Wanshang Huaniao Market

When we travel, we want to see something different, something out of the ordinary. The Wanshang Huaniao Market, otherwise known as the Flower and Bird Market in Shanghai, is a place many of us would not recognize. The interior of the market are multiple stalls of plants and animals, of every variety. Entering the market is to be faced with a cacophony of crickets chirping mixed with bird song. It is amazing to think that some crickets can cost up to $1000; such an animal would need to fetch my slippers and bring the mail in each day. The smell of animals is persistent, although not as unpleasant as you might first expect. Yet, the market, I suspect, is disconcerting for many Westerners. It is not difficult to find a small bird or animal who has succumbed to the eat or dehydration. Nevertheless, the uniqueness and variety intrigues the visitor. There are small fishes of multiple designs and colors; variously sized crickets, from nearly microscopic to as big as a child’s hand; kittens and puppies in very small cages; and, birds too numerous to count. While I am not given to buy many souvenirs, where else can you buy small porcelain dishes used for feeding and watering one’s pet cricket? 

The Capitol Theatre (Rome)

The auditorium of the Capitol Theatre (Rome, NY)

The Capitol Theatre, Rome, New York, is a stellar example of the grand cinemas of early twentieth century America. Opened in December 1928, with the feature film Lilac Time, the Capitol had a seating capacity of 1741 and was the largest and most important theatre in the city. It was substantially renovated in 1939, in an art deco motif. The Capitol operated as a movie theater until its closure in 1973, but reopened as a civic center in 1985. Since 2003 the theater has been home to Capitolfest, an annual festival of classic and restored motion pictures. The festival provides a unique opportunity to see interesting films, as they were meant to be seen, on a big screen, in a darken theatre, with other people, and with very few distractions.

In early December 1928, as the theater was preparing to open, the local newspaper, the Rome Sentinel was cover declining health of the British monarch, George V, who had a serious health crisis as he suffered from septicemia that complicated his pulmonary problems. At times, there were almost gruesome details about the health of the monarch. Attention in the local newspaper was divided between the opening of the Capitol and the prospect that the heir to the British crown, the future Edward VIII, would marry Lady Anne Maud Wellesley. He would not; instead, later, choosing the American Wallis Simpson, creating even more sensational headlines.

The end of the row U in the upper balcony

As the Capitol prepared for its opening, there was gossip surrounding the city’s link to Hollywood. There was a rumor that the star of the theater’s first film, Colleen Moore, spent time in Rome as a student at the Academy of Holy Name, while her father was a managing engineer at the Rome Brass and Cooper Mills. In a telegram to the newspaper, Moore said that she was living with her uncle, who managing editor of the Chicago Tribune, in Chicago, while her parents were living in Rome. No doubt a blow to the prestige of Romans.   

When the local press was given a preview of the theater a few weeks before its premiere screening, an unknown local reporter for the Rome Sentinel wrote, “To attempt to describe the beauty of the Auditorium of the Capitol Theater is futile; the interior of theater must be seen to be appreciated.” Today, it remains a beautiful theater, but with some scars received during a long life. Maintaining a theater that is close to ninety years old is a difficult task. Nevertheless, it is a real treat to visit and spend a weekend basking in the grand old theater during Capitolfest. Spending a long weekend with a couple of hundred film enthusiasts is both educational and interesting. The festival gathers four to five hundred people to the 1700 seat theater over the course of the second weekend in August, and several are elderly. At some point during the weekend, usually on the Friday evening, it is not uncommon to have three or four people snoring loudly, echoing through the cavernous auditorium.

One of the points of pride for the Capitol today is its 1928 Moller Organ, installed as an original piece of equipment. The opening of theater coincided with the beginning of sound films. The theater had equipment for both sound films and the Moller organ, which was not used until a month after its opening. According to the theater’s managing director, records indicate that the organ was only used to accompany about twelve films prior to the beginning of Capitolfest in 2003. The theater opened just in time to take advantage of the excitement of sound films, and silent films were regulated to older, inferior cinemas.

The screen from row EE in the upper balcony

The upper balcony, which has not undergone a renovation or restoration any time recently, is an archive of historical curiosities. Someone pointed out to me, years ago, that a few seats retained hat racks. In the days when it was unfashionable for men to venture in public with an uncovered head, bolted to the bottom of the seat was a metal circle that would hold most kinds of hats. Wearing a hat in the theater would not be appropriate, so a man could safely store his Stetson, or other type of hat, tucked away beneath him during a movie. In the very upper reaches of the balcony, the last row EE indicates thirty-one rows of seat, old carpet still adorns the stairway. If the carpet is original to the theater, which is a possibility, then it was from the Bigelow Carpet Company of Enfield, Connecticut.

The city of Rome was settled along the pathway known as the Oneida Carrying Place, where the Iroquois people transported boats and goods from the Mohawk River, which leads to the Atlantic Coast, to Wood Creek, which leads to the Great Lakes, and vice versa. Historically, this portage area was of great strategic value and led to the founding of Fort Stanwix (1758-1762), just a couple of blocks from the Capitol. Subsequently, construction of the Erie Canal, connecting Albany and Buffalo, began in Rome on 4 July 1817. The city is home to many other historical landmarks that make it a fun place to explore.

Projector room

I have become increasingly familiar with Rome because of my attendance at Capitolfest each August. The center of the city has been devastated by a declining economy and urban blight. Other than the Capitol, some churches, and few stray buildings, there are very few structures remaining from the pre-Second World War period. One of the exceptions is Eddie’s Paramount Diner, located on West Dominick Street, which was opened in 1941. While the exterior of the building has had brick façade built around it, the interior still boasts the stainless steel and wood fixtures, which appear to be original, of a diner from the 1940s. Each year, I usually try to have breakfast on Friday mornings before many of the festival’s attendees arrive. Otherwise, Eddie’s is filled with several people interested in extending their nostalgia trip from the theater to their dining experience. It is a good place to do so; it looks very much like a diner from a film of the 1930s or 1940s, such as Sullivan’s Travels. There’s something satisfying about having breakfast of a couple of fried eggs, sunny-side up, with hash browns, prepared on a flattop grill in front you, and a cup of coffee served in a ceramic mug. Reading a local newspaper, while listening to the chattering, gossip and joshing of regulars, adds to the ambiance.

In addition to the lack of older buildings, several of the buildings constructed during the 1960s and 1970s in the downtown section are under occupied or abandoned. Over my years of attending Capitolfest, particularly since the 2008 financial crisis, I have watched as the center of Rome become increasingly depopulated of businesses. The surrounding residential neighborhoods appears to be hold their own. But the loss of the Griffiss Air Force Base in 1995, and the subsequent economic downturn in the region, have done damage to the city.

The Erie Canal

The Erie Canal from Lock 21 (near New London)

When I was in Miss Underwood’s fourth grade class, our music lesson was one of the highlights of the week. One of our favorite songs was “Low Bridge” (The Erie Canal Song). As fourth-graders we were still not very self-conscious. Therefore, we sang the song unabashedly and at the top of our lungs. Shouting, “Fifteen Miles on the Erie Canal!”  It is one of those songs that is a cherished childhood memory. When the song reached the chorus, we would once again yell, “Low Bridge! Everyone down!” Even today, when I hear references to the Erie Canal, like an earworm, the song filters back into my mind. I can’t but help to recall the opening lines, “I’ve got a mule, her name is Sal.” I find myself, for a few days afterwards, still playing the song in my head on a loop.

A gold finch along the canal

As a fourth grader, I am not sure that that I had a sense of what it meant to be traveling from Albany to Buffalo. I knew that the song was in New York, but that could have been Mars to me. Running 363 miles from Albany to Buffalo, as the song indicates, the canal was a technological triumph of the early nineteenth century. Over the past few years, I have taken a few walking excursions along the Erie Canal. I have thought about the hard life those who worked along the canal, and all canals in the eastern United States, must have had. Today, these paths are primarily for pleasure with blacktop that makes the journey easier. But the journey, hauling barges and battling insects, must have been very difficult. Even though I know this, I can help but thinking of Sal, and the extraordinary adventures of the Erie Canal.

John J. McGraw

John McGraw Monument, Truxton, NY

Traveling on New York State Route 13 in Truxton, the road makes a long, sweeping bend of nearly ninety degrees. At the apex of that bend there is a white stone monument with a baseball atop, easily missed to those not paying attention. The monument honors baseball great John McGraw, a player and manager elected to the Hall of Fame, who was born in the village in 1873.

McGraw played in the major leagues between 1891 and 1906, and went on to coach the New York Giants, first as a player-manager, from 1902 to 1932. His career was legendary; he was considered one of the best hitters of the dead ball era. Among a younger generation of baseball fans, I think that McGraw is largely forgotten. He did not hit a lot of homeruns, there are very few, if any, films of him playing. McGraw has been reduced to a baseball immortal that you read about.

The monument is a symbol of the importance of baseball in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in the United States. It reflects the influence the game had on binding small communities across the country to a game, stories and narratives. It helped to create a sense of narratives, the statistics used to describe the game were easily transcribed into newspapers. Because many people played the game, as it was easily accessible, many could translate those newspaper articles into an imaginary highlight reel. The game also allowed for a narrative in which a small-town boy, in this case from Truxton, New York, could make good and succeed; his deeds and character would be rewarded.

McGraw Grandstand from the infield

On 8 August 1938, a game was played between the Giants and the local team from Truxton to raise money for the monument. The game was presumably played at the field now named in McGraw’s honor. I stopped by the field to find grass mowed, but the infield overtaken by weeds and grass. It obviously had not been used as a baseball field in quite some time, despite bases still be affixed in the ground. The small grandstand, which bears the native son’s name, is in good repair but not used. Indeed, Truxton itself, show signs of decline. It reflects the place of baseball in our society.  

Raspberry Picking

I was walking on the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail early in July, when I happened upon a young Mennonite girl of about eight years and her younger brother, who was no more than five. On my way out, I passed the two riding their bike. She was wearing a green patterned dress, her long blond hair in two braided pigtails; her brother, in suspenders and a hat that covered his shortly cropped blond hair.  We exchanged brief greetings as we passed and I noticed, as unobtrusively as possible that the little guy was unsure of his bike and working very hard to keep up with his sister.

On my return trip, I saw their bikes parked near a small path that ran off the trail. As I neared area, the girl appeared with a big smile on her face, carrying an empty plastic tub. I asked if she were picking raspberries, and she replied, “Yep, if we can find ‘em!” Given their empty container, and her brother’s mischievous grin, they had found the raspberries, they just never made it to the pail. 

My Breakfast with Mel

Meals are particularly good times for discovery and traveling, domestically or internationally. It is an event that affords many opportunities to learn about food, culture, and ourselves. Melanie and I embarked on a tour of food places in the old neighborhood near the Xintiandi subway stop the morning after my flight from Newark to Shanghai. She proposed that we have a breakfast of street food in the traditional places, where there are no menus and very few people speak English. It was a particularly sweltering morning, with high humidity and 90 degrees (F) at 9AM. Combined, our knowledge of Mandarin was limited, with my vocabulary primarily limited to two words (“hello” and “thank you”). Nevertheless, we a good attitude we ventured to the street.

Our first stop was a popular place on Jiang Road where there was an assortment of fried dough with various fillings and toppings. The fillings remained a mystery until we started eating, and sometimes remained a mystery even after that. The food, already prepared, remained surprisingly hot atop what appeared to be homemade stoves constructed of barrels. Our methodology in ordering food was to point to items that looked good and indicate, with hand gestures, how many we wanted. We picked out enough that, under normal circumstances, would have been enough for A big breakfast. The woman serving us named a price, and I was both surprised and impressed when Melanie correctly understood that the cost was 13¥ (about $1.91).

We took our fried bounty to the second adjacent storefront where there are about four or five small tables with stools. Mel wondered, given the handbook we ordered, if we were supposed to sit in the seating area. All the other people sitting there were eating congee (rice porridge). Nevertheless, it was unlikely that anyone would ask us to leave. I surmised that they thought I didn’t know what I was doing, which is completely correct.

One of the fried dumplings was filled with pork (I think) and was delicious; another I enjoyed was a fried bread, not dissimilar from naan, but not as sweet. There was not anything to drink, so after we finished we went down the street for bottle of water at a tobacco and drink shop.

Our second destination was a narrow storefront on Hefei Road, where a woman made a pancake that was like a crepe. Using a round flattop grill, similar to one used in a crêperie, the woman took batter and spread it thin across the skillet with a wooden wedge tool that appeared to be homemade. It was about the size of her fist with a handle and a thin blade. As the pancake cooked, she cracked an egg on top, spread it across, added some assorted greens and a little bit of chili sauce for heat. Before folding it over, she took some prices of, what appeared to be, fried dough, place carefully across the crepe. This gave the pancake a texture, without adding any discernible flavor.

We walked along more of the streets, exploring shops, grocery stores, and a traditional medicine shop. On some of the more remote streets, there were communal washing machines and people playing cards. Old women swept the sidewalks with long straw brooms. Most of us have this image of a quickly modernizing China, which is completely true. Yet, many would be surprised that the several lilongs continue to have communal toilets. 

Our final stop, for breakfast anyway, was a small pastry shop on Huaihai Road that served a tasty curry turnover. By this time, however, we were both full. The heat of the day was beginning to have an effect and we retired to a coffee shop for drinks and air conditioning.

Walking in Ordos

We checked into the hotel in Ordos late at night following a long day. After spending an afternoon in the desert, I was tired, hot, sweaty and my skin was oily with residual sunscreen. Not able to figure out the password to the wifi, I made the trip back to the front desk to ask for help. The elevator stopped on the sixth floor where a party was in full swing. Several young people crowded onto the elevator backing me into a corner. Four young women, recognizing me as a westerner, crowded around.  They threw one young woman with glasses in front of me and during the ride she grew increasingly comfortable leaning against me. I was not feeling my freshest, and did not relish the opportunity to have someone overly close or taking photographs, especially without a shower. Inevitably, as the door closed, the young woman’s friends began to take pictures with their smart phones.

New apartment flats in the center of Ordos

It is not uncommon for people in China to request westerners to pose for photos or to take a picture as secretly as possible. This is especially true for people with blond hair or blue eyes. The practice happens more frequently outside of Beijing and Shanghai. In Inner Mongolia, I have had many such encounters. Most of the time I am happy to oblige; but on occasion, when one is not at their best, I am less enthused about participating in the practice. I faced my encounter on the elevator with a certain amount of resignation.

In part I was surprised about the number of people in the hotel because Ordos is famously known as a “ghost city.” A city of a little over half a million people, Ordos is a remarkably small city by Chinese standards. The bus ride into the city center took us through the district that looked to be a ghost district. Many high-rise buildings were clearly empty, and awaiting tenants. The center of the city was more lively and busy.

On my early morning walk the following day, I was interested to observe the city and the ghost city phenomenon. It was a pleasant morning, but my phone warned that the weather was cloudy and “unhealthy for sensitive groups.” To be sure, there was a thin fog that hovered over the city, probably from the coal industry that has fueled the economic boom of the region.

It was shortly after 6am when I started my walk from the hotel. Despite the early hour, there were several workers assiduously sweeping the streets with long straw brooms. It was very quiet, as opposed to the previous evening, the only the loud sound was of older men clearing their throats and spitting. I was continuing to feel like an outsider. A man drove by on his moped and nearly fell off as he continued to stare at me while driving.

I stopped for a few minutes at a park near the main police station. I began thinking about had little wildlife I had seen in Inner Mongolia.  The most common bird, by far, was sparrows and I remembered the fate of these birds during the Great Leap Forward in the late 1950s. In an attempt to modernize the country, from 1958 to 1962, the government called on citizens to attack the “four pests”: rats, flies, mosquitoes and sparrows. The sparrows were targeted because they ate grains especially rice. So many sparrows were killed it resulted in an ecological disaster because the birds ate a large number of insects as well.  

In the park there was a bridge that crossed a small creek on bridges that highlighted a pride in the community. A group of women, who were exercising in the park, formed a double circle. Most wore white pants, pink tops, and white gloves while stepping in place to do exercises coordinated to Chinese pop music. As I sat on a bench and surreptitiously watched the exercise, I noticed a woman in the distance doing the same exercises some fifty yards away. I made up stories in my mind that she might have been disowned from the group because of some indiscreet gossip or other communal infraction.  Meanwhile, some men and teenagers played basketball and badminton closer to the building.

Women (and a few men) exercising 

As I walked back to the hotel, to make sure I had breakfast before the bus left, I decided that Ordos had a façade of development that did not benefit everyone in the city yet. Lavish hotels and restaurants along the main thoroughfares hid more modest apartments in the center of most blocks. It is an area poised for a great future, or precariously clung to the hope that foreign visitors and deeper investments might bring prosperity for all. I found it difficult to believe that many international visitors would stay at the Meet You Hotel, which to me sounded more like a place for a liaison than an accommodation for tourists. My tour booked rooms at a very nice high-rise hotel, but just two blocks away was a small dwelling that used a blanket as a door with a hot plate and kettle just outside.