In the World Cup Final in Mexico's Azteca Stadium, a Brazilian soccer king scores an opening goal and a fraction of a second later, and halfway around the world, soccer fans in Lebanon stand and cheer.
Once one of the most beautiful cities in the world, Ephesus today is a quiet ruin where colonies of storks nest on marble columns above a purple marsh that was once a perfect harbor.
It was a shame, said the museum attendant, that nobody took the trouble to read "them bird tracks on those Assyrian tablets back there." So George Smith took the trouble.
Ever since he rode onto western screens in Lawrence of Arabia, they've been asking how come Omar Sharif snagged such a great role. Easy, grins Omar. "They wanted a Wog who spoke English."
They sell everything from potted palms to old novels. In the spring they carry strawberries, in the fall hot chestnuts. They're the insouciant, infuriating—and nearly indispensable—pushcart vendors of Beirut.
When they heard about the shutdown planned for Plant 11, Aramco's operations people were about as enthusiastic as a mother of six learning she has to send her washing machine back to the shop for repairs.