Wherever the hell that is. China loves friendship, especially the official, yet personal, sort. You know a phrase has saturated the masses to the point of meaninglessness when even junkies seriously invoke it; I remember replying that Our Friendship would instead be having a bottle of Blue Anchor beer. Our Friendship was never the same. Harbin is working to rehabilitate the sentiment. Entrance is free of charge.
Shaded by trees and set back from Tiandi Street, the two-story, lemon-colored building looks like it boarded the train in St. Petersburg, got off in Harbin, and decided to settle down.
Linda Mealey-Lohmann Inside the Minneapolis exhibit. And here they are, moving silently past the displays over a floor so polished it looks illuminated, reflecting the chandelier light.
The windows are shaded by the heavy red drapes that always catch fire in movies, and the marble stairs ascend in a sweep that also looks cinematicβsomeone in a gown or waistcoat should descend them any second now. Do not take pictures or use your cell phone. Keep silent. Aarhus displays a rocking chair and a hand-written letter from mayor Jean-Marie Vanlerenberghe, whose penmanship puts that of South Taranaki mayor Ross Dunlop to shame.
The last time I saw handwriting like his was when opening a note passed during eighth grade math. So I drop the sense of wizened expat irony and do as the tour guide has asked, explaining to the children, in Minnesota-accented Mandarin, how Mill City life on the mixixibi Mississippi river is illustrated by the displayed box of Pillsbury Funfetti brownie mix. American cities being the casual, frank metropolises that they are, often have multiple partners.
