Dear Chicago …

It’s been a week or two since I got back from my conference trip to Chicago and I’ve been meaning to upload this post but circumstances have been against me, however, I think it’s high time to share my impressions.  So, penned on my last morning in sunny (and intermittently soggy) Chicago, here they are:

“It’s a great, great city.”  That’s what runs through my mind as I spend my last morning writing this in the Chicago Cultural Center café with a mellow, nostalgic soundtrack running in the background (and yes, I’ve bowed and gone down the ‘-er’ route, it being a name, normal English spelling will be resumed presently).  I arrived almost a week ago to a crisp, cold morning on the shores of Lake Michigan.  Loathed as I am to waste a minute of any trip somewhere foreign and new, I took advantage of the jet-lag-induced early rising to walk down, on that first morning, and watch the sunrise on the lakeshore over the still-iced harbour.  It was cold, the wind off the lake was icy and this was the end of the winter season so the sun rose low on the horizon, illuminating the little lighthouses on the edge of the enclosed dock.  I can imagine, having done my time in Eastern Europe which can give Illinois a run for its money as far as snow and cold goes, what it would be like at the height of winter and my boots certainly wouldn’t have been warm enough.  There’s something about early mornings in strange cities: the light, the sense of a metropolis gradually ‘coming round’ from a night of slumber, the rituals of that specific breed of early-riser that seizes that time of day for themselves.  The city was still a bit bleary-eyed but there were a hardy group of joggers running the lakefront path towards the Field Museum as I made my first proxy-pilgrimage to Soldier Field on behalf of my husband who was at home minding the toddling terror for the week.

I’ve spent a week in the city.  I’ve done the tourist route: The Field Museum, The Adler Planetarium, The Shedd Aquarium, Soldier Field, The Sears Tower, Buddy Guy’s.  I’ve spent many hours just walking about, the architecture is fantastic.  I’ve dined in bars, drunk beer at lunchtime and eaten cakes for breakfast – all the things that define, for me, ‘travelling time’.  So, what impression have I gained?  There certainly seems to be a gulf between rich and poor here, but I’m sure that the same would strike a foreign visitor to London and the people begging for spare change here were certainly very pleasant (thanks indeed to the man on the prime pitch that pointed out the beginning of Route 66 to me).  They formed a sharp contrast to the condo high rises and the ostentatious demonstrations of wealth.  The old-time ‘let our altruism be well known and reflect well on us’ attitude still appears to prevail in some fields.  Inside the Shedd Aquarium, the Field Museum, the Adler Planetarium (all named for some lofty benefactor or other), you find walls devoted to different classes of benefactors … I kid you not, there are strata within strata, every opportunity to purchase an upward trajectory of worthiness even in this modern age (frightfully un-English, don’t you know, to be so open about taking credit).

Despite the size of the city, people don’t seem to be invisible though.  I was struck by the fact that everywhere I went, even on the buses, there were ‘regulars’.  The knew each other and the drivers, the waitresses, by name.  It seems very much like a city you can find your place in.  It is certainly a city replete with culture – not just behind financial barricades (such as the uber-pricey opera) but free concerts, free art exhibitions, public works of art throughout the city – cultural life is very much alive and kicking here.  It’s a city of sport – everywhere you look: Bears, Blackhawks, Cubs, you name it, someone’s cheering it on or wearing it proudly on their (often rather rotund) belly.  It’s a gritty city, a ‘real’ city – from the cracks on the sidewalk to the snow and ice damage on the roadway, Chicago breathes, pulsates and is very much alive with its own unique character.  It grabs you and doesn’t let go.  It’s a lake-edge city, a place that has carved its way in the harsh climate of the Great Lakes area over generations and some of that tenacious, pioneering spirit seems to have left its mark on the concrete and steel of modern-day Chicago.

On the downside, I’ve learnt that people really can be too polite and solicitous – there’s customer service and then there’s invasion of personal space and, as usual, the US veers too far towards the latter for me.  I’ve learnt that Americans clap and whoop and cheer in cinemas (being toddler free, I treated myself to a night out to see Watchmen – my first time back in the cinema since Junior was born) – apparently even watching a movie is as much about being observed as it is about the act of observation.  I’ve learnt that you shouldn’t stand anywhere near the vicinity of the kerb edge on a wet day – apparently slowing down when driving through puddles is a peculiarly English trait (once again, another big ‘Thank you’ to the SUV driver that doused me from head to foot with puddle water).  As I looked down on the city from the top of the Sears Tower and reflected on what I’d really learnt here, I think the main thing was how absolutely welcoming native Chicagoans had been during my time here – warm, friendly, funny.  How fiercely loyal they are to their city and what wonderful, passionate advocates they are for it.  With the exception of one rather rude grandmother at the Planetarium (who seemed to be of the impression that her three year old granddaughter needed lessons on how to be generally rude and unpleasant to everyone), everyone I’ve met here has been friendly and open, proud of their city and happy to share the parts of it they love best with a slightly mad English tourist.  All I can say is that I can’t wait to come back again, when I’m free of work obligations, to fully explore a place that has so much more to offer than 5 days can do justice to.