Big Mac Museum Pays Tribute to a Sandwich and a Man

by Jamie Rhein on

Can you say two-all-beef patties-special sauce-lettuce-cheese-pickles-onions-on-a sesame-seed-bun really fast? If not, try Big Mac. This is it’s 40th year anniversary. Already? It’s true. Frankly, I haven’t really given sandwich creators much thought–except for the 4th Earl of Sandwich who is credited with making the first sandwich ever. The guy who created the Big Mac, Jim Delligatti whipped up that special sauce 40 years ago. It was first served in Uniontown, Pennsylvania to customers who paid 45 cents for one.

To commemorate the grand occasion, there’s a new restaurant museum that pays tribute to this burger creation. The Big Mac Museum in North Huntingdon, PA is 40 miles north of Uniontown. If you want to see the world’s largest Big Mac, head here. It’s 14 feet tall and 12 feet wide. There’s also a bronze bust of Delligatti. If you have a hankering to get a bust of yourself in commemoration of your life, creating a sandwich is one option to get one. But, I’d guess the sandwich can’t just be any old thing. It has to grow in stature to be a cultural and economic icon.

If you think you might head here on the way to somewhere else–why not?–here’s a link to Huntingdon’s park and recreation page. There’s a fishing derby next weekend AND a map with nature trails among other things.

Chinese Government Opens up Secret Nuclear Base for Tourism

by Neil Woodburn on

I love it when government locations which were once top-secret are opened up to the public and turned into tourist sites. With the Cold War over, this has been happening more and more.

Surprisingly, China has embraced the fad as well.

Most recently the communist government opened up Factory 221. This weapons base, located underground and protected by a three-ton steel door, was home to China’s first nuclear bomb. 30,000 people worked here in absolute secrecy; the town itself, located in the Chinese province of Liaoning, never even appeared on maps.

Today, “Nuclear City” has thrown up its doors and interested tourists can now explore the bowels of this secret nuclear city. LA Times journalist Don Lee, who recently went himself, raises an interesting thought in Visiting China’s Nuclear Past: China’s Propaganda Department were the ones responsible for opening up Nuclear City. This is not for Western tourists to gawk at the Cold War secrecy, but rather “to arouse… national pride” amongst domestic tourists.

Sounds like the Cold War is still pretty hot to me.

Language and Landscape: Retaining Heritage Through Words

by Jamie Rhein on

When I heard and read about the number of indigenous languages dying off, I thought of the Appalachian Mountains where my mother grew up and where several of my relatives are buried in a small wooded family cemetery in Southeastern Kentucky. It’s not just other languages that are becoming obsolete, certain aspects of the English language are also changing. In the region where part of my heritage stems, as older generations die, phrases, expressions and a certain sentence structures are also disappearing. While people travel to Appalachia to take in the music, crafts and beauty of the scenery (providing coal mining leaves something behind), many people who once lived here have hit the highways long ago for points beyond and an income. Those that have stayed behind can flip on the TV and join the rest of the U.S. in the endless stream of coast to coast media blitz that, I think, is partly responsible for the growth of sameness.

There is an effort to retain the culture and language patterns here. People determined to retain and promote this sense of place through language are an integral part of the literary, music and art scene. I’ve been to the Appalachian Writers Workshop twice now, and Appalachian Family Folk Week once, both held at in Hindman, a town that has dwindled from the bustling county seat I remember from my childhood, to one where you can almost envision the tumbleweeds blowing through town in the late afternoon if this was in the west. The drugstore lunch counter is the one place to get a meal and that closes about 2 PM.

The Hindman Settlement School, established more than a century ago has operated both workshops for years. These endeavors have continued to nurture established writers like Lee Smith and George Ella Lyon while providing a venue for those who have moved from workshop participant status to presenter and successful published novelists in their own right. Silas House, and Gretchen Moran Laskas come to mind. All of them are travelers of the human spirit in this part of the world. This is where they call on words to sustain them and us in this place they call home.

For a wonderful read about one person’s experience with English use in this area, check out this essay, “Where the Creek Turkey Tracks: Wild Land and Language.” It is in the Winter 2007 edition of Appalachian Heritage.

The photo is of Uncle Sol’s cabin on the Settlement School grounds. Fred1st snapped this shot of the house where one of my great greats lived. Uncle Sol Everidge is one of my kin and credited with getting Katherine Pettit and May Stone to come to Hindman eons ago to establish the school and bring education to the mountain’s children.

Where on Earth? Week 24: The Bridge on the River Kwai, Thailand!

by Neil Woodburn on

Congrats go out to Stacy (and then Beanie) for correctly identifying the above bridge as the legendary one which stretches over the River Kwai in Thailand.

The 1957 World War II film, Bridge on the River Kwai was one of my favorites growing up. It told the (nearly) true story of a group of British POWs forced by the Japanese to build an important railway bridge in western Thailand.

I had the opportunity to visit the historic site a number of years ago while trekking through Thailand. Located just a few miles from Kanchanaburi, the bridge is a popular tourist destination and easily reached by a variety of bus services. A small museum is dedicated to the brutal history surrounding the area, paying tribute to the 12,000 POWs who died while constructing the bridge. And of course, the museum clears up the historical inaccuracies portrayed in the film –- such as the fact that the bridge operated for two years before allied troops blew it up (as opposed to just mere seconds before the first train passed over it as depicted in the film).

There’s not much else here, but in my opinion it is still very much worth a break from Thailand’s hedonistic pleasures to step back in time for a moment and observe some history. Plus, you’ll have the opportunity to whistle the Colonel Bogey March to your heart’s content.

Band on the Run: Farewell from New York’s Chinatown

by Ember Swift on

Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, has been keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. This is her final post in this series. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), this series offers a musician’s perspective on road life.

My final post for “Band on the Run” fittingly brings me full-circle. I started blogging for Gadling with my trip to China in April and then I came back to North America and hit the road with my band again while simultaneously starting this series, “Band on the Run.” Now that I’m planning my return to China in just under a month, it seems fitting that my last post for “Band on the Run” be about the largest Chinatown in North America: New York City’s Chinatown.

Founded in the 1970’s by Chinese immigrants, this is one of the oldest neighbourhoods in New York. It is located on the East Side of Lower Manhattan and easily accessible by car or subway. It’s full of life and colour and interesting juxtapositions of culture and architecture and smells.

I loved it!

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We had the afternoon to wander around and the day was beautiful and sunny, like a rush of summer in September. Having been in and out of New York at least once a year over the past decade, it’s amazing how little time I’ve actually spent there. We rarely have the down time to actually hang out in the city and check out new neighbourhoods. It’s often just a quick arrival after fighting traffic, load-in, set-up, sound check, play, tear down, pack up and drive out (because accommodations are so expensive in the city.)

I had never seen New York’s Chinatown and I was eager to walk around, use my Mandarin and see if I couldn’t find some “su baozi” or steamed veggie buns like I’d enjoyed so much in Beijing. And, well, I was also looking forward to just enjoying the late summer sunshine and feeling like tourists for a moment.

Lyndell and I pulled up and found parking (with our big white van – that’s sometimes tough in New York!) just on East Broadway and Straus Square. We happened to find a broken parking meter, which is the equivalent to striking gold in a big city! That means that we had the right to park as long as we wanted — liberation from having to feed the parking meter all day!

We weaved around the streets and poked our heads into bakeries and shops. I had a few conversations with strangers about baozi and realized that I was saying it wrong when everyone thought I was asking about a newspaper. I corrected my tones and then mostly had conversations about why I was a vegetarian and how hard it is to find Chinese buns that aren’t meat or sweet-filled. In the end, I got no information about where to find them, but I did discover a great supermarket that was considered the center of Chinatown by several different people: the Hong Kong Supermarket.

Lyndell and I went in and I was rocketed back to Beijing. The smells, the action, the way the products were displayed, even. I found the entire environment reminded me of the shops I frequented in Wudaokou. The products were also very similar but also included products from Thailand and more American products than I ever saw in China. Still, it felt like I was back there somehow, and what a joy it was to introduce that experience to Lyndell who has yet to see China on her own.

We slowly walked through the store and I bought some necessary items to kick out my head cold (like ginger and sinus tea) and also some glutinous rice cakes and tofu products that I had never eaten back home until I’d been in China. (Lyndell was excited to try them as well and she has officially fallen in love with the sweet rice cakes.) What’s more is that two bags of groceries later and we only spent twenty-five dollars, which included a huge bottle of sweet chilli sauce that I normally find is overpriced in non-Asian grocery outlets.

We headed back to the van after that to put the groceries away and then ducked into a small bar for happy hour. Y’know, it’s been ages since I was at a bar during happy hour and it was great! This little bar, Bar 169, also hosts live music and had several old-fashioned games like a bowling game that required a small puck, pinball and a rickety old pool table. The graffiti on the walls in the bathroom marked years of philosophy during occupancy. I love these kinds of places, the small bars tucked away but opening you into a rush of history when you stumble into their warmth.

When we emerged back onto the sidewalk, it was my (tea-drinker) turn to do the driving (!) and I glanced up as I was about to pull away and finally noticed the beautiful park on the corner that we had been parked beside the whole time: Straus Square. Huge trees and wide gates marked the entrance and seemed like a shaded nature retreat from the bright afternoon sun sparkling off the city traffic. (As this area shares a lot of history with the Jewish population of New York, I mostly found information about this park through sites advertising Jewish history walking tours of Manhattan.)

I smiled then, at the perfection of the afternoon, the chance to see this part of the city and the chance to share this image of China, if only an off-shore reflection, with the person I love the most in the most in the world.

One day, we’ll do a full tour of China. I’m headed back there to try to put those contacts in place as well as to continue my pursuit of fluency in Mandarin. Until then, you’ll definitely hear from me while I’m there . I’m looking forward to digging up some interesting layers from the Beijing underground world. And, of course, I’ll share my stories.

Thanks so much to everyone who has supported this series. “Band on the Run” has reached its finish line.

Take care,

Ember Swift