight, in the dark skies that lead towards Central America, that’s a very good thing.
(more…)

Read Full Post »

The Spanish of Latin America’s madre patria—her distant motherland—is a dialect away from the daughter continent’s accent and cadence. The Spaniard beside me speaks it now, as we remove our pens, take off our belts, surrender our wallets, place our laptops flat on the belt and step through the metal detector, please. It is the first of a hundred micro-humiliations to be endured in what will be a long day of travel. (more…)

Read Full Post »

You haven’t seen rain until you’ve raced through one of these tropical downpours, water in the street rushing at your leg above the sock level. Everywhere else in the world, rain falls. Here it is thrown down from some preternatural height at unnatural speed. It’s a wonder the whole country doesn’t wash away. Occasionally a chunk of it does, leaving a reddish slit where simple houses once stood, and a row of coffins amid grieving relatives in the morning paper three days later.
(more…)

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »