Tag: Chicago

#329 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn HolidaysLeave a comment

Our first 24 hours in Plymouth and the rain has not stopped. This gives me the chance to stitch together three unrelated rain stories of the last couple of weeks.

Rain Story 1 comes from Chicago. An epic storm heralded our first full day in the city. Since self guided walking tours were the flavour of our city visits, some compromises were required. Let me just say, the worlds largest Starbucks was not on our original itinerary, nor was it somewhere we aspired to visit. But when rain is running down necks and saturating hems, making even the most effective waterproof ineffective, desperate measures must be taken.

As Starbucks go it was huge and as a customer I was somewhat difficult. I am much more of an independent Coffee shop kind of woman. When in the biggest Starbucks in the world I drank iced tea.

Which leads me rather nicely to Rain Story 2, later on the same day. We took ourselves off to a district known, most recently, as ‘Boys Town’ now rebranded as a more inclusive North Halsted,not in search of boys but on a quest to find the Chicago Diner, a strictly vegetarian restaurant established in 1985. The Diner deserves a blog of its own but the rain that fell just after we left the diner was of biblical proportions, so much so it drove us into a ‘Boys’ bar. Not exclusively so but predominantly. The only reason for not letting us in was a lack of ID for age purposes. The barman however allowed us in because we looked every inch of 22, Ice Cocktails were bought and we settled in the window seat. Maybe not our best move for the bar to attract clientele but we were shameless in grabbing the best seat to people watch. It turns out that complicated cocktails including tequila in their blend are awfully good for weary feet and knees. They also set you up remarkably well with the Chutzpah needed to use the gender neutral/inclusive washrooms including both urinals and cubicles. There were very stern words about two persons not using the cubicles at the same time, but for some reason I got no offers to share and could go about my comfort break in solitary confinement with no fear of rule breaking.

In other rule breaking news, we made no attempt to take guns into the bar. May I say that in Toronto we were also well behaved and made no attempt to take cannabis into bars that requested us not to.

Which brings us to Rain Story 3. The return to Plymouth. For the last two weeks the big decision of the day has been where and when to get submerged in water. T-shirt, shorts and flipflops. First full day in Plymouth, DryRobes, socks! DM boots and steamed up spectacles, how to not get submerged in water!

Phew! Back in the right time zone but only just sneaking this out just before midnight…

#328 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn Serendipity, TravelsLeave a comment

Leaving Chicago, and then, suddenly, not leaving Chicago. The book planned for my return flight, titled ‘The Paris Wife’starts off in Chicago. Set in the first chapters, somewhat unexpectedly, on the exact streets that my over used feet walked their daily 20,000 steps last week. I bought the book in Toronto because it promised to take me to Jazz Age Paris. 20 pages in and I am in Chicago and in Chicago. Two weeks ago the streets would have just been abstract names but now I have a real feeling for the geography of the early plot. This is the most delightful surprise and, as so often happens will take this blog somewhere entirely different to the planned destination.

The funny thing is that the book was chosen because it is a book written about Ernest Hemingway and his time in Paris, two subjects I am familiar and comfortable with. Already I am hoping the characters will make a visit to the Drake Hotel, a beautiful survivor from the Jazz Age.

And just like that the characters have moved on to Paris and I am in an Uber to Wimbledon.

No trips for either of us to The Drake.

#324 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn artLeave a comment

Back to Chicago, in the blog, for a fabulous blast of unexpected Contemporary Art. The Museum of Contemporary Art was showing a major retrospective of Nick Cave an artist completely unknown to me.

Nick Cave is an American sculptor, dancer, performance artist, and professor. He is best known for his Soundsuit series: wearable assemblage fabric sculptures that are bright, whimsical, and other-worldly, often made with found objects.
Born: February 4, 1959 (age 63 years), Fulton, Missouri, United States

His Soundsuits are phenomenal. A garment that disguises everything about a person. Wearing one makes a person larger than life and yet invisible, culturally and ethnically unreadable and genderless.

I need to read loads more about this artist, but a hand luggage holiday does not permit buying the weighty tome that I need to fully digest his work.

The works that really connected with me were his assemblages of domestic objects. My responses were not as complex as his motivations but that is often the point of Contemporary Art. It is made to make you think. I know that once I get home and can give this artist plenty of reading time my reactions will be different but for now I thought I would share my thoughts.

I am not an ornament person, my father was not an ornament person, in consequence my mum chose to moderate her ornament ownership. When they died I kept one ornament as a memento mori. My dad, an entirely liberal person with no special requirements of life could not visit over ornamented homes, they set off something in him which he couldn’t tolerate. I am the same, but living a generation later the problem is not as acute. Nick Cave is the same age as me and creates assemblages of the over ornamentation of his parents generation. My immediate reaction was an almost physical dislike and yet they are things of unsettling beauty.

As an aside one of my recurring dreams is in an ornament shop. Lladro brand. In the dream, I break up everything to virtual powder and feel jolly proud of myself once the ornaments are rendered down. A similar feeling of discomfort settled on me during parts of this exhibition.

Caves other work that hit a nerve with me was his Spinner Forest. Garden Spinners are another personal dislike. Three videos show this form of ornamentation in such vast numbers and out of context. Another form of a nightmare dreamscape.

Beyond his nerve jangling, concsience pricking art there are also some quieter pieces. Still hugely thought provoking.

And that, until I am better read about Nick Cave,is that. Knowing that once I have read deeply I will wish I could walk back and enjoy the whole thing more deeply and with greater understanding.

#319 theoldmortuary ponders

On By theoldmortuary.designIn Holidays4 Comments

A funny thing happened on our way for a bob. I have never written a blog from a significantly distanced holiday before. I didn’t truly imagine I would become an instant travel writer but I thought there may be a slight change of flavour to my daily ponderings. Instead I find that the ponderings continue on in much the same way with different stimuli.

We are in Chicago because Hannah worked here 25 years ago and had never been back. Her time here formed part of a misspent youth with bars, friends and adventures but her working life was not a particularly happy one as an au pair to a wealthy Anglo/American family.

The men of the family, a husband and ex-husband were kind but the woman who was her de facto employer was quite a dreadful person.

The family and Hannah lived in a large apartment on Lakeshore Drive overlooking the beach, looking towards the Drake Hotel.

25 years on Hannah thought it would be a fine idea to book into the Drake Hotel and cleanse the memory of an unkind person from her memories of a spectacular location. I suppose that is the core of our travel plans here and within hours Chicago has put new memories in place, but as is the way with ponderings, not exactly as we planned.

Coming out of our room for a swim/bob in Lake Michigan we spotted some comfy sofas

They looked like the perfect spot for weary travelers to spend an evening reading books. The view was great even if the windows were a little mucky.

We wandered about a bit and were overwhelmed and surprised by the decor of the space and facilities that were available. It was only when we stumbled on an unmade bed that we realised we were not in a palatial lounge area .

The area next to our room was a massive suite, with double doors so huge that when they were left wide open they just looked like an area of paneled corridor. The mirror picture at the top of the blog was snapped as we left.

When we returned, after our bob, the door was firmly shut and our room was once again at the end of an unremarkable corridor. Just a label on the door suggesting why we thought the sofas looked especially comfy.

In other ponderings, the baby seagulls here are epic and unbothered by being close to humans.