Winners of the 2025 Underwater Photographer of the Year Contest
The winning entries in this year's Underwater Photographer of the Year contest were recently announced, and Alvaro Herrero (a.k.a. Mekan) was named Underwater Photographer of the Year 2025 for an image of a mother humpback whale swimming with its calf. Prizes and commendations were handed out in categories including Wide Angle, Macro, Wrecks, Behavior, Portrait, Black & White, Compact, Up & Coming, and more. Contest organizers were once again kind enough to share with us a selection of this year's honorees, with captions written by the photographers.
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Yahoo
3 days ago
- Yahoo
Paris Can Be Intimidating—But It Has Great Butter
The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. The Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain's account of his international adventures, made him famous—and cemented the stereotype of the Ugly American. One hundred and fifty-eight years later, Caity Weaver followed him to Paris. Caity and I chatted about her hilarious recounting of her trip in The Atlantic, why Paris can feel so intimidating, and the only food she ate there that she actually liked. Isabel Fattal: If you could go back in time and travel to Paris with Mark Twain, would you? Caity Weaver: Could I be assured of a safe return? Isabel: Yes, for imagination's sake. Caity: Absolutely. I would go anywhere with him. One of the things I was struck by when I reread this book before my trip was how unbelievably funny it is. Of course I knew that Mark Twain was 'a humorist,' but there were sections where I was laughing out loud. I think a lot of times when people think of old books, they get an idea in their head of a book that's really stuffy or boring. But this was cracklingly interesting. As a reader, it's rewarding to come across prose like that. As a writer, it's extremely irritating and intimidating. This man was funnier than I'll ever be, and he did it in 1869. Isabel: Do you have a favorite line or passage from the book? Caity: There was a section where he wrote about what he calls 'the Old Travelers'—well-traveled know-it-alls you sometimes encounter abroad: 'They will not let you know anything. They sneer at your most inoffensive suggestions; they laugh unfeelingly at your treasured dreams of foreign lands; they brand the statements of your traveled aunts and uncles as the stupidest absurdities.' Isabel: If you could ask Twain one question about his trip, what would it be? Caity: I would say: 'Sam, Mr. Clemens, did you go to the Louvre? Did you set foot inside the Louvre, really?' I can't prove that he didn't, but I strongly suspect that he didn't. And I feel like he would tell me. Can't kid a kidder. Isabel: You write in your story about the possibility that Twain was ashamed about not understanding the art at the Louvre. Does visiting Paris make a person feel like they need to have a certain level of cultural knowledge? Did you feel intimidated at any point? Caity: I feel like a completely idiotic, disorganized, disheveled crumb bum anywhere, but especially in Paris. It's like walking into a very fancy hotel lobby. Some people are going to be really comfortable there, and some people are going to think, Am I gonna be arrested for walking into this hotel lobby? Paris is so just-so. I find it to be an intimidating place. The combination of not really speaking the language and the city being so beautiful … I felt a little bit on edge there. Isabel: I have one bone to pick with you. I think you were eating wrong in Paris. You didn't eat anything yummy! Caity: I sure didn't. (Well, I had great ramen.) Isabel: What went wrong? Caity: I didn't eat anything I absolutely loved except the butter. I had a crêpe suzette—delicious, and thrilling to have a small fire caused in a restaurant at your behest. I had some croissants. I really was hoping to be able to write, 'Oh my God, I found the best croissant in the world,' and I just don't think I did. But the butter: unbelievably good. I took so many notes for myself trying to describe the color and the taste of the butter. [Reads through her notes.] I suppose I am an Ugly American, because this is my description of butter: 'creamy; has a scent; smells almost like movie theater butter.' The color was such a rich, deep yellow, almost like how an egg yolk can sometimes tip over into orange. My notes say, 'So fatty and rich.' Next bullet point: 'like if the whole room were made out of pillows.' And then: 'Yes, I realize I am describing a padded cell.' But it was an ultimate richness, softness, like, Just let me roll around in a padded cell. That was how I felt eating this butter. I took dozens of photos in my hotel room trying to capture its exact hue, and failed to. I encountered another group of Americans in my hotel lobby who were trying to figure out a way to transport butter home in their luggage. I involved myself in their conversation, as Americans do: What if the hotel was willing to store it in a freezer, in an insulated lunch bag? We devoted quite a bit of time to solving this problem. Isabel: Did they ultimately give up? Caity: Oh, no, I think they're probably enjoying that butter right now. I wanted to bring a bunch of dried sausage back to the U.S. And then, after I purchased it, I realized that I could get in trouble for flying with it. I ate so much saucisson in my hotel room so fast. I worried such a dense concentration of salt might cause my heart to shut down. I Googled something like: How much dried sausage too much. Isabel: I'm feeling better about your food experience now. Read Caity's article here. Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic: Feudalism is our future. The Super Bowl of internet beefs A PTSD therapy 'seemed too good to be true.' The Week Ahead Homework, a memoir by Geoff Dyer about growing up in postwar England Materialists, a romantic comedy starring Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, and Pedro Pascal (in theaters Friday) The 78th annual Tony Awards, hosted by Cynthia Erivo (on CBS and Paramount+ at 8 p.m. ET tonight) Essay A High IQ Makes You an Outsider, Not a Genius By Helen Lewis Who has the highest IQ in history? One answer would be: a 10-year-old girl from Missouri. In 1956, according to lore, she took a version of the Stanford-Binet IQ test and recorded a mental age of 22 years and 10 months, equivalent to an IQ north of 220. (The minimum score needed to get into Mensa is 132 or 148, depending on the test, and the average IQ in the general population is 100.) Her result lay unnoticed for decades, until it turned up in The Guinness Book of World Records, which lauded her as having the highest childhood score ever. Her name, appropriately enough, was Marilyn vos Savant. And she was, by the most common yardstick, a genius. I've been thinking about which people attract the genius label for the past few years, because it's so clearly a political judgment. You can tell what a culture values by who it labels a genius—and also what it is prepared to tolerate. The Renaissance had its great artists. The Romantics lionized androgynous, tubercular poets. Today we are in thrall to tech innovators and brilliant jerks in Silicon Valley. Vos Savant hasn't made any scientific breakthroughs or created a masterpiece. She graduated 178th in her high-school class of 613, according to a 1989 profile in New York magazine. She married at 16, had two children by 19, became a stay-at-home mother, and was divorced in her 20s. She tried to study philosophy at Washington University in St. Louis, but did not graduate. Read the full article. More in Culture Fast times and mean girls Wes Anderson lets the real world filter in. 'What hula taught me' What happens when people don't understand how AI works Archivists aren't ready for the 'very online' era. Dear James: 'I'm not very punk rock.' Diddy's trial is revealing a conspiracy, but it's not the one people expected. The novelist who learned to write anger—and its aftermath Catch Up on When Pete Hegseth's Pentagon tenure started going sideways The travel ban shows that Americans have grown numb. The Trump administration is spending $2 million to figure out whether DEI causes plane crashes. Photo Album Spend time with our photos of the week, which include images of monsoon flooding in India, Dragon Boat Festival races in China, a huge tomato fight in Colombia, and more. Play our daily crossword. When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
3 days ago
- Atlantic
Paris Can Be Intimidating—But It Has Great Butter
This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. The Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain's account of his international adventures, made him famous—and cemented the stereotype of the Ugly American. One hundred and fifty-eight years later, Caity Weaver followed him to Paris. Caity and I chatted about her hilarious recounting of her trip in The Atlantic, why Paris can feel so intimidating, and the only food she ate there that she actually liked. Isabel Fattal: If you could go back in time and travel to Paris with Mark Twain, would you? Caity Weaver: Could I be assured of a safe return? Isabel: Yes, for imagination's sake. Caity: Absolutely. I would go anywhere with him. One of the things I was struck by when I reread this book before my trip was how unbelievably funny it is. Of course I knew that Mark Twain was 'a humorist,' but there were sections where I was laughing out loud. I think a lot of times when people think of old books, they get an idea in their head of a book that's really stuffy or boring. But this was cracklingly interesting. As a reader, it's rewarding to come across prose like that. As a writer, it's extremely irritating and intimidating. This man was funnier than I'll ever be, and he did it in 1869. Isabel: Do you have a favorite line or passage from the book? Caity: There was a section where he wrote about what he calls 'the Old Travelers'—well-traveled know-it-alls you sometimes encounter abroad: 'They will not let you know anything. They sneer at your most inoffensive suggestions; they laugh unfeelingly at your treasured dreams of foreign lands; they brand the statements of your traveled aunts and uncles as the stupidest absurdities.' Isabel: If you could ask Twain one question about his trip, what would it be? Caity: I would say: 'Sam, Mr. Clemens, did you go to the Louvre? Did you set foot inside the Louvre, really?' I can't prove that he didn't, but I strongly suspect that he didn't. And I feel like he would tell me. Can't kid a kidder. Isabel: You write in your story about the possibility that Twain was ashamed about not understanding the art at the Louvre. Does visiting Paris make a person feel like they need to have a certain level of cultural knowledge? Did you feel intimidated at any point? Caity: I feel like a completely idiotic, disorganized, disheveled crumb bum anywhere, but especially in Paris. It's like walking into a very fancy hotel lobby. Some people are going to be really comfortable there, and some people are going to think, Am I gonna be arrested for walking into this hotel lobby? Paris is so just-so. I find it to be an intimidating place. The combination of not really speaking the language and the city being so beautiful … I felt a little bit on edge there. Isabel: I have one bone to pick with you. I think you were eating wrong in Paris. You didn't eat anything yummy! Caity: I sure didn't. (Well, I had great ramen.) Isabel: What went wrong? Caity: I didn't eat anything I absolutely loved except the butter. I had a crêpe suzette—delicious, and thrilling to have a small fire caused in a restaurant at your behest. I had some croissants. I really was hoping to be able to write, 'Oh my God, I found the best croissant in the world,' and I just don't think I did. But the butter: unbelievably good. I took so many notes for myself trying to describe the color and the taste of the butter. [ Reads through her notes.] I suppose I am an Ugly American, because this is my description of butter: 'creamy; has a scent; smells almost like movie theater butter.' The color was such a rich, deep yellow, almost like how an egg yolk can sometimes tip over into orange. My notes say, 'So fatty and rich.' Next bullet point: 'like if the whole room were made out of pillows.' And then: 'Yes, I realize I am describing a padded cell.' But it was an ultimate richness, softness, like, Just let me roll around in a padded cell. That was how I felt eating this butter. I took dozens of photos in my hotel room trying to capture its exact hue, and failed to. I encountered another group of Americans in my hotel lobby who were trying to figure out a way to transport butter home in their luggage. I involved myself in their conversation, as Americans do: What if the hotel was willing to store it in a freezer, in an insulated lunch bag? We devoted quite a bit of time to solving this problem. Caity: Oh, no, I think they're probably enjoying that butter right now. I wanted to bring a bunch of dried sausage back to the U.S. And then, after I purchased it, I realized that I could get in trouble for flying with it. I ate so much saucisson in my hotel room so fast. I worried such a dense concentration of salt might cause my heart to shut down. I Googled something like: How much dried sausage too much. Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic: The Week Ahead Essay A High IQ Makes You an Outsider, Not a Genius By Helen Lewis Who has the highest IQ in history? One answer would be: a 10-year-old girl from Missouri. In 1956, according to lore, she took a version of the Stanford-Binet IQ test and recorded a mental age of 22 years and 10 months, equivalent to an IQ north of 220. (The minimum score needed to get into Mensa is 132 or 148, depending on the test, and the average IQ in the general population is 100.) Her result lay unnoticed for decades, until it turned up in The Guinness Book of World Records, which lauded her as having the highest childhood score ever. Her name, appropriately enough, was Marilyn vos Savant. And she was, by the most common yardstick, a genius. I've been thinking about which people attract the genius label for the past few years, because it's so clearly a political judgment. You can tell what a culture values by who it labels a genius—and also what it is prepared to tolerate. The Renaissance had its great artists. The Romantics lionized androgynous, tubercular poets. Today we are in thrall to tech innovators and brilliant jerks in Silicon Valley. Vos Savant hasn't made any scientific breakthroughs or created a masterpiece. She graduated 178th in her high-school class of 613, according to a 1989 profile in New York magazine. She married at 16, had two children by 19, became a stay-at-home mother, and was divorced in her 20s. She tried to study philosophy at Washington University in St. Louis, but did not graduate. More in Culture Catch Up on The Atlantic When Pete Hegseth's Pentagon tenure started going sideways The travel ban shows that Americans have grown numb. The Trump administration is spending $2 million to figure out whether DEI causes plane crashes. Photo Album Spend time with our photos of the week, which include images of monsoon flooding in India, Dragon Boat Festival races in China, a huge tomato fight in Colombia, and more.
Boston Globe
7 days ago
- Boston Globe
WBUR convened a dream lineup for its inaugural festival. Facing funding threats, can the event help it reinvent its business?
Advertisement Tectonic shifts in the media business have forced all news organizations to rapidly adapt to the digital age, including at public media organizations such as WBUR. Led by Margaret Low, an NPR veteran who helped pioneer The Atlantic's successful events business, WBUR's inaugural festival was not just a 75th anniversary celebration, but a test case for a business facing immense financial challenges. The festival turned a profit and brought in roughly $3.7 million in revenue from ticket sales, sponsors, and an anonymous $1 million donor, WBUR said. But now, with the federal government mounting the most significant threat to public media's federal funding in its history, the test is whether tentpole events such as the festival can help sustain the organization for years to come. Advertisement 'I would love this to be the first of many,' Low said. 'I do see it as both a revenue source, but also an ability to sort of expand our circle and do more in the city.' Over the course of two days, with special events such as a live taping of NPR quiz show 'Wait Tell Me!' held before, WBUR convened a dream lineup of conversations for its faithful audience. Friday alone featured headliner after headliner: Garten, Barbaro, tech journalist Kara Swisher, The Atlantic editor-in-chief Jeffrey Goldberg, Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Viet Thanh Nguyen, Boston Mayor Michelle Wu, bestselling author Roxane Gay, and environmentalist Bill McKibben. 'We care about what's going on in the world, and this is a great opportunity to bring things like [Jeffrey] Goldberg on the Trump administration, but also art and science and innovation,' said attendee Connie Breece, 73, a midwife from Boston. The station held a 75th anniversary bash during the midpoint of the festival, transforming BU's fitness center Friday night into a fête replete with hors d'oeuvres, a live auction, and sit-down dinner featuring awards, a Josh Ritter musical performance, and interview with Nobel Laureate and Substack writer Paul Krugman. The architect of the festival is Low, who after nearly 26 years at NPR joined The Atlantic in 2014 as president of its events business, where she helped rebrand the magazine's Washington Ideas Forum into The Atlantic Festival. By the time she left The Atlantic for WBUR in 2020 her team was producing more than 100 conferences a year. 'I knew that that public radio in particular, had a natural entrée into this world. We're constantly grappling with big issues and ideas,' Low said. 'We have people who understand what it means to lead a conversation.' Advertisement Those conversations were on full display this past weekend. WBUR journalists such as 'Morning Edition' host Tiziana Dearing interviewed Mayor Wu and her City Hall challenger Josh Kraft, and 'On Point' host Meghna Chakrabarti interviewed Dr. Anthony Fauci and Krugman. Events are a not a sure-fire moneymaker. The costs of bringing speakers in, renting and decorating venues, buying food and drink, and more is high, and profit margins can often be thin. 'Taking risks these days is not something you see very often in the media business,' said Evan Smith, co-founder of the Texas Tribune and an advisor to the WBUR Festival. But those risks are necessary for many media organizations. Just this week, WBUR's public media counterpart in Boston, GBH, This year, Low said, her organization's financial picture is stronger. She said this week that the station expects to have $2 million more than its budget at the end of June, when its current fiscal year ends, and she is not planning on making any cuts. Now, in addition to the larger financial challenges, public media organizations such as WBUR and GBH are facing the most significant threat of losing federal funding in its existence. President Trump signed an Advertisement The threats make alternative ways of making money crucial. But at a time when Trump and some Congressional Republicans argue that public media no longer needs taxpayer support, events such as the WBUR Festival 'might even weaken the rationale for continued public support,' said Victor Pickard, a University of Pennsylvania media policy professor. It also might provide more fuel for Trump to call out NPR for its perceived liberal bias. WBUR Festival speakers including Goldberg and Fauci have both been the subject of attacks from the president, and many of the speakers leaned liberal. 'If I'm seeing this from the White House, I can't help but notice how the lineup of the speakers leans one way politically,' said Howard Husock, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and former board member at the CPB. Low said that WBUR had 'a wonderful mix' of speakers and that while there were people who declined invitations to participate, the organization was 'really happy with the lineup.' While students received free or discounted tickets, and some events were covered on WBUR's website or streamed at WCVB, festival such as this one can't be open to all. Two-day tickets to the festival cost $250, single days went for $150, and VIPs, who received front orchestra seats to the separately-ticketed 'Wait Tell Me!' event and other perks, shelled out $500. 'They're certainly going to be beyond the means of many poor and working class households,' Pickard said. Advertisement While Pickard would rather public media be truly public, and receive federal funding akin to similar organizations in other liberal democracies, he understands why WBUR and other public media organizations would turn to revenue-generating events. Smith, who helped create the annual festival at the nonprofit Texas Tribune, said he didn't believe that putting on an event with important conversations and making money had to be mutually exclusive. 'The content at WBUR is free,' Smith said. 'You need to fund the ability to make it free.' Aidan Ryan can be reached at
