dom.blog

Reunited in Christmassy jumpers

No work this week, in honour of Thanksgiving Cat and Matt visiting. Yay! This was Cat’s first trip to the land of the free and it feels like we packed in almost as much to do as the quantity of food we packed into our bellies, kicking off with a very American folky rockabilly gig (Old Grand Dad, Wild Skies) with Billy and Taylor.

Actually the world’s 12th tallest building

In general the weather did guide us towards indoor activities, and so we did not go and stand in the cold for the Magnificent Mile Christmas parade, but gathered with Agata, Michele and Sam to watch it on TV from the comfort of my apartment instead. This was a good call, not only because we could add some British Christmas touches (think Bucks Fizz, jumpers and Fairytale of New York) but also because we stumbled on Family Fortunes Feud afterwards, which turned into a reliable staple for the rest of the holiday.

Finally made it to Green Mill. Sssh, no talking.

We also saw The Guide to Being Single, a “very musical theatre” guide to dating in Chicago, as well as hitting up the the Chicago History Museum, Willis Tower (during the day this time) and – finally! – Green Mill, a jazz club famous for being a haunt of Al Capone. We weren’t sure if the “no talking” rule would apply to him, because it certainly didn’t seem to apply to the very loud whisperer behind us, but it was a very cool place to me.

Faces for freedom (and stuff) at the Chicago History Museum

Oh, and the food! Deep dish Chicago pizza at Pequod’s, at which Cat and Matt befriended two large men from Philly while I stole their food. Utter devastation at Kuma’s Corner: a heavy metal-themed burger bar where the mac and cheese alone is liable to wipe you out. And not to mention many, many breakfasts at The Windy City Café. But my favourite meal has to be the patented Cat Hurley Sunday roast, which transported me back to the days of Drayton Park. Only with more American football on in the background. Go Bears.

It’s here. It’s happening. In the frozen flows from the outdoor pipe, the biting wind, the stinging in your hands as you fumble too late for gloves: the much warned-about winter is advancing. I’m writing this blog curled under a blanket on the sofa, clasping some life-preserving Tetley tea. Give it a couple more weeks and I might even consider a scarf.

At least the lights are out

At Ellen’s Master of Peppers chilli-making competition on Saturday, Agata and I celebrated being here for five months already. Time really has gone so quickly! (“Don’t blog about this as if all Americans hold chilli-making competitions,” warned Kristina. “And don’t blog that I told you not to, either!”. I’ve officially been here long enough that people are wary of my misreporting… now isn’t that something?)

Last week I also saw two more Common Room promoted plays. The first, Strandline, was an adaptation of a Northern Irish play from a few years ago, and was somewhat… confusing. It’s a shame when you leave a theatre wishing rather meekly for a bit more exposition of the plot: gets in the way of all those emotions you’re supposed to be having. I got more out of Watch on the Rhine (featuring friend-of-the-blog John Stokvis), and not just because of the lovely set, with seats scattered in all four corners of the fancy country house living room. This play dates back to 1941, as an anti-Nazi rallying call for an America not yet at war. It’s not exactly the most subtle of messages: if it was written today, I’m not sure I could stand the strength of the halo which beams from the anti-fascist hero and his too-perfect family. But as a piece of history, it was thought provoking.

It’s been a good week for experiencing some more American institutions. Halloween is, of course, a famously big deal here although I can’t say I really threw myself whole-heartedly into the dressing up. Still, after sushi a group of us went back to Nisreen’s (last seen back in December!) to watch The Empire Strikes Back.

My problem with Star Wars, which I should probably keep in my head more often, is that I’m about 80% on the side of the Empire. Sure, blowing up a planet certainly looks bad, but that would be true of almost any military action if you overlaid sinister music on top of it. And while they might pose as romantic freedom fighters, I’m not sure dissolving a galactic empire is wise or desirable. Perhaps the new sequels could adopt a more Fabian approach to fighting the Dark Side.

Just in case CNN didn’t provide enough maps

Speaking of battling against an unstoppable evil force, on Tuesday night I dressed all in blue, bought a load of Blue Moon and sat with Randi to watch the Midterm elections. It didn’t do much good, although it was hard to summon up the feeling that much was at stake anyway. American politics is like playing a giant (and very expensive) slot machine, which you get to spin every few years, but unless all the reels happen to line up with matching parties you don’t actually win anything.

Say what you like about the Empire, but at least Darth Vader wouldn’t subject you to campaign ads.

Boo for: Hershey’s. Billy bought me some after I complained it tasted like vomit, just to see if I had changed my mind. I hadn’t.

Yay for: Brother Matthew, who we waylaid outside the nearby church because we wanted to check if the standard answer to “but why exactly did God want to create the universe in the first place?” was going to be love. (Spoiler alert: it was.) Significantly less yay for the anti-abortion posters inside, bragging about how many abortion centres they’ve successfully closed.

Some of my phrases which have required explaining recently:

• Much of a muchness
• A whole other kettle of fish
• Going hell for leather

With more Family Time than a US election ad, this weekend I took my parents and Tash on a whirlwind tour of Chicago before they headed home. In the unreasonably lovely sunshine we packed in a lot: Improv Shakespeare (this time with the marvellous Rockin’ to the Brothel), Lincoln Park Zoo, the view from the top of the Willis Tower, the Planetarium, my favourite Italian restaurant La Scarola, Navy Pier, the Bean, an awesome jazz club called The Jazz Showcase, American diner breakfasts and lots and lots of walking.

At the Bean

You gotta do the really tourist things once

Jumping on the roof. We stopped when the neighbours came up to find out what the noise was.

And in a curious twist, I also had lunch with my aunt Sally last week, who was in town for entirely coincidental reasons. All of which means I’ve had a wonderful time, but am now ready to (a) collapse in a heap, and (b) go hang out with some Chicagoans again. At least until the freezing begins in earnest.