Apparently, people over 70 years old can sing. I don’t mean sing a little tune — I mean opera singer status. There’s this one particular woman who solos every once in a while, and when she opens her mouth, she really belts it out, singing with every bone in her body, every muscle, every organ.

I’ve never known I was closer to home than when I was flying back from Paris, France to Dallas, Texas, and found a SkyMall magazine in my seat pocket. Granted, I was flying high on Dramamine and a Jim Beam and Coke, but I could have sworn I had died and gone to aeronautic heaven. America, I’d missed you: Who could have forgotten such knick-knack paddy whack pleasures still exist?

Perusing this catalog of crap is almost like the joy I felt as a child picking out a gross (144 pieces) of worthless birthday party favors from Oriental Trading Company (...the name is for real). I was in deep, puppy-sick love with the materiality of shitty goods. Mmm, first world buying power, you taste so sweet.

Last Saturday, I touched down in London-Town with my eyes wide, my hopes high and my fake British accent well-rehearsed and ready to go. I turned my back on the more obvious, tropical, MTV-sponsored locales for the first time and packed my bags for a sun- and body shot-free zone. Just hours into my journey, high above the Atlantic, I was certain I’d made the right choice. Although I admit this may have had something to do with the combination of sitting next to an empty seat on the plane and/or the Valium my lovely mom slipped in my carry-on, my excitement prevailed and after seven pleasant air-borne hours I approached the friendly-looking immigration officer with a skip in my step and a smile.

Officer: “Passport?” … Why of course, sir.

Would-be writers are a dime a dozen: every other English major, it seems, wants to be the next Faulkner. Those with talent may find themselves in an MFA program, and the lucky few will have a story published here and there in a small journal. But success like that enjoyed by Tea Bajraktarevic grad, who recently sold the rights to her first novel The Tiger’s Daughter to Dial Press (to be published next year), is rare indeed. Tea, who writes under the name Tea Obreht and whose first publication will be a story in The Atlantic Monthly’s summer fiction issue, sat down with The Sun to discuss death in the Balkans, the merits of MFAs and being stoked about success.

The Sun: When did you start writing?

While everyone’s lining up with their $22 timed tickets to see the Cezanne & Beyond show at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, look instead at the museum’s much-smaller but equally interesting exhibition Grand Scale: Monumental Prints in the Age of Durer and Titian. The Cezanne-viewers will be bottlenecked through low-ceilinged rooms and bumping elbows as they listen to their audio tours, but you, enlightened visitor, will be strolling through the relatively empty galleries of Monumental Prints, gazing at astounding Renaissance engravings and etchings.

Despite warnings issued throughout the nation about the increased bloodshed and chaos in Mexico, students who plan to travel there over spring break are confident that the use of common sense will keep them safe.

On Feb. 20, the U.S. State Department released a warning to American travelers concerning the recent increase in drug-related violence in Mexico and its surrounding U.S. borders. Universities across the nation, including Cornell, have also released warnings to their students about the potential dangers of this popular spring break destination and urged students to exercise extreme caution.

Hi, and welcome to my double moving party. I used to have a column in Arts, but I obviously wore down someone enough to let me move, and here I am, in my new swankified space.

It’s a double moving party, because instead of sitting in Libe Café peering over your shoulder, I am sitting on a rooftop in pitch-black night in Kathmandu, praying for my uber-elusive internet connection to work and trying to drown out the mooing cow who is obviously not a fan of my playlist.

The centrality of Pakistan was first revealed to me two summers ago. I was visiting Cornell friends in Islamabad and Lahore. During a dinner conversation I had with the Turkish ambassador — a diplomat who impressed me by his particularly refined vision of the global dynamics — the topic of Pakistan’s role in the world came up. The ambassador emphasized the strategic role of Pakistan, which sits at the juncture of the broader Middle-East and South Asia.

Vegas, Baby

by Rebecca Shoval, Sun Senior Writer

It took us until we got about five minutes outside of Los Angeles to bring up the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas reference. Of course, Las Vegas looks nothing like it did when Hunter S. Thompson visited there in 1971. Following an almost five-hour drive past the occasional cluster of homes, a solar powered-energy plant and one large rest stop occupied almost entirely with fast food chains, arriving in Las Vegas gave mirage a new meaning.