Best Western White House Inn Bangor

3 out of 5 stars3 Stars

155 Littlefield Avenue, Bangor, Maine, 04401-7206, United States
BEST WESTERN White House Inn
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  • Families68
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  • Solo85
  • Business91

More about Bangor


The main terminal of BGRThe main terminal of BGR

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Isaac Farrar MansionIsaac Farrar Mansion

Bangor AuditoriumBangor Auditorium

Travel Tips for Bangor

Lobster Headstand

by frankcanfly

My cab driver said he has a special skill, and he showed me this photo...... He can make a Lobster stand on it's head! Is this cruel and unusual? probably...... especially if you're about to boil him.

Drive by the home of Stephen King

by sue&gene

Writer Stephen King makes his home in Bangor. The Italianate villa, the William Arnold House, is his home. To find it ... look for the wrought-iron fence decorated with bats, spiders, and intricate webs. Remember that this is a private home and do respect that.

Visit Bangor City Forest

by sue&gene

The Bangor City Forest provides driving, walking, and x-country skiing trails. We visited the bog. It is easy to get to once you find the forest. Boardwalks and interpretive signs make it easy to walk through and understand. Many of the plants were in bloom when we visited.


by shysta38


The closest thing to a city near Orono, which is where I go to college at the University of Maine. Bangor is a nice small city, and there are some pretty good restaurants in the area. I prefer the ethnic restaurants, and I have written about some of the ones I have visited. Check it out!

Culture Clash

by ShanMonster

"Culture Clash"

Yesterday, I finally got home from my second annual American peregrination. Once again, I journeyed to Bangor, Maine, where I spent hours dancing until I couldn't dance any more. This time, I travelled with f00 and Witch Hazel and studied under Artemis and Tayyar Akdeniz. Artemis taught Turkish oriental and Roma, and Tayyar taught Turkish folk dances. The music is primarily nonstandard, by Western ears. It is karsilama, which is a style of music with a 9:8 time signature.

The trip itself was entertaining. I'd told f00 that everything would change as soon as we crossed the national border. I told him he'd see heaps of Americana and gun shows. He didn't believe me until he experienced it for himself. The funny thing is, we experienced it before we even left Fredericton. While waiting to get onto the highway, we were cut off by a pickup truck hauling a big trailer. The license plates and bumper stickers marked it as being from Maine.

"I wonder where he's going?" asked f00.

"Probably to that gun show," I said, pointing at the signs at the Fredericton Inn.

Sure enough, it pulled in to the gun show, confirming all our stereotypes.

"Moseying Along"

Oddly, what we saw on the US side of the border is reminiscent of rural Canada from the 70s and 80s. The roads are uneven, narrow, winding, and decorated with the kind of hill that makes your heart rest in your throat and makes you say "Whee!" The poverty lines are miles long and perforated with rusting mobile homes, houses with half caved-in roofs, shacks with license plate collections tacked onto them, corroded old car parts in heaps, and grubby children squatting in gravel while surrounded by dogs. I grew up in places like these. The only difference was none of my neighbours had American flags (or Canadian ones, for that matter) hanging over the porch door.

As we drove along, we saw more colourful sights. A mangy, taxidermed stag head rested on the hood of a dead car. The head gazed skyward through glass eyes, and tufts of hair rested on peeling paint. A little further on, we saw a sign advertising the services of "Hoof and Paw Taxidermy". Maybe that's where the rest of the deer went.

People in Maine really know how to mosey. There is a particular gait I associate with certain, rural people. The feet and legs lead the way, while the torso and head are just along for the ride. The glacial pace allows the person to get a good look at everything going on around. Most of the people we saw moseying were dressed like frontiersmen or had big hats and mullets. Some were even wearing buckskin.

"Sidling Up to the Gas Bar"

Despite the bellyaching I hear from some Americans about the price of gasoline, I believe the United States quite possibly enjoys the lowest gas prices in the world. We pulled in to a petrol station to fill up, and Hazel and I went into the convenience store to go pee. At first glance, the store wasn't much different from Canadian corner stores. It had a few essential groceries and snacks, a gas bar, road maps, and a tiny bathroom in the back. It also sold alcoholic beverages. In New Brunswick, and many other Canadian provinces, the sale of alcohol is limited to government-run liquor stores.

This difference wasn't the one that got to me, though.

I was amazed to see a dead animal rack alongside the magazine display. About 50-60 pelts of ermine, foxes, coyotes, minks, raccoons, skunks, bobcats, muskrats, and otters hung from hooks. To me, it seemed out of place. Why would a convenience store sell pelts? I can just picture it, "Honey, I'm going to get some gas. Do you need me to pick anything up?"

"Yeah! We need milk, and can you pick up a coon skin? I just used up my last one."


Other differences unnerved me. I've never seen so many night-time drivers without their headlights, and I was surprised to see motorcyclists without helmets. I couldn't help but think of the little quail egg f00 once dropped off a table.

Still, the people in Maine are extremely friendly, courteous, and quick to laugh. Their senses of humour are often very sarcastic. The accent is different from my own, with drawn-out vowels and a conspicuous absence of the letter R in certain cases. "Zero" is pronounced "ZEEE-row" and "Bar Harbour" is pronounced "Bah HAH-bah".

"Camping With the Critters"

When we arrived in Bangor, it was quite dark. I wasn't sure where to go, so we stopped at a mall to use the telephone and get directions. We soon found out American phones don't accept Canadian quarters. Also, they cost 50 cents to operate instead of the 25 we're accustomed to in Canada. We also discovered bank machines seem to be a rarity in the United States.

We found our way to Pleasant Hill Campground, the same place I stayed last year. This is a really nice spot to camp, with pretty wooded campsites, a small pool, clean showers, and a camp store. With the Canadian exchange rate, it is also expensive. For a three-night stay for three adults on a tent site, it cost around $100 CDN. Ouch.

The first night, we went for a swim. The next two nights were far too cold, though. Each night, our sleep was punctuated with the percussive sounds of apples thumping onto the ground, trailer roofs, and car hoods. In the mornings, cars and grass were coated with a thin layer of frost. I slept in layers, with pants, socks, a sports bra, tshirt, dress, sweater, and jacket. Despite all these layers and the sleeping bag, I was still cold. Late-night pee breaks were met with so much resistance that it took a painfully-engorged bladder to make me scamper off to the toilets.

Each night, the crickets sang us to sleep under a sky white with stars. Once, I was awakened by the crazy, robotic alien sounds of a pack of coyotes whooping it up in a nearby field. They didn't sing too long, and I was able to get back to sleep until a raucous murder of crows woke me at daybreak. f00 was awakened by a flock of noisy ducks, and Hazel squawked when she heard a rapidly increasing "Pfffffft, pfffffft, pfffft, pffft, pft, pft, pft".

It was our neighbour pumping up his air mattress, but Hazel didn't know that. "What the hell are you guys doing?" she hollered from her tent.

I giggled and answered, "It's f00's Swedish *** enlarger!"

"Selling or Not"

Around 7:00 AM, f00 drove me off to the workshop site, a large church on the corner of Main and Union. It's a great place for a dance workshop. I got there early to set up my vending booth and to look at what the other vendors have to offer. The American dance vendors always have the most amazing stuff. One of the vendors is Turkish, and always has gorgeous costumes, books, and accoutrements. Another, Margaret, has drool-worthy Egyptian bedleh. I found a turquoise costume by Pharaonics of Egypt that looks like it was made for me. It is priced at $525 US, which is less than what it is worth, but far too much money for the occasionally-employed wife of a grad student. I really, really want it. Perhaps I can save up enough, but I'm not sure how. Ah well....

Last year, the merchants enjoyed a feeding frenzy. Everyone was buying stuff like mad. This year, unfortunately, people just weren't buying. I was hoping to pay for my workshop through sales, but I was only able to pay for my campground stay. $100 in sales is awful. I felt really bad for the other two Canadian vendors who were hoping to break even. One of them, Anastasia of Ninevah Trading, had slaved for long hours to sew stuff especially for this workshop. She sold about as little as I did.

We Canadian merchants got together at one point to plot a way to increase sales on home soil. We'd like to have events like haflas, performances, mini-workshops, and "wellness weekends" (sounds frightfully new agey to me) at least once every 1.5 months. Perhaps then we can make a modest living. Perhaps then I can afford to purchase the professional-quality dance costumes I need (want) for stage performances.

"Turkish Dance Workshop"

The dance instruction was excellent. I really enjoy Artemis's style of teaching. Like me, she doesn't like choreography, so the instruction was made up of gestures, lectures, and technique. I especially enjoyed the additional masters' class she taught on floorwork, and gained a lot of new knowledge on basic positions and how to make it easier on the knees. It was my favourite part of the workshop. Properly-timed arm movements remove a lot of stress from knees. I will be sharing this knowledge in the dance classes I teach. She also gave some excellent exercises in isolating undulations, and pointed out some of her dance-related pet peeves. Some of them, like spastic hands, were things I hadn't particularly noticed, but now that it has been brought to my attention, I'll make sure to correct it when I see my students doing it.

Artemis also showed a lot of Romany ("Gypsy") hand and arm gestures, the meanings of many of which have been lost for generations. Turkish oriental dance is a fusion of Egyptian raqs sharqi and Romany dance, and has been influenced strongly by western culture. I actually think I prefer it to the more classic Egyptian style. It's often been said that Egyptian dancers glisten and Turkish dancers sweat, and I believe it. Egyptian dance is more elegant and subdued than the more wild Turkish dance. In Egyptian dance, performers rarely touch themselves (they may move their hair or rest their hands occasionally upon their hips), but in Turkish dance, the hands are used to accentuate the movements in ways which might shock Arabic audiences. Hands rest on the belly during abdominal undulations, emphasizing the movements in a big, big way. Hands also rest on the hips for shimmies, which makes the movements look even bigger. You can also slap your inner thighs and shoulders in sequence, do a "tough girl" dance with clenched fists, and gesture to your belly, arms, and breasts in a very bold fashion.

In Turkish dance, the legs are a bit further apart than in Egyptian, and hip circles don't necessarily remain tucked under at the back. Instead, the butt sticks out in a whipping, grinding motion. This movement, an omi, is anathema to Egyptian hip circles. So is the frequency of forward and backward hip movements (humpy motions).

Depending on how you approach these movements, you can look a bit naughty or downright trampy. I really got a kick out of it all, and incorporated some of it into my own performance on Saturday night.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to take in all of Tayyar's instruction. I was just feeling way too crappy. I sat out his Saturday afternoon instruction (and most of Artemis's Sunday morning instruction, too). Nonetheless, I really enjoyed what I did learn. I think my favourite part was a traditional women's dance where we got to play the spoons. Turkish spoons are used in a way very similar to zills, and I find them a bit easier than zills. I bought a set so I can maybe someday use them in performance.

Tayyar is an excellent dancer and drummer. He grew up with the Romany people of Turkey, and has been dancing and drumming since he was a little kid. I had a bit of difficulty understanding his accent, but I think that was partially due to my lack of concentration because of sickness.

"The Performances"

The Saturday night show, as usual, was a mixed bag. Some performances were spectacular, whereas others were just plain bad. Some dancers, despite having decades of experience, dance well for someone who's had about six months of lessons. It's sad, really, how some people can try so incredibly hard, yet never become good. It seems dreadfully unfair, but that's just life, I guess.

I'm always surprised to see excellent performances from people who ought to be all shagged-out from travelling and the day's intensive classes. Some performances particularly stand out in my mind. Za-Beth of Boston gave a wonderful Greek-style dance performance, including a surprising section with double swords. She has magnificent stage performance and is great with the zills. Her performance was dedicated to George Abdo who died not too long ago. She danced to his music, of course. I'd love to study with her at some point. Maybe someday I will.

Stacey Macklem of Fredericton also did a bang-up job. Her dancing just gets better and better, every time I see her. Her isolation work is impeccable, but she tends to look like she's thinking about golf. I think if she made use of her facial expressions, she'd turn a good performance into something amazing.

Mirage of Bangor is a delightful and very sexy dancer, and her gorgeous, beaded costume is home-made! This impressed the heck out of me and the other vendors. We thought it was an expensive import, but no, it was made by her Mom with a glue gun and Mardi Gras beads. Wow.

Tayyar and Artemis did a charming folk dance together at the beginning of the show, but my favourite was Tayyar's solo dance. He has a very militant style that showcases his strength and impeccable timing. Some of the controlled falls he incorporated into his dance made me seethe with jealousy. I want to be able to do that! At the same time, I fear my knees could never handle it. One misstep, and I'd be writhing in pain. Normally, his dance would have been performed while he was bristling with weaponry, but it just wasn't possible at this venue. Picture a swarthy man trying to take daggers, swords, and guns on an American plane, and you'll see why he wasn't all decked out the way he should have been.

Abira of Bangor's performance was as comical as ever. She has the best facial expressions ever! I believe it comes from her classical Indian dance experience. Normally, she is wonderful with the zills, but this time, her playing was even worse than mine. I don't know what happened. Maybe she was just not having a very good day.

I can't recall the names of the other dancers I liked, but there was a pregnant dancer from Finland who was very, very good. She danced in classic Egyptian style and her movements were elegant and precise.

"My Performance"

My own performance was sub-par. I've been in vacillating health for the past couple of months. For some unknown reason, I keep having fits of exhaustion, dizziness, poor concentration, etcetera. On Saturday night, this was all compounded by a bad headache and an asthma attack. Once again, I danced to Rachid Taha's "Habina Habina" along with a drum solo by Mokhtar Al Said. When I made my way out to the stage, weaving my way through the audience, I could feel dizziness making it difficult to keep steady. Since wavering shows up especially during slow movements, I decided to make my performance very high-energy.

I got up there and danced my ass off! I love to dance, but I especially love to dance for an appreciative audience. Because of the bright stage lights, I couldn't see much of my audience, but apparently the Arabic contingent went bonkers when I took the stage. With my makeup and big black hair, I look like I'm of north African descent. I've noticed in previous performances that Arabs really, really like it when I dance, even though my own style is wilder than classic Arabic dance. Their appreciation is very flattering!

I could see a few people close to the stage, and they were ecstatic. I could hear shrill zaghareets, cheers, and clapping. The happier everyone looked, the harder I danced, and all thoughts of being sick flew out of my mind. I'm sure I've said it before, but I'll say it again. When I'm dancing for an audience, I become an incorrigible flirt. I'm nothing like that normally, but when I'm tarted-up in costume and make-up, I make plenty of eye contact with total strangers, and I dance especially for them until they grin with delight. Then I'm off to the next person. I'm a promiscuous dance slut, and I love every minute of it. The way I figure, as long as I'm dancing for an audience, the endorphins would keep me alive and well even if I was half dead. Maybe it's the secret of eternal life. But if it's not, when the time comes, I think I want to die performing. Poor audience, though, hmm?

When I left the stage, my asthma kicked in. I fumbled in my purse for my inhaler and took a couple of puffs, but it didn't work very much. I struggled backstage to get changed into my street clothes, and other performers congratulated me on my performance. Lack of oxygen makes it especially difficult for me to understand what people are saying to me, but some exceptional dancers gave me enough praise to keep my head puffed up for months.


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 Best Western White House Inn Bangor

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Best Western Bangor
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Best Western White House Hotel Bangor

Address: 155 Littlefield Avenue, Bangor, Maine, 04401-7206, United States