I just walked from downtown to my house. I'm sure this doesn't sound at all impressive, but I walked from Davie and Granville to my house. Across the Granville Street Bridge. Along 6th. To my house. Wearing slightly torn up Chuck Taylors.
Fine, it's only an hour-long walk, but did I mention my inappropriate shoes? I now have a half-blister on the pad of my foot. (What's a half-blister? you may ask yourself. In simple terms, when you form a blister and it pops before you complete the activity that caused the blister. A double blister is, naturally, a blister that forms on top of an existing blister.)
Now, in retrospect I'm not sure what I was thinking. Probably that I didn't want to use a fare saver on a stupid bus trip. That, of course, would be wasteful and silly. As opposed to walking the opposite direction for a while to walk through a mostly uninhabited area with questionable lighting for 30 blocks. THAT'S totally rational.
Really, I didn't want to be at home just yet and killing an hour on foot was a better option than the quick ride home to nothing. The only reason I came home at all was because the beer was punching my bladder into submission. Stupid beer.
I wanted to walk the False Creek South seawall, but there is no easy way to get to it from the bridge. I suspect the night lights are quite fetching along that route. Perhaps sometime this weekend I'll walk to Granville Island and get some seafood at Go Fish for the first time this year and figure out how to stay late enough that the sun will go down and I'll be able to see the night lights. Maybe this will have to be done in two instalments.
Tonight I went to see three short films about Vancouver in the 1940s and 1960s (or, more specifically, bill bissett in 1968) and maybe I wanted to see if I could find anything that remains from that time. Or maybe pretend that some of the previous eras were still there, even though the city continues to do everything imaginable to destroy all parts of the past. Vancouver has been torn down to an unidentifiable level that I can barely remember things I used to see every day when I first moved here 17 years ago. I was feeling nostalgic for an age I was never a part of.
And now I have a stupid blister on my stupid sensitive feet.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
nutritionally questionable
My nutrition has gone to crap since before my trip. The week before I could blame my gums because I was on liquids and soft foods for most of that week. While on vacation it's easy to eat badly and forget that fruit and vegetables are edible. I've been back for 2 weeks and haven't gotten back into the 5-7 fruits and vegetables per day. The guilt is overwhelming me.
This morning was a new low. I decided to have some oatmeal, the first time since before my mouth was ripped apart, and saw the mint chocolate Bailey's in the fridge behind the soy milk. When the idea to put some of the Bailey's popped into my head it seemed like a clever one, but while eating it (it was tasty, btw) I realised that there is probably a reason people don't booze up their breakfast, except during Wimbledon or when they claim mixing champagne with orange juice is still a serving of fruit. It's a little unnerving getting nutrients from whole grains while getting a slight buzz from the booze soaked into those whole grains.
So I think I might walk up to the Riley Park Farmer's Market this afternoon to buy some fruits and/or vegetables, or at least try to absorb some of the nutrients by osmosis. In reality, I can't really afford the farmer's market right now, but with all these weeks of neglect I think it would balance my karma if I bought locally right now. Or that's the hope.
I'm still debating about whether or not to get a bus pass for June. I have a few on-call shifts at the library (did I mention I passed my interview for on-call work? I did. Last night was my first librarian shift and I answered those questions like a mofo), but it's only a 30 minute walk and the shifts are so spread out that I would have to leave my house more often than I have been to make the pass worthwhile. And it's probably better if I shake the bus habit. It makes me lazy knowing I can take a bus anywhere I want to go. Though I'm not sure I will travel as readily knowing I either have to walk the distance or pay the fare.
Sigh.
This morning I started unpacking my china to wash and transfer into the hutch. I discovered that I have 16 individual teacups and saucers, half of which I'm not sure I've ever seen before. A friend at work gave me two loads of tea-related paraphernalia and it was a much larger stash than previously realised. I was also disappointed to discover I have only 5 full place settings and, if I ever make any money again and pay off my debtors, will have to start expanding the collection again. I can't be an adult until I have 8-10 place settings. But then again, do I want to be an adult? I just like china.
This morning was a new low. I decided to have some oatmeal, the first time since before my mouth was ripped apart, and saw the mint chocolate Bailey's in the fridge behind the soy milk. When the idea to put some of the Bailey's popped into my head it seemed like a clever one, but while eating it (it was tasty, btw) I realised that there is probably a reason people don't booze up their breakfast, except during Wimbledon or when they claim mixing champagne with orange juice is still a serving of fruit. It's a little unnerving getting nutrients from whole grains while getting a slight buzz from the booze soaked into those whole grains.
So I think I might walk up to the Riley Park Farmer's Market this afternoon to buy some fruits and/or vegetables, or at least try to absorb some of the nutrients by osmosis. In reality, I can't really afford the farmer's market right now, but with all these weeks of neglect I think it would balance my karma if I bought locally right now. Or that's the hope.
I'm still debating about whether or not to get a bus pass for June. I have a few on-call shifts at the library (did I mention I passed my interview for on-call work? I did. Last night was my first librarian shift and I answered those questions like a mofo), but it's only a 30 minute walk and the shifts are so spread out that I would have to leave my house more often than I have been to make the pass worthwhile. And it's probably better if I shake the bus habit. It makes me lazy knowing I can take a bus anywhere I want to go. Though I'm not sure I will travel as readily knowing I either have to walk the distance or pay the fare.
Sigh.
This morning I started unpacking my china to wash and transfer into the hutch. I discovered that I have 16 individual teacups and saucers, half of which I'm not sure I've ever seen before. A friend at work gave me two loads of tea-related paraphernalia and it was a much larger stash than previously realised. I was also disappointed to discover I have only 5 full place settings and, if I ever make any money again and pay off my debtors, will have to start expanding the collection again. I can't be an adult until I have 8-10 place settings. But then again, do I want to be an adult? I just like china.
Monday, May 26, 2008
(re)cap, or mortar board wearing
It's been somewhat eventful the last few days. I'm still in slo-mo from the trip and the not-having-anywhere-to-be thing, so have been lazy about posting and such. Hopefully I can catch up a little soon or can wait long enough that people forget that I'm supposed to write about stuff.
Convocation was not particularly exciting, but it provided some closure to the last couple of years. I met up with Sam and we took the bus to UBC to collect our gowns and hoods at 9:30am. After lots of standing around, we finally marched into the Chan and wound up front row centre, slightly obscured from those sitting on the stage by a bushy row of plastic flowers. Tacky. At some point the band played "Fame" and I couldn't believe that someone thought that was either contemporary or good for a convocation ceremony. The chancellors or masters of the universe or whatever they are wandered onto the stage in ridiculous velvety gowns with velvet hats or other such topical nonsense, needlessly adding time to the ceremony. Michael J. Fox was about 15 feet from me and looked pretty good since they warned us his health has declined. He couldn't walk the aisle of the Chan, but neither could a lot of the undergrad Arts students and they didn't have his excuse (I don't know why anyone would think 3" heels would be an appropriate option for 11am). Grad students get their congratulations first, so we spent a long time being pretty bored in the front row while streams of undergrads got their degrees. By the time we got out of the theatre it wasn't hard to convince my friends to have a couple swigs of whisky. But it's done and I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's done.
Friday I went out drinking after friends finished work. Because of circumstances the previous night that left me feeling slightly unwell, I decided to drink lighter and started with gin. By the time I had a caesar I was feeling significantly better (those things are magic) and headed off to a graduation party at my guybrarian friend's house. It's weird going to librarian parties; people tend to be pretty reserved until they hit that particular level of drunk that makes them anything but reserved.
Saturday my parents came to town to drop off a hutch so I can store my china. We walked to the Eat Vancouver thing at BC Place and tried to get as many samples as possible. I'm sort of a dork because I bought soy milk (soy milk!) instead of other exciting things like seafood or Boylan's. Large gatherings can be a bit overwhelming to all of us, so we headed home after a couple hours. My parents are Catholic, so we went to mass at Holy Rosary and discovered a visiting choir was singing the mass. The priest said the choir would sing some songs at the end of the service, so after a quick discussion with my parents, we decided to stick around and listen. They were a policeman's choir from Cologne, Germany and the acoustics in the cathedral are pretty spectacular. Our tummies started getting grumbly after about 6 songs, so we headed home. After dinner we went to Chinatown for the night market and wandered around for a bit with Anita. In hindsight, it would have been better to just have dinner there, but vegetables are hard to come by at the night market.
Anita took Mom and Dad yesterday so I could do the Walk for Rape Relief. The weather was so fantastic and I kind of wished I had either kept my flood pants on or condoned wearing shorts in public. The walk is through Stanley Park and ends in Ceperley Park where a big salmon lunch awaits. We served food for a while, watching some of the foods/drinks dwindle and then empty, and were relieved (and starving!) when we were replaced by other servers. I left shortly after hearing they'd raised $30,000 for the rape crisis line and women's shelter. Now that I'm not really working I can't get my holds at the library on a daily basis. I stopped off and picked up the 7 things I had requested, some of which were extremely textbook-like and heavy (thanks a lot, Frank Gehry). I was hoping to have a nap before my parents returned from their day out, but they were already at my house. I had a nap anyway and Mom woke me up at 5 to say we should probably get ready for dinner. It took me all of 5 minutes to get ready (dress on, hair brushed) and out the door to a Thai restaurant for a congratulatory dinner for me and my sister's birthday in June. We decided to go for gelato for dessert and sat outside Mario's until it got chilly.
Generally, nice weekend. Nothing too out of hand or anything; just nice and well-packed. I even got a decent night sleep a couple of nights.
Convocation was not particularly exciting, but it provided some closure to the last couple of years. I met up with Sam and we took the bus to UBC to collect our gowns and hoods at 9:30am. After lots of standing around, we finally marched into the Chan and wound up front row centre, slightly obscured from those sitting on the stage by a bushy row of plastic flowers. Tacky. At some point the band played "Fame" and I couldn't believe that someone thought that was either contemporary or good for a convocation ceremony. The chancellors or masters of the universe or whatever they are wandered onto the stage in ridiculous velvety gowns with velvet hats or other such topical nonsense, needlessly adding time to the ceremony. Michael J. Fox was about 15 feet from me and looked pretty good since they warned us his health has declined. He couldn't walk the aisle of the Chan, but neither could a lot of the undergrad Arts students and they didn't have his excuse (I don't know why anyone would think 3" heels would be an appropriate option for 11am). Grad students get their congratulations first, so we spent a long time being pretty bored in the front row while streams of undergrads got their degrees. By the time we got out of the theatre it wasn't hard to convince my friends to have a couple swigs of whisky. But it's done and I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's done.
Friday I went out drinking after friends finished work. Because of circumstances the previous night that left me feeling slightly unwell, I decided to drink lighter and started with gin. By the time I had a caesar I was feeling significantly better (those things are magic) and headed off to a graduation party at my guybrarian friend's house. It's weird going to librarian parties; people tend to be pretty reserved until they hit that particular level of drunk that makes them anything but reserved.
Saturday my parents came to town to drop off a hutch so I can store my china. We walked to the Eat Vancouver thing at BC Place and tried to get as many samples as possible. I'm sort of a dork because I bought soy milk (soy milk!) instead of other exciting things like seafood or Boylan's. Large gatherings can be a bit overwhelming to all of us, so we headed home after a couple hours. My parents are Catholic, so we went to mass at Holy Rosary and discovered a visiting choir was singing the mass. The priest said the choir would sing some songs at the end of the service, so after a quick discussion with my parents, we decided to stick around and listen. They were a policeman's choir from Cologne, Germany and the acoustics in the cathedral are pretty spectacular. Our tummies started getting grumbly after about 6 songs, so we headed home. After dinner we went to Chinatown for the night market and wandered around for a bit with Anita. In hindsight, it would have been better to just have dinner there, but vegetables are hard to come by at the night market.
Anita took Mom and Dad yesterday so I could do the Walk for Rape Relief. The weather was so fantastic and I kind of wished I had either kept my flood pants on or condoned wearing shorts in public. The walk is through Stanley Park and ends in Ceperley Park where a big salmon lunch awaits. We served food for a while, watching some of the foods/drinks dwindle and then empty, and were relieved (and starving!) when we were replaced by other servers. I left shortly after hearing they'd raised $30,000 for the rape crisis line and women's shelter. Now that I'm not really working I can't get my holds at the library on a daily basis. I stopped off and picked up the 7 things I had requested, some of which were extremely textbook-like and heavy (thanks a lot, Frank Gehry). I was hoping to have a nap before my parents returned from their day out, but they were already at my house. I had a nap anyway and Mom woke me up at 5 to say we should probably get ready for dinner. It took me all of 5 minutes to get ready (dress on, hair brushed) and out the door to a Thai restaurant for a congratulatory dinner for me and my sister's birthday in June. We decided to go for gelato for dessert and sat outside Mario's until it got chilly.
Generally, nice weekend. Nothing too out of hand or anything; just nice and well-packed. I even got a decent night sleep a couple of nights.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
booze is good
While in Astoria, my friend bought beer knowing that I like it. Unfortunately, my gum surgery was still quite painful (it was just a week after the slash-and-staple) and I had to take Tylenol 3s for most of the visit, which meant I couldn't drink. The one regret I have is not drinking the 6-pack of Brooklyn Lager because I like the idea of regional drinks and it was sitting right there in the fridge, waiting for me to notice it.
Luckily, after doing a wee search of the BCLCB's website, I see that I can purchase Brooklyn Lager somewhat easily with just a little bit of a walk. Sure, it isn't available at my beloved Kingsgate location, but the Main & 28th and both Cambie ones do have a few packs. Really, I shouldn't give out this information because I know some of you regular readers are boozehounds (no offence) and will buy out the store if given half a chance. There are over 200 packs in the lower mainland, so I feel somewhat secure that I can get some somewhere.
What I really need is an inside track on Archers. The BCLCB doesn't stock it, but summer tastes a whole lot better with an Archers and lemonade. I could suffer through Pimm's and lemonade, or the Pimm's Cup, but Archers... That's what I really want. It tastes like summer; boozy, boozy summer.
Tomorrow I graduate from school and will have a drink with my lunch, just because I can. I wonder if my fire fighter friend will force Jager shots again, like usual... Is it unprofessional to do shots at a convocation luncheon with your profs nearby?
I volunteered to take librarians on a pub crawl tomorrow night, in conjunction with the Canadian Library Association's annual conference, so I'll be able to see how good of drinkers librarians really are. They've got quite a reputation for being heavy drinkers (and I'm not even joking), but I want proof outside my current sample. And I want a good reason to drink on a Thursday, even if it is with complete strangers in pubs I would not necessarily go to on a Thursday anyway (though I would happily go to the Railway, and that is the last stop on the crawl).
On Friday I am going to my guybrarian friend's start-of-gin-and-tonic-season graduation party and bought a second bottle of gin, just in case the first one runs out. I neglected to buy limes and/or tonic, but that can be done at the last minute anyway. I love gin and tonics.
I had coffee with my friend this morning and we discussed how much we like booze. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?
Luckily, after doing a wee search of the BCLCB's website, I see that I can purchase Brooklyn Lager somewhat easily with just a little bit of a walk. Sure, it isn't available at my beloved Kingsgate location, but the Main & 28th and both Cambie ones do have a few packs. Really, I shouldn't give out this information because I know some of you regular readers are boozehounds (no offence) and will buy out the store if given half a chance. There are over 200 packs in the lower mainland, so I feel somewhat secure that I can get some somewhere.
What I really need is an inside track on Archers. The BCLCB doesn't stock it, but summer tastes a whole lot better with an Archers and lemonade. I could suffer through Pimm's and lemonade, or the Pimm's Cup, but Archers... That's what I really want. It tastes like summer; boozy, boozy summer.
Tomorrow I graduate from school and will have a drink with my lunch, just because I can. I wonder if my fire fighter friend will force Jager shots again, like usual... Is it unprofessional to do shots at a convocation luncheon with your profs nearby?
I volunteered to take librarians on a pub crawl tomorrow night, in conjunction with the Canadian Library Association's annual conference, so I'll be able to see how good of drinkers librarians really are. They've got quite a reputation for being heavy drinkers (and I'm not even joking), but I want proof outside my current sample. And I want a good reason to drink on a Thursday, even if it is with complete strangers in pubs I would not necessarily go to on a Thursday anyway (though I would happily go to the Railway, and that is the last stop on the crawl).
On Friday I am going to my guybrarian friend's start-of-gin-and-tonic-season graduation party and bought a second bottle of gin, just in case the first one runs out. I neglected to buy limes and/or tonic, but that can be done at the last minute anyway. I love gin and tonics.
I had coffee with my friend this morning and we discussed how much we like booze. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?
Saturday, May 17, 2008
small places
I'm probably supposed to tell you about Toronto. I have every intention of doing it, but might not do it today. The general summary: I had fun in Toronto.
This, instead, is about last night.
Last night I walked up to Blim for a rare live show. Blim is a small place at the best of times, often only holding 20 chairs or so. Seeing films there, I know it often isn't packed tight regardless of the event. Wasn't sure what to expect from this show. There wound up being a fair number of people, and some resorted to sitting on the floor. Not me, though; I'm efficient with time so got there early enough to get a real seat. I happened to sit beside my friend's old roommate and felt like a total dork when, after 10 minutes of me sitting in silence and oblivious, she started talking to me. I just wasn't thinking I knew anyone so didn't even pay attention to who was around me. The show was the Wintermitts, who are from here, and Laura Barrett, who is from Toronto.
I saw the Wintermitts last month when they opened for Julie Doiron, but it was kind of fun seeing them in such a tiny place. The acoustic version of their show suited the softer songs much better than I'd heard previously. There was one guy who played only on two songs, and I felt sort of bad for him that he had to sit awkwardly through the whole set despite having nothing to do. I appreciate accordions in music; especially charming is someone who can play the accordion while drinking beer.
TanPoh showed up during the break and I drank root beer, 'cause that's how I roll.
The whole reason I wanted to go to this show, though, was Laura Barrett. She used to play with the Hidden Cameras and CBC Radio 3 plays her quite a lot lately, and I like the idea of a soloist playing an unconventional instrument. She plays the kalimba and has a little machine that makes noises she adjusts with her bare feet. She has a lovely, smart-sounding voice and her songs are quirky and often funny. She's opening for Beirut next week at the Commodore, but I'm afraid her songs will be lost in the cavernous ballroom. But it would be fun to see her play again; she's fun. Too bad it's sold out and I'm broke.
Unrelated, the Japanese version of "The Office" on SNL is hilarious. I especially liked rajio taisō with a hot coffee can on a neck injury. I think Usher is channelling Terence Trent Darby. Actually, he absolutely is. Those moves are lifted from "Wishing Well."
I think I'm going to start applying for jobs this week, even though I'm not sure any of them are what I'm looking for or even qualified for. I have an interview on Tuesday for on-call at the library, so hopefully that goes well so I can start making some money again. I've decided to apply to a job in Chicago, not because I think I'll even be interviewed, but so I know I can't move to Chicago. Of course, if lightning struck and I got an interview, it would be fun to go back for a mini holiday. If I got the job... well, that would be almost hilarious. And wholly improbable.
Tomorrow is the first day of being sort of unemployed. My friend invited me to the track to bet on the ponies (which would be totally fun), but I think I'm meant to picnic in a park instead. I wonder how much I could win if I started off with $30...
This, instead, is about last night.
Last night I walked up to Blim for a rare live show. Blim is a small place at the best of times, often only holding 20 chairs or so. Seeing films there, I know it often isn't packed tight regardless of the event. Wasn't sure what to expect from this show. There wound up being a fair number of people, and some resorted to sitting on the floor. Not me, though; I'm efficient with time so got there early enough to get a real seat. I happened to sit beside my friend's old roommate and felt like a total dork when, after 10 minutes of me sitting in silence and oblivious, she started talking to me. I just wasn't thinking I knew anyone so didn't even pay attention to who was around me. The show was the Wintermitts, who are from here, and Laura Barrett, who is from Toronto.
I saw the Wintermitts last month when they opened for Julie Doiron, but it was kind of fun seeing them in such a tiny place. The acoustic version of their show suited the softer songs much better than I'd heard previously. There was one guy who played only on two songs, and I felt sort of bad for him that he had to sit awkwardly through the whole set despite having nothing to do. I appreciate accordions in music; especially charming is someone who can play the accordion while drinking beer.
TanPoh showed up during the break and I drank root beer, 'cause that's how I roll.
The whole reason I wanted to go to this show, though, was Laura Barrett. She used to play with the Hidden Cameras and CBC Radio 3 plays her quite a lot lately, and I like the idea of a soloist playing an unconventional instrument. She plays the kalimba and has a little machine that makes noises she adjusts with her bare feet. She has a lovely, smart-sounding voice and her songs are quirky and often funny. She's opening for Beirut next week at the Commodore, but I'm afraid her songs will be lost in the cavernous ballroom. But it would be fun to see her play again; she's fun. Too bad it's sold out and I'm broke.
Unrelated, the Japanese version of "The Office" on SNL is hilarious. I especially liked rajio taisō with a hot coffee can on a neck injury. I think Usher is channelling Terence Trent Darby. Actually, he absolutely is. Those moves are lifted from "Wishing Well."
I think I'm going to start applying for jobs this week, even though I'm not sure any of them are what I'm looking for or even qualified for. I have an interview on Tuesday for on-call at the library, so hopefully that goes well so I can start making some money again. I've decided to apply to a job in Chicago, not because I think I'll even be interviewed, but so I know I can't move to Chicago. Of course, if lightning struck and I got an interview, it would be fun to go back for a mini holiday. If I got the job... well, that would be almost hilarious. And wholly improbable.
Tomorrow is the first day of being sort of unemployed. My friend invited me to the track to bet on the ponies (which would be totally fun), but I think I'm meant to picnic in a park instead. I wonder how much I could win if I started off with $30...
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
white city
When I planned this trip, I really wanted to spend an equal amount of time in each city, but knew that I'd have to pay for accommodation in Chicago and decided to give up a day or two to save money. In hindsight, this was a terrible plan.
Like I haven't said it enough, I love Chicago. It was the city that whet my interest in architecture and every time I go back I remember why I love buildings. It's got a lot going on and people are nice and helpful and it doesn't feel pretentious or snotty in a way other big cities can sometimes feel, especially in the more tony areas of town. (The snootiness is for the suburbs.)
I arrived ahead of schedule and easily caught the train into the city (why anyone would pay for a taxi is beyond me). I realised partway through the ride that the store I wanted to hit was on the way to the hostel, so I got off and dragged my suitcase the 5 blocks to The Boring Store. Meant to be unassuming and, well, boring, The Boring Store is the front for 826 Chicago (sibling to the aforementioned 826 New York. I must figure out how to get to the Seattle chapter, and would really, really love anyone who can facilitate a tour of all the chapters. I'm especially interested in the robot supply store in Detroit/Ann Arbor) and is a spy supply store. Less involved than the Brooklyn shop, it has a wide array of spy-related articles. I headed on to the hostel and checked in and all that, and called my friend to figure out a plan for the next few days, as I was only supposed to be at the hostel for the one night. Problems at work changed the plan and that's when I started to worry. With a promise from him to get to work on an alternate plan, I went on my cryfest at the TraveLodge just in case and called him back at our appointed time, only to discover he'd managed to find a place for me. Then he said, "Where are you? The hostel?" I said I was and he said he'd meet me there in 20 minutes, which was a bit surprising since I thought he was on his way home. He was, but goes by the hostel on his way to his second train. We headed for a drink and a bite to eat at the Billy Goat Tavern, made famous on SNL with the whole cheezborger, cheezborger thing. I learned later that there are a couple of them around the city and this one wasn't the original; good thing, because it was a little sad. A variety of ageing men sat on the stools around the bar, singing along to classic rock hits, trying to talk up the bottle blonde waitress. I had a cheeseburger (but none of that "cheezborger, cheezborger" stuff, which disappointed my friend) and a pint of the house lager and caught up with Jason for a couple of hours. He had to get home for his ridiculously early commute, so he walked me back to the hostel. It was relatively early, dark but not late, so I walked up Michigan to Wacker (my favourite street, only because of the vast number of amazing buildings built on it) and took night shots of the well-lit towers along the river. By the time I made it back to the hostel it was more than time to go to bed.
The breakfast at hostels is usually pretty dismal and this one was no exception (really, the only one I've ever been happy with was in Paris near Montmartre because we had pain au chocolat and mocha for breakfast). After wandering around the Bean in Millennium Park and admiring Frank Gehry's bandshell, I dragged my suitcase (OK, fine, it was on wheels, so it wasn't that hard to drag, but it was noisy and heavy up stairs) to the Art Institute because I had a boat tour at 11am and the Coast Guard won't let you take much on the boat. Problem was the AIC doesn't open until 10:30 and people were crazy about the Hopper show and started lining up around 10am. I got in, went right to the bag check, and then rushed down to the river to catch the tour. It was a two-hour tour and showcased some of the best buildings in the city. Afterwards I went back to the AIC to collect my bag and confirm plans with my friend before heading back to and over the river to Gino's East for deep dish pizza. This was the one day that the weather was moderately warm (read: sort of hot), so I drank my body weight in lemonade before I ate. After lunch I headed off to the hotel, checked in, and promptly fell asleep. I was supposed to explore the neighbourhood and buy records at Reckless. Oops. Jason popped in after work and we hung out for a few hours and watched the weather get kind of crappy. After he left I went for a walk and looked at the booze collection at Walgreen's. I stayed up watching the cake decorating show on the Food Network while drinking Cherry Coke. Good times.
In the morning Jason came in for the continental breakfast (since, because he made the booking, he was technically registered in the room), which was honestly the most kick-ass continental breakfast in history. Waffles, eggs and sausage, bacon, bagels, toast, cereal (a selection of), fruit, yogurt cups, muffins, donuts, a variety of juices, coffee... It was shocking. Since it was raining we discussed at length what we should do while we walked to the record store to look for soul 7"s (for him) and used CDs (for me). We checked out and decided to visit the Chicago History Museum, which wound up being really fun and interesting (not surprisingly; I love museums), and perfect for the weather. Jason's knowledge of the city supplemented the information nicely, drawing links to stuff that wasn't made in the exhibits. We were both interested in the dioramas (I love dioramas and hadn't realised it until we had a lengthy discussion on why dioramas are awesome) and not so interested in the Catholic Chicago exhibit. After a run through the gift shop, we headed downtown. Despite asking for two days off (which he was approved for last month), Jason had to work one of those days (to learn how to do another person's job since she quit and her last day was the day he had off and he found out at 3pm on the day I got into town) and had to go into work after he dropped me off at the hostel after the museum to do damage control because his supervisor is sort of crazy and incompetent and sent him a nasty email midday. With the later afternoon and evening unexpectantly free, I booked a spot on the Chicago Architecture Foundation's Happy Hour tour of historic skyscrapers, despite the declining weather, mainly because of the guarantee that a drink awaited me at the end. The people in my group initially seemed pretty dull: all couples, all but one quite a bit older, the younger couple with a baby. As it turned out, they were all pretty interesting and funny, and we all made sure the baby stroller could get into each of the buildings (our team motto was "no one left behind or on the street"). I was surprised how much I actually knew about the buildings already; wish this could benefit me some measurable way. At the end we went to a bar and had a drink (one included in the cost of the walk) and chatted. I sat beside the younger couple and they were really interesting and fun. She's from Texas, he's from Germany, and they live in Scotland. They were really interested when I said I finished library school and asked lots of questions about Vancouver, since they're always on the lookout for new places to visit. I liked them because their baby slept soundly while they drank beer in a noisy pub. By the time we left, the weather had improved and I decided to go on a search for a Chicago hotdog.
Chicago hotdogs are special. As the Chicago History Museum said in their special exhibit on the Chicago Hotdog, there are a number of things found on an authentic Chicago hotdog:
- poppy seed bun
- weiner (obviously)
- onions
- green relish (the brighter, the better)
- mustard
- tomatoes
- hot peppers
- a pickle
- a dusting of celery salt
I walked along State Street to the other side of the river, kitty corner to the Hard Rock Cafe, to Portillo's, which offers one of the best hotdogs in the city (though the next time I go I've got a date to go to Hot Doug's). It's really, really hard to eat a hotdog with all that stuff on it, so I had to eat some of it in stages. It's no Japadog, but it was still good.
In the morning I had time to kill, since I didn't have to leave for the airport until after 1pm. I wanted to go to the Marshall Fields building (I just can't call it Macy's, even though it is Macy's now. It will always be Marshall Fields to me) and was pleased to discover they still sell Frango chocolates there. I bought a ridiculous amount of chocolate and wandered through some other stores before trying to find lunch. The only place near the El station I could see that wasn't a Dunkin' Donuts was the Italian Village, one of the oldest restaurants in the city. It's a little posh, but still affordable, so I figured I'd give it a try. I suspect the waiter was an ass because he spoke very little to me; I chose to ignore that and enjoy my lunch. Everyone else doted on me, so I guess I just looked poor to the waiter and he thought he wouldn't get a tip. Whatever. I headed out to the airport and held back tears as the plane lifted off. I love Chicago.
Favourite buildings from this trip (replacing 311 South Wacker Drive):
1) River City
2) Tribune Tower
3) Two Prudential Plaza
Like I haven't said it enough, I love Chicago. It was the city that whet my interest in architecture and every time I go back I remember why I love buildings. It's got a lot going on and people are nice and helpful and it doesn't feel pretentious or snotty in a way other big cities can sometimes feel, especially in the more tony areas of town. (The snootiness is for the suburbs.)
I arrived ahead of schedule and easily caught the train into the city (why anyone would pay for a taxi is beyond me). I realised partway through the ride that the store I wanted to hit was on the way to the hostel, so I got off and dragged my suitcase the 5 blocks to The Boring Store. Meant to be unassuming and, well, boring, The Boring Store is the front for 826 Chicago (sibling to the aforementioned 826 New York. I must figure out how to get to the Seattle chapter, and would really, really love anyone who can facilitate a tour of all the chapters. I'm especially interested in the robot supply store in Detroit/Ann Arbor) and is a spy supply store. Less involved than the Brooklyn shop, it has a wide array of spy-related articles. I headed on to the hostel and checked in and all that, and called my friend to figure out a plan for the next few days, as I was only supposed to be at the hostel for the one night. Problems at work changed the plan and that's when I started to worry. With a promise from him to get to work on an alternate plan, I went on my cryfest at the TraveLodge just in case and called him back at our appointed time, only to discover he'd managed to find a place for me. Then he said, "Where are you? The hostel?" I said I was and he said he'd meet me there in 20 minutes, which was a bit surprising since I thought he was on his way home. He was, but goes by the hostel on his way to his second train. We headed for a drink and a bite to eat at the Billy Goat Tavern, made famous on SNL with the whole cheezborger, cheezborger thing. I learned later that there are a couple of them around the city and this one wasn't the original; good thing, because it was a little sad. A variety of ageing men sat on the stools around the bar, singing along to classic rock hits, trying to talk up the bottle blonde waitress. I had a cheeseburger (but none of that "cheezborger, cheezborger" stuff, which disappointed my friend) and a pint of the house lager and caught up with Jason for a couple of hours. He had to get home for his ridiculously early commute, so he walked me back to the hostel. It was relatively early, dark but not late, so I walked up Michigan to Wacker (my favourite street, only because of the vast number of amazing buildings built on it) and took night shots of the well-lit towers along the river. By the time I made it back to the hostel it was more than time to go to bed.
The breakfast at hostels is usually pretty dismal and this one was no exception (really, the only one I've ever been happy with was in Paris near Montmartre because we had pain au chocolat and mocha for breakfast). After wandering around the Bean in Millennium Park and admiring Frank Gehry's bandshell, I dragged my suitcase (OK, fine, it was on wheels, so it wasn't that hard to drag, but it was noisy and heavy up stairs) to the Art Institute because I had a boat tour at 11am and the Coast Guard won't let you take much on the boat. Problem was the AIC doesn't open until 10:30 and people were crazy about the Hopper show and started lining up around 10am. I got in, went right to the bag check, and then rushed down to the river to catch the tour. It was a two-hour tour and showcased some of the best buildings in the city. Afterwards I went back to the AIC to collect my bag and confirm plans with my friend before heading back to and over the river to Gino's East for deep dish pizza. This was the one day that the weather was moderately warm (read: sort of hot), so I drank my body weight in lemonade before I ate. After lunch I headed off to the hotel, checked in, and promptly fell asleep. I was supposed to explore the neighbourhood and buy records at Reckless. Oops. Jason popped in after work and we hung out for a few hours and watched the weather get kind of crappy. After he left I went for a walk and looked at the booze collection at Walgreen's. I stayed up watching the cake decorating show on the Food Network while drinking Cherry Coke. Good times.
In the morning Jason came in for the continental breakfast (since, because he made the booking, he was technically registered in the room), which was honestly the most kick-ass continental breakfast in history. Waffles, eggs and sausage, bacon, bagels, toast, cereal (a selection of), fruit, yogurt cups, muffins, donuts, a variety of juices, coffee... It was shocking. Since it was raining we discussed at length what we should do while we walked to the record store to look for soul 7"s (for him) and used CDs (for me). We checked out and decided to visit the Chicago History Museum, which wound up being really fun and interesting (not surprisingly; I love museums), and perfect for the weather. Jason's knowledge of the city supplemented the information nicely, drawing links to stuff that wasn't made in the exhibits. We were both interested in the dioramas (I love dioramas and hadn't realised it until we had a lengthy discussion on why dioramas are awesome) and not so interested in the Catholic Chicago exhibit. After a run through the gift shop, we headed downtown. Despite asking for two days off (which he was approved for last month), Jason had to work one of those days (to learn how to do another person's job since she quit and her last day was the day he had off and he found out at 3pm on the day I got into town) and had to go into work after he dropped me off at the hostel after the museum to do damage control because his supervisor is sort of crazy and incompetent and sent him a nasty email midday. With the later afternoon and evening unexpectantly free, I booked a spot on the Chicago Architecture Foundation's Happy Hour tour of historic skyscrapers, despite the declining weather, mainly because of the guarantee that a drink awaited me at the end. The people in my group initially seemed pretty dull: all couples, all but one quite a bit older, the younger couple with a baby. As it turned out, they were all pretty interesting and funny, and we all made sure the baby stroller could get into each of the buildings (our team motto was "no one left behind or on the street"). I was surprised how much I actually knew about the buildings already; wish this could benefit me some measurable way. At the end we went to a bar and had a drink (one included in the cost of the walk) and chatted. I sat beside the younger couple and they were really interesting and fun. She's from Texas, he's from Germany, and they live in Scotland. They were really interested when I said I finished library school and asked lots of questions about Vancouver, since they're always on the lookout for new places to visit. I liked them because their baby slept soundly while they drank beer in a noisy pub. By the time we left, the weather had improved and I decided to go on a search for a Chicago hotdog.
Chicago hotdogs are special. As the Chicago History Museum said in their special exhibit on the Chicago Hotdog, there are a number of things found on an authentic Chicago hotdog:
- poppy seed bun
- weiner (obviously)
- onions
- green relish (the brighter, the better)
- mustard
- tomatoes
- hot peppers
- a pickle
- a dusting of celery salt
I walked along State Street to the other side of the river, kitty corner to the Hard Rock Cafe, to Portillo's, which offers one of the best hotdogs in the city (though the next time I go I've got a date to go to Hot Doug's). It's really, really hard to eat a hotdog with all that stuff on it, so I had to eat some of it in stages. It's no Japadog, but it was still good.
In the morning I had time to kill, since I didn't have to leave for the airport until after 1pm. I wanted to go to the Marshall Fields building (I just can't call it Macy's, even though it is Macy's now. It will always be Marshall Fields to me) and was pleased to discover they still sell Frango chocolates there. I bought a ridiculous amount of chocolate and wandered through some other stores before trying to find lunch. The only place near the El station I could see that wasn't a Dunkin' Donuts was the Italian Village, one of the oldest restaurants in the city. It's a little posh, but still affordable, so I figured I'd give it a try. I suspect the waiter was an ass because he spoke very little to me; I chose to ignore that and enjoy my lunch. Everyone else doted on me, so I guess I just looked poor to the waiter and he thought he wouldn't get a tip. Whatever. I headed out to the airport and held back tears as the plane lifted off. I love Chicago.
Favourite buildings from this trip (replacing 311 South Wacker Drive):
1) River City
2) Tribune Tower
3) Two Prudential Plaza
Saturday, May 10, 2008
start spreading the news
New York was a lot to digest and I felt like I needed some distance from it before I could write about it. I think I'm ready to tackle it.
Day 2 in New York my friend kept asking me to make a list of what I wanted to do, which made me think I was supposed to want to do specific things, which I guess I did want but hadn't really thought too much about. We went on a free tour of Grand Central Terminal that digressed into a sales pitch for New York cheesecake and crowd interaction. We stayed a bit too long with the tour, resulting in feelings of lost time, and we eagerly caught the subway to Washington Square to feel more productive. The Shake Shack was something I definitely wanted to experience and, despite hurting my tummy eventually, the burgers and shakes were well worth the 30 minute wait. It surprises me that New Yorkers are so willing to wait for foodstuffs; I always assumed everyone was impatient and hey-I'm-walkin'-here-ish. We walked around the outer path of the Square looking at buildings, though the overcast sky meant I couldn't get a clear view of the Empire State. We headed uptown to the Met and paid $1 each to get in (the only really useful part of the tour was the guy saying that New Yorkers pay for the Met and that the $20 entrance fee is a suggestion, and that the admissions people won't even bat an eye if you give next to no money, which was completely true) and headed to the Jeff Koons sculptures on the top floor. It was unfortunate that the weather was so overcast because the view is potentially grand. We mainly took pictures of our reflections in the balloon dog's ass and did a quick tour through some of the exhibits, and the highlight was "Origin of the World" in the Gustave Courbet exhibit, a piece I enjoyed when I was at Musee d'Orsay. By the time we got out I was well prepared to head homeward.
Day 3: The trying day. We planned the route for the day, from place to place that I picked, and got a somewhat late start considering what "needed" to be done. After a diner breakfast up the street at Mike's Diner, we went to the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, a now-Smithsonian institution of decorative arts, though I wanted to go there specifically because it was Andrew Carnegie's house and I wanted to get some feel for the man that changed how society looks at libraries. It was a little disappointing, as he was not even mentioned, but we did see some nice works. Onward to SoHo for an attempt at Uniqlo. When I lived in Japan, my friends and I would go to Uniqlo every couple of weeks because it was cheap, somewhat cute, and was large enough that foreigners could fit the clothes. On this day it overwhelmed me and made me cry, so I was well prepared to get the hell away from there as quickly as possible. We headed to the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge and walked into Manhattan. This was a distracting walk because Justin and I had a bit of a falling out, yelling at each other and airing some of the concerns that had been building over the previous days. (I realise that I'm difficult to get along with if the other person is not aware of my moodiness and OCD tendencies.) Once the walk was done, so was the fight and we headed off to Brooklyn to visit a place recommended by my friend Randi, who had been in NYC two weeks prior. Unfortunately the place was closed and we drowned our sorrows in fish and chips from the Chip Shop, a somewhat authentic British chip shop (authentic because it seemed like the staff and half the clientèle were actually Brits). We then decided to head to the Brooklyn Museum for the Takeshi Murakami show, which wound up being a lot of fun since the first Saturday of the month is free (except for the major exhibit) and is open until 11pm and has music and booze. Despite seeing his work in Japan, the Murakami show was fantastic and we spent a lot of time wandering around and watching his array of videos. Eventually we both started nodding off and decided to get some bagels for the next day, so headed back into Manhattan to Katz's Delicatesan. Katz's is an experience, especially at night, and we happened upon a wedding party as we arrived. This is kind of funny if you've ever seen the place: it's eclectic and a little frantic and hands-off, which isn't normally associated with weddings. We got our bagels and knishes, and headed off to Astoria exhausted. The best quote of the day, while walking down Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn: "That's Helen Spiegal. She's a lesbian."
On Day 4 we slowed down a bit, which was kind of welcome by this point. We headed out to Brooklyn to try the place that was closed the previous day: the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. Nerd friends will be all over this place, as it really does sell superhero supplies, all neatly arranged row upon row, including superpowers, capes, tights, accouterments, and the like. We spent a lot of time there and collectively took a lot of pictures. A little research revealed this is the storefront for 862 New York, the tutorial program started by Dave Eggers to give kids access to writers who encourage them to improve literacy. All the money generated by the store goes to the program, so we were more than happy to drop some dough there. We then met up with Justin's friend Brian and headed to Di Fara Pizzaria for the best pizza in New York. We wound up waiting an hour for the pie, largely because a pizza party got there 5 minutes ahead of us. Di Fara's is one guy (now likely in his late 70s) making the pizza in an old-world oven and his son taking orders and reminding him of what he has to make. It's an art watching him drizzle olive oil over the dough, followed by chunky sauce, three kinds of cheeses and freshly cut basil. We took our pie down the street and inhaled the whole thing between the three of us. Justin and I continued on the N to Coney Island and walked around the boardwalk and through Astroland, the amusement park. It's a mix of old and new, with glimpses of what the place must have been like in the '50s and '60s. We took a lot of pictures and the weather managed to improve to t-shirt/squinty eye levels. I had to get back into Manhattan to meet a friend, so we headed to the Cyclone for a quick ride (wooden rollercoasters are both one of my greatest fears and one of my favourite rides), and headed out. We got to SoHo with little effort and I met my old uni chum Darren for dinner at the Lucky Strike. His iPhone navigated us (those things are fricking cool) and we had a nice catch-up over pasta and mojitos (which are now my favourite drink for this time of the year during daylight hours), and I'm so glad we got to hang out. A derailment meant I had to figure out an alternate route to Astoria, and got to talking with a woman from Hamilton who had to go in the same direction, so we tried the line I thought was the right one and successfully got where we needed to go, albeit an hour later than it would have taken otherwise (Manhattan was chaos from this derailment, so I was glad to get out of there at all).
The last morning in New York involved an egg & bacon sandwich and a "regular" iced coffee (which means milk & sugar added), and was a nice way to finish the trip. I navigated the subway to JFK and had an internal race with the others on the train to see who could get to the airtrain the fastest (I won, despite letting the others go ahead so I didn't clog the escalator). I was too efficient and arrived 2 hours too early, only to find the most boring terminal ever. They played muzak! I was a little sad to leave New York, but was anxious to get to Chicago. I took the birds flying around the inside waiting area as a sign. On the plane Sufjan Stevens was playing and I got a single seat, so the sign was a good one.
One thing I can't get used to with flights to/from/in the US is that you have to take off your shoes when going through security. I'm fantastically efficient at security now, pulling everything out and plopping it into a bin with a quickness never seen before, all in a fluid motion without stoppages save for the slow person ahead of me and the delayed conveyor because someone else isn't as efficient as me and didn't take the electronic device from their bags.
Soon, a real recap of Chicago.
Day 2 in New York my friend kept asking me to make a list of what I wanted to do, which made me think I was supposed to want to do specific things, which I guess I did want but hadn't really thought too much about. We went on a free tour of Grand Central Terminal that digressed into a sales pitch for New York cheesecake and crowd interaction. We stayed a bit too long with the tour, resulting in feelings of lost time, and we eagerly caught the subway to Washington Square to feel more productive. The Shake Shack was something I definitely wanted to experience and, despite hurting my tummy eventually, the burgers and shakes were well worth the 30 minute wait. It surprises me that New Yorkers are so willing to wait for foodstuffs; I always assumed everyone was impatient and hey-I'm-walkin'-here-ish. We walked around the outer path of the Square looking at buildings, though the overcast sky meant I couldn't get a clear view of the Empire State. We headed uptown to the Met and paid $1 each to get in (the only really useful part of the tour was the guy saying that New Yorkers pay for the Met and that the $20 entrance fee is a suggestion, and that the admissions people won't even bat an eye if you give next to no money, which was completely true) and headed to the Jeff Koons sculptures on the top floor. It was unfortunate that the weather was so overcast because the view is potentially grand. We mainly took pictures of our reflections in the balloon dog's ass and did a quick tour through some of the exhibits, and the highlight was "Origin of the World" in the Gustave Courbet exhibit, a piece I enjoyed when I was at Musee d'Orsay. By the time we got out I was well prepared to head homeward.
Day 3: The trying day. We planned the route for the day, from place to place that I picked, and got a somewhat late start considering what "needed" to be done. After a diner breakfast up the street at Mike's Diner, we went to the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, a now-Smithsonian institution of decorative arts, though I wanted to go there specifically because it was Andrew Carnegie's house and I wanted to get some feel for the man that changed how society looks at libraries. It was a little disappointing, as he was not even mentioned, but we did see some nice works. Onward to SoHo for an attempt at Uniqlo. When I lived in Japan, my friends and I would go to Uniqlo every couple of weeks because it was cheap, somewhat cute, and was large enough that foreigners could fit the clothes. On this day it overwhelmed me and made me cry, so I was well prepared to get the hell away from there as quickly as possible. We headed to the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge and walked into Manhattan. This was a distracting walk because Justin and I had a bit of a falling out, yelling at each other and airing some of the concerns that had been building over the previous days. (I realise that I'm difficult to get along with if the other person is not aware of my moodiness and OCD tendencies.) Once the walk was done, so was the fight and we headed off to Brooklyn to visit a place recommended by my friend Randi, who had been in NYC two weeks prior. Unfortunately the place was closed and we drowned our sorrows in fish and chips from the Chip Shop, a somewhat authentic British chip shop (authentic because it seemed like the staff and half the clientèle were actually Brits). We then decided to head to the Brooklyn Museum for the Takeshi Murakami show, which wound up being a lot of fun since the first Saturday of the month is free (except for the major exhibit) and is open until 11pm and has music and booze. Despite seeing his work in Japan, the Murakami show was fantastic and we spent a lot of time wandering around and watching his array of videos. Eventually we both started nodding off and decided to get some bagels for the next day, so headed back into Manhattan to Katz's Delicatesan. Katz's is an experience, especially at night, and we happened upon a wedding party as we arrived. This is kind of funny if you've ever seen the place: it's eclectic and a little frantic and hands-off, which isn't normally associated with weddings. We got our bagels and knishes, and headed off to Astoria exhausted. The best quote of the day, while walking down Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn: "That's Helen Spiegal. She's a lesbian."
On Day 4 we slowed down a bit, which was kind of welcome by this point. We headed out to Brooklyn to try the place that was closed the previous day: the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. Nerd friends will be all over this place, as it really does sell superhero supplies, all neatly arranged row upon row, including superpowers, capes, tights, accouterments, and the like. We spent a lot of time there and collectively took a lot of pictures. A little research revealed this is the storefront for 862 New York, the tutorial program started by Dave Eggers to give kids access to writers who encourage them to improve literacy. All the money generated by the store goes to the program, so we were more than happy to drop some dough there. We then met up with Justin's friend Brian and headed to Di Fara Pizzaria for the best pizza in New York. We wound up waiting an hour for the pie, largely because a pizza party got there 5 minutes ahead of us. Di Fara's is one guy (now likely in his late 70s) making the pizza in an old-world oven and his son taking orders and reminding him of what he has to make. It's an art watching him drizzle olive oil over the dough, followed by chunky sauce, three kinds of cheeses and freshly cut basil. We took our pie down the street and inhaled the whole thing between the three of us. Justin and I continued on the N to Coney Island and walked around the boardwalk and through Astroland, the amusement park. It's a mix of old and new, with glimpses of what the place must have been like in the '50s and '60s. We took a lot of pictures and the weather managed to improve to t-shirt/squinty eye levels. I had to get back into Manhattan to meet a friend, so we headed to the Cyclone for a quick ride (wooden rollercoasters are both one of my greatest fears and one of my favourite rides), and headed out. We got to SoHo with little effort and I met my old uni chum Darren for dinner at the Lucky Strike. His iPhone navigated us (those things are fricking cool) and we had a nice catch-up over pasta and mojitos (which are now my favourite drink for this time of the year during daylight hours), and I'm so glad we got to hang out. A derailment meant I had to figure out an alternate route to Astoria, and got to talking with a woman from Hamilton who had to go in the same direction, so we tried the line I thought was the right one and successfully got where we needed to go, albeit an hour later than it would have taken otherwise (Manhattan was chaos from this derailment, so I was glad to get out of there at all).
The last morning in New York involved an egg & bacon sandwich and a "regular" iced coffee (which means milk & sugar added), and was a nice way to finish the trip. I navigated the subway to JFK and had an internal race with the others on the train to see who could get to the airtrain the fastest (I won, despite letting the others go ahead so I didn't clog the escalator). I was too efficient and arrived 2 hours too early, only to find the most boring terminal ever. They played muzak! I was a little sad to leave New York, but was anxious to get to Chicago. I took the birds flying around the inside waiting area as a sign. On the plane Sufjan Stevens was playing and I got a single seat, so the sign was a good one.
One thing I can't get used to with flights to/from/in the US is that you have to take off your shoes when going through security. I'm fantastically efficient at security now, pulling everything out and plopping it into a bin with a quickness never seen before, all in a fluid motion without stoppages save for the slow person ahead of me and the delayed conveyor because someone else isn't as efficient as me and didn't take the electronic device from their bags.
Soon, a real recap of Chicago.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
list of my heart's contents
Things to love about the White City (limited to 10):
1) churches are built on the top of skyscrapers
2) every building prior to 1935-ish has a spectacular lobby
3) rotating doors on most buildings
4) stuffed pizza and, similarly, deep dish pizza
5) the Rock n'Roll McDonalds, with fresh flowers and a piano bar (though the same food)!
6) easy to walk around, easy to take buses/trains
7) free lunchtime tours of buildings around the Loop
8) Dunkin' Donuts on every corner (if I liked either coffee or donuts. I just find this somewhat endearing)
9) the Chicago Architecture Foundation
10) the sidewalks are mostly even, which means I don't fall down while looking upwards, which is the way I walk here
And I haven't even made it to the Graceland Cemetary, which in theory alone makes me love this place.
It is with great sadness that today I board a plane and leave pieces of my heart around Chicago. If you would like to make a donation to my flight fund, be generous.
1) churches are built on the top of skyscrapers
2) every building prior to 1935-ish has a spectacular lobby
3) rotating doors on most buildings
4) stuffed pizza and, similarly, deep dish pizza
5) the Rock n'Roll McDonalds, with fresh flowers and a piano bar (though the same food)!
6) easy to walk around, easy to take buses/trains
7) free lunchtime tours of buildings around the Loop
8) Dunkin' Donuts on every corner (if I liked either coffee or donuts. I just find this somewhat endearing)
9) the Chicago Architecture Foundation
10) the sidewalks are mostly even, which means I don't fall down while looking upwards, which is the way I walk here
And I haven't even made it to the Graceland Cemetary, which in theory alone makes me love this place.
It is with great sadness that today I board a plane and leave pieces of my heart around Chicago. If you would like to make a donation to my flight fund, be generous.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
cheezborger, cheezborger, cheezborger, coke
I'm in the Washington Library, trying out the free internet access here. It's pretty kick-ass. If I decided I want to print stuff, the first 10 copies are free! But this is a pretty progressive city, with a mayor that wants everyone to have access to culture and knowledge, so I guess it goes without saying that such a system exists in the public library. It's a bit of a maze to actually get into the stacks and the marble and fantastic lighting offer a good attempt at making it seem older than it is.
I love Chicago so much that, despite what it does to my hair, I would seriously consider moving here. I've met up with my friend daily since I arrived, with good doses yesterday and this morning/afternoon. I'm glad I made plans just in case my plans with him didn't work out because they were altered significantly Monday. Still, he gave me a good tour of stuff and we talked buildings for hours, which always make me gleeful, and he schooled me on the importance of weiners and meat sandwiches in Chicago's history (the history museum even has a display on how to dress a hotdog!). There are only a few people that make me cry when I say goodbye to them: my grandparents, my parents, and him.
The buildings are something I never get used to here. Every block has another fantastic design and I'm pretty sure I took about 100 photos yesterday of buildings alone. The Chicago Fire was one of the luckiest breaks for any city in history, as it really established Chicago as the place to be in the 19th and 20th centuries. I mean, the Radio Flyer, Tinker Toys, Kraft Mac & Cheese and Schwinn were all started/invented in Chicago. Watch "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" or "Adventures in Babysitting" and tell me the city doesn't grab you.
Gotta run. I'm booked on a Happy Hour skyscraper tour tonight: walking with my head tilted upwards and a beer waiting for me at the end.
I love Chicago so much that, despite what it does to my hair, I would seriously consider moving here. I've met up with my friend daily since I arrived, with good doses yesterday and this morning/afternoon. I'm glad I made plans just in case my plans with him didn't work out because they were altered significantly Monday. Still, he gave me a good tour of stuff and we talked buildings for hours, which always make me gleeful, and he schooled me on the importance of weiners and meat sandwiches in Chicago's history (the history museum even has a display on how to dress a hotdog!). There are only a few people that make me cry when I say goodbye to them: my grandparents, my parents, and him.
The buildings are something I never get used to here. Every block has another fantastic design and I'm pretty sure I took about 100 photos yesterday of buildings alone. The Chicago Fire was one of the luckiest breaks for any city in history, as it really established Chicago as the place to be in the 19th and 20th centuries. I mean, the Radio Flyer, Tinker Toys, Kraft Mac & Cheese and Schwinn were all started/invented in Chicago. Watch "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" or "Adventures in Babysitting" and tell me the city doesn't grab you.
Gotta run. I'm booked on a Happy Hour skyscraper tour tonight: walking with my head tilted upwards and a beer waiting for me at the end.
Monday, May 5, 2008
i saw a man who danced with his wife
So I'm in Chicago right now and I realise I haven't really written about the New York leg of this trip. I'm not sure I'm going to talk about it today, either, which is not particularly helpful for those that want to hear about how the trip is progressing. It will happen; just not now.
Things haven't necessarily gone as planned so far, which is neither good nor bad. It is what it is. Today I cried to a check-in person at the TraveLodge down the street from the hostel to try to secure a place to stay tomorrow night (the hostel is booked fully on a Tuesday night, which makes NO sense to me at all), but wound up being booked elsewhere anyway, so the tears were in vain. Still, after I arrived in Chicago things looked bleak and disorganised, which you know makes me a bit nutty, but there is little to be done. Everything is mostly sorted now, and whatever isn't fully sorted will be sorted by tomorrow.
I am well, honestly well, and doing nothing I shouldn't be doing.
The cost of internet access is ridiculously high at the hostel and I can't afford to be on again while I'm here (probably, likely). Still, I wanted to let you know that I am OK and the trip is progressing. Really, even the stuff that isn't going right (and there is plenty that isn't) makes me realise that I can survive on instinct and street smarts (what little I have) without too much effort. People have been helpful and kind, and that makes even the most trying stuff more bearable.
Tomorrow will be my first day fully alone on this trip and I am looking forward to it. Chicago's downtown is wholly walkable and I am grateful that my feet have made it through Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens intact and without injury. The Chicago Architecture Foundation and I have a date on a boat tomorrow morning and I plan to romance a deep dish pizza at some point in the afternoon, before heading out to Lincoln Park to stay at a somewhat historic hotel for the night and wander around Wrigley and visit my friend's friends' antique shop.
Things haven't necessarily gone as planned so far, which is neither good nor bad. It is what it is. Today I cried to a check-in person at the TraveLodge down the street from the hostel to try to secure a place to stay tomorrow night (the hostel is booked fully on a Tuesday night, which makes NO sense to me at all), but wound up being booked elsewhere anyway, so the tears were in vain. Still, after I arrived in Chicago things looked bleak and disorganised, which you know makes me a bit nutty, but there is little to be done. Everything is mostly sorted now, and whatever isn't fully sorted will be sorted by tomorrow.
I am well, honestly well, and doing nothing I shouldn't be doing.
The cost of internet access is ridiculously high at the hostel and I can't afford to be on again while I'm here (probably, likely). Still, I wanted to let you know that I am OK and the trip is progressing. Really, even the stuff that isn't going right (and there is plenty that isn't) makes me realise that I can survive on instinct and street smarts (what little I have) without too much effort. People have been helpful and kind, and that makes even the most trying stuff more bearable.
Tomorrow will be my first day fully alone on this trip and I am looking forward to it. Chicago's downtown is wholly walkable and I am grateful that my feet have made it through Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens intact and without injury. The Chicago Architecture Foundation and I have a date on a boat tomorrow morning and I plan to romance a deep dish pizza at some point in the afternoon, before heading out to Lincoln Park to stay at a somewhat historic hotel for the night and wander around Wrigley and visit my friend's friends' antique shop.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Slack-off: Day 1
My hair does not like New York. It's a curly-whirly mess, despite the active straightening that I force it to adhere to before leaving the house. I'm going to try to tame it again this morning, but I'm not hopeful. Therefore, you will not see many pictures of me; my hair is not worthy of documentation.
I am, however, having all kinds of funtimes.
Things did not start off so great. I barely slept the night before my flight, due to a combination of slight disorganisation and excitement/worry about what might go wrong. After 2 hours sleep, I awoke and readied myself and my stuff. I decided the nice thing to do for my housesitter would be to take out the trash, but having given her the key that leads to my trash area, I had to prop open the door so I could get back into my apartment easily. Unfortunately the door slammed shut, forcing me to my patio entrance. My spare keys really suck, and I wiggled the stupid thing for 10 minutes, trying to convince the lock to open. I was getting worried: my ride was supposed to arrive in 10 minutes and I still had a couple things to do. Finally, the key turned.
The test of my nerves was not over. My ride accidentally turned off the sound of his alarm and my repeated attempts to inquire to his whereabouts were left unanswered. After 20 minutes I called a taxi, waited another 10, got to the airport and the gate with about 10 minutes to spare. One weird thing was I saw the parents of a kid I went to school with. I said, "You're the Hamiltons. I'm blah blah, I went to school with David." They exclaimed, "Oh, of course! Hello! Are you going to Italy, too?"
The rest of the flight and connection was mostly uneventful.
I made it to my friend's house in Astoria before he got home from work, so sat on the front stoop and checked the neighbourhood. Everything is brick and storied, like a working class neighbourhood almost anywhere. After settling in, we headed out for dinner at a Greek restaurant (apparently I can't be in Astoria without eating Greek, as there is some sort of bylaw or rule that declares the necessity; perhaps it is the slogan for the area) and absorbed the surrounding conversations while we gorged on calimari, kebabs and lemon potatoes. They bring a bowl of custardy baklava at the end of the meal and, despite being stuffed full, we both inhaled the stuff. By the time we got back to Justin's I was dead beat. Managed to fall asleep almost instantly.
Traveling is hard.
I am, however, having all kinds of funtimes.
Things did not start off so great. I barely slept the night before my flight, due to a combination of slight disorganisation and excitement/worry about what might go wrong. After 2 hours sleep, I awoke and readied myself and my stuff. I decided the nice thing to do for my housesitter would be to take out the trash, but having given her the key that leads to my trash area, I had to prop open the door so I could get back into my apartment easily. Unfortunately the door slammed shut, forcing me to my patio entrance. My spare keys really suck, and I wiggled the stupid thing for 10 minutes, trying to convince the lock to open. I was getting worried: my ride was supposed to arrive in 10 minutes and I still had a couple things to do. Finally, the key turned.
The test of my nerves was not over. My ride accidentally turned off the sound of his alarm and my repeated attempts to inquire to his whereabouts were left unanswered. After 20 minutes I called a taxi, waited another 10, got to the airport and the gate with about 10 minutes to spare. One weird thing was I saw the parents of a kid I went to school with. I said, "You're the Hamiltons. I'm blah blah, I went to school with David." They exclaimed, "Oh, of course! Hello! Are you going to Italy, too?"
The rest of the flight and connection was mostly uneventful.
I made it to my friend's house in Astoria before he got home from work, so sat on the front stoop and checked the neighbourhood. Everything is brick and storied, like a working class neighbourhood almost anywhere. After settling in, we headed out for dinner at a Greek restaurant (apparently I can't be in Astoria without eating Greek, as there is some sort of bylaw or rule that declares the necessity; perhaps it is the slogan for the area) and absorbed the surrounding conversations while we gorged on calimari, kebabs and lemon potatoes. They bring a bowl of custardy baklava at the end of the meal and, despite being stuffed full, we both inhaled the stuff. By the time we got back to Justin's I was dead beat. Managed to fall asleep almost instantly.
Traveling is hard.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)