Tradition

Michelle Obama joined White House chefs Sunday afternoon for a public preview of the state dinner that night, praising the kitchen's huckleberry pie and confessing that, yes, she might even do the traditional duty of coming up with her own china. "I think that's part of the job," she said, sliding in a joke about the challenge the White House kitchen has in getting her daughters to eat anything green.

On the fourth day of creation -- a Wednesday -- God made the sun, the moon and the stars. Today, precisely 5,769 years later, according to Jewish tradition, Jews in Los Angeles and around the world will mark the occasion by reciting a rare outdoor blessing. But the event, which occurs every 28 years when the sun is said to reach the position it occupied when it was created, could be threatened this time by another heavenly force: bad weather.

President Obama broke new ground Thursday by personally hosting a White House Seder dinner for the Jewish holiday of Passover. But by limiting invitees to an exclusive group of staffers and family, he apparently irritated some constituents. When the White House announced the Seder, Jewish leaders from the Washington area began calling wondering where their invitations were, according to White House e-mails accidentally distributed to the press.

Through the failures of the Weimar Republic and the horrors of the Third Reich, in a Germany divided and a Germany reunited, there was always one thing Berliners could count on: their beloved KaDeWe. More than just a department store, it's an inescapable fact of life in this European capital.

Boxers or briefs? Bikinis or thongs? Bras or negligees? So many choices -- and that's just for the men. Three times a year, UCLA's unofficial Undie Run brings out thousands of skivvy-clad students looking to unwind -- and then some -- from finals week by meeting at midnight to run from the corner of Gayley Avenue and Strathmore Place to the school's intramural field.

Peter Watts relishes the bonds he forged with coaches, teachers and classmates at Verbum Dei High School, an all-boys Catholic campus with a long tradition as an athletic powerhouse and a haven from strife in South Los Angeles. Now a successful educator, Watts assumed his son, Avery, would carry on the tradition as a proud Eagle at "the Verb." He and his wife were stunned when the 13-year-old's application was rejected. The reason: The school is now dedicated to serving only poor students, and the Wattses' income is too high.

There are those who think of fishing as a contemplative sport. A chance to plant hip waders in a sparkling stream, stash a cold drink in the belt pocket and dream of man's mystic connections to the water and the dark shapes lurking below. They, however, would not be many Alaskans, at least not when the sockeye start making their headlong summer rush up the Kenai River. As if mimicking the salmon's annual journey, anglers climb into cars, pickups and campers, speed down the Seward Highway from Anchorage, lug poles and nets to the water's edge and start, by God, fishing.

Ved Pal Maun, 27, was something of a catch in this small farm community northwest of New Delhi. But his family members rejected several marriage offers; they said he just wasn't ready. Truth was he was holding out for a particular woman, 18-year-old Sonia Banwal of the neighboring village of Singhwal. Falling in love with the girl next door would be cause for joy and celebration in many countries. But in parts of rural India, ancient traditions are rooted more deeply than the tall corn and lush green rice plants.

The Champagne Bar at the Hotel Bel-Air is dark as a lair. Ice clinks as men and women on caramel-colored leather chairs and forest-green couches imbibe, converse and laugh. A roaring fire blasts light and warmth, which is welcome, despite the heat of a late-summer evening, because the air-conditioned room feels like an ice bucket. Against a wall, under giant paintings of swans, Antonio Castillo de la Gala -- dapper in a dark suit, striped tie and crisp shirt -- surveys his domain from his perch at a Yamaha baby grand piano.

For decades, Uni Histayanti has performed the enigmatic movements of her country's traditional pendet pendet dance. She learned the rhythms as an infant and years ago opened a dinner theater here in the Indonesian capital where, dressed in native costume, she performs nightly. As she flutters her arms bird-like, darts her eyes and tilts her head at exotic angles, she invokes the welcoming spirit of the Hindu-majority Bali island where it originated centuries ago. That's why it floored her to hear that neighboring Malaysia had reportedly tried to seize the pendet as its own. It's pure cultural piracy, Histayanti insists.