Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon

The artificiality of the Strip aside, the Las Vegas area actually has lots of natural attractions worth seeking out. Red Rock Canyon is a short drive away, and you can get to Lake Mead and Hoover Dam in less than an hour. With 4-5 hours of driving, you will reach the Grand Canyon in AZ, and if you drive west instead, you will hit Death Valley in CA. With a bit of internet scouting, I found a $79 bus tour that would take you to see Hoover Dam, Lake Mead and the Grand Canyon in an all-day excursion. So, one morning at 5 am, we all bundled up and hopped onto a tour bus to escape the city.

Hoover Dam was constructed at the height of the Great Depression, and completed in 1936, under budget and 2 years ahead of schedule, an amazing feat for a public works project. Lake Mead is the reservoir created by the dam. At completion, Hoover Dam was the world's largest hydroelectric power generating facility and the world's largest concrete structure. Currently, it is ranked 38th in hydroelectric power generation.

If you are ever depressed about the state of American science, hearing about the ingenuity of Hoover Dam construction will cheer you up. Two cofferdams were constructed to create a dry riverbed for construction. To divert the flow of the Colorado River, four diversion tunnels were blasted into the walls of Black Canyon, with a combined length of over 3 miles. To smooth the sides of the canyon, high-scalers were suspended from the canyon walls with ropes. They strategically placed dynamite in crevices, then swung away just in time to avoid the blast. There were 112 deaths recorded during dam construction, but contrary to rumors, no bodies were buried inside the dam. However, there is a dog buried inside, a mascot adopted by the construction workers.

When the Bureau of Reclamation solicited bids for dam construction, there was no single company with the capabilities to construct a dam of this size. So, six construction firms on the West coast banded together to bid for the contract. Appropriately, they called themselves "Six Companies." This being the height of the Depression, stable jobs were scarce and Six Companies was able cut corners on worker safety and pay. When striking workers demanded greater access to water and better working conditions, they were fired and replaced.

Two years after construction began, engineers were ready to pour concrete for the dam. Since concrete contracts and generates heat as it hardens, the dam was built in interlocking trapezoidal pours to prevent cracking. If the dam had been done in one single pour, it is estimated that it would have taken 125 years to cool and harden.

As you drive over the top of the dam, you cross the border from Nevada to Arizona, or vice versa. Since AZ doesn't observe DST but is in the Mountain time zone, there are two clocks on either side that show the correct time.

The dam is curved like an eggshell to better distribute water pressure. Two spillways protect the dam from being overtopped by water. These have been used only 3 times in the history of the dam. Lake Mead contains over two years worth of water from the Colorado River. You cannot overemphasize the impact that Hoover Dam had in reshaping the development of the West. Looking at the dam, I felt a mixture of awe, pride and terror at mankind's ability to reshape his environment.

The kids

The old people

Afterwards, we continued west through Arizona to the Grand Canyon. This is the first time I've been in a desert climate, and the mountains are drastically different from the verdant Appalachians that I am accustomed to seeing. I fell sleep for a couple hours, and when I woke up, the landscape had morphed from arid desert dirt to picturesque snow-capped mountains and pine trees. Looks like I came all the way from Chicago to be surrounded by more snow and wind.

We stopped at a visitor's center for lunch, and watched a half-hour National Geographic IMAX film titled "Grand Canyon: The Hidden Secrets." Unsure of whether or not to see the movie, the tour coordinator told us, "It will be the best $12 you've ever spent. I used to tell people that if they saw it and thought it wasn't worth the $12 bucks, they could call me and I would refund their money...then a group of 58 people called and wanted their money back." With such a rousing recommendation, we all decided to see the movie, and it was totally worth every penny, definitely the best IMAX film I've ever seen. I would go so far as to say it was better than seeing the actual canyon, because the footage of the inner canyon walls and whitewater rapids is something we wouldn't be able to see. You also learn about the history of exploration in the canyon, and how the canyon is still relatively untouched by modernity, an untamed pièce de résistance by Nature. If you visit the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, definitely make a point to stop and see this movie.

We have arrived! You can't see the ground, but it was treacherously icy near the edge, and my mom was freaking out about one of us slipping and falling underneath the railing.

Mather's point, the widest part of the Grand Canyon

This area is where ~90% of photos of the Grand Canyon are taken

Group shot in front of a stagecoach with everyone except Uncle Thuan

Stanley and Marilyn sword fighting with hiking sticks in a gift shop, luckily we didn't get kicked out.

Stanley pretending to be a unicorn. Icicles were an immense source of fascination for the Cali kids.

Sunset over the Grand Canyon, framed by picture-perfect snow-covered pine trees

Yasukuni Shrine

Yasukuni Shrine is the controversial one that makes all the worldwide headlines every year when the Japanese Prime Minister visits on August 15 (the anniversary of Japan's defeat in WW2). The shrine is dedicated to the souls of Japan's war dead, particularly those who died after the Meiji restoration, which was a series of events that lead to the modernization of Japan and its emergence as a world power.

Thus, the shrine commemorates the deaths of soldiers who died as Japan began dealing with the West (Russian, US, UK) and other powers in East Asia (China, Korea). Most importantly, this includes the Greater East Asian War, aka World War 2 to the rest of us. The conservative right wing in Japan stand by its duty to honor war dead, and the Yakusuni shrine is the physical representation of Japanese jingoism from the perspective of neighboring Asian countries who suffered under Japanese imperialism. It was suggested by one of my fellow Chinese compatriots that I spit all over the memorial when I get there. So you could say that feelings are still running high.

At any rate, the shrine itself is beautiful, with two elegant, soaring gates (torii) as you approach. In warmer months, the courtyard is filled with displays of ikebana and a flock of doves (ironically in the midst of war hawks?). But that's not what I was really here to see. I headed for the Yasukuni Memorial Museum where I paid ¥500 (for a student ticket) to learn something about Japanese war history.

The museum is laid out in a very clear fashion, with lots of English signage for your edification, though perhaps a quarter of the displays were only in Japanese. But the translations that were present were sufficient for me to get the gist. Samurai swords and artillery equipment decorated the floors. Phrases like "the encroachment of Western powers" and "expel the barbarians" were bandied about.

Things that I learned at the Yasukuni Museum:

1. "The purpose of the Nanking Campaign was to surround and occupy the capital, thus discouraging the Chinese from continuing their resistance against the Japanese."
2. The preemptive strike on Pearl Harbor and declaration of war on the US was to "insure [sic] the stability of East Asia and to contribute to world peace."
3. Japan inspired other oppressed peoples to achieve independence. "Once the desire for independence was kindled under Japanese occupation, it did not fade away, even though Japan was ultimately defeated." This display was accompanied by the flags of newly independent Asian countries (Vietnam, Myanmar, etc).

There was also a display on Japan's paltry natural resources, with a bar graph showing the months supply of raw materials that Japan had stocked before World War 2. Military events aside, I would say that economic pressures were a strong impetus in Japan's decision to declare war on the US. The country had only 24 months of oil and 3 months of raw rubber in the lead-up period. To get rubber and other resources, Japan began invading SE Asia. In response, the US declared an oil embargo on Japan, which was treated as an act of military hostility.

Truly, history is written by the victors.

A cool barrel display on the way to the temple that probably has some deeper significance unknown to me

Imperial Palace

Tokyo's real estate comes at a significant cost, which means that while there are a few small parks scattered here and there, there is pretty much no green space other than the Imperial Palace grounds.

Unlike the analogous Central Park though, the majority of the grounds are closed to the public. I suppose that's because the Imperial Family wants their privacy, bah. Still, a large swath of the land is open year-round, admittance is free, and oh yeah, the landscaping isn't half bad either. On the outer perimeter, paths have been outlined for runners and cyclists. My visit seemed to have coincided with some sort of race, as the area was flooded with runners in spandex.

The Imperial Palace was originally built in feudal times, but over the course of centuries of war and mismanagement, the buildings were in a state of disrepair by the turn of the century. Most of the current palace was constructed in 1968, though parts of the moat and the entry gates are original pieces.

Due to popular demand, I am actually in a picture (to prove that I'm really in Japan and not simply posting photos from home.) Though this is no Taughhannock Falls, this waterfall was pretty soothing on a gorgeous 20° day. You know, this would be a great place to hide a letterbox too...

The gardens feature lots of traditional Japanese architectural elements, and the plants were labeled with their origin in Japan.

All of this was even more amazing when you thought about how close modern Tokyo was to this oasis of tranquility. The palace is pretty much in the shadows of Tokyo Tower.

This light seems rather out of place to me, and looks rather Victorian, or perhaps Narnian when you factor in the lion's heads.

The guardhouse housed 100 of the best, most loyal samurai.

Detail on the roof

The moat contains some very, very large koi. These were at least the length of my arm, which makes me think that the urban legend about fish growing proportionally to the size of their tank might be true.

The moat also contains seven swans a-swimming.

The Meganebashi (eyeglasses) bridge is a double-barreled bridge that is named for its shape.

Did you notice any photos of the Imperial Palace itself? Yeah, me neither. The family is notoriously reclusive, and save for New Year's Day and December 23rd (the Emperor's birthday), the rest of the grounds are closed to the public. The Imperial Museum was however featuring an exhibit on the personal effects of the royal family, so I got to ogle the royal hand washing equipment (looks like fancy tea kettles), kimonos, harp (the Empress apparently likes Mozart) and journal articles (the Emperor has published research in ichthyology).

On Sundays, from 10 am to 3 pm, the koban (police box) at Uchibori-dori gives out bikes for riding in a circuit near the palace grounds. The roads are closed off to traffic, so it is very safe for children and geared towards people wanting a leisurely ride, as opposed to triathletes. I decided to take advantage of this and checked out the above bike, which is a bit less badass than my usual rides, a single speed bike equipped with a pedestrian bell and basket. Oh well, it was good to be on two wheels again. Too bad the route is only 3 km long, so I was done in about 15 minutes. I will also mention that bike security here is extremely lax; about 50% of bikes are locked with a small cable lock (if you did that in the Loop...lolol) and the other 50% are just unlocked. Compare this to Paris, which is having a bit of a rough time with vandalization of Velib bikes.

After I returned my bike, I wandered into the adjacent restaurant. There was a buffet lunch available for ¥1200, which is a steal in this town. Plus, the food was actually good! (I think this is the first time I've been happy about the food at a tourist attraction.) I could only translate some of the labels, but for the most part, we have traditional Japanese pickled items, radishes, tofu, some salmon (with bone), chicken, several kinds of mushrooms, yakisoba (Chinese chow mein), a potato croquette, potato salad and udon noodles.

If you ever have the chance to try the Suntory Coffee Boss from a soda machine, don't.

Culinary Historians Potluck

Last Sunday, the Culinary Historians of Washington (CHoW) were having their annual potluck, and I tagged along with Liz to check it out. You may be wondering how many people could possibly be making their living as a culinary historian, but the group simply consists of history buffs and enthusiasts who are passionate about food.

The potluck was themed “Presidential Favorites,” so the night before, we searched online intensely for favorite recipes of our Commanders-in-Chief. This proved to be more difficult than I’d anticipated because cooking has evolved drastically in the last 200 years and historical recipes are often intractable. Pre-20th century recipes tend to use esoteric ingredients, require lots of labor, and have few measures for volumes, temperatures or cooking times. (“Now, set the wood-burning fire at 350°…”) After ruling out Nancy Reagan’s Monkey Bread (too long rising time) and James Garfield’s Squirrel Soup (squirrel hunting on the National Mall, anyone?), we decided to make Harry and Bess Truman’s Coconut Balls. This recipe was ideal because 1) it was a presidential favorite (not just First Lady), 2) came from the Truman Library website and seemed historically credible and 3) required only five ingredients and 15 minutes of baking.

Now, my first rule for potlucks is to never bring a dish that hasn’t been tested before. But we were running short on time, so an hour before the potluck was due to start, we hastily mixed a batch of coconut ball batter (basically coconut flakes and condensed milk) and threw them in the oven. The kitchen smelled great, deliciously coconut-y! Much to our dismay, upon removing the cookie sheets, we discovered that the coconut “balls” had spread to 3” in diameter, and were now an oddly shaped sort of macaroon-cookie, with crisp browned edges to boot. Egads. On the other hand, they still tasted great, and who knows, maybe that’s what they were supposed to look like in the 1940s. We tossed the coconut balls into a storage container and dashed for the train.

At the potluck, a vast array of dishes were spread out over two tables. These ranged from the familiar macaroni and cheese (served at Jefferson’s inauguration, and considered quite fashionable at the time), to more exotic items like pickled watermelon, tomato bread pudding and Harrison-era sliced tongue. There was a violet soup, garnished with freshly picked violets, and a Johnson-era canapé “cake” constructed of hors d’oeuvres on toothpicks. President Obama’s affinity for Mexican foods was celebrated with pork loin and homemade molé sauce (this takes a full day of roasting peppers and pressing them through sieves). Amy Carter’s favorite peanut butter cookies were available, and a veal & bacon pie modeled after Martha Washington’s recipe was on display. Amusingly, there was a definite bias towards dishes from Democratic administrations, and even scattered apologies from people who had brought Republican administration foods.

Alas, someone else had brought Harry and Bess Truman’s Coconut Cookies, and they looked much prettier than our offering. After eyeing the competition though, we decided that the coconut cookies were distinct from coconut balls, since the former had flour in the recipe and were clearly different. At any rate, by the end of the afternoon, all of our coconut balls were gone, while half of the coconut cookies were left over. Victory was ours! As an additional aside, while waiting in line for food, there were definitely some comments made about “Harry’s Balls.” It’s good to know that you’re never too old to joke about balls.

I sat down next to a gentleman who works for the Department of Energy, whose wife is currently writing a book on sugar. (Books on single products seem to be very trendy these days.) Unprompted, he began spouting facts on early scientific instruments like the polarimeter, and how taxation on goods often drives scientific innovation. Apparently, the British developed methods of determining the alcohol content of beverages in order to properly tax them.

The rest of the group was full of interesting, intelligent people as well. As we circled around the room, explaining our dishes, quirky debates would sporadically break out over say, the origins of “Philadelphia” cream cheese or the foundation of industrial celery cultivation in Kalamazoo. I heard the tale of Andrew Jackson’s cheddar cheese; apparently a farmer from upstate NY gifted him a 2-ton wheel of cheddar, which he aged for two years and then set in the foyer of the White House. Anyone who could travel there was invited to partake, and the cheese was demolished in about two hours. And it was a good thing we put some effort into historically accuracy because some people had brought in copies of original, handwritten recipes on index cards. The woman who brought in cheese stick crackers said that she gave careful consideration to the type of cheese that she should use (cheddar, or rat cheese, as it was known in the ‘50s?) and how to replicate low-gluten Southern flour (3 parts cake flour to 1 part all purpose). Meanwhile, someone else apologized for “cheating” and using Knox gelatin, instead of boiling beef bones and using egg whites to capture the impurities. When it came to our turn, Liz took the reins in explaining our coconut balls, and someone quipped, “No wonder the Puerto Ricans were shooting at Truman, he was taking all their coconut!”

Needless to say, the first thing I did when I got home was look up the Culinary Historians of Chicago chapter.

Harry and Bess Truman's Coconut "Balls"

Dolly Madison's "Apple Pie" with Wine Sauce

Michelle Obama-inspired Violet Soup

Johnson-era Canapé Birthday Cake

Persepolis

March marks Women's History Month, and while I wasn't previously aware that such a month existed, the Fed has done a great job scheduling activities and events to recognize and celebrate women's history. For the month, the Fed is bringing in speakers, presenting film screenings and hosting an art show. Mad accolades are due to the people responsible for programming.

I don't strongly identify with the feminist movement, and am generally more cognizant of issues involving Asian rights and racial discrimination because that is more central to my identity. Moreover, the feminist movement itself is diverse and fractured, while having the unfortunate characterization of being full of "white, upper middle-class bitches" who whine about Hillary Clinton's failed presidential bid. But the last couple weeks have provided me some food for thought. In a semi-provoked outburst at lunch, Katherine gave a stern lecture to our cohort of mostly male AEs after someone made a remark that lightly trivialized women's rights. "In many ways, women are still second-class citizens in this country and the situation is worse around the world," she said. "If you removed the word 'woman' from your comments and replaced it with 'black,' that would have been extremely out of line. Considering many of you will spend the rest of your lives with a woman, it would behoove you to give some thought to the state of women's rights and be a little more sensitive about the issue." The rest of the lunch table sat back looking rather shocked and wounded. Katherine went on to mention other instances of misogyny in the news, like the school shooting in Germany that targeted women. Ironically, someone who shall remain unnamed then said, "But that's because women can't run." I shot him an arresting glare before he could continue.

I like making insensitive comments as much as the next person, and there is certainly a culture of inappropriate remarks at the lunch table, with the understanding that we are not going to report each other to HR. However, there is always a line that should not be crossed, where edgy becomes offensive and kills Fun. Personally, it is irksome and offensive for me to hear people using epithets like "pussy" and "grow a vagina." I would argue that calling someone "ho" is less offensive because it is obviously not true, where as the former phrases attack and cheapen women's bodies and their social status. In the same way, it makes me uncomfortable to hear people calling things "gay" or "faggoty". [end soapbox]

Anyway, the Fed sponsored a screening of Oscar-nominated and Cannes prize-winning film Persepolis yesterday, and Katherine and I decided to swing by. The movie is based on a graphic novel series by Marjane Satrapi and is heavily autobiographical. In a bildungsroman set against the Iranian Revolution, Satrapi chronicles her childhood in a time of war and ever-increasing societal repression, where simply wearing Westernized sneakers can result in harassment and jail time. To protect their outspoken child, Satrapi's parents send her to Vienna in her early teens while they stay behind. Navigating the cultural divide is not easy for Satrapi, as she struggles to come to terms with her Iranian roots while far from her family. Nor is returning to Iran the solution, as Satrapi finds out when she goes home to find a changed country.

The choice of medium for the subject matter was intriguing, given that comics, erm, graphic novels are generally used for lighthearted, fantastical topics, and this movie discussed issues that are very much real and serious contemporary problems. The cartoon violence helped soften the edges; rather than seeing the vivid, bloody carnage in the aftermath of a missile strike, we see a cartoon arm sticking out of a pile of rubble. For a narrative with so much potential to be painful, the film is surprisingly whimsical, never straying far from the its original perspective of a child's eyes.

Overall, this is an eye-opening, quirky and very French movie. I would say it is less about women's rights, and more about cultural differences and historical events. I highly recommend it, particularly if you are curious about the development of modern Iran or enjoyed Amelie. A trailer follows below:

More Chicago Badassery

In case you hadn't noticed, Chicago and Illinois have a long history of colorful politics, underhanded machinations and brash solutions. There was that time we reversed the flow of the Chicago River. (Rather than build a sewage treatment plant, the city opted to reverse the river and send sewage downstream to the Mississippi.) There was that time our mayor illegally closed down an airport under the cover of darkness. There was that time our governor was arrested for corruption. No, that other time. Ok fine, 5 out of our last 9 governors has been indicted. But, come on now, how could someone with such great hair possibly be guilty of racketeering?

Anyway, I stumbled across this gem in my internet wanderings:

1861

--- John Wentworth fired the entire Chicago Police Department when his term as mayor came to a close. This included 60 patrolmen, 3 sergeants, 3 lieutenants, and one captain. The city was entirely without police protection for twelve hours until the Board of Commissioners swore in some new officers to take their place.

Apparently, when the Illinois State Legislature took away Mayor Wentworth's police authority, he decided to fire the whole force. Wentworth, by the way, is the street I currently live on.

Chicago's 1893 World Fair

The year was 1890 and Chicago had just won the right to host the next world's fair, beating out rival bids from New York, St. Louis and Washington. How could the World's Columbian Exposition of 1893 top the previous exposition in Paris, with its imposing yet graceful Eiffel Tower? The city was abuzz with civic pride and felt the enormous weight of upholding the nation's honor. The impossible had to be undertaken; failure was out of the question. Meanwhile, as construction remade Jackson Park into a "White City" (so named because each building was whitewashed), the seedy reality of the Black City was still very much present. Sewage ran openly in the streets. Rats and cholera outbreaks abounded. The poor and the wretched came to seek their fortunes in the city and quietly disappeared without notice.

In a tightly written nonfiction masterpiece, Erik Larson's Devil in the White City weaves the tale of the World's Columbian Exposition (celebrating the 400th anniversary of Columbus' discovery of America) with one of the century's most insidious serial killers, H. H. Holmes. As a resident of Chicago, the interplay between people and events in the Guilded Age and present-day locations is particularly thrilling. Names and places are brought to life as though a century of time has been magically dissolved. If I taught a high school history class in Chicago, this novel would be mandatory reading.

The fair was saddled with bureaucratic infighting, a deteriorating economy and an impossibly tight schedule. Chicago's severe winters hampered the pace of construction and organized labor used the fair as an opportunity to demand concessions for workers. Despite the specters of violence, fire and bankruptcy, the fair did go on to open on time, though not in a fully finished state.

As the fair neared opening day, Daniel Burnham, the chief architect, was desperate for a plan to challenge the Eiffel. In a speech tinged with recrimination, Burnham addressed a group of engineers at the Saturday Afternoon Club, calling on them to perform their civic duty and envision something more spectacular than the Eiffel Tower. "Something novel, original, daring and unique must be designed and built if American engineers are to retain their prestige and standing," he exhorted. As the audience bristled, one engineer from Pittsburgh had an idea come to him. He began hurriedly sketching this faint whisper into hard lines. It would take three attempts before his proposal for out-Eiffeling Eiffel was accepted, but George Ferris was eventually triumphant.

Larson does a tremendous amount of painstaking research and meticulously cites his sources at the conclusion of the book. His mining of the Chicago Historical Society archives and other primary source documents results in many savory tidbits which unapologetically trumpet the voices from the period. An examination of the menu at a grand 10-course banquet held at (old) Madison Square Garden in honor of the fair's architects reveals a country aspiring to ape French cuisine, and show itself sophisticated and worthy of respect:

Consommé printanier. Bass rayée, sauce hollandaise. Pommes parisiennes. Amontillado. Petits Moules fantaisies. Roquefort et Camembert. Cordials. Cigars.

Victorian era mores prevail, as fair organizers succumb to pressure to close the fair on Sundays. The seeds for women's suffrage have been planted, but are far from blooming.

Visitor hunting for an exhibit of wax figures: "Can you tell me where the building is that has the artificial human beings?"

Another visitor: "I have heard of them. They are over in the Woman's Building. Just ask for the Lady Managers."

Of course, there are certain things that never change, as evidenced by the following records of patients treated at the fair hospital:

820 cases of diarrhea
154, constipation
21, hemorrhoids
594 episodes of fainting, syncope, and exhaustion
1 case of extreme flatulence
169 involving teeth that hurt like hell

The fair was remarkable for its international breadth. Over 27 million people (about half of the US population at the time) attended the fair, and many of the sights they encountered were completely novel. Eskimo women wearing blouses of walrus skin. Japanese in red silk. Amazons with bushy hair and teeth necklaces. Algerian belly dancers in robes and turbans. A number of products were debuted and marketed at the fair, including Shredded Wheat, Cracker Jack, and a curious concoction called Aunt Jemima's for which you only needed to add water to get pancake batter. Pabst Brewing Company won an award for their beer, which resulted in the moniker Pabst Blue Ribbon. In a landmark decision, the fair opted to use alternating current circuitry to light the grounds, resulting in a tremendous cost savings and setting the prevailing standard for American cities.

A broad variety of historical figures make cameos in the book, with all the prominent figures of Chicago society (Armour, Pullman, Field, McCormick, Palmer) present. Archduke Franz Ferdinand, described by an escort as "half-boor, half-tightwad," tours the fairgrounds, but especially enjoys Chicago's vice districts. The inventor of the Braille printing press exhibits his new device and is hugged by a gracious blind girl. Her name is Helen Keller. Mark Twain comes to Chicago for 11 days, but ends up sick in his hotel room for the duration of the trip. He never makes it to the fair. Louis Sullivan discovers that one of his firm's junior architects is designing houses on the side for his own clients, and decides to fire him. His name is Frank Lloyd Wright.

In one of the more inadvertent contributions of the fair, Sol Bloom, the director of publicity, was invited to present his Algerian belly dancers at a performance for the Press Club of Chicago. Upon arriving, he realized that the club had provided a hapless pianist for musical accompaniment, who had no clue what sort of music might be suitable for an exotic Middle Eastern dance. Without hesitation, Bloom hastily improvised the following tune:
If only Bloom had bothered to copyright his diddle, the royalties would have run into the millions.

The fair ended with a bang. More specifically, Patrick Prendergast, a deranged Irish immigrant, assassinated Mayor Harrison at his home. The grand closing ceremonies were scrapped and a memorial service was held instead. The 600-vehicle funeral procession slowly made its way to Graceland Cemetary on the Northside.

Burnham and Olmstead's work in planning the fair helped spur the development of the City Beautiful movement. In later years, Burnham would continue to revolutionize modern urban planning, creating citywide plans for San Francisco, Cleveland, Washington, and of course, Chicago. The 18 miles of the present-day Lakefront Park system and Magnificient Mile on Michigan Avenue are the result of his vision. It is also likely that Walt Disney's Magic Kingdom and L. Frank Baum's world of Oz drew inspiration from their visits to the Columbian Exposition. (Elias Disney, father of Walt, was a construction worker for the White City.)

Ultimately, most of the fair's buildings and works were destroyed, and the land converted back into park space. Only a couple buildings remain in Chicago, and these include the Palace of Fine Arts (now housing the Museum of Industry and Science) and the World's Congress Auxiliary Building (now the Art Institute).

If you have even a passing familiarity with Chicago's geography, you know that the city's Southside is not the safest area to be in. In an ironic twist, the areas surrounding Jackson Park and the Midway Plaisance have fallen far from their heyday as the homes of the rich and wealthy. Chicago is currently vying to host the 2016 Olympics, and much has been made of the opportunity for the games to revitalize the Southside. Perhaps this will be the stimulus we need, but I am inclined to think that like the shining fairgrounds a century before, any changes are likely to be fleeting.

Something Old, Something New

It's 2009 and I don't know where I'm going or who I am. Funny how an arbitrary social construction has such power to trigger quarter-life crises. And for a number of reasons, coming back to Chicago was kind of a letdown. I realize that vacations are obviously more fun than normality, but being at home and hanging out with old friends really brought out thoughts and emotions that had gone latent in the last year. This is probably a little true for everyone, but I feel like a chameleon, as though the people I am surrounded by bring out different things in me, for better or worse.

Identity crisis aside, Dan was in town to visit, so I was able to continue wading in nostalgia for a few days. Who else is going to discuss the Sokal affair and empirical moral psychology with me? Just like old times, he arrived with at least half a dozen books, khakis, and a Windows-free computer. Plus, he was game for doing some biking around town, the first of my out-of-town visitors to take the challenge, and in winter no less.

Among other places, we ended up at San Soo Gap San (a kick-ass Korean restaurant, albeit with charmingly terrible service), Ethiopian Diamond (silverware is for wimps), and Meigs Field. The latter is not generally high on the list of Chicago sights to see, but if you are familiar with the game Microsoft Flight Simulator, Meigs Field is the default take-off location. Unfortunately, the airport is no longer in existence because in 2003, under the cover of darkness, Mayor Daley illegally ordered construction crews to gouge gashes in the runway to forcibly close the airport. Ostensibly, "homeland security" was the reason given for its closure. As a result, 16 planes were left stranded without a runway, and one flight had to be diverted. Ah, Chicago politics... Today, there is one control tower left, but the rest of the island is desolate parkland. One building remains as a "Visitor's Center," which was closed even though we arrived during the posted opening hours.

Saturday night, we made a quick stop at the Publican for drinks and fries before a show at Second City. After hearing lots of buzz for the last couple months, I was curious to check out this much-heralded restaurant and its pork & beer-heavy menu. This is definitely not a place to bring your vegetarian friends. We couldn't get a reservation for a table, but there are a few circular cocktail tables that you can comfortably huddle around. The beer list is extensive, almost to the point of being overwhelming, however our server gave several recommendations, and most of us opted to take one of her suggestions. And oh, the fries! Piping hot, crisp frites in a paper cone, served with an aioli on the side. I also tried the pork rinds, which came perfectly puffed and salted, with a slight tartness. This is "bar food" at its best.

Excellent food aside, I do have mixed feelings about the restaurant's decor, which is evocative of a beer hall. Dan and Nate took offense when I described the atmosphere as "masculine," but seriously, there are lots of heavy lines and hard angles, loud music, and a whole lot of wood. Seating options consist of enclosed booths with doors (these reminded me of 19th century church pews), or there is a long table for communal dining, with bulky, square chairs. This would be the perfect place to hold a beefsteak. Having painted a testoterone-laden picture though, I will say that I never felt uncomfortable or uneasy. I'm not enough of a meat aficianado to come here on my own (I can't remember the last time I was at a steakhouse), but it was a fun place to hang out for drinks, and was certainly a step up from say, drinking at Funk.