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Wanderlust
The genie of desire
When I finally kissed a man in Africa, he ran away.
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[12/03/99]

Travel Advisor
Well trained
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By Donald D. Groff
[12/02/99]

"Would God forgive Lenin?"
In a lonely tower above the mean streets of Krasnoyarsk, a wanderer encounters the fervent heart of Russia's abiding faith.
By Jeffrey Tayler
[12/01/99]

Feasting on the island everyone loves to hate
Don't criticize Singapore until you've tried the kaya at the Chin Mee Chin.
By Jamie James
[11/30/99]

Into the belly of the earth
A cave in southwest France illuminates some of life's deeper secrets.
By Beth Kephart
[11/29/99]

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Also Today Trapped and torn Locked in by a chain of protesters, I wanted to kick myself. My kids were at home and I was about to be pummeled for all the wrong reasons. By Lisa Guide Wild in the streets What better place to find a hottie than at a riot conveniently taking place in my neighborhood? By Annie Culver The three horsemen of globalization Critics fear increased cooperation between the World Trade Organization, World Bank and International Monetary Fund will spawn an 800-pound gorilla. By Monte Paulsen The great straddler Free trader Clinton veers left in Seattle. But will his act be enough to keep Al Gore's Democratic party intact? By Todd Gitlin

A spirit that had been dozing complacently here for most of the past 80 years or so -- resting beneath the rhododendrons, mellowing among the blackberry brambles, lolling in latte foam with all the polite civility and self-satisfaction that Seattle has come to represent lately -- has reawakened for the moment. The sword it brandishes may not be a fiery one, exactly, but it's showing a distinct glow this week.

Behind veils of secrecy and protocol and prerogative, more than 5,000 delegates from the 135 member and 38 observer states of the World Trade Organization are meeting at the downtown convention center. They've come to celebrate the righteousness of capitalism and the riches of commerce, to debate rules for the barter and chop that they trust will bring the new order closer to its hour of fulfillment. The WTO -- successor of the International Trade Organization of the late 1940s, the git of GATT -- has come to this emerald Babylon to set a mark on the world's forests and seas, factories and farms and bazaars. As it says in the Book of Revelation: "And no one, great and small, rich and poor, slave and free, will be allowed to buy or sell unless he bears this mark, either name or number."

At least that's how it looks to the scores of thousands who have gathered in the streets for the Battle of Seattle, to stand against the WTO dragon, to drum and dance and shout (with the sound of seven thunders) about the cost of the "global economy" to the environment, workers' rights and social and cultural equity. To many, what began as an earnest expression of protest and a dramatic plea for dialogue has, in the face of police action, become something more basic and sadly desperate. A good vs. evil thing. A fight for survival between the fittest and the fattest.

Myriads upon myriads there are, thousands upon thousands, and they cried aloud:

"No, no, WTO! Justice for farmers! Justice for workers! Mobilization not globalization! The streets are ours!" Nearly 500 have been arrested since Tuesday. Thousands of other protesters and bystanders have been gassed by police, stunned by flash-bang grenades, doused with pepper spray, thudded and bruised by rubber bullets both inside and outside the 15-block security/curfew zone around the convention center.

For many of us who live here and who have been in the fray even for a little while, as participants or observers, the new snow in the mountains, the first big storm of the season, will have less than its usual purifying effect. The white peaks of the Cascades to the east and the Olympics to the west, the ice coating the firs and ferns, tend to bring a calm to the city, a slow and sleepy forgetfulness that will cradle us through to a new year and a fresh start. But for many of us this year, the cloud cover will instead remind us of tear gas.

Burning before the throne were several flaming torches, and in front of it stretched what seemed a sea of glass, like a sheet of ice.

Next page | Seattle remembers its deep union roots