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Art and Design

Hotel du Lac, Tunis, Tunisia

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Hotel du Lac (Hôtel du Lac), located in Tunis, Tunisia, was built between 1970 and 1973 by Italian architect Raffaele Contigiani. The hotel reaches up to 10 stories, and supposedly has ~416 rooms … although it has been vacant since 2000. In 2013, the Libyan Arab Foreign Investment Company (LAFICO) purchased the site, ostensibly intending to tear it down; however, fans of Brutalist structures and perhaps even the mayors are trying to quash the demolition.

sideview hotel du lac tunis
Unusual design, innit?
hotel du lac tunis front view
Front of the hotel, Tunisia

Nevertheless, the shape of Hotel du Lac is worth a mention in my mind;  even though it is off-limits to the average pedestrian, the crude angles of the façade and the openness of the surrounding area make it quite photogenic. On that note, there was a actually rumor that the unusual design inspired the sandcrawlers from Star Wars Episode IV – A New Hope.

Hotel du Lac width Tunis
It’s not a wide building at all
cloudy Hotel du Lac Tunis Tunisia
The gloomy weather sells it

If you or anyone else you might not know has any information regarding the Hotel du Lac regarding its actual name, date opened, date closed, or any other salient bits, please let us know!

The Leaning Tower of Niles

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Did you know that the Leaning Tower was actually completed in 1934 as a way to conceal a water tank for swimming pools?

If you didn’t, then you’re not alone.  To be fair, I’m talking about the Leaning Tower of Niles, located in in the Illinois suburbs of Chicago.

a tower with columns and a fence

In the 1920s, Robert Ilg, owner of the Ilg Hot Air Electric Ventilating Company of Chicago, opened a park – Ilgair Park – in Niles.  Soon after the park opened, he added two swimming pools for his employees; however, he didn’t want to completely ruin the area’s natural beauty.

a black sign with gold text on it

So as to disguise the water towers, he decided to build a half-sized replica – in other words, 94 feet high, 28 feet in diameter, and leaning 7.4. feet – of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy.  Bronze bells were even imported from 17th and 18th century churches in Italy. Construction began in 1931, and finished three years later.

a tall tower with many arches
Moon over the Leaning Tower of Niles

In 1960, part of Ilgair Park was donated for the construction of the Leaning Tower YMCA, with the understanding that the YMCA would pay a small amount annually for the upkeep of the tower.

In 1991, Niles formed a sister city relationship with Pisa, Italy, and in 1997, the Leaning Tower Plaza was dedicated in the park, replete with four fountains and a reflecting pool.  Notably, the Leaning Tower of Niles was designated a National Historic Landmark earlier this year, a first for Niles.

But, how does it compare with the Italian original, which was started in 1173 and completed in 1370?

Leaning Tower of Pisa of pisa with people in front of it
Leaning Tower of Pisa, Italy (taken in 2007)

a building with a tower in the background

For starters, a lot fewer tourists.

My Favorite Outdoor Artwork in New York City is a Map

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I really like maps. I like pointing out when they’re missing something, I like that many are controversial, and I like comparing them with former (and future) maps.

Yes, yes, a good map would let you know where “north” is, and contain things such as a legend and a scale. But when your phone is dead, or don’t speak the language, and someone draws you a couple of wavy lines on scrap paper to help you return to your hotel, those might be the best ones yet.

Yet, even after having surrounded myself with maps since childhood, there remain some parts of the world map with which I lack overall familiarity. The Caribbean is one. Save for the ABC islands — whoops, that’s the ACB islands — I’m a greenhorn in that region. I had 24 hours in San Juan, and a long weekend in Santo Domingo, and that’s it. It’s fair to say that, regardless of having visited the area, it’s still possible to have the wherewithal to place islands on a blank map … but in my case, I wouldn’t know where to begin, once I was east of Puerto Rico.

Speaking of tropical islands, the South Pacific is the other region that continues to befuddle me. Fiji and the Marshall Islands I can figure out; to wit, I once flew from Nadi, Fiji to Majuro, Marshall Islands, via Nauru and Kiribati, on Our Airlines (now Nauru Airlines). The randomness of the itinerary (given how infrequently I was in Oceania, it was random) sealed the deal, not to mention that trip did give me a greater appreciation for the remoteness of that part of the world.

Well, if you like maps — or at the very least, artwork that resembles a map — then you may want to visit New York City.

Tucked away in a pedestrian plaza between 40th and 41st Streets by 3rd Avenue in Manhattan, my favorite piece of public art in the city can be found:

South Pacific Islands Mural, New York City
South Pacific Islands Mural, New York City

It’s the South Pacific! This mural highlights the entire region, even if the placement of island names get crowded at times.

Whenever I’m in the city, I try to stop by to pay homage to this underappreciated sliver of Earth, and ponder how nice it is to not be eating fresh noni fruit.

Do you have any favorite works of art that involve maps or geography in some way?

Language Lunes: Geographically Humble Spanish Lessons

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A few years ago, I took a brilliant Mexico road trip, starting and ending in the city of Orizaba:


My friend and I had to backtrack from San Cris to Tuxtla Gutierrez to get to Palenque, but other than that, this was basically the correct route.

Along the road trip, I noticed some amusingly “humble” points of interest, through which I will provide some basic Spanish vocabulary.

Puente Cara Sucia
Puente Cara Sucia

To start, we’ve got the … what? The dirty face bridge?!  And it has a twin?

Puente means bridge, sucia dirty, and cara is face. You will find Puentes Cara Sucia I & II on highway 150D near the Mexican city of Córdoba in Veracruz (state).

Puente Sin Nombre, Chiapas, Mexico
Puente Sin Nombre, Chiapas, Mexico

Somewhere along highway 145D, a bit north of the Puente Chiapas in Mexico’s Chiapas state lies this bridge. It appears someone had fun with naming this one.

Puente Sin Nombre literally means “Bridge Without a Name,” so you can either wax poetic about it, or let the Chiapas government know that calling it a Bridge Without a Name gives it a name. Or, was everyone in on it?

a truck on the road

This one is more on point. Bienvenidos a Campeche = Welcome to Campeche (state).  Easy. To the left of the sign, we have “termina Yucatan,” or “the end of Yucatan (state),” and “principia Campeche,” or “the start of Campeche (state).”

a road with a sign on it

Now we’re getting into the weird. Near Villahermosa, the capital of Tabasco state, we’ve got this sign; to the north, Veracruz, to the east, Uzbekistan??? No, seriously…Samarkand(a)- besides being a suburb of Villahermosa – is a Silk Road city found in the Central Asian republic.

More practically, on the above sign, “reduzca su velocidad” means “reduce your speed.”

Meanwhile, how do they expect us to get to Uzbekistan from here?

Oh, I know.  A Cuban bus.

a bus parked on the side of the road
Cuban bus, near Viñales, “Transporting to the Future”

This forlorn bus was seen across from a rest stop near Viñales, Cuba. The translation is “transporting to the future.”

Time will pass, but that’s about it.

Bonus entry: El Salvador

a bridge over a road

For our last geographically humble Spanish lesson, let’s take this sign by a bridge, or puente, in El Salvador. I was on a bus between the city of Santa Ana and Joya de Cerén, the North American version of Pompeii, when I noticed the name.

In Spanish, río means river and sucio is the masculine form of sucia, or dirty. Since I visited back in 2010, maybe it’s río limpio (clean river) now, or at the very least río translúcido (translucent river).

I hope that you’ve learned a couple of things from today’s language lunes, and that you will want to take a Mexico — or Uzbekistan — road trip to tell me what I’ve missed.

Throwback Thursday: Google Lens Time

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New reader or not, you might quickly learn that I rather enjoy (attempting to learn) foreign languages.

I can certainly make do with a few of them, and read enough of a trio of others to navigate public transit and menus, but I’m still appreciative of offline translators, for instance, the duo of Google Translate/Google Lens.

Those apps might not come in handy for handwritten notes and directions, but the fruits of their labors (bad pun intended) can make for riotous translations in supermarkets:

Ukrainian Milk Carton Google Lens Translation
Ukrainian Milk Carton Google Lens Translation, Kiev, September 2021

Give the Google Lens app a few seconds to find its way, and then you will generally be able to find out what a product is/what a product contains. Generally.

Then I thought, what if I tested the app out on something more arcane?

Not long ago, I visited one of my favorite museums, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. Much like the French Egyptologist Jean-François Champollion, studying languages is one of my pastimes.

Unlike Champollion, however, I had a phone app that let me suppress imagination at the flip of a button:

Testing Out Google Lens at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
Testing Out Google Lens at the Metropolitan Museum of Art

With Google Lens, I’ve taken this ancient Chinese stone stele, and reduced it to a screenshot (ironically taken with a Xiaomi phone). Even though I can read a number of the characters with the app, I can’t help but feel that this technology might sap the fun out of transporting viewers back to that period of time, all while we simultaneously wonder what was happening when it was being written.

This isn’t a vote against translation apps at all; they’ve been vastly useful in my travels, and will continue to be practical. Rather, it’s more of a retrospective– after that museum visit, I’m going to leave the translation work for the simple stuff, like figuring out from if something is milk or crème fraîche.

Kansas City, Missouri’s New Airport Terminal is Opening This Month

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Way back in 2013, with the goal of trying to eat as much KC barbeque as possible, I flew to Kansas City, MO’s international airport (MCI).

After a long weekend of trying local staples such as Arthur Bryant’s and Gates Bar-B-Q, I headed back to the airport. Indeed, when MCI opened in 1972, the idea behind the design was drive-to-your-gate. That expression certainly rang true during my visit.

Kansas City International Airport Curbside
Kansas City International Airport Curbside, January 2013
Kansas City International Airport Interior
Kansas City International Airport Interior, January 2013 (to the right is the curb)

I remember that heading from the curb to the gate was really fast. The airport’s design, three nearly circular terminals, was unique — at least for the U.S. — meant you were never too far from your gate. Furthermore, the architectural style was Brutalist, one of my favorites styles, being particularly common east of the Iron Curtain.

However, even when the place wasn’t crowded, it still felt cramped. Fortunately, for folks who are critical of the anachronistic design of Kansas City’s main airport, and for those who support any new infrastructure developments, 28 February comes bearing a nice surprise for you: the brand new, single terminal is slated to open.

Measuring more than one million square feet in area, the new MCI will be bilevel — upstairs for departures, and downstairs for arrivals — with 39 gates, local food and shopping brands, and a demarcated space for public transit and rideshare companies.

In other words, it’s an airport.

Having personally flown to nearly 400 of them, my armchair CEO mind typically lament new terminal openings. Transfers seem interminable — particularly when you’re in a rush, HVAC systems don’t equally control air conditioning (or heating) throughout the massive structure, and even with all of those gates, you still might have to get on a bus.

To be fair, buses aren’t so common at U.S. airports, and Kansas City isn’t exactly a major transit hub. But compared with its three predecessors, passengers at the new terminal will have to kiss that drive-to-your-gate concept goodbye.

Nevertheless, good luck to MCI, and I hope to return soon for more bbq.

Have you flown to Kansas City, Missouri? What’s your armchair CEO take on new terminals?

Language Lunes: Canang Sari: Bali’s Ubiquitous Hindu Offerings

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If you’ve ever researched going to, or have been to Bali, then you’ve mostly likely noticed canang sari.

a pile of food on a tree stump

Before diving into what canang sari represents, it’s important to point out that Bali is Indonesia’s last prominent Hindu bastion, a relic of centuries of Hindu and Buddhist rule throughout the Indonesian archipelago, roughly peaking between the 5th and 13th centuries AD. However, there are some key differences between Balinese Hinduism and Hinduism followed by much of India– namely, Balinese Hinduism incorporates aspects of Buddhism, beliefs in animism, Malay ancestral worship, a lack of a caste system, and no child marriages.

Furthermore, in keeping with the Indonesian government’s creation of Pancasila (five principles) – in which monotheism is a requirement to be a sanctioned religion – Balinese Hindus primarily worship Sang Hyang Widhi Wasa, a deity unknown to most followers of Hinduism in India. Although there are many minor gods representing water, fire, earth, fertility, rice, and so on, it was necessary for Balinese Hindu acolytes to accept that these lesser gods all form one primary deity, Sang Hyang Widhi Wasa.

a group of colorful flowers

What exactly is canang sari? Loosely translated as essence (sari) in a palm frond tray (canang, pronounced cha-nang), canang sari are offerings to local gods left daily by Balinese people, typically in the early morning or around dusk. Depending on the ritual and importance of that day, they may either small or grandiose, and will be filled with flowers, herbs, food, money, and incense.

Canang sari are strategically placed by entrances to family compounds, altars, temples, in addition to restaurants, hotels, and other structures.  Chiefly, canang sari show to the deities the time spent by each family in making them, to keep the good and bad balanced, and as a thanks for keeping the family harmonious.

a woman sitting in a market with many colorful flowers
Preparing Canang Sari, Bali, Indonesia

In addition to the incense, the basic components of the canang sari are called the peporosan; they symbolize the Trimurti, or the three dominant Hindu gods:

  • Shiva, the destroyer, represented by white lime
  • Vishnu, the preserver, represented by a red betel nut
  • Brahma, the creator, represented by a green gambier leaf

On top of the canang sari are flowers dedicated to sincerity and love, placed in specific cardinal directions:

  • White petals for Ishvara, supreme lord/personal god, pointing East
  • Red petals for Brahma, pointing South
  • Yellow petals for Shiva, pointing West
  • Blue/Green petals for Vishnu, pointing North

Once that incense fizzles out, however, you might notice some local fauna nibbling away at canang sari. According to tradition, as long as there’s no more incense to be burned, it’s totally ok to do so…not that the animals know either way~

Piqued your interest yet? I’ve still got those rice terraces on my mind.

Throwback Thursday: Hamburg, February 2021

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I have thousands of (digital) photos that collect virtual dust, until I get a feeling of nostalgia for certain trips.

Embarrassingly — more so because I don’t even like the movie — watching Tomorrow Never Dies over the weekend made me think of my daylong stopover in Hamburg, Germany last February.

Although I never had plans to visit Germany’s second-largest city, I enjoyed the canal network, the rathaus (City Hall), and the Elbphilharmonie, the avant-garde performing arts center.

On the way to the Elbphilharmonie, I passed this construction site heaving with cranes. It was in the Rothenburgsort district, and it makes me wonder what the situation looks like one year on–

Lots of Cranes, Rothenburgsort District, Hamburg, Germany
Lots of Cranes, Rothenburgsort District, Hamburg, Germany
BoardingArea