Anthrow Circus

Finding My Center in Jerusalem: A Post-October 7 Photo Essay

PHOTO ESSAY BY ELSA WOLMAN KATANA

Other cities in the world speak to me—Amsterdam, Beijing, London, and San Francisco—but Jerusalem is my favorite. In love and solidarity, and seeking some serious emotional, mental, and spiritual R&R, I made two different trips in the last year from my current home in Baltimore. As a Jew and an Israeli, only in Israel could I find refuge from the general refusal of the world to acknowledge the atrocities of October 7, 2023. In Jerusalem, my world spins on center.

What Happened When I Tried to Like Arizona

STORY BY HEATHER M. SURLS

PHOTOS BY MARY VENDEGNA & KAMI RICE

Rain spattered the windshield as Austin turned into the Water Wheel Trail parking lot. Driving the two-lane highway here from Payson, we had seen charcoal clouds emitting a fine scrim of rain, but we’d decided to hike even if it were sprinkling when we arrived. In the passenger’s seat, I folded down my striped socks, pulled on my sneakers. We would not be stopped. Not when our boys were overnight with their grandparents for the first time. Not on our first getaway in two years.

Adulting at Disney World

STORY AND PHOTOS BY JC JOHNSON

I had a big birthday this year that needed celebrating. So what does every self-respecting adult trying to avoid getting older do? You go to Disney World. Did you know Super Bowl MVPs go to Disney to celebrate their win? If the NFL can go to Disney, then so too can this self-respecting adult. (Even if I’m not really into sports in any other way, I am the MVP of my life, right?)

Sadly, the term “Disney Adult” hasn’t been much of a compliment recently—especially, if you refer to Urban Dictionary’s definition. But I refuse to let mean people take away my joy. I am not wear-Mickey-ears-to-dinner obsessed. No, like most Disney Adults, I just like to go to theme parks, with or without kids. Some of us like remembering childhood memories, and of course riding rides is fun. Plus, there’s the shopping, which is a respectable pastime in any other location. And you really shouldn’t diss character breakfasts until you’ve tried them.

Tourism in Mosul Reveals Resiliency on Iraq’s Nineveh Plains

STORY BY ELLIE INGRAM

Everyone told us that we wouldn’t be able to make it in—Americans living in Iraqi-Kurdistan with a desire to walk the streets of Mosul, modern-day Nineveh. Seven years after Mosul was liberated from the reign of Daesh (the locally used Arabic name for the Islamic State group formerly known as ISIS), fewer than 30 humanitarian aid workers live full-time within the gates of Nineveh. Countless others have been turned away from the outskirts of the city via a trifecta of Kurdish, Iraqi, and Iranian-backed militia checkpoints.

MicroView: The Magic of Lost Teeth

SSTORY AND PHOTOS BY KAMI L. RICE

Last night my roommate du jour lost a tooth.

She’s 9, so it’s nothing to be concerned over. Her dad helped pluck it out in the kitchen after having a go at it in the living room the night before, without success. Tonight, the napkin-wrapped fingers of Dad met such little resistance that we onlookers weren’t sure whether to believe the little tooth had really given up the game.

Turning Down the Temperature With a Cup of Coffee

STORY AND PHOTOS BY JOANNA MARSH

Say someone hands you a large blue marble with streaks of white and blotches of green. That marble represents the Earth and has a special power: Its surface temperature varies based on the stress levels of a region. The higher the stress, the more that portion of the Earth-marble heats up.

Now put your thumb on the marble’s Washington, D.C., spot. You will find that it’s very hot. So hot that your thumbprint’s ridges are on the cusp of burning away. But then just as the stress-heat seems unbearable, something cool pulses, steadying you.

The Dutch Transplant Who Is Flourishing Among Jordan’s Bedouin

STORY AND PHOTOS BY HEATHER M. SURLS

As a child, one wish always topped Brenda van den Brink’s birthday list: a dog. Little-girl Brenda was smitten with animals. Growing up in Friesland, a Dutch province known for its unique language, Brenda took every chance she got to spend time with them. She lived near an elderly farmer who owned sheep, cows, horses, and chickens. From a young age, she’d gather eggs to save his creaky joints. Once, when he was ill in the hospital, Brenda cared for his larger animals. Though she was never gifted a dog, her family eventually kept birds and she adopted a cat.

My First Florida Big Day: The Beginning of a Birding Obsession (Part Two)

STORY & PHOTOS BY MAX WEAKLEY

Pulling into the Scrub Ridge Trail at 10:50 AM, my only goal was to finally find the Florida scrub-jay. I had played recordings of their rough, scratchy calls the night before and brought them back into mind as I parked. Then I grabbed my camera and headed to the south loop trail to search for the jays.
After just shy of half a mile, I heard a call I recognized. Slowly working my way through the mangrove knees, trying to keep silent and not slip in the slick muck, I found my way into an opening where I could clearly see the calling bird. Clinging to the top of a scraggly bush on the other side of a shallow, brackish lagoon, an eastern meadowlark (Sturnella magna) sang his heart out.

My First Florida Big Day: The Beginning of a Birding Obsession (Part One)

SSTORY & PHOTOS BY MAX WEAKLEY

A few years ago, when I was just starting to get serious about birding, I devised a plan for the Monday after my 24th birthday. The weather in central Florida was forecasted to be partly cloudy, with a high of 80 Fahrenheit and a low of 70, so I knew I wanted to be outside. I pulled out my laptop and logged onto eBird.org.

French Cooking School Teaches Those in Need

STORY BY BILL DIEM

Accounts of people “lifting themselves up by their bootstraps” have been around for more than a century, since the phrase took on its current meaning. Critics say that hard work is not enough, but true stories of success from unlikely starts abound.

Thierry Marx, French chef of the year in 2006, is one of those stories. He was a poor student from a bad neighborhood. His grades weren’t good enough to get into hotel school, and he dropped out of a school for building trades. “I was furious…,” he told The Figaro, a French newspaper. “I messed around, got into fights. I ran away, I escaped to Paris … Champigny-sur-Marne, the city where I lived, was a ghost town, a wasteland.”