Salon Wanderlust | Lions and tigers are p.c., oh my!

[Salon Wanderlust: Travel with a passion]

T A B L E_T A L K
Visiting the Big Apple? Discuss what's happening in New York City in Table Talk's Wanderlust area

R E C E N T L Y
Sex, drugs and Armenian vodka
By Drew Fellman
What goes on behind closed doors in Iran
(07/27/98)
Mondo Weirdo
No place like Oz
In Japan, a bar with no alcohol or music, only coffee
(07/24/98)
Mondo Weirdo
Nude beaches of the week
Favorite places to bare all
(07/24/98)
Safety strategies
By Dawn MacKeen
Savvy safety tips for business travelers
(07/23/98)
Tampax nightmares
By Susan Hack
It's hard to find a good tampon in Yemen
(07/22/98)

Browse the
Wanderlust Feature archives

At Disney's new Animal Kingdom, you can save the rain forest and protest logging without leaving your open-air car.
BY SALLY ECKHOFF | "Good morning," Matt Lauer blurted at the top of the April 21 edition of the "Today" show. "There are no survivors." Lauer was referring to a Boeing 727 that had crashed in Bogotá the day before, but viewers could be excused for thinking he was about to read the casualty list from Disney's new mega-zoo, Animal Kingdom, which was slated to open the following day. After all, Michael Eisner himself was billed as "Today's" top guest, ready to rebut the early bad press that Animal Kingdom had piled up. Twenty animals had already died at the park, according to some sources. (Eisner acknowledged a dozen.) A few weeks later, the New York Times put the death toll at 29, though it noted that Department of Agriculture officials had found no wrongdoing on Disney's part.
Two of the dead creatures were rare rhinos: one black, one white. A hippo died in transit. A number of rare cranes, a pair of otters and four cheetah cubs -- done in by a chemical found in solvents and antifreeze -- also perished. (Doesn't every cat owner know by now that animals are nuts for the sweet taste of antifreeze?) Cynics might ask: What were a bunch of expensive cheetah cubs doing in a garage, anyway?
Cynics might also wonder what exactly Disney is up to with its ultra-PC new theme park. (Admission: $44.52.) Orlando is already brimming with organized fun; why enter the complicated world of animal husbandry? I hoped some answers would emerge during my five-day ramble through Eisner's new Eden.
It took Disney nearly three years to carve up these 500 acres, formerly either cow pasture or "a flat landscape of palmetto and scrub vegetation," depending on whose reports you read. In any case, it's now an "oasis" with parrots and waterfalls, a souvenir mall, a landscaped-to-death enclave referred to as "Africa" and another faux continent, "Asia," still under construction. The planners saw fit to throw a few bones, literally, to the kiddies: Dinoland nicely presents fossils as well as the Countdown to Extinction ride. Camp Minnie-Mickey, at a decent remove from the rest of the action, offers a Lion King floor show and the traditional costumed characters you're probably trying to avoid.
Approaching the place is daunting at first -- the parking lot alone holds 6,000 cars. Upon reaching the gate, however, your irritated mood melts. The silvery-leafed scrubland trees and the trash cans painted to match the accumulated effect of the foliage as it shows its underside to the breeze all put you barely on the suspicious side of amazed. Everywhere are palm fronds and fried grass, with light Afro-pop noodling out of speakers hidden in the rocks. The lamps are flat-out fabulous Mission-style fixtures, dangling from curved light poles and featuring tasteful profiles of veld creatures cut from what looks like verdigris copper. Even the signage is conspicuously restrained. And as soon as you step through the turnstiles, a delicious odor of roasted meat sidles up.
The park is shaped more or less like a wheel, with the Tree of Life, a brooding monster of an artificial baobab with 325 different animals molded into its concrete trunk, serving as the hub. From 100 feet away, the Tree doesn't look especially lifelike, even when you consider its handmade quality: each of its 100,000 leaves was glued on by hand. As you walk toward it, it's almost impossible to see the network of paths that snake around its trunk, or the theater where the roots would normally be.
"It's Tough to Be a Bug," the show that plays continuously at the theater throughout the day, represents everything Disney is good at. Chilean tarantulas fire poison darts at you, soldier bugs spritz acid on you and a swarm of wasps mounts a surprise attack when the lights are out.
There's just one way to continue the intensity of that performance: Go out and find the lions. The first thing that strikes you as you flee the shadow of the tree and redirect yourself toward Africa is how easy travel is in this boiled-down, adorably low-rent version of the global village. The artificially pitted and cracked pathways are lush with orchids and lyre-like nicotiana. Colorful parrots stare out from leafy branches. (Their wings are clipped. They're stuck there until somebody comes and rescues them.) The sound of falling water lures you forward, and the intimacy of the space gives you a feeling of privacy.
You may have to truncate your walk to let a dazzling parade of floats roll by and endure a soukous version of "Abba Dabba Honeymoon" and a steel-band "Three Little Fishies." Should you duck into the shelter that leads to the riverboat ride and actually climb onto one of those funky barges, however, you will wind up back in Safari Village, the souvenir mall that resembles a collision between a Smith and Hawken outlet and Pier 1 Imports. Now you have to start the trip all over again. But even that has its rewards: Waiting in line for the boats offers a look at Disney's new mastery of idle crowds. Everywhere, even over your head, there's something worth contemplating: polychromed beams, hand-carved lizards, gamelan music that sounds oddly clean and sped-up.
Ten minutes of orienteering (keep the map handy) away from the Tree will get you to the African Village, a pleasant settlement that's all rakish optimism and artificially peeling posters. This is Africa without dictators, refugee camps, technology, river blindness, clitoridectomies; Africa without Africans, unless you count the friendly, uniformed employees who were actually hired out of schools in Kenya. This is when your third eye narrows to a squint. The artfully bashed-up drink carts and the huge blocks of ice look authentic without being fatally microbial. Of course, the ice is Lucite, and the funky village fruit vendor is selling the ubiquitous and usually South American Granny Smiths and oranges that feel like pitted Styrofoam.
Fake decrepitude, fake insouciance -- all very charming, but there's a problem: no beer. They advertise it, but they don't have it. Here you get ice cream floats in plastic cups that are as biodegradable as the Heisman Trophy. And inside the Tusker House cafeteria are cream-colored walls decorated with baskets, musical instruments, spears and maps: more incongruities. No animal heads, no overt indicators of colonialism here. Nevertheless, the anticipatory mood is adventurous, dangerous. This Safari ride has got to be really something.
N E X T+P A G E | From Gorilla Falls to Conservation Station


	T A B L E_T A L K Visiting the Big Apple? Discuss what's happening in New York City in Table Talk's Wanderlust area R E C E N T L Y Sex, drugs and Armenian vodka By Drew Fellman What goes on behind closed doors in Iran (07/27/98) Mondo Weirdo No place like Oz In Japan, a bar with no alcohol or music, only coffee (07/24/98) Mondo Weirdo Nude beaches of the week Favorite places to bare all (07/24/98) Safety strategies By Dawn MacKeen Savvy safety tips for business travelers (07/23/98) Tampax nightmares By Susan Hack It's hard to find a good tampon in Yemen (07/22/98) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives		At Disney's new Animal Kingdom, you can save the rain forest and protest logging without leaving your open-air car. BY SALLY ECKHOFF \| "Good morning," Matt Lauer blurted at the top of the April 21 edition of the "Today" show. "There are no survivors." Lauer was referring to a Boeing 727 that had crashed in Bogotá the day before, but viewers could be excused for thinking he was about to read the casualty list from Disney's new mega-zoo, Animal Kingdom, which was slated to open the following day. After all, Michael Eisner himself was billed as "Today's" top guest, ready to rebut the early bad press that Animal Kingdom had piled up. Twenty animals had already died at the park, according to some sources. (Eisner acknowledged a dozen.) A few weeks later, the New York Times put the death toll at 29, though it noted that Department of Agriculture officials had found no wrongdoing on Disney's part. Two of the dead creatures were rare rhinos: one black, one white. A hippo died in transit. A number of rare cranes, a pair of otters and four cheetah cubs -- done in by a chemical found in solvents and antifreeze -- also perished. (Doesn't every cat owner know by now that animals are nuts for the sweet taste of antifreeze?) Cynics might ask: What were a bunch of expensive cheetah cubs doing in a garage, anyway? Cynics might also wonder what exactly Disney is up to with its ultra-PC new theme park. (Admission: $44.52.) Orlando is already brimming with organized fun; why enter the complicated world of animal husbandry? I hoped some answers would emerge during my five-day ramble through Eisner's new Eden. It took Disney nearly three years to carve up these 500 acres, formerly either cow pasture or "a flat landscape of palmetto and scrub vegetation," depending on whose reports you read. In any case, it's now an "oasis" with parrots and waterfalls, a souvenir mall, a landscaped-to-death enclave referred to as "Africa" and another faux continent, "Asia," still under construction. The planners saw fit to throw a few bones, literally, to the kiddies: Dinoland nicely presents fossils as well as the Countdown to Extinction ride. Camp Minnie-Mickey, at a decent remove from the rest of the action, offers a Lion King floor show and the traditional costumed characters you're probably trying to avoid. Approaching the place is daunting at first -- the parking lot alone holds 6,000 cars. Upon reaching the gate, however, your irritated mood melts. The silvery-leafed scrubland trees and the trash cans painted to match the accumulated effect of the foliage as it shows its underside to the breeze all put you barely on the suspicious side of amazed. Everywhere are palm fronds and fried grass, with light Afro-pop noodling out of speakers hidden in the rocks. The lamps are flat-out fabulous Mission-style fixtures, dangling from curved light poles and featuring tasteful profiles of veld creatures cut from what looks like verdigris copper. Even the signage is conspicuously restrained. And as soon as you step through the turnstiles, a delicious odor of roasted meat sidles up. The park is shaped more or less like a wheel, with the Tree of Life, a brooding monster of an artificial baobab with 325 different animals molded into its concrete trunk, serving as the hub. From 100 feet away, the Tree doesn't look especially lifelike, even when you consider its handmade quality: each of its 100,000 leaves was glued on by hand. As you walk toward it, it's almost impossible to see the network of paths that snake around its trunk, or the theater where the roots would normally be. "It's Tough to Be a Bug," the show that plays continuously at the theater throughout the day, represents everything Disney is good at. Chilean tarantulas fire poison darts at you, soldier bugs spritz acid on you and a swarm of wasps mounts a surprise attack when the lights are out. There's just one way to continue the intensity of that performance: Go out and find the lions. The first thing that strikes you as you flee the shadow of the tree and redirect yourself toward Africa is how easy travel is in this boiled-down, adorably low-rent version of the global village. The artificially pitted and cracked pathways are lush with orchids and lyre-like nicotiana. Colorful parrots stare out from leafy branches. (Their wings are clipped. They're stuck there until somebody comes and rescues them.) The sound of falling water lures you forward, and the intimacy of the space gives you a feeling of privacy. You may have to truncate your walk to let a dazzling parade of floats roll by and endure a soukous version of "Abba Dabba Honeymoon" and a steel-band "Three Little Fishies." Should you duck into the shelter that leads to the riverboat ride and actually climb onto one of those funky barges, however, you will wind up back in Safari Village, the souvenir mall that resembles a collision between a Smith and Hawken outlet and Pier 1 Imports. Now you have to start the trip all over again. But even that has its rewards: Waiting in line for the boats offers a look at Disney's new mastery of idle crowds. Everywhere, even over your head, there's something worth contemplating: polychromed beams, hand-carved lizards, gamelan music that sounds oddly clean and sped-up. Ten minutes of orienteering (keep the map handy) away from the Tree will get you to the African Village, a pleasant settlement that's all rakish optimism and artificially peeling posters. This is Africa without dictators, refugee camps, technology, river blindness, clitoridectomies; Africa without Africans, unless you count the friendly, uniformed employees who were actually hired out of schools in Kenya. This is when your third eye narrows to a squint. The artfully bashed-up drink carts and the huge blocks of ice look authentic without being fatally microbial. Of course, the ice is Lucite, and the funky village fruit vendor is selling the ubiquitous and usually South American Granny Smiths and oranges that feel like pitted Styrofoam. Fake decrepitude, fake insouciance -- all very charming, but there's a problem: no beer. They advertise it, but they don't have it. Here you get ice cream floats in plastic cups that are as biodegradable as the Heisman Trophy. And inside the Tusker House cafeteria are cream-colored walls decorated with baskets, musical instruments, spears and maps: more incongruities. No animal heads, no overt indicators of colonialism here. Nevertheless, the anticipatory mood is adventurous, dangerous. This Safari ride has got to be really something. N E X T+P A G E \| From Gorilla Falls to Conservation Station