The Inner Mongolia Safari Park

From left to right: Karen, Emi, Grace, Karen, Linnet, Samuel, Delai, Kenneth. Walking down the hill towards the gate of the “Inner Mongolia Safari Park,” with Hohhot lying on the plain below and the mountains rising up behind us. The Park is located in a beautiful setting, nestled in the foothills of the mountains that surround Hohhot.

Two days ago, we went to the zoo in Hohhot, or rather the “Inner Mongolia Safari Park.” Arienne was sick at home, so Samuel, Grace and I went with Karen, Karen, Linnet, Kenneth, Delai, and Emmy on bikes to the zoo, which is on the northwestern edge of the city just where the mountains begin. The trip was six miles each way, and before we even got out of the city, Samuel was having diarrhea. We had to find a hotel lobby. He was complaining of the shakes and cramps, and since Arienne had been sick, and we've all been a little under the weather and beaten down since returning from Beijing, I was fearing the worst. He had that sunken and glazed-over look in his eyes. But he insisted on pushing forward to the zoo and I let him. Riding through Hohhot, of course, is absolute pandemonium--the craziest traffic in China, or so we’ve heard. And to allow your eight-year old son, with diarrhea and sunken eyes, to navigate this traffic on his own is the height of parental irresponsibility. But we went on. If Mom had been there, we would have locked up his bike and rode back in the taxi at the first diarrhea stop.

Trams: The only way to properly observe wildlife.

We made it to the zoo by 11am. We had left our apartment at 9:15am, so it was quite a trek. We locked up our bikes and jumped on a tram, which took us to a bus. Like other tourist attractions I’ve seen here, everything is done on a remarkably grand scale. But like most grand affairs in Hohhot, there is also a creeping sense of disrepair, as if this new and impressive facility was not quite being maintained properly. The ponds were a little too green, the animals a little too thin and shaggy. Raggedly lions rested on the cement beside their enclosure, taking refuge in thin patches of shade. Deer and other "grassland" creatures panted on an overheated plain of dirt and rock, not a blade of grass in sight. Chickens here and there lay dead in the bird facility. Rabbits peered through wire fences, their ears clipped. The kids didn't seem to notice or mind (except for the clipped rabbit ears), but this zoo, despite its grand layout and physical beauty, would be closed down in the U.S. after the first wave of public outrage and PETA protests. To be fair, it is a facility much like zoos used to be in the United States before cages were jettisoned for “habitats.” In fact, the kids had a great time, despite the heat, their exhaustion, and the fact that the bus never even slowed down as we zoomed by the cages of prized megafauna like lions, tigers, and bears (oh my).

Grassland animals in their native environment, minus the grass.

When the bus dropped us off after the megafauna tour, we were left to walk a mile or more back to the main gate, the trail winding through various depressing animal enclosures and ending at the elephant, who stood chained to his small iron-barred home, desperately showering himself in sand to ward off the heat and bugs (Am I being overly dramatic here? It's the muckraker in me). This mile-long walk was also punctuated by Samuel making continuous trips to the WC and the bushes, where I lent a hand with balance and wet ones.

The elephant, with his left front foot chained to his cage, and Samuel, between bouts of diarrhea.

By the time we made it back to the gate, it was 1:30pm. The kids had not eaten, it was hot, Samuel was dehydrated, Grace was refusing food, and I was thinking I'd have to take them home by taxi and come back for the bikes later. Instead, we put Grace on the back of Karen's bike, Samuel on the back of my bike, and Delai pulled Samuel's bike alongside with remarkable skill. And, in fact, Samuel perked up after a couple miles and rode the rest of the way home. But not before we stopped at KFC. Thank goodness for American fast food: even ailing kids will gladly stuff themselves with thousands of empty calories. In truth, our kids have NEVER eaten at KFC before they came to Hohhot (and they still haven’t eaten at McDonalds, but I’m afraid the time is drawing near). Frankly, I was too wiped out to care. They were eating. We would make it home.

And we did finally make it, weaving our way through the streets of Hohhot back to our apartment, as if it was a completely ordinary affair, which, in some senses, it was. We've become accustomed to an environment that seemed wildly exotic just a few weeks ago. I rarely pulled my camera out, even as we rode through the photogenic Muslim quarter, where crevice-faced old women in head scarves limped across the boulevard and tiny crowded alley-ways angled off in every direction beneath gilded onion-domes.

The kids showed incredible endurance and, despite their continued homesickness (especially Samuel), I think they are having a rich experience here, even if it includes a bunch of soda pop and American fast food--ironically, things they NEVER get at home. More on family matters later.

Oh yeah, I’m bound also to write a post on teaching soon. The “short semester” is over and Monday I begin teaching undergraduates.

Thanks for reading.

Dave