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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: 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)

A Proper English Experience: London & Notting Hill Carnival

After using Airbnb on several trips in 2014, we had become fairly savvy users. The flat we booked in Notting Hill was by far the most amazing place we'd found by then and still possibly one of the best ever. I knew Notting Hill was an attractive part of London but I really hadn't imagined that neighborhoods this beautiful actually existed. The only word that I can think of to describe Notting Hill is immaculate. Our street had endless rows of tall cream-colored townhouses, while other blocks had multicolored or brick houses in a variety of styles. The one constant was the pleasant congruence of homes on each block and an awe-inspiring classical beauty. The apartment itself was surprisingly spacious and well-appointed with high ceilings and hardwood floors, and decorated idiosyncratically with colorful furniture and repurposed hardware.
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Of course we hadn't chosen Notting Hill just for its architectural allure. The whole reason we had chosen this particular week to come to England was to be there for the world famous Notting Hill Carnival, an annual celebration of Caribbean culture since 1966. The genesis of the Carnival was as an event to promote cultural unity after the race riots which had occurred in the neighborhood in 1958. The festival has grown dramatically over the years and it is now one of the world's largest street festivals, attracting over two million people to the neighborhood every year. We were incredibly fortunate to have found such a magnificent flat on the very doorstep of the festival just a month in advance, a stroke of luck I can only ascribe to Airbnb still being a fairly new mode of accommodation at the time. To do the same in the 2020's one would likely have to book a year in advance and pay easily twice as much.

We had three full days in London but we expected the Carnival to occupy most of the first two, while the third would be free. As soon as we stepped out of our building we could smell the smoke of barbecues and hear pounding bass from speakers that were blocks away. Strollers were out of the question so Mei Ling had Ian strapped to her back and I had a carrier for Cleo, although she had sensed the energy and was eager to walk and explore on her own. The first thing we did was find ourselves a breakfast of jerk chicken and Jamaican rice with beans. Foot traffic was fairly light at ten in the morning but the streets began to fill up quickly. As we walked we began to encounter larger crowds and some impressive parades with music trucks and floats. Mei Ling really got into the spirit of things and became an attraction in her own right dancing through the streets with Ian on her back and Cleo in her arms.
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The crowds continued to grow but were never really oppressive thanks to the wide avenues that were all closed to traffic. The atmosphere was great with people of all cultures and races mingling together. Eventually we found our way over to Notting Hill's renowned Portobello Road where we stumbled on an energetic display of the Brazilian martial art capoeira.
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The Carnival would have been an amazing scene anywhere with the parades, the dancing, and the joyous celebration of Caribbean culture. However, what made it truly incomparable was the setting among the magnificent rows of pristine town houses of Notting Hill. The juxtaposition was incongruous and somehow ideal at the same time.
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At first it seemed that we could keep strolling through the streets for the entire day, but after a few hours the weight of the kids started to wear on us. I could have put Cleo down and carried Ian myself but the crowds were getting to the point where I was nervous to let her walk even holding my hand. Eventually we decided that we'd seen enough and returned to the flat for the stroller. We headed in the opposite direction from the clamorous festival and soon found ourselves in quiet lanes and green spaces with little trace of the energetic crowds we had left behind.
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After a few blocks we found ourselves in Kensington Gardens, home of Kensington Palace. Cleo got a thrill feeding the geese and swans with some crackers we were fortunate to have with us. It seemed like a typical summer afternoon in London with no trace of the wild carnival taking place a ten minute walk away.
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Notting Hill Carnival takes place over two days, with the second day being the Summer Bank Holiday. We were prepared to spend a few more hours at the festival but as luck would have it it was raining fairly briskly when we stepped out of our building. The dark skies didn't promise much hope of better weather any time soon, so we decided to chuck the whole idea and take the Tube to Camden Market instead. We really didn't have anything to complain about as we had had a blast on the first day and there probably wasn't much left for us to see anyway. We'd loved Camden Market the previous year and we were glad to have another opportunity to explore it. Unfortunately it was clear the rain had reduced the market to a shadow of its usual self. We were ready to go but the energy simply wasn't there.
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We were wondering what to do next when I noticed the staircases that descended from the market down to the water level at Camden Lock. I thought we might see something interesting down there and we discovered a fascinating path along the canal. We had accidentally discovered Regent's Canal and began to walk westward in the direction of Notting Hill. We had no idea we were about to see one of the most beautiful urban landscapes we've ever encountered. The canal winds its way through northern London a level below the city streets, making it an enchanted respite from the furious activity above. The water is carpeted with algae blooms and the sides of the canal are home to eccentrically-decorated houseboats. Set back from the banks are weeping willows and the rear facades of stately mansions and museums. It was probably the best place we could have been on a rainy day in London, with the light drizzle accentuating the verdant and colorful landscape. The best part was that we had never heard of the canal and stumbled upon it completely by accident, making us feel like we had made our own remarkable discovery in this incomparable city.
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We walked for what seemed like miles along the canal, only emerging when we couldn't ignore the growling in our stomachs any longer. London's amazing multicultural character came to the rescue with an Iraqi restaurant in the middle of Lisson Grove, a cuisine we'd never previously encountered. We continued the walk at ground level all the way back to our neighborhood where we could here the sounds of the resurgent festival that we were far too exhausted to return to.
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We had one last full day in London and decided to walk all the way to the Tower of London, a good three hour walk with the strollers. Our first stop was for breakfast at a very cute cafe with a glass ceiling on Portobello Road. Then we set off eastward through the drizzly, congested streets of central London until we reached the Thames where it bent northward at Covent Garden.
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At the river we came across Somerset House, an enormous 18th century Neoclassical building built on the foundations of a decayed Tudor palace. In the late 20th century the site was expanded with new buildings and converted into a center for the arts. The splendid main courtyard remains open to the public.
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Despite the persistent drizzle the walk along the Thames was very enjoyable. Along the north bank we passed an eclectic mix of ultramodern and historic buildings. A few oddly-shaped skyscrapers dotted the skyline. We were surprised to encounter a footbridge spanning the Thames with a very contemporary design.
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When we finally arrived at the Tower of London, the moat had been turned into a sea of red by hundreds of thousands of ceramic poppies, an artistic installation called Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red that commemorated close to a million British servicemen killed subsequent to the outbreak of World War I a hundred years earlier. We were fortunate to have stumbled upon this very evocative display purely by chance as it was only in place for a few months. The breathtaking expanse of poppies revealed the enormity of the war's toll much more than could have been accomplished by any list or monument.
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The tower grounds were pleasant to stroll through, although we made the mistake of waiting on line to view the Crown Jewels which were nowhere near as dazzling as I remembered them from my childhood. The medieval complex was quite formidable and amazingly well-preserved. The iconic bridge that crosses the Thames adjacent to the Tower of London is the Tower Bridge, although it is commonly misrepresented in photos as London Bridge. The famed Old London Bridge that was lined with multistory buildings was demolished in 1831, and the current iteration is a rather low, unadorned span of concrete that most visitors don't look at twice. The Tower Bridge is quite medieval in appearance but was actually built in the late 19th century and its design was quite controversial at the time.
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With that our brief English vacation came to an end. It had only been a week but we had seen and done more than we would have in a month of our regular lives. We haven't been back in the six years since, mainly because it's simply too difficult logistically to get around by train with three small kids. As soon as Spenser is old enough to carry his own pack we'll be back for a full six weeks to give the British Isles the full exploration they deserve.

Posted by zzlangerhans 15:58 Archived in England Tagged london england travel family notting_hill_carnival blog regents_canal travel_blog Comments (0)

East Asian Immersion: Dalian part III


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I normally fit about two days of travel into a blog post, sometimes three, so it's strange to find myself working on my third blog post about the four days we spent in Dalian. I never expected there to be so much worth seeing and so many opportunities to take great pictures in this unheralded city. I'm not usually a history buff but I was motivated to look into Dalian's past to try to understand how it became such a unique place. I learned that thanks to its strategic location on the Bohai Strait, Dalian passed through a number of powerful hands in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The British, the Russians, and the Japanese all controlled the city between 1858 and 1945. There are still some architectural remnants of these occupations in the city, but I couldn't see how that distant past had much influence on the fascinating landscape of modern Dalian. Fortunately I have the best research resource a traveler could ask for, my Chinese-born wife, who could provide more insight into this recent transformation than a hundred hours on the internet.

Dalian's location and history of occupation probably made it a mildly interesting city to visit in the 1980's, but its captivating skyscrapers, squares, and parks are a much more recent development. Essentially all of this can be laid at the feet of one formerly illustrious mayor of the city, Bo Xilai. Bo was a scion of a prominent Communist Party family which was purged during the Cultural Revolution. He emerged from a labor camp in the 1980's and worked his way back into the Party, now that the pendulum had swung in another direction. Despite an apparent lack of connection to Dalian or Liaoning Province, Bo was assigned to a government position in the area and worked his way up through party ranks to become the mayor of Dalian in 1992. He oversaw the construction of Xinghai Square at the site of the former city garbage dump and was also responsible for the creation of Labor Park and several museums. In 2001 Bo became governor of Liaoning and in 2007 he ascended to the highest level of the Chinese central government. Between 2007 to 2011, he was the most prominent rising political star in China and many assumed he was on his way to being president. All of that ended in 2011 with a murder scandal that led to uncovering of widespread corruption and eventually life imprisonment. It seems that during Bo's few years of enormous power he decided to make Dalian a showplace of modernization, likely intending to use the city as a staging ground for a run at the presidency. Once he was a member of the Politburo, Bo likely diverted domestic financial resources to Dalian and also was involved in numerous foreign investment deals which led to the enormous number of skyscrapers that are still being built. Whether the city can sustain its growth now that its benefactor has been disgraced remains to be seen. It seems impossible that there would be enough wealthy citizens and businesses to fill all the new skyscrapers, so perhaps Dalian is destined to become a futuristic ghost town. I feel fortunate to have been able to see the city in possibly its greatest moment.

We kicked off our last full day in the food court of a Chinese department store not far from Eton Place. I'd seen how China was developing these food courts along the model of Japan and Korea two years earlier in Mudanjiang, but the size and sophistication of this display was quite impressive. There was a mouth-watering selection of produce, delicatessen items, and freshly-prepared fast food that was fundamentally Chinese but had enough international spin to generate a cosmopolitan atmosphere. Just as striking was the liveliness and amount of foot traffic in the food court despite the relatively high prices. Ten years ago a scene like this would have been hard to imagine outside of Shanghai.
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We had a long bus ride through the southern part of Dalian to the Laohutan Scenic Area. This part of the peninsula is filled with stocky little mountains that have residential communities packed into the narrow valleys between them. It wasn't unusual to see apartment buildings jammed up against steep hillsides and I wondered how safe they were from landslides.
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The bus dropped us off in front of Laohutan Ocean Park, an expensive theme park that contains an aquarium and a coral museum and features live performances with marine mammals. We had one of the world's most renowned aquariums coming up soon in Osaka so we gave the theme park a pass and walked across the bridge over the Ziyou Canal towards the famous sculpture that gives the area its popular name of Tiger Beach. The enormous marble tigers seemed to be leaping through the evergreens at the base of the hillside. A couple of souvenir vendors were demonstrating a styrofoam model plane and didn't seem to mind when the kids took it over. From the hill above us cable cars were transporting tourists across Laohutan Bay to the aquarium.
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Close to the tiger sculpture is the entrance to Bird Singing Woods, which is part of Laohutan Ocean Park but has a much more reasonable entry price as an individual attraction. This is a quite impressive bird park housing thousands of birds on a steep hill covered in netting. There are apparently 150 different species of birds in the park, but the most prominent were guinea hens, spoonbills, and peacocks. Feeding the birds was encouraged, naturally with the birdseed that was on sale inside the park. The birds were quite experienced and aggressive and our kids were no match for them.
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Most of the visitors stayed at the base of the hill but we followed the path to the top where the peacocks were clearly in charge. Even with their tails closed, these are incredibly beautiful birds and there were an amazing number of them perched on branches and railings. The netting filtered and diffused what little sunlight made it through the clouds and it was easy to forget that we were in a bird sanctuary and not atop a mountain far from civilization.
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Back on ground level we were just in time to catch a show with parrots that were trained to fly into the crowd and ferry bank notes from the audience back to their handler. The combination of entertainment and con-artistry was quintessentially Chinese and I was happy to contribute all the small denomination currency I had to the endeavor.

The coastal drive through the mountains along Binhai Middle Road is supposed to be another highlight of Dalian, but we didn't see anything remarkable from the windows of our taxi. Eventually we found ourselves back at Xinghai Square, where we ate dinner at a Japanese restaurant and let the kids have another round of entertainment in the amusement park. It was a much foggier evening than our previous visit and the skyscrapers seemed like ghostly apparitions in the mist.
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On our first visit to Xinghai Square we'd missed the evening light show at the fountain. As the moment approached, people began streaming to the center of the oval where there was an enormous circular pool. The water jets had already started to shoot into the air, illuminated in vivid colors and accompanied by haunting violin music. I tried to hold the kids back, expecting the crowd to become too dense for safety, but they were able to get all the way to the front. As the fog slowly lifted, the sparkling, disembodied cables of the Xinghaiwan Bridge came into view behind us.
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We had finally worn the kids out and by the time we had found our way back to Zhongyuan food street for a late snack the older two were out cold. In the morning we went straight to the airport for our flight to Qingdao. Mei Ling stopped briefly at a cosmetics counter at the mall in Eton Place where the salesperson's T-shirt provided us with an optimistic farewell from one of the most fascinating cities I've ever visited.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 21:46 Archived in China Tagged travel china liaoning dalian travel_blog laohutan xinghai_square tony_friedman zzlangerhans Comments (0)

East Asian Immersion: Dalian part II


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We awoke on our second morning in Dalian highly energized to continue our exploration of this dynamic and unpredictable city. We'd already seen the major municipal produce market, but we found a smaller one in the opposite direction from Eton Place. I don't think I could ever get enough of the colorful celebration of our earth's variety of fruits and vegetables that a Chinese market presents. We've embraced that variety at home as well as when we travel. Fortunately in Miami we have access to probably 90% of the common edible fruits and we have about thirty of them in our regular rotation. One special attribute of China is the huge selection of green vegetables that gives every meal an individual imprint, and that diversity was on full display here as well.
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We had a lunch of barbecued lamb in a Uyghur restaurant incongruously located on Dalian's famed Japanese street. The street itself was a rather unimpressive collection of seedy bars with Japanese-style fronts, but the food made the detour worthwhile.
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Labor Park, or Lao Dong in Chinese, is the largest city park in Dalian. I enjoy taking the kids to parks when we travel because they're beautiful places where we can join with the locals in recreational activities. Labor Park was a real stunner, carefully maintained with colorful landscaping and intriguing paths. One of the first paths we came to was a beautiful, striped golden walkway that I tried to convince the kids was the Yellow Brick Road from the Wizard of Oz. Cleo is too old now to be tricked so easily and quickly noticed there were no bricks. The lush vegetation was complemented by the diverse and magnificent skyscrapers that surrounded the park.
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Labor Park was magical in many ways. Aside from the glorious landscapes, we encountered many groups of locals engaged in various artistic activities purely for their own pleasure. In one pavilion a group of middle-aged people were dancing to traditional music and they were happy to let our kids join in. Just a short distance away another group was dancing with colorful silk scarves and they very amicably encouraged the kids to join them in that activity as well. Next were two very ordinary-looking guys performing a synchronized hip-hop style modern dance to Chinese music with very serious faces. Were they practicing for some kind of a performance, or was that just their way of getting exercise? One thing for sure they weren't doing was putting on a show for tourists, as we were the only Westerners we saw in the park that day and no one else was paying the them the slightest attention. These kinds of sights are common in Chinese parks but we've never encountered such a diversity of performances in one place as we did in Labor Park. It was great to see our kids having so much fun and at the same time having a completely natural immersion in one of their ancestral cultures.
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From the park we walked towards the center of downtown Dalian. On the way we encountered a seafood restaurant where we had the most delicious plate of boiled crawfish I've ever tasted, with all due respect to Louisiana. The garlic seasoning and the firm texture of the crustaceans were incomparable.
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We passed through Youhao Square where a giant spherical sculpture rests on five upturned hands, intended to signify the solidarity of five continents. I'm not sure if it was Australia or another continent that was excluded.
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The ultimate destination of our walk was Zhongshan Square, a major downtown hub that is representative of Dalian's evolution from a Russian outpost to a Japanese colony to a modern Chinese metropolis. The square was initially constructed by the Russians at the end of the 19th century, but most of the buildings adjacent to the square were constructed by the Japanese. These buildings have all been repurposed by the Chinese as banks and government offices, and sleek modern skyscrapers now form an interesting backdrop on every side.
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At one corner of the square a guy in army fatigues was selling packages of bird seed. The pigeons in the square were fearless and flew onto the kids' palms, shoulders and heads much to their delight. A group of young people arrived in the square for a modeling shoot and asked Mei Ling if they could include our kids in some of the photos. Spenser turned out to be a natural.
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We were still far from finished with the magic of Dalian. Little Venice is the popular name for a development that is officially known as Montage de L'Eau, on the northern shore of Dalian facing Dalian Bay. Little Venice seeks to provide the experience of Venice including copies of some of its most famous buildings as well as canals and gondolas. Foreigners often disparage the Chinese penchant for copying or mimicking Western monuments and landmarks, but I think it is an area where East and West simply fail to see eye to eye. The Chinese don't feel they have taken something away from its originators by copying it, but rather they perceive it more as a tribute. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, if you will. As far as I'm concerned it's just something interesting to experience and I don't feel any need to make judgments about it. Montage de L'Eau was completed just a few years ago and is fairly unknown outside of Dalian. The bus dropped us off fairly close to the entrance where we were greeted with the familiar site of vast, shiny skyscrapers that were in the final stages of construction.
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If it hadn't been for the gondoliers and the knockoff of the bell tower for St. Mark's Basilica, I wouldn't have known that Dalian was going for a Venice impression at all. The feeling was more like any number of modern cities with canals or downtown rivers, like San Antonio or Chicago. Many of the buildings had a neo-Classical appearance but didn't look particularly Venetian, and they were set back from the canals rather than bathing in them. It was a very beautiful place on its own merits and we enjoyed crossing the bridges and exploring the canalside pathways.
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Of course gondola rides were on offer, and at a substantial discount to the ones available in the original Venice. The kids enjoyed being on the boat but the water was too still and the surroundings too tranquil for the ride to add much to the experience for me. Little Venice was a enchanting place in its own right but was in no way comparable to the breathtaking original.
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It tuned out there was much more to the area we were in than Little Venice. We exited on the opposite side and found ourselves on a wide, landscaped promenade that coursed along Dalian Bay. Little Venice posed gaily behind us in the shadow of the new skyscrapers we had seen earlier.
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We walked west along the busy promenade until we reached the end of Montage de L'Eau, where there were several other interesting buildings including an apparent replica of the Arc de Triomphe. We kept walking past the port until we reached Dalian's strange clam-like convention center.
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By now dusk was falling and it was time to head to our third night market in Dalian, back near Xinghai Square. It was pleasant enough but didn't have same energy as the other two we'd visited. Another exciting and magical day in Dalian had come to an end.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 13:01 Archived in China Tagged travel kids china family liaoning dalian travel_blog little_venice zhonghsan_square Comments (2)

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