COLORADO'S SAND CREEK MASSACRE If you've been watching Ken Burns' sprawling documentary on national parks in the US, there's one park you won't find included: the country's youngest. But actually the park, tucked in a remote corner of eastern Colorado's often neglected plains, is wise beyond its years, offering visitors a sobering lesson in the West’s difficult history, and discussing issues still relevant in world relations today.
Off a gravel side road, off a two-lane highway, Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site became the latest national park in 2007. It tributes a part of western history not commonly known. In November 1864, US cavalry raided a camp of Arapaho and Cheyenne Indians, killing over 150 mostly women and children, and setting off a trail of events that led to a terrible decline in US/Indian relations, capped with Little Big Horn in 1876 and the Wounded Knee Massacre in 1890.
There’s little to see of the 1864 two-day raid. No artifacts, no re-created campsites. Instead visitors to the park, set on 2400 acres of gently rolling plains (home to leopard frogs, antelope and prairie dogs), are greeted by staff, who cater a program based on time and interest of the some-4000 who drive up every year.
Alden Miller, who works there, told me by phone, “One of the most profound experiences is simply being here. There are moments in the broad open landscape that you can see to the horizon, and it’s perfectly quiet. The site comes alive."
He enjoys seeing visitors’ reactions. “Over and over we hear how relevant this site is to the world today. Tribal folk tell us this, war veterans, everyone.”
The massacre came at a time after the Colorado Territory had discovered gold, was looking to become statehood, and increased tensions between settlers and the plains’ original residents grew. When the butchered remains of one family – who may or may not have been killed by the Arapaho or Cheyenne – were displayed in Denver, it escalated to the military attack.
Miller says some settlers and soldiers condemned it, even refused to partake. One man was Captain Silas Soule, who called those who would shoot women and children “getting on their knees for mercy” as cowards. Shortly afterward, he was murdered in Denver. Miller likes to tell the story and ask visitors what they would do. He added, “We don’t often look at notes of conscience in our past, but it’s equally important,” Miller said.
Most Arapaho and Cheyenne now live far off in communities in Oklahoma, Wyoming and Montana, but return every Thanksgiving to stage an over 200-mile relay “Healing Run”from the site to the capitol in Denver, where they speak.
Power of a place: I've not been to Sand Creek yet, but I've felt that quiet power of a place in various places. In western Oklahoma, I saw the bluff at Washita that Custer's men hid behind in 1868 before launching attack on a peace-seeking group, killing Black Kettle, who had survived the Sand Creek attack. And Wounded Knee. And Auschwitz. And the World Trade Center. Some call it "dark tourism" to visit such scenes of tragedy, conflict or death -- I find it a sign of respect, offering far more revelation than one would expect. As Miller told me, "It's not just a single moment of history" when you come.
Next time I'm anywhere near Eads, Colorado, I'll definitely make it to Sand Creek.
--> If you go, there are hotels in nearby Eads (at the intersection of Hwy 96 & 287, closer to Kansas than the mountains), though Lamar (35 miles south) is probably better bases. The site is free to visit 9am to 4pm daily, but closed December though March. Another interesting nearby attraction is Bent's Old Fort National Historic Site.
Generally speaking, I don't consider the common usage of literal, untextured, seemingly 'uninspired' nomenclature choices as a bad thing. While '[State] City' is an obvious choice (the New York Citys, the Oklahoma Citys), you have to respect state-named cities that are situated outside that state's borders (eg Colorado City, AZ; Nevada City, CA; Kansas City, MO).
State College brings that to another level. Home to Pennsylvania State University, State College is outrageously literal. Even College Station, Texas -- the home of A&M (and a '12th guy' apparently, whatever that means) -- is a little more playful. What's more, State College backs it up with the most back-to-basics uniform of all time: Penn State's white helmet with navy blue stripe. (Notre Dame at least has a shiny helmet.)
And I like that. Even if the "white out" the fans get excited over doesn't apply to the team, who will wear dark blue jerseys. Or that they defy the Winnipeg Jets' trademark to "white out."
This week Penn State hosts Iowa and the ESPN's CollegeGameDay crew. Here's my article on State College's other travel draws for ESPN.
I'd love to go to a game -- I've only driven through -- but next time I'm back I'm definitely stopping for ice cream and a late-night 'sticky.'
And who wins as a destination? State College or Iowa City?
Iowa City is near some interesting sights -- I really enjoyed seeing Herbert Hoover's home, a half-hour drive away. The campus is nice. I had some veggie curry and saw bad rock bands playing by the river. But actually found other parts of Iowa more inspiring -- like the Loess Hills near Nebraska, or (particularly) the gorgeous Mississippi River Valley around Dubuque (which has a funicular train). Iowa City points: 13
State College has its moments, often drunken or high in cholesterol, but the nearby bike paths and mountains to climb are hard to argue with. I've been going to the area all my life. My mom was born in Franklin, just west. State College points: 17
--> State College beats Iowa City as destination, 17-13.
Everyone’s talking about national parks these days (particularly with Ken Burns’ new documentary on America’s greatest invention on PBS out later this month). If you’re pondering a trip to one of the best areas for national park–hopping in the southwest, know that you’ll be skirting the heart of real-live Polygamy Country – particularly the community of “plural marriage” families around Colorado City, Arizona and Hildale, Utah.
If you make it, and it seems like you’ve stepped into a scene right out of HBO’s “Big Love,” well, it kinda is. Though that show is set outside Salt Lake City, the depicted federal raid of Juniper Creek is loosely based on the real 1953 one on Colorado City’s “Short Creek” (pronounced “crick” around here).
Visitors are welcome to come – for many, though not all, locals. The main “hotspot” in Colorado City to stop and chat has become Colorado City’s Merry Wives Café, a restaurant open Monday to Saturday with a daily specials and good breakfasts.
Charise Dutson, the owner, told me she frequently talks with visitors interested in her and her staff's polygamy life, and that they are happy to receive anyone genuinely interested in different cultures.
“Nearly all the people are very respectful,” she told me by phone. “Though once in a while a women’s group will come and say, you women don’t have to do this.”
Not everyone feels that way though. The splinter group, the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (FLDS) are known for the women's bun hairstyles and "Little House on the Prairie" dresses. And they tend to feel differently about some visitors. In a recent AP story, spokesperson Willie Jessop apparently called a new "Polygamy Experience" tours a "scam."
These narrative bus tours, which began last Saturday, are run by Richard and Heber Holm, who were born into the FLDS before leaving it. “The FLDS have extremely religious zeal that’s, frankly, very bizarre," Richard told me by phone. "They stand apart in their dress, their attitude, even the tone of their voice.”
He says the tours, which cost $69 per person, are an "open dialogue" that encourages respect on local faiths. Don't expect much interaction with the FLDS though. Richard said of Saturday's debut tour, “The FLDS followed us in their pick-ups and filmed us. I think they’re just trying to cause a level of intimidation, but there’s been no problems.”
Austin, Texas is this week's location for ESPN's CollegeGameDay, when Texas Tech comes Saturday. A radio guy in the Texas capital says the tailgating is good, but the city's a bit more about the "wine and cheese crowd" and one local originally from Lubbock (Tech's home; famed merch: "keep Lubbock flat") said he'd prefer to live back on the plains.
Here's my story for ESPN on how to plan a game day trip to Austin, Texas.
You're in a self-service cafe or restaurant. It's busy. There's only a free table or two, and five or six groups in line before you. You do the damning math. Even if half are taking their bagels to go, you're out of luck if you want a seat unless another table leaves. Do you have a friend claim the table before you order? Or wait it out and see what it happens?
Of course you do the latter. Because it's the right thing to do.
Yet this simple, obvious courtesy may be the most routinely broken travel ethic on this side of complaining about ice-less Cokes in France. Many places in the world -- NOT all -- understand simple line etiquette that allows the people who queue up first get their train tickets or burgers first. But the exploited gray area is when groups divvy and conquer to get their bottoms a seat. One or two stays in line to order for all, while the rest sit at empty tables, a bit nervously on occasion, thus pushing more respectful customers ahead of them in line to eat their carrot cupcakes in the freezing sleet outside.
This, like world starvation, must change.
Recently I was in San Francisco and wandered to the ferry building facing the Bay Bridge for an egg sandwich and ice tea. And saw two groups behind me cleave and stake flags (ie a purse or jacket on the table) into the two long tables (see photo above).
Guys, we see what you're doing. You know it's kinda wrong. You know that we know you know it. And never mind that folks like me and my seven-month-old daughter were left to stand. Yes, for now, you are playing fair and square. Enjoy that flaky, oven-warm croissant.
But in the same spirit I WILL REPORT YOU until the order-then-sit 'table etiquette' is more commonly accepted.
Many Trans-Siberian Railway travelers cross Russia from Moscow, passing Lake Baikal, then cut south through Mongolia to Beijing. The fools. Not continuing on, to its very Russian end at Vladivostok (about 100 miles from North Korea) is like reading War & Peace's 1400 pages and skipping Tolstoy's didactic, unbearable 40-page essay on war at the end. Wait. Bad example. I skipped that too.
But, really, Vladivostok's interesting, gorgeous and weird. It has beaches, good pizza, trams, lots of used cars from Japan, almost as many new construction projects, baroque discos with $100 covers and disco bands on clear stages, real-live North Koreans, billions of dollars pouring in as it readies itself to host the 2012 Asian-Pacific Economic Summit, and a feisty rep for being a bit wild.
I recently spoke about it on Portland, Oregon's KPAM (link below) and it reminded me of the 22 biggest reasons why it's my favorite city that starts with "Vl-" of all time.
1. There's a funicular. And any town with a funicular -- from Santiago to Dubuque -- deserves a valentine from "Travel World" every February 14. Vladivostok's climbs just 100m every few minutes, on the dot, for five rubles. From the top you can walk to the nearby Far Eastern State Technical University lookout -- just follow the empty beer bottles -- and get a huge view of the city.
2. Friendly Oleg. Vladivostok being Russia, it's very hard booking your ticket from the train station -- not impossible, but not easy -- but Oleg behind you in line will offer to help, then give his cellphone number in case you get in trouble, then a couple days later as you walk down Aleutskaya St, will lean out of a passing bus window, hold up his phone and yell "Roe-brt, Roe-brt - you call me." And so you do.
3. Forting. When's the last time you were in a town with 130 forts? There are 130 surrounding Vladivostok, dating from the Tsar days, all built protect a city named "to rule the east" from its less obedient neighbors. Travel agents can arrange tours. No 7 is the most popular -- hard to find on your own -- where they make you wear a helmet, hold a bazooka and give the peace sign (and you will comply), and introduce you to a cat in the subterranean tunnels, there "to keep rats out."
4. It's the Russian San Francisco, or Istanbul, or, whatever. Who knew Vladivostok was so beautiful? During Soviet times, this home of the Russian Navy was closed to all outsiders, even Russians. Now that it's open, the scene of roly poly hills, a crooked bay dotted with ships resembling Istanbul's Golden Horn (thus called Golden Horn too) and mountainous offshore island are open for view. It's a Russian San Francisco, but with far worse burritos.
5. "Moscow is far." That's the local mantra, of a city that feels a little disdain for its long-time bosses seven time zones east. When Yeltsin suggested banning imports of used vehicles from Japan, locals threatened to secede.
6. Wild East. After the Soviet Union collapsed, early business deals were punctuated with shoot outs on the streets (like the popular Hotel Vladivostok parking lot) and a couple recent mayors have been imprisoned for corruption. It's safe for visitors, just don't run for office. 7. Yul & His Barber. Yul was born here into his Swiss family in 1920. I don't know when Yul Brynner first shaved his head, but he could have done so at the lone shop below his family's mansion home at 15 Aleutskaya St, a block north of the train station. It's a barber shop. By the way, the plaque outside his home shows Yul smoking -- not the best decision considering it's what killed him.
8. "Arbat" dacha. The wee ped lane of Fokhina St in the center is a scrappy "Arbat" (Moscow's famous pedestrian shopping street). Not long ago, the city put flowers in its concrete flower beds and some locals pulled them out and planted their own vegetables. Whenever I get a little down, I think of this.
9. Deviant Pyschologists. I met two -- a husband and wife team -- who invited me to coffee, who matter-of-factly noted, "we study deviant behavior and torture." I paid the bill.
10. The Russian "Staten Island Ferry." Booking a bay cruise with travel agents is ridiculous -- you need to have a group to organize one, or pay something like 3500 rubles to sit in an empty boat for a few hours. There's another option: the ferry to Russki Island. The 30-minute ride there is 50 rubles roundtrip -- with open decks and a good look at the harbor.
11. North Korean food. Pyongyang (at ul Verkhneportovaya 68B -- south of the train station on bus 60) segregates its diners into two rooms: one for North Koreans, one for everyone else. (I managed a shot of the NK one, and the tops of the heads of out-of-sight North Korean diners; above.) My waitress had come from North Korea only a month before, spoke some shy Russian and was hesitant to answer any questions (eg "what's good to eat here?"). Very good food, very interesting experience.
12. Disenchanted teen hangout. The enigmatic Hotel Amursky Zaliv is the rare hotel where you enter from its gravel rooftop -- the falling-apart Soviet relic hotel is out of view below, leading to a dated amusement park and pebbly beach. Every day after 3pm or so it fills with teens in black jeans, smoking cigarettes, flirting and looking over the sea.
13. Death metal tips. The flop-haired clerk at the tiny CD store at the west end of ul Svetlanskaya in the center will not like it when you ask about local bands to check out, but he will dutifully pull out a few CDs he likes, including "Masters of Defecation." My biggest regret of all time is not buying it.
14. Gray-haired ladies guarding the Arsenev Regional Museum. You see them all across Russia -- the retiree-aged ladies snoozing in a squeaky-floored art museum hall, making sure precious rip-off paintings or yellowed dicta from the Stalin days aren't seized by foreign vandals. No where are they as nice as here, where you get chatted up, handed photo books that include something you casually mentioned are retrieved, and you're led to cushioned seats to breeze through their photos of dreamy Jules-Verne versions of Vlad's past (see bottom of post). When I paused a sec at my favorite taxidermic exhibit -- of a Siberian tiger and bear interlocked in a violent dance -- one noted my interest and said, "Go ahead" -- glancing behind mischievously -- "take photo." And I did.
15. Secret Lookout with Chatty Azerbaijanis. If you take bus 60 south of the train station four stops (to its penultimate stop) there's a bluff-top park with lovely bay views. There you'll meet two Azerbaijani couples who will be quite interested in your existence. One will ask to photograph them with you, another will shyly wonder, "In America, do they speak French or English?"
16. Antique Automobile Museum. You have to take two cute trams way east of the center to where the smokestack factories spew their blackened glory into the sunny sky to reach this bizarre collection of Soviet vehicles and beat-Detroit propaganda. I liked the M&M-green 1948 GAZ-20 "Pobeda" (Victory) the second-most -- top honors goes to the poster of an acrobat standing atop a moving (Soviet) motorcycle holding a Stalin flag.
17. Naughty Museum Etiquette. Russians frequently do not obey barriers in museums. They step onto exhibits to take photos, which aren't allowed in the museum unless you pay a little photo fee.
18. Russki Island Doctors. A doctor family said "enough" to bureacracy a few years ago and moved out of Vladivostok to an abandoned Tsar-era ammunition store room in a patch of tick-infested woods on this island that was off limits to foreigners even five years ago. I happened by, toured their gardens and incredibly damp quarters (the stove was made from an old safe on its side), ate apple cake. Ever miss the city, I asked? "Are you kidding?" Outside a dog on a leash wanted to eat my throat. The guy who took me brought along a canned gin-and-tonic.
19. Winner Towel Selections. Some travelers complain about old Soviet-era hotels. Nonsense. They're a time-travel trip, for a night (some more comfy than others), into an era of clashing colors, drastic floral designs and very large telephones. Then there's the towels.
20. Central "Tiger Hill." Now coated in condo projects, this central neighborhood once had real tigers, who -- on occasion -- ate people.
21. Speedos without Fear. Vladivostok has a lot of beaches -- the ones in town are dirty, ones near nearby Nakhodka are far nicer, or even the ones on Russki Island just offshore. Sometimes you see this-->
22. Nakhodka sidetrip & grape lessons. Vlad actually isn't as far as you can go by train from Moscow. Press on, if you're a completist, four hours to this port town, which used to be the tail end of the Trans-Siberian during the days that Vladivostok was closed. It's actually a gorgeous setting, with a super information center with English-speaking staff (!) and Filipino sailors dropping by with Russian prostitutes for some karaoke (not quite as slimy as it sounds, perhaps the warm grandmotherly hosts make you feel at ease there).
Elsewhere in town a very drunk guy showed me how to eat grapes.
The guys driving the Google Maps car -- the one that records all those priceless street-view scenes -- usually pick up some strange antics of passerby (like giving the finger). I've been trolling through the Google Maps recently -- making it from the East Coast through the Midwest -- to find a driver or two at their least flattering moments.
I finally got the pay-off: the GoogleMap vehicle CAUGHT IN ACTION going through a McDonald's drive-thru in German Village of Columbus, Ohio.
The offending scene occurred at 16 Stewart Ave, Columbus, Ohio. Look it up.
Birthday candles, flickr, creative commons by DavidInc
"REYNOLDS!REYNOLDS!" Lincoln turned 200 this year, so did Poe. Woodstock's just 40, but Santa Fe's cake fits 400 candles and the University of Leipzig's 600. Later this year the Manhattan Bridge and Queensborough Bridge in New York City click into triple digits at 100 years old. And Ovid wrote his hit poem "Ibis" 2000 years ago. Next Wednesday.
Round numbers are easier to add up and remember, but should the notion of "birthday travel" affect our itineraries?
To me big birthdays -- like Hanoi's 1000th next year -- signal enough of a milestone that it at least invites witnesses to reconsider the place/person in question. "Oh, Poe is 200? I haven't read Poe since I was 12... Didn't he die puking in a gutter? Maybe I should know more." So that's good.
But for actual tourism -- going to Paris on the 200th anniversary of Bastille Day -- sometimes strikes me like hitting a Spanish beach in August. Too busy to enjoy.
In other occasions, there's just too many birthday-specific activities to ignore. Like this Poe character, who turned 200 on January 19.
"A birthday basically gives us an excuse to do more than we usually do," Chris Semtner of Richmond's Poe Museum told me by phone. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance to learn more about him. Like with Rembrandt's 400th birthday a few years ago, when all sorts of international celebrations were held." (Visits are up by about 100% on the year.)
One of the things planned -- and sign me up for it -- is a recreation of Poe's death.
"Most people think he died drunk in a gutter, but he actually was in a hospital surrounded by physicians," Semtner said with a miffed sigh. Apparently Poe's last moments were spent speaking with shadows on the wall, yelling "Reynolds!" over and over (unlike Citizen Kane's "Rosebud," Reynolds' identity remains a mystery). On October 3, the museum will re-create the scene continuously in one of the museum galleries.
One of the staff members plays the author. Semnter said, "Yeah, he's skinny and has a moustache like Poe."
IS FOOTBALL JUST A GAME? Hunter S Thompson knew that answer. He entitled his suicide note "Football Season is Over" and shot himself on the first game day without football in 2005. He was talking pro football -- the passion is actually much deeper in the college ranks, where church deacons on occasion rip the t*sticles off opposing fans in bars.
And college football is back! For the season, I'll be writing Game-Day Planners for the world's greatest TV show, ESPN's College Game Day. The goal is treat towns like South Bend, College Station, Norman and Tuscaloosa as not just a site for gridiron, but as worthy destinations in their own right. The first up is an easy sell, Atlanta -- a neutral site for Alabama and Virginia Tide. My tips for game-day experience is on ESPN's College Game Day site, the following suggests one alternative for the full weekend.
Meanwhile, if you have contrary views -- or care to say that ACC towns are better tourist destinations than SEC ones, check out the new "College Football Is My Life" group on Lonely Planet. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> Game pick? Alabama 27, Virginia Tech 9 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
FRIDAY IN ATLANTA Get to Atlanta early enough to squeeze in Georgia Tech’s favorite dining spot, Junior’s Grill, which keeps football keepsakes (like a chunk of the goal post from the 1980 national championship win over Nebraska in the Citrus Bowl). After the sweet tea washes down the collard greens, consider masterpieces other than spread offenses that cover 80 yards in 50 seconds at the city’s excellent High Museum of Art, which is just finishing up a three-year exchange with Paris’ Louvre museum with 91 pieces focused on the idea of “masterpiece.”
Afterwards drive, cab or take the MARTA south a stop to peek into Atlanta’s Gone with the Wind origins (hint: really good bait to get non-football fans to come to town). At the Margaret Mitchell House & Museum you can see the small apartment she wrote the book in the late 1920s. The building’s been restored after a 1994 fire – it’s lovely, nothing like the description the author had for it: “the Dump.”
For dinner, drive eight miles east to the funky suburb of Decatur, with classic homes and a great eating/drinking scene. Reserve ahead for a table in one of Atlanta’s most famous contemporary southern restaurants Watershed. It was co-founded by Indigo Girl Emily Saliers in 1998 and run by chef Scott Peacock who frequently talks about the salt-water soaked fried chicken and flaky biscuits to the likes of Martha Stewart and The Today Show. After a meal, see where the Indigo Girls and John Mayer got their start at Eddie’s Attic, one of the city’s best venues for live folk and acoustic music.
SUNDAY IN ATLANTA The day after the game, one local’s advice to dodge the Labor Day crowds is “go out on Sunday mornings when everyone’s in church.” Set the alarm to get up early, pick up some food(Highland Bakery in the Old Fourth Ward has fresh bagels), then take Ponce De Leon Ave (Hwy 78) 15 miles east out of the city to Stone Mountain Park. You’ll see it coming – it’s the world’s biggest chunk of exposed granite, the centerpiece of a 3200-acre park with rides, campgrounds, hiking trails and the Confederate Memorial, a relief of Robert E Lee and the gang that actually dwarfs Mt Rushmore in scope.
The park starts filling up after 10am – and more so for its 9:30pm light show – so it pays to get here by 9am (some hardy locals hike up it every morning after 6am!). Pay the $10 parking fee and hit the free trail 1-1/2 miles up the mountain and have a breakfast looking out over the Atlanta skyline.
Return to Atlanta and head to Sweet Auburn, the heart of the city’s African American history. The area’s most famous son is Martin Luther King Jr, and a national park site here looks back onto the life of the civil rights leader who preached at Ebenezer Baptist Church (closed for renovation). There are plenty of eating options on nearby Edgewood Ave, including the historic Sweet Auburn Curb Market (food court with fried catfish sandwiches, jerk chicken, smoothies).
Try to time your visit – and with reserving ahead – to take a five-mile bike tour of Atlanta’s side streets with Atlanta Bicycling Company. The “leisure” one manages to reach up-and-coming neighborhoods like Little Five Points and Virginia Highlands, with stops for sweetened ice tea and ice cream.
Many of Atlanta’s finest restaurants (and some bars) take Sunday nights off. So after cooling off at your hotel, get local. Virginia Highland’s rising, laid-back hood is filled with boutiques and good eating choices (“it’s like a mini Athens” – Georgia, not Greece – per one resident). Manuel’s Tavern (404-525-3447, 602 N Highland Ave) combines the best of all worlds: beloved by a varied group of locals (including codgers and kids) since 1956, with fat burgers on toast ($6) and plenty of beer drinking.
