Elsewhere, in Jordan

By JENNIFER ACKER

“In House” is a weekly column featuring trawlings and reflections from our editors.

Two hundred years and one month ago, Swiss adventurer-scholar Johann Ludwig Burckhardt rediscovered the ancient Nabatean city of Petra, forgotten about by Westerners since the Crusades. Described in an 1845 poem by Brit John William Burgon as the “rose-red city half as old as time,” Petra was a gloriously wealthy city with an ingenious water system whose 1,000-year history and acres of archeological treasures are being excavated by a crack team at Brown University. A profile of the city in Smithsonian magazine convinces that Petra deserves its place as one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, alongside Machu Picchu and the Great Wall of China.

Elsewhere, in Jordan
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Journey to the Center of the Earth

By V. HANSMANN

 

“Push it ahead of you.”

With my fingertips, I shove my hardhat in front of me, while I thrust my body forward with my toes. A hundred yards of solid planet hang above me. Though dank anxiety brews in my core, my extremities are working flawlessly, independent of my consciousness. Be still, monkey mind. Now would be a supremely impractical time to have an out-of-body experience.

Journey to the Center of the Earth
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A Feria

By ROLF YNGVE

People would tell us to go see the big tree, and finally we flagged ourselves into one of the cheap cabs that go between Santa Maria del Tule and Oaxaca de Juarez on a set route. It was getting dark early under an overcast sky, the remains from tropical storm Ernesto, who had petered out after making some news in the Yucatan.

We found the big tree, a knob made for the grip of some great giant who could use it to lift the entire town – the entire state – out of the Mexican ground. It seemed to squat between the mayoral offices and the church. All the nearby buildings clung to earth like the homes of dwarves.

A Feria
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Writing in Place with Robert Earle

Backyard

My writing room is on the second floor of our house in Arlington, Virginia.  Sometimes I write on a computer located in a double-wide closet where I have a built-in desk and bookshelves. At other times I write at a desk overlooking our back yard; from there I see a small stone Buddha, a split rail fence between us and the neighbor, and a swath of trees that descends along Donaldson Run across Military Road to the Potomac River a mile from here.

Writing in Place with Robert Earle
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Annals of Mobility: An Introduction

By SONYA CHUNG

Click here to read more about “Annals of Mobility,” a monthly column here at The Common.

First day of class: after a writing exercise that helps break the ice – 10 minutes of “put someone you don’t know very well in a situation of physical duress, and write the scene in first person” (a few students share out loud, while we listen and then comment)—I ask the students to go around the room and say their name, major, and “where they’re from.”  I use air quotes, and they all laugh, knowingly.  We all understand that the question is fraught, and complex.  In this room of twelve (including me), a college classroom in New York City, only two offer a simple answer to the question: I am from Dallas, Texas.  I am from Atlanta, Georgia.  Third and fourth generation, respectively.   Two out of twelve.

Annals of Mobility: An Introduction
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From the 17th Floor: First Impressions

These days, you arrive in a new place from a great height. Brief glimpse of patterned land, sometimes sea, then trundling along skyways until finding your way down to the ground and the transport available there. Eventually, you make your way to the heart of the place, where you can approach it from eye level.

Building

From the 17th Floor: First Impressions
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Retreat

By STEVIE RONNIE

Here are the ducks beaking for a mate,

ink leaks from a pen, a robin settles

in the birch’s oxter, the loch’s there

long and letting something to sea.

Retreat
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Everyone Eats Potatoes

By ELLEN GOLDSTEIN

Path and housePhoto by Carol H. Goldstein

My father was not a farmer. His great grandparents—fleeing the increasingly violent antisemitism of the Russian empire during the late nineteenth century—left Minsk and settled in rural Indiana. They opened a general store in a town so isolated that the few Jews who lived there worshipped on Sunday. The family moved to Indianapolis, where his father and uncles opened a hardware store. As a child, the closest my father came to nature was the thin line of trees separating his house from the neighbor’s.

Everyone Eats Potatoes
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Road Trips & Head Trips

By HANNAH GERSEN

 

“In House” is a weekly column featuring trawlings and reflections from our editors.

It’s the end of the summer and we’re all digesting a season of vacations. Here’s a sampling of reflections from around the web, from armchair dreamers to day trippers to professional travel writers:

At Killing the Buddha, Ben Brazil reflects on the pleasures and pitfalls of searching for larger meaning in the serendipitous moments that occur while traveling: “Travel as a spiritual practice, can distort at least as much as it reveals, and not only because its magic involves wealth and privilege.”

Road Trips & Head Trips
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The Super Museum

By ROXANE GAY

We decided to go to Metropolis because we heard there was a giant Superman statue in the middle of town and even though it would be a long, hot drive, it felt like something kitschy and summery to do with the great swaths of time afforded by summer break. That none of us had a particular affinity for Superman made the folly of the trip even more amusing.

The Super Museum
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