The places that become you

Six months ago, I didn't imagine myself here in Chicago. I envisioned myself a Peace Corps volunteer, peddling a rickety, maybe forest green bike along a red dirt road in sweaty Ugandan heat, hungry, fatigued, dirty, but happy on my way to a one room schoolhouse to start a day's lesson. The road would be lined with tall dry grass, only occupied by myself, a group of women wearing colorful wrap skirts carrying baskets on their colorfully wrapped heads, an occasional passing lorry packed with staring hitchhikers, trailed by a wall of dust, comforted by the chirping of crickets and a cloudless bright blue sky.

I was ready to have an out-of-body experience which would require me to face the task of being the white outsider, attempting to assimilate myself into a culture and environment opposite of my own. I was imagining what it felt like to be happily lonely, like in Senegal where I lived for four months in the spring of 2013. I looked forward to the feeling of accomplishment, a joke that I don't quite comprehend made about me by my host mother who will lovingly force more rice towards my end of the bowl with big white teeth and a glimmer in her eye. I imagined a peaceful dusk where hours passed by slower than I've ever experienced. My two years as a Peace Corps volunteer (if I made it that long) would bring me close to nature, far from the consumerism that runs Western society. I would become a survivalist, and closer to my own nature.

Could I have ended up in a place any more different than rural Uganda? Probably not. I moved to America's third largest city - a population of 2.7 million. Of course I did my research into AmeriCorps and decided that I wanted to be a part of the progressive education movement in a system that was in danger of decline, reflective of the national education system in danger of decline. I wanted to be part of something important and hopefully be a cog in the machine meeting the needs of vulnerable populations. I came to be part of public service - give me a cause and I'll work for it.

Selfishly, I wanted culture and expression, art, music, history - all easily found here. Since arriving here two weeks ago with a relatively fresh, unbiased perspective about the city and my future here, I have been pleasantly surprised by daily discoveries. Chicago is a landmark of human achievement: some of the best architecture, applications of science and artistic creativity, the most delicious cuisine representing every civilization around the world. 

Every day is an education in people, every kind of person exists here in this condensed space, with different values and histories, working and living side by side. Riding the subway lines since getting here, I probably cross paths with the odds of a thousand people in a few short hours: interns in thick black frames heading to work at financial accounting firms, cleaning staff, men going to the meatpacking district, teachers, restaurant workers, tattoo artists, fashion students.... I like to imagine where they are all going and what life they return to on the train ride home. 

On Monday morning it was 106 degrees with humidity. Naturally, I rode my bike two miles to Home Depot to pick up a small shelving unit for our kitchen. After a failed attempt to tie it to my bike frame, I locked up my transportation and began walking with the 25 lb box and a small whiteboard. It was black sky above the towers of downtown and a breeze had me picking up my pace. I took what I thought was a shortcut through a city provided housing project where undernourished kids were sitting on stoops on a school day and were probably thinking about how I didn't fit the profile of their neighborhood. Drops were coming in steady and I just about made it under the Chicago Housing Authority's roof before a thunderstorm brought 60 minutes of steady bolts and lashings of rain to the city of Chicago. People working inside the building came out to watch the storm and feel the breeze, along with other pedestrians without an umbrella, and so it became a party of sorts. A little girl, no older than eight, a head full of braids with rainbow clips on the ends, smiled at me shy and asked what I was doing there. She complimented me on my dress and I told her it was my sister's. She said she was a big sister to twin girls and her mom was in jail. Her grandma came out with the twins and roared at them to stay under the shelter. A lady worker came out frequently to check on me and the status of the storm, with a lot of "oh girlllllllllll" and run-on thoughts, and talked to me about the local food programs and the children's garden to the side of the building that grows big sunflowers and all sorts of vegetables. She pointed me on my way home - apparently my route was not a shortcut. Somewhere in between a white man with an important air about him exited the building and was also perplexed about what I was doing under this shelter and why no one was picking me up. I believe he was a district politician of some sort, according to the lady worker, who also said that he walks around this neighborhood by himself at night. Just one of the people you meet while hiding from a sudden rainstorm in Chicago.

In This City

1753 W Cullerton St 2nd Floor. This is my home, at least until next August. This is the result of some frantic trolling on Craiglist. I feel a little like I'm in an episode of GIRLS or Friends. Last night a fire hydrant burst open and flooded the streets and all the little Hispanic children in the neighborhood were playing in it, making it like a quintessential Hey Arnold-esque city scene.

Yesterday I took a trip on whim to explore downtown and acquaint myself with the city. The Chicago Public Library was right off the Pink Line. The mural below is featured on the 9th floor and is just one of the many displays throughout the nine levels of the library. The featured art in the library is from 20th century Chicagoan artists and seems to convey a common theme of struggle, optimism, pride, and progress.

The building to the right looks like a vertically stretched cathedral on the Chicago river which runs eastward through downtown to its mouth on Lake Michigan. It's the Chicago Tribune building and may be my favorite building so far. At the building's base are chunks of famous and historic structures around from the world - the pyramids in Egypt, Civil War landmarks, the Mesa Verde cliff dwellings ( a piece of Colorado!), the Great Wall of China.... the list goes on. This is on the Chicago River. 

My neck was strained from staring up at all the architectural wonder. I don't know what it is, but Chicago's architecture may surpass New York.

Street art by Oak Beach, off of Lake Shore Trail. 

I must have walked about 5 miles or so north up Lake Shore Trail from the city centre. Below is the view! Not too shabby, eh? The walkway was packed yesterday, the weather was gorgeous, so I just kept going. I ended up in Lincoln Park, sitting in the grass, sipping on a 7-11 Gulp with a giant map in my hands trying to navigate my way back home. I did find my way home eventually only to end up taking the train back to Lincoln Park a few hours later going to the bars with my roommate Chandler and friends. An Irish bar no less. Have yet to find a good one on my explorations. Oxfords and boat shoes to no end.