Nous sommes tout Francais

My heart is breaking. Tears cannot be stopped as the news out of the City of Lights continues to be
one of horror. As I write the situation is considered fluid, but the reality is there is no doubt that this was an act of terror.

A friend of mine said tonight on social media "The terrorists have won".

Dalian

We arrived in Dalian in the late afternoon. The expunging of ourselves from the bowels of the train station into the late afternoon heat and sunlight with galling humidity was like being slapped with a wet white towel. Once in the face, once on the back. We found our host, Lian, who was a stringy tall man with a broad smile, heavily-pocked and scarred face and very quiet and somewhat critical demeanor. He had hired a driver who met us in the parking lot, approximately one nautical mile away from the train station. He shared a story with Dan about how the university had-at the last minute-chosen NOT to pay for Dan to lecture at the university, but they paid for the hotel, driver and several meals.
After we left the station, dragging our luggage and backpacks, we were faced with another steep set of staircases. Lian was gracious enough to offer my bag, after I nearly lost my face on tripping on the hem of my stylish wide-legged palazzo pants. (who trips up stairs anyway?).

He led us to our waiting van, and sternly smashed our bags into the back of the van. Dan and I sat in the middle seat and the three children piled into the back bench seat. The drive to our hotel was interminable. It was on a Friday and the weekend traffic into this vacation destination was coiled like hot metal centipedes on the highways. It took nearly *two hours* to get to our hotel, which was on the campus. It was an international hotel for university visitors. As we were waiting in the hotel lobby orienting our hotel rooms (two again, and this time not across the hall but separated by a few rooms between-dislike) I saw what HAD to be a father escorting his teenaged daughter dressed in a tulle miniskirt and sparkly high-heeled sandals up to his room...she looked all of sixteen years old, with her head bent looking at the floor.

We got settled in our rooms, and then wandered around the campus of Dalian University of Technology. It was a pretty campus, with lots of trees over cobblestoned streets and intriguing architecture.

 Driving into Dalian from the airport.

 Starting to see the highrises of the inner city of Dalian from our van (Hour 2 of our trip)

 Finally made it to campus! Threw down our things and took a walk to get our bearings with Lian. I think this was their athletic center. There was a large soccer and baseball field adjacent to it.

Checking out the campus map. 

One thing that struck me immediately about Dalian University is the constant cacaphony of cicadas. Swarms of dragonflies were everywhere as well. 

 Hey there is Chairman Mao.

 Lian took a liking to Tank. Tank and Lian shared a fondness for basketball. Maybe it was his ease with males more than females that created that camaderie, or maybe it was the abject fear Lian expressed over Tank walking into oncoming traffic. He seemed genuinely concerned for Tank's wellbeing and spoke steadily and calmly into Tank's ears about following the rules of the road and just general self-awaredness that comes with living in a metropolitan city. He seemed to make it his mission in life to swiftly educate Tank about the social mores of China.

Lian showed us the closest market to our apartment, it was rather impressive, heavily stocked with merchandise. Had I know this would have been my only time going in there I would have spent more time there. I had asked Beloved to go back and get something for me that evening (time has completely erased any memory of what it could have possibly been) it must have been something related to stomach issues (shocking). I fell asleep before he and the kids returned to the hotel that evening so obviously it was critical for my welfare...

 Oh LOOK at all the chicken blood. I'm pretty iron-willed about a lot of things in the kitchen but pools of chicken blood make my stomach churn.

So yes past the pools of chicken blood and bagged chicken parts piled up on the floor was a clothing boutique/warehouse towards the back of the store.After we checked out the market we headed back to our hotel for a rest before dinner.

We met Lian at a diningroom off the lobby of the hotel, where we walked past a wall of aquariums with red-inked placards scotch-taped to the fronts of each of them. Every type of bivalve and crustacean was bubbling away in there tank-acclimated environs, waiting for the gauntlet. The room was white with cracked linoleum, and it led into a large hall with dozens of tableclothed round tables, with buffet tables banked against two of the walls. There was a small assortment of aged women who gawked at us as we made our way to the room where Lian was waiting.

As per Chinese custom, the quest of the host sits at the head of the table, or the seat which is directly across the entrance. Beloved took his seat and we all clumped around next to him, with Lian on the other side of the table. The children squabbled and complained about Lian sitting ALL ALONE, so we spread out and finally settled into a meal.

Lian snapped repeatedly at our server, who would reply in same said curt tones. The food was not unlike the food we had eaten on the train, much more salty and greasy than the fresher foods of Harbin, and the food was much more anemic pale and institutional (wah-waaah). After dinner we took a short walk around the hotel, and then called it a night.

One lasting impression of the day: our host Lian was insistent that the hotel would not provide his tea for him. He bought his own tea, much to the chagrin of the server, and in his halted English explained that it was an expensive special tea that the hotel did not carry...