Chicago

I'd only spent a little bit of time in Chicago before this past weekend. I also never really feel like I know a city until I've spent a lot of time walking around in it, either by myself or with a similarly intense tourist or tour guide, depending on what's available. So, in that sense, I feel like I only really met Chicago this past weekend.

Sr. Margarita Aloyisius's sister was the perfect hostess--she picked me up at the airport and took me out to a Greek restaurant called East of Eden, which was decorated with James Dean posters from the film. Of course, the restaurant was named that because it is just east of a highway called "Eden."

On the evening of my arrival, I visited the Art Institute, which I love. They had just brought out again Chagall's American Windows, which he made specifically for Chicago. Chagall's stained glass windows are always a treat. These windows it was legal to take pictures of:


I had also never seen the Chicago Stock Exchange Room, which was moved and re-assembled in the Art Institute itself. Talk about lovely! Every inch of the room was covered with painted patterns, stained glass, or carvings. And the colors were green and pink!


That evening, after a conference reception, I met a friend of Lawrence's who lives in Chicago. He took me out to where all of the cool kids purportedly hang out--Wicker Park. We started with Big Star tacos (these places are apparently too cool to have signs with words on them--the sign for Big Star was just a star; I wouldn't say even a particularly big one). Then we crossed the street to a speakeasy-themed place that served cocktails called The Violet Hour (the restaurant, not the cocktails, was called The Violet Hour). This place also didn't have a sign outside (I guess that goes with the speakeasy theme?). It did, however, have a prominently displayed list of rules, which they also gave you in postcard form to take home with you. One rule is that you can't bring anyone that you wouldn't bring home to your mother's house for Sunday dinner. I asked Lawrence's friend what else made this a speakeasy. He said that the low lighting was part of it. I mentioned that the speakeasy thing was also why the chairs had such high backs (I would say that the backs of the chairs were about three times as tall as the chairs themselves!). He agreed for a moment and then just looked confused.

Tomorrow: More adventures in Chicago.



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