A Travellerspoint blog

By this Author: zzlangerhans

Hanging Out in the Holy Land: Eastern Israel and Jerusalem

Driving from the western to the eastern edge of Israel took less than an hour. We found a cabin on Airbnb that was part of a development right on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. We had a beautiful view of the sea, which of course is actually a freshwater lake, and the Golan Heights on the far shore. It was strange to think that this relatively nondescript place was the site of some of the most dramatic moments described in the New Testament. We went down to the beach and stripped the kids so they could play in the sand and the shallow water. The waves were surprisingly forceful for a small lake, apparently because of strong winds generated by the climactic difference between the low-lying shoreline and the surrounding hills. One particularly emphatic wave knocked Cleo flat onto her back and for a second or two she was submerged, staring up at me through the crystal clear water with a bemused expression. Although there was no real danger, the moment underscored how completely dependent she was on me to protect her from all the world's dangers great and small. I reached down and pulled her up before she had a chance to become scared.
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For some reason I have very little memory of Galilee, and very few photos. I don't remember where we had dinner, and I'm fairly sure we never went to Tiberias, the only major town on the lake. We left early in the morning to see the Dead Sea before doubling back to Jerusalem. One thing that had confused me when planning the trip was how to drive from the Sea of Galilee to Jerusalem and the Dead Sea without passing through the Palestinian-controlled West Bank. We had no intention of making that border crossing with two small kids. As it turned out, Highway 90 which passes through the West Bank is under complete Israeli control.
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Having a float in the Dead Sea is one of Israel's iconic experiences. The water is so heavily saturated with salt and minerals that it's almost impossible to submerge oneself in it. The sensation of effortless floating on the surface attracts tens of thousands of tourists every year, although the popular conception that it is impossible to drown is actually a myth. If someone accidentally turned onto their stomach, they might have a difficult time getting their limbs underwater to maneuver back to the face-up position. This can lead to swallowing of hypersaline water which can disrupt the body's electrolyte balance very quickly. It's not a place to let one's guard down. We arrived at the Dead Sea at the popular access point of Ein Gedi and had a quick float. I didn't particularly enjoy the oily feel of the water and we had to enter the sea in shifts because the kids were too young to join us. In fact Cleo got some water in her eyes just messing around at the shoreline and was howling up a storm until a more experienced tourist came by to bathe her eyes in bottled water.
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On the opposite side of the highway from the small beach is the https://www.blessed2travel.com/2018/08/26/holy-land-18-50-ein-gedi-israels-largest-oasis-with-7-waterfalls-where-david-spared-king-sauls-life/. This lush oasis in the Judaean Desert is fed by several springs that flow downward from karst in the surrounding mountains. The most popular hike extends from the ticket office to David's Waterfall, named for the biblical hero who took refuge in Ein Gedi from the jealous king who wanted him killed.
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It was a short hike but much of it was uphill and we had the kids on our backs. Fortunately it was a relatively cool day or the half-hour climb would have been unbearable. Our efforts were ultimately rewarded with the sight of a staircase of natural pools connected by short waterfalls. We still had our bathing suits on so we were in perfect position to cool off underneath the last waterfall.
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Jerusalem had a quite different atmosphere from Tel Aviv. Our Airbnb was on the ground floor of an atmospheric stone building in a relatively modern area of the city, practically next door to the Machane Yehuda market.
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Of course it was no accident that we were situated in proximity to Shuk Machane Yehuda. The main produce market is always the first thing we look for when deciding which area of a city we're going to stay in. Machane Yehuda fell somewhere between the touristy superficiality of Shuk Ha-Carmel and the gritty utilitarianism of the Hatikva Market in Tel Aviv. We encountered all the usual Middle Eastern standbys but also plenty of creative and unusual delicacies. Best of all there was a large selection of restaurants inside the market and we eventually chose a small Lebanese place that was very satisfying. The market itself closes at seven but the area around it is filled with open air restaurants and bars and it was always still full of energy when we retired for the evening.
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Naturally the main draw of Jerusalem for travelers is the Old City. The Old City is surrounded by an imposing twelve meter wall that was built by the Ottomans five hundred years ago and the only entry is through one of the eight gates. We entered through the Damascus Gate and soon arrived at at the square outside of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which was built on the site of Jesus Christ's crucifixion and burial. Just on the other side of the division between the Christian and Muslim quarters is the Via Dolorosa, believed to be the path that Jesus walked while carrying the cross.
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The center of the Old City is largely occupied by an intriguing Arab bazaar filled with beautiful displays of ceramics, metalware, and fabric. One particular shop specializing in blue and white porcelain was especially stunning. The ancient alleyways and stone staircases lent historic gravitas to the merchandise.
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South of the Christian Quarter is the Armenian Quarter, which had more open space compared to the narrow alleys and tunnels of the other quarters. Here we were able to get to an upper level which gave us a better appreciation of the layout of the Old City.
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Eventually we found ourselves at Temple Mount, the most heavily touristed part of the Old City. At the Western Wall we had to split up as men and women are apportioned separate areas of the wall to pray at. It was fairly easy to tell the serious worshippers from the spectators because their religious fervor was palpable. I kept a respectful distance and only approached the wall to touch it briefly. We never found our way into the Al-Aqsa Mosque. Israeli soldiers barred our progress at the one entrance we found although we never determined if that was a temporary or a permanent state of affairs. We weren't tremendously enthusiastic about entering all the contentious religious sites so we let it go.
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The Muslim Quarter had by far the fewest tourists and we received a number of bemused looks from the locals as we passed through with the strollers. It must be an unusual existence for the Arabs living in Jerusalem, especially those without Israeli citizenship, being treated like foreigners or enemies in their ancestral homes.The hilltop area outside the Lions' Gate on the eastern side of the Old City was surprisingly desolate but had interesting views over East Jerusalem. I had a very limited understanding of the Israeli jurisdiction over the eastern half of the city and did not by any means feel safe bringing the family any further.
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Of course there was much more to Jerusalem than the Old City and the Machane Yehuda area and we had enjoyable walks going between one and the other. At one point we came across a Georgian restaurant which was something I had never previously encountered, and the food was quite good.
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We had quite an eventful final day in Israel. Our flight was a red eye departing late in the evening and we needed to fill the entire day before heading back to the airport. We first drove back to Highway 90 along the Dead Sea and drove south to Masada. The area around the desert fort was one of the most desolate environments I have experienced.
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We took the cable car to the top of the mesa where we toured the ruins of Herod's Palace and admired the views over the desert that extended as far as the Dead Sea. The legend of the heroic mass suicide of Jews in the face of Roman conquest has not been corroborated by archaeologic evidence, but it still makes for a compelling atmosphere at the top of the isolated mountain.
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We took the southernmost transverse back west towards the Mediterranean, on the northern edge of the Negev Desert. At Siderot we were less than a mile from the Gaza border, a place where Hamas rockets had landed many times. Nevertheless it seemed as peaceful a place as anywhere. An hour later we were back in Tel Aviv just in time to have dinner at a pleasant bistro on Ben Yehuda. We had come full circle after our whirlwind tour of this tiny but fascinating and historic country.

Posted by zzlangerhans 02:07 Archived in Israel Comments (0)

Hanging Out in the Holy Land: Tel Aviv and Acre

These days I don't think I would consider spending fifteen hours in transit each way to for just a week of travel, but back in 2014 we were feeling invincible after our successful first European road trip and the whole world seemed open to us. I was taking off as much time from work as I could and we were making a significant dent in the list of desirable countries we had never visited. One country still at the top of the list was Israel, an ancient and culturally diverse nation with a great deal to see despite its small size.
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We made it to Ben Gurion airport after two long flights with a changeover in Paris. For all practical purposes Ben Gurion is Israel's only airport for international tourists, serving both Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Our original plan was to spend five days in Tel Aviv and three in Jerusalem, focusing on the major cities rather than attempting to cram too much into such a short visit. Tel Aviv is technically smaller than Jerusalem, although if East Jerusalem is not included then Tel Aviv is bigger. Israel's political situation is so complicated that one can't even determine what the largest city in the country is without running afoul of different interpretations of the country's borders. Irrespective of size, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv are two very different cities. The former is one of the most illustrious historic cities in the world, packed with sites of critical importance to three major world religions. The latter is a much more modern creation that has become the financial center of Israel and a magnet for leisure tourism thanks to Mediterranean beaches and nightlife. We began our road trip in Tel Aviv partly because it was closer to the airport and partly because I expected we would like it more than Jerusalem.
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The logical place for tourists to stay in Tel Aviv is close to the long beach near the city center. Aside from the beach itself there's a high concentration of restaurants along iconic streets such as Ben Yehuda and Dizengoff. We had a room at an undistinguished Best Western a block back from the beach promenade. We arrived early enough in the day to take a walk along the promenade and give the kids a taste of the sun and sand. There were plenty of people out enjoying themselves but it wasn't one of the more beautiful Mediterranean beaches we've been too. The strip of sand was relatively narrow and the buildings along the promenade had a somewhat dilapidated appearance.
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All internet searches for street markets in Tel Aviv lead to Shuk HaCarmel. The market is a hundred years old and occupies a long pedestrian street just south of the center. It's a colorful and busy place with stalls full of produce and spices as well as some small restaurants offering Middle Eastern standards like falafel and hummus. It was also clearly a tourist attraction more than a place where locals would stock up on kitchen staples. There were a lot of places to buy souvenirs and travel clothing, and the food seemed to be geared more towards quick consumption than home cooking. We were fine with that given that it was our first day in the city but we made a note that there were probably more utilitarian markets hidden away somewhere that didn't make the guidebooks.
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Tel Aviv was founded in the early twentieth century as a Jewish suburb of the ancient port city of Jaffa. Tel Aviv grew rapidly and became an independent municipality before the two cities were reunited after Israeli independence. By this time Jaffa had dramatically receded in importance and is now best known as an Arab suburb of Tel Aviv. Having already seen most of downtown Tel Aviv we spent most of our second full day exploring the compact Old City of Jaffa. The main attraction here is the flea market where merchants have been selling second-hand items for almost a century. Between the displays of tarnished silverware and restored furniture are quiet cafes and fruit stores with stacks of the famous Jaffa oranges. Although we didn't have much interest in the various odds and ends for sale we enjoyed the palpable difference in atmosphere from bustling Tel Aviv. Here everything felt more languid and immersed in the past.
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By now we had realized that we weren't going to stay in Tel Aviv for the five days we had originally planned. The city definitely had its positive attributes but we couldn't think of much outside of the beach and downtown that we hadn't already done. Instead we decided to check out early and spend a couple of days in northern Israel before our stay in Jerusalem. We did have one mission for our final afternoon in Tel Aviv which was to find a real community market, if such a thing existed. Fortunately we encountered a local who claimed to know of such a place and directed us to the working class neighborhood of Hatikva far from downtown or any sign of tourism. At first we thought we'd been had as there was no sign of a market amid the utilitarian array of shops and low residential buildings but then we rounded a corner and suddenly found ourselves at the threshold of paradise. This was a huge and authentic local market which existed for the sole purpose of stocking the larders of the neighborhood inhabitants. Here were all the objectionable foodstuffs that might have driven tourists away from the Carmel Market: whole, bloody brains in styrofoam trays, lamb heads in various stages of dismantling, and every kind of animal viscera we love to find when we travel. The smell of butchery was heavy in the air. Of course, many stalls were piled high with fresh fruits and vegetables as well as bread and dairy. My eyebrows lifted as Mei Ling busied herself purchasing an idiosyncratic collection of offal including chicken kidneys and rooster testicles. The rooster testicles were pale, bean-shaped objects of surprising size. I had no idea what we were going to do with this stuff given our lack of kitchen facilities at the total but I've learned not to object.
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After a few more minutes of walking around we came across the food court of the mall where there was a far greater variety of restaurants than we had seen at Shuk HaCarmel. One guy was cooking for his tiny restaurant on an outdoor griddle and Mei Ling immediately entered into negotiations with him. I thought he would wave her off but he seemed pleased and soon they were dumping the bags of offal onto the griddle. The cook picked up handfuls of chopped onions and peppers from his bins and began expertly stir-frying the unusual concoction. As I watched there was a loud pop and I felt a searing pain in my right eye. My eyelids clamped down and I staggered away from the grill holding my face in my hands. Even amid the fog of pain I could sense the ridiculousness of what had happened. A testicle had exploded on the griddle and sent a jet of boiling rooster juice into my eye. Regardless, if I ended up in an Israeli emergency room half-blind there wouldn't be any humor in the situation. Our vacation would be over. Someone took me by the arm and guided me to a spigot which released cooling water over my closed eye. Eventually I was able to open it just a little and the water streamed over my seared eyeball. I gradually got my eye to open more and more and after a minute I realized the pain had receded and I could see again. I even took out my contact lens and replaced it to make sure it hadn't melted to my cornea. By the time I'd recovered it was time to participate in the meal Mei Ling had created with the restaurateur. I took my revenge on the rooster testicles with gusto, filled with relief that our journey could continue.
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The next morning we departed Tel Aviv with only a vague plan to drive north to Acre, an ancient port city with a mixed population of Jews and Arabs. Although Acre is the official name of the city it is commonly referred to as Akko for reasons we never understood. We only visited in the old city which occupies a small peninsula at the southern end of the town. The maze of narrow alleys filled with bazaars made the ancient sector of the city seem much larger than it was. The souks felt more authentic and intimate than what we had experienced in Jaffa, as far fewer tourists made it up here close to the Lebanese border.
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We enjoyed the atmosphere in Acre so much that we decided to have dinner and spend the night there. Of course, we hadn't reserved any accommodations and this was before the time we had travel phones with internet access. We found a main street with several large hotels but surprisingly none of them had any availability. It was well after dark and starting to get chilly when we made our way back into the souk and found an enchanting small hotel where we were welcomed and spent a very comfortable night.
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The next morning we had plenty of time to browse the colorful bazaars of Acre. Bags of aromatic spices lined alleys that were paved with flagstones. Most of the arcades were covered to protect shoppers from what must have been frequent rains, but we only experienced clear skies. I found a small barbershop and got a rather military-looking short haircut. Once we were sure we'd perused every corner of old Acre we regretfully took our leave and began our drive east to Galilee.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 06:59 Archived in Israel Tagged israel tel_aviv jaffa family_travel travel_blog tony_friedman zzlangerhans hatikva Comments (1)

America's Northern Midwest: Chicago

I had been to Chicago twice before and the city had never left a great impression on me. In fact, my first visit suggested Chicago was unfit for human habitation. I was interviewing for medical school one February and staying on campus. When I walked out of my room into the street an Arctic wind hit me in the face full blast, wringing a stream of tears from my eyes. Seconds later the tears froze on my cheeks. I made it to the interview but I'm not sure if I listened to a word. There was no way in hell I was going to be moving to that tormented place. My second visit had better weather but a paucity of inspiring sights and experiences. I was hoping that with more experience traveling and all my Internet research that I could show my family a more exciting and interesting city than I remembered.
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When we reached Chicago we drove straight for the Navy Pier, a popular entertainment complex which was providing a relatively inexpensive venue to watch the Fourth of July fireworks over Lake Michigan. It's probably a fun place on a regular day with carnival rides and exhibitions but as the evening set in the limited open space became more and more crowded and oppressive. The food options were awful and the breeze off the lake brought in cooler temperatures than we were dressed for. By the time the fireworks were halfway over I was pushing us towards the exits ahead of the rush. The view of the skyline was more impressive than the fireworks themselves.
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In the morning we were eager to explore the third largest city in the country. We drove straight to Chinatown for brunch. The view from the traditional Chinatown Gate was encouraging with a long line of Chinese restaurants and other businesses but we soon discovered that almost everything was concentrated on this one street. At the end of the street was a plaza with several more restaurants including Joy Yee, a Pan-Asian noodle shop where we had a pleasant meal. Aside from the restaurants there was little sign of Chinese culture and few of the pedestrians and customers were Chinese. Unlike either of New York's Chinatowns or the ones in Boston or San Francisco, it wasn't the kind of place where you could suspend belief and imagine you had been transported to the other side of the globe.
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People have many different images of Chicago but few think of it as a beach town. That's somewhat odd because I'm hard pressed to think of any American cities that have as many beaches close to the city center as Chicago. Even living in Miami we have to schlep across the bay to get to Miami Beach. People forget that Chicago is along the shore of a lake so large it might as well be an ocean and there are actually twenty-four public beaches within the city limits. We picked Oak Street Beach, not far from downtown, and I was surprised by how much sand there was. I would never have known I wasn't at the oceanside. The towering skyscrapers just behind the beach made the incongruous feeling of being at the beach and in the city even more acute.
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One thing that we weren't expecting was that Chicago would have the most beautiful and impressive downtown of any American city. Naturally the first one anyone would think of is my hometown of New York City but I found Chicago's to have more interesting architecture, more space between the skyscrapers and therefore more sunlight, and a more energetic vibe overall. We walked up and down a long stretch of North Michigan Avenue that is known as Magnificent Mile. We ducked in and out of high-end boutiques and enjoyed amazing views of historic buildings and the Chicago River. The rippled, aquamarine surface of the water was a splendid accompaniment to the distinguished skyline.
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South of the river a series of enormous parks occupies the space between Michigan Avenue and the Lake Michigan shoreline. Here we found the reflecting Cloud Gate sculpture, affectionately known to locals as The Bean. Artist Anish Kapoor has never provided a detailed explanation of the sculpture's meaning but the prevailing interpretation is that the reflection of the sky and clouds on the polished metallic surface is like a doorway from the ground into the heavens. It's a perfect sculpture for a public place as the distorted reflections make for awesome photographs and the curved underside invites pedestrians to walk beneath.
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Bistro night was at The Girl and the Goat, a very buzzy restaurant whose owner had been featured on the Top Chef cooking competition. We had made our reservation weeks in advance and naturally the restaurant was packed and full of energy. It was a great night out after a long day of sightseeing although the menu wasn't quite as innovative as we were expecting.
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We started the next day at a farmers market uptown before moving on to the curiosity shop Woolly Mammoth. The market was good-sized but unremarkable and Woolly Mammoth was mostly focused on taxidermy and the grotesque, which wasn't as fun for us as the offbeat boutiques we'd visited in Wisconsin.
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We were more impressed by the greenhouses at the Garfield Park Conservatory in central Chicago. This was our third botanical garden of the trip even though I'm not particularly interested in botany. However there's something about greenhouses that I find impossible to resist. In the best ones I feel like I've been transported to a primordial Earth unsullied by human civilization. The Garfield Park Conservatory was particularly lush and aesthetically pleasing, a wonderful respite from the urban expanse.
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We went directly from raw nature to one of the extremes of human audacity. The Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower) was the tallest building in the world from its completion in 1973 until 1998 when it was surpassed by the Petronas Towers in Malaysia. I wouldn't call the tower ugly but its black, block-like composition doesn't carry the same gravitas as the New York City skyscrapers that held the title before it or the innovative and beautiful Asian buildings that surpassed it. The main attraction for travelers is the Ledge, a small glass-floored balcony that projects outward from the observation deck to give visitors the illusion of being suspended hundreds of meters above the city streets. It was somewhat annoying being forced to watch the painful social media antics of those in the line ahead of us once they took their places in the box. Exaggerated expressions of terror and handstands seemed to be the most popular choices, accompanied by low grumbles from the line once people had gone over their time allotment in search of internet-based validation.
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We planned to have dinner in one of Chicago's ethnic neighborhoods. My research advised me there was a Little Italy just west of Interstate 90 in the center of the city, but once we arrived we didn't see much except for a couple of fairly low-end restaurants and pizza places. It seemed like a typical generic residential area with a lot of businesses catering to college students, unsurprising since the campus of the University of Illinois at Chicago was a block away. There may have been a more Italian flavor to the neighborhood in the past, but to someone who cut his teeth on Little Italy in Manhattan and the North End in Boston it was pretty disappointing. Even The Hill in St. Louis would easily take the title of the best Italian neighborhood in the Midwest over Chicago's version. Instead of stopping we drove uptown to Little Vietnam, also known as Little Saigon. I was surprised to find out that Chicago had a Vietnamese neighborhood given that the vast majority of war refugees emigrated to California and Texas. However, Argyle Street was packed with authentic pho restaurants and Vietnamese boutiques. The only drawback was that the commercial part of the neighborhood was quite small, occupying only a few blocks of one street. It had begun pouring by that point and we couldn't have done much exploring even if there had been anything to see so we picked the most promising restaurant and were soon tucking into steaming bowls of delicious pho.

Our last full day in Chicago was centered around the Taste of Chicago, the celebrated food festival that had given me the idea to make Chicago the culmination of this road trip. One of my medical school roommates had told me about it and made it sound like the gastronomic experience of a lifetime. When I looked it up, it did sound good. Dozens of Chicago restaurants setting up booths in a park for samples of their specialties? Count us in. It sounded like a food hall on steroids.

On the way to the festival we stopped off at the Shit Fountain. The unusual sculpture was created by local artist Jerzy Kenar in response to all the dogs that have been allowed to defecate on his property without a clean-up afterwards. Surprisingly there was no outcry from the community or the city and the fountain has become one of Chicago's offbeat attractions.
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We hadn't made it as far south as Grant Park on our long walk down Michigan Avenue earlier in the week, but we discovered it had one of the best views of the spectacular Chicago skyline we'd seen yet. Especially with the rococo Buckingham Fountain in the foreground, there couldn't have been a more beautiful setting for the Taste of Chicago.
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Sadly, the culinary prowess of the festival failed to live up to the setting. It was far less a showcase for Chicago's bistros than a smorgasbord of fast foods, mainly dominated by every conceivable variety of sausage. It was reminiscent of a food court at the world's largest sports stadium. There was no shortage of patrons lining up for bratwurst, pizza, turkey legs, nachos, and burgers but I think we could have eaten just as well without paying the steep admission by walking up and down the block outside of Wrigley Field. I don't know whether there was a more restaurant-oriented selection when the festival started out in the 1980's or if I had just completely misunderstood the concept. Either way the food festival we'd chosen as an anchor for our road trip was one of the biggest disappointments. The funny thing was that by that point we'd had so much fun and seen so many amazing places in four states that it hardly even mattered.
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We didn't stay at Taste of Chicago as long as we'd expected but we had a back-up plan. Two days earlier we'd spotted the Crown Fountain just south of The Bean but couldn't let the kids play in it. This time we'd come prepared with bathing suits for the kids. As soon as they saw the water they plunged in and had a great time while we watched the faces change on the singular LED monoliths from which the water spewed.
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That was pretty much the end of the trip. We had a little time the next morning to stop at a couple of Polish and German grocery stores on our way to the airport but didn't encounter anything very surprising. Chicago had shown us an amazing downtown but had batted well below its size when it came to ethnic diversity. Overall I left with a greater appreciation of the city than on my previous visits but I didn't get the impression that Chicago was a world class city on the scale of New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, or even Boston. Nevertheless it had been a great itinerary and there's nothing I would have changed. Minneapolis, Madison, and especially Milwaukee had been unique and fascinating cities as well and the experience had recharged my determination to visit all the remaining major American cities.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 07:16 Archived in USA Tagged chicago midwest tony_friedman family_travel_blog Comments (1)

America's Northern Midwest: Cedar Rapids

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We made the three hundred mile trek from Minneapolis to Cedar Rapids in one day, but we gave ourselves the luxury of a detour to La Crosse, Wisconsin. There were several interesting things to see in this mid-sized town on the Mississippi. Grandad Bluff is a six hundred foot cliff that overlooks the town and has views that extend as far as Iowa. From the parking lot there was a paved path to the viewpoint and a refreshing summer breeze at the top of the bluff.
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Downtown La Crosse looked like it hadn't changed much since the 1950's There was even an ice cream parlor that looked like a throwback to a post-war soda shop. We braved the long line to get refreshments for the kids. La Crosse was one of the most beautiful American towns we've passed through. The residential neighborhoods were really well kept with large, interesting houses. We looked up the home values later and were pretty amazed how inexpensive they were. Wisconsin's climate isn't to our taste but we found it to be one of the most pleasant and interesting states we've visited, probably only equaled by Oregon.
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Close to the river it's hard to miss the World's Largest Six Pack, six enormous beer storage tanks that have been covered with giant LaCrosse labels. It was another reminder of Wisconsin's whimsical and creative character.
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There's a nice highway that follows the Mississippi downstream along the western edge of Wisconsin. Once we turned back inland there was nothing but farms and fields as far as the eye could see. I've always been horrified by the prospects of long-distance drives through the American midwest but there was something hypnotic about all the flat, green expanses.
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For some reason I couldn't recall I'd chosen an Airbnb in Iowa City instead of Cedar Rapids. It was a perfectly fine little house but it was a full half hour south of where we wanted to be. By the time we arrived we were way to exhausted to drive all the way back to Cedar Rapids so we had a local dinner and crashed.
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We started our full day in Iowa at a local farmers market. So far we'd had a market on every weekend day and a couple on weekdays as well. As it turned out, a farmers market in the state synonymous with farming wasn't much different from anywhere else.
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Despite its relatively small size Cedar Rapids had its very own food hall called NewBo City Market. It was a lowkey place without a lot of options but we were happy to have it. Eating at food halls has become an important tradition for us when we travel.
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After lunch we drove southwest to Amana, the largest of seven villages in a cluster called the Amana Colonies. The Colonies were established in the mid 19th century by a group of German emigrants who wanted to live a religious communal life. Although the villagers no longer live a communal existence, they have maintained many of their traditions and the historic appearance of the villages. The villages' handicrafts and wineries have helped Amana develop into a tourist attraction with a theater and a museum.
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On the way back to Iowa City we kept our eye out for the perfect cornfield close to the road. Eventually we found it and got everyone out for a close inspection of the beautiful plants that are so intricately entwined with the history and economy of Iowa.
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After an early dinner we went to a fireworks show at the shore of the Iowa River. It was still one day before Independence Day but presumably the organizers decided they would get a better turnout on a Sunday evening than Monday. There was a beautiful community of houses built on floating platforms in the river, and a large park where we could run around and play Frisbee.
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Monday morning we began the long drive back to Chicago. It was a pleasant cruise through more lush, rolling landscape carpeted with corn fields and dotted with white farmhouses.
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We took a slight detour north to see the Dickeyville Grotto in Wisconsin. This is yet another multi-year labor of a solitary individual, in this case a German pastor named Mathius Wernerus. This ornate religious complex of concrete and stone is covered in colorful mosaics of semi-precious stones and shells that were sourced from all over the world, along with broken glass and other debris. The Grotto was part of a wave of construction of religious shrines and grottoes that swept the Midwest in the early 20th century.
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We had one more stop planned in Galena, a small town in Western Illinois with a lot of preserved colonial buildings. When we arrived it was very crowded with holiday weekend trippers from Chicago and just didn't seem like it was worth exploring. We drove around the town a bit but eventually decided to just press on to Chicago and arrive in time to get comfortably settled and have dinner.

Posted by zzlangerhans 04:06 Archived in USA Tagged family iowa travel_blog midwest cedar_rapids tony_friedman Comments (1)

America's Northern Midwest: Minneapolis

Minneapolis grew into a metropolis in the late 19th century on the strength of immigration from Germany and Scandinavia and the city still displays those strong cultural influences. In more recent years, however, Minnesota's welcoming policies for refugees have encouraged the settlement of tens of thousands of Hmong in the 1970's and more recently Somalis. Minneapolis has the highest concentration of refugees of any major American city, and their impact on the cultural fiber of the community has been dramatic. In addition, Minneapolis has a rapidly growing Latino population as well as a thriving gay community. As with other Midwestern cities, Minneapolis is far more complex than the white bread thumbnail sketch most coastal denizens file it away as.
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Our Airbnb was a mid-sized house in the Sheridan neighborhood of northeast Minneapolis. It was a fairly typical residential neighborhood in the process of gentrification, with a seeming excess of coffee shops and brew pubs.
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Downtown Minneapolis would be an ordinary cluster of business skyscrapers and low-end eateries if it wasn't for the enormous network of bridges between buildings known as the Minneapolis Skyways. The skyways have been proliferating since 1962 and now extend for a total of eight miles, allowing downtown workers to shuttle between destinations without having to brave the brutal outdoor elements of Minnesota winters. All the foot traffic has nourished an industry of ethnic restaurants and small boutiques that make the Skyway a tourist attraction in and of itself. The effect is somewhat reminiscent of the enormous complexes of interconnected skyscrapers and malls we explored in east Asia.
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Minneapolis is the northernmost major city on the Mississippi River, which runs through the center of the metropolitan area. Minneapolis doesn't have a redeveloped RiverWalk like Milwaukee but there are some interesting attractions along the western bank such as the historic Gold Medal Flour sign and the Guthrie Theater. The architectural quirks of the innovative Guthrie include the Pohlad Lobby, an amber-tinted box that projects from the side of the building, and the Endless Bridge. The Endless Bridge is a cantilevered extension that hovers over the parkway and terminates in a balcony with amazing views over the river.
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On the east bank of the river about a mile downstream of the Guthrie is the Frank Gehry-designed Weisman Art Museum. The appearance of the museum is similar enough to Gehry's famed Guggenheim Museum of Bilbao that it has been affectionately nicknamed the "Baby Bilbao", although the Weisman was constructed years earlier.
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Before visiting an American city I always research ethnic neighborhoods. Minnesota's German and Scandinavian heritage are well-known, as well as the more recent Somali diaspora, but few know that Minneapolis has a sizeable Mexican community who are largely the descendants of migrant farm workers. All of these different elements collide on Lake Street in the diverse Phillips neighborhood south of Downtown. Here one can find the historic Scandinavian market Ingbretsen's, Somali restaurants and markets, and numerous Mexican mercados and taquerias. The Swedish folk art murals outside of Ingbretsen's are a landmark in the neighborhood.
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One of Minneapolis's most unique and beloved attractions is Minnehaha Falls. I'm hard-pressed to think of another major American city that has a sizeable waterfall within its boundaries. It's an easy descent down to the trail and the waterfall is a beautiful sight as the water pours thirty-five feet into the pool underneath and sunlight streams through the gap in the tree cover. The park surrounding the falls offers four wheel surrey bicycles to rent which are a fun way to experience the landscape. Although it was a weekday there were hundreds of people enjoying the park, either riding the surreys or getting their feet wet in one of the countless shallow areas of Minnehaha Creek.
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Minneapolis's twin city St. Paul tends to exist in the shadow of its larger neighbor despite being the state capital. Although the city has its own list of attractions we were mainly interested in HmongTown, a center for Hmong culture that has filled a former lumbar yard with a farmers' market, shops, and a food court. At the food court we had the most satisfying meal of our stay in Minneapolis, a delicious repast of stuffed chicken wings, pho, fried fish, and numerous other Hmong specialties. Hmong people began emigrating to Minnesota in the 1970's mainly as refugees from the wars that were ravaging their homeland in Southeast Asia.They and their descendants now number at least 75000 in the Twin Cities, which is probably the largest urban population of Hmong in the entire world. Being in Hmongtown was the closest feeling we had to international travel during the road trip.
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In Minneapolis we were able to continue the offbeat theme we had established in Milwaukee by visiting the House of Balls, the studio and gallery of mixed media artist Allen Christian. The gallery takes its risque name from the the artist's favorite medium of bowling balls, from which he coaxes all manner of startling faces and alien shapes. However bowling balls are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this artist's original and entertaining body of work which ultimately defies categorization. We were expecting a tourist attraction of sorts and were taken aback to find no one present except for the artist himself, who graciously invited us to tour his studio despite the lack of advance notice. He told us that over time the House of Balls moniker had acquired a new meaning to him as a place where he finds the inner courage to explore new artistic territory. We were either too self-conscious or too overwhelmed to take any photos, but fortunately anyone can experience the gallery virtually on YouTube.

Restaurant night was at Spoon and Stable, the triumphant return of local culinary hero Gavin Kaysen from New York City where he was executive chef for Daniel Boulud. The farm-to-table style American bistro had an upscale setting and an unmistakable buzz in its second year after opening.
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On the morning we left we stopped at the Minneapolis Farmers Market close to Downtown. This was an enormous daily market with hundreds of vendors offering virtually every variety of local produce as well as freshly prepared food. It was a fitting postscript to our three day stay in Minneapolis. We concluded it was an enjoyable city, at least in the summer, and worthwhile to visit but we didn't feel the same affinity for it as we had for Milwaukee. It was time to proceed onward to Iowa, a state I had never in my life expected to visit.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 01:51 Archived in USA Comments (0)

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