- Indian guys with ear pads and who don’t smile back.
- Freezing fingers.
- Uniformed Chauffeurs in front of really tall buildings.
- Two second eye contact.
- Puerto Rican Salvation Army volunteer who doesn’t get annoyed when he insists that he’s not from Mexico.
- Busy-looking pedestrians with carry-ons, heading nowhere, heading somewhere.
- African-American Salvation Army volunteers who dance, who ring bells, who sing while selling two dollar leaflets.
- Tall building that block the morning sun.
- Two jokes from a street vendor:
- 1. “Here’s the secret to playing golf: Wear two socks just in case you get a hole in one.” Ah-ha!
- 2. “Q: What’s Beethoven’s favourite fruit? A: Banananana.”
- An Art Institute with endless exit corridors that lead into one another.
- An art institute with exits that pass through a gift shop.
- Museum officials who speak French.
- Bennigans Grill and Tavern with 15 mins waiting time.
- Senseless arguments on the differences in champagne and white sparkling wine.
- Exhilaration on the Sky Deck overlooking the famous city.
- Problematic calculations on tipping.
- Slow Africans at traffic go lights.
- Grant Park.
- Traffic lights.
- Tourists with the slowest feet.
- Impatient Africans at traffic stop lights.
- A city that never stops demanding.
- The Magnificent Mile.
- Cold Wind
- Fast-moving feet.
- Pedestrians that keep walking even when the sign says “stop”.
- Road signs that read “West” when it means to read “East”.
- White working-class women with iPods earplugs who text while crossing the road.
- Tax on food purchased at restaurants which doesn’t include tips.
- Waitresses who smile.
- Old white men who don’t acknowledge greeting nods.
- Old black men who seek eye contact.
It’s Chicago, the windy city. It’s Chi-town, birthplace of Hillary Clinton in the land of Lincoln.
It is Chicago, a city on the Michigan Lake. It’s Chi-town, home of the president. A city of lights and lightening warmth. A city that sleeps with its eyes wide open.
The four of us who left our little sleepy town yesterday have now landed safely in the bosom of the Windy City. The journey from St. Louis to Chicago only took five long hours on a double decked megabus that offered a beautiful view of the pitch blackness of the road and only a little compensation of little street and vehicle lights. A journey during the day might have given a little more to rejoice for as far as road sight-seeing is concerned. It was something to be thankful for however that it provided a few pockets of sleeping time for us who had spent an earlier part of the evening riding in a private van all the way from Edwardsville. The bus which left the St. Louis Union Station pulled over at the Chicago Union Station a few minutes after six this morning, and we the travellers stepped into the cold wind with gigantic buildings blocking our view of the beautiful morning sky.
We are Reham, Audrey, Mafoya and I: two males, two females; three Africans and one French; two Fulbrighters and two International students; two and a half speakers of French, one of Arabic and one and a half of Yoruba; one moslem, an atheist, one Christian and one composite. In short, a United Nations of sorts. We have so far visited a few fun places, and as I lay here typing after a long day, I don’t know just where to start. The day had definitely been fulfilling, from getting lost on the streets, to getting shoved within a crowd of busy pedestrians going and coming without a discernible pattern of intentions. From becoming the centre of attention on the corner of a busy street because of a heady insistence to consult the large city map right there to the long, pleasant ride up into the Sky Deck observation area of the Sears (Willie’s) Tower to get an aerial view of the whole city, and to learn more of the very much cultural import of this city that has defined America in more ways than one. From a long walk on Adam’s street coming from the magnificent Sear’s Towers to the enchanting awesome experience of the corridors of the Art Institute of Chicago – an experience of a lifetime that requires a long post of its own. From sitting at Starbucks on an early Friday morning observing people getting their morning beverage ritual to returning home tired at night to this five star hostel that had put up no big public sign of its name and had got us a bit wandering. From the ups and downs of this exhilarating day, here we are, bushed from a day on a town that never stops demanding, yet bubbly with a kind of sweet miserableness.