Family Field Trip to City Market

City Market is an ethnic market similar to what I would imagine a neighborhood market in New York borough would be. There are ethnic shops that sell everything from Middle Eastern to Italian to Ethiopian goods and groceries. The air is filled with foreign languages being spoken and the smells of spices and foods unfamiliar to most Westerners. My favorite place for lunch is Al Habashi Middle Eastern restaurant (I always get the falafel sandwich with greek salad). There’s a flower shop run by a young Dutch woman who on Saturdays sells freshly-made Stroopwafels. That’s right, we no longer have to wait until we visit Billings to enjoy our favorite treat (although Momma K can send us some whenever she wants). The shopkeeper makes them right in front of you, and also sells wooden clogs and other Dutch-eries. We went to the “China Town Market,” the big Asian grocery store while we were there, too. I took the boys into the “butcher shop” section where they sell live seafood like crabs and eels, and other things like cow hooves and octopus. They complained about the smell, but thought it was cool to see things they don’t usually see at our grocery.
My maternal grandfather lived in the City Market when he was in his twenties and has shared stories about what it was like then (the 1940’s). At that time, it was a hotbed of Sicilian mobster activity, a part of Kansas City’s deep-rooted mafia history. I should clarify that he was not Sicilian or a mobster. He worked for an insurance company downtown and the City Market was just a close place to live. Nowadays it’s home to hipster condos and lofts and trendy ad agencies and creative houses. It was established, though 150 years ago as trading post at what was then called the Town of Kansas. It was literally the edge of civilization because just across the river was the start of Indian Territory.
If you listen to NPR regularly, you know about the Story Corp project. The Story Corp travels the country recording personal histories and stories of every-day Americans. They have

Oh, and the boys got to climb into a firetruck there, too.
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