What I know of Chicago came from movies and songs. Like High Fidelity with John and Joan Cusack, Jack Black, and Tim Robbins. Or Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago, a song that will now play in my head for this entire post. And I hear they like their pizza super doughy and cheesy.

So, when Bob proposed we spend a couple of nights in Chicago on our way home from Lake Mills last September, I said, “Why not?” I’m an open-minded sort of person, and since I hadn’t broadened my horizons in years, it was high time I checked out The Second City.

As per usual, Bob made all arrangements and accommodations. All I had to do was tag along, gaping at the sights, and I did that handily. Also, as per usual, he secured us a nice suite in The Hampton Inn, this one housed in the historic Majestic Building and located in Chicago’s Theater District, inside the Loop.

Our first morning in Chicago, I walked downs eighteen flights of stairs for coffee and muffins. Hotel stairwells are a great way to escape the air conditioning and uncramp my legs from travel-sitting. They feel like a cosy secret, an echoey haven for die-hard walkers. I rarely encounter another human in my stairwell meanderings.

What a surprise to fling open the door and find what used to be the outside wall of the Majestic! Apparently, the Hampton Inn stairwell was added onto the outside of the Majestic, probably years ago.

I felt like an archeologist as I stared at decades-old pigeon poop on brick and stone, and in that moment, my heart opened up to Chicago. I could see New York’s familiar grime and fancy architecture in this sealed-up space-time portal. I now knew something about Chicago that may not be so evident to others, and that knowing made me feel like an insider.

When I did my research for this post, I read that the Majestic was a Shubert Theatre, just like the eleven Shubert Theatres my grandpa ran in Manhattan and I wondered if he had ever been to this one in Chicago.

But enough insider stuff. It was time to get outside and act like tourists. There are plenty of parks, museums, and art in the Loop. Our first meander took us a few blocks from the hotel to Millennium Park, home to Chicago’s iconic Cloudgate which most people refer to as “The Bean.”

We had a lot of fun playing around near the 110 ton, stainless steel sculpture. It’s like a giant fun-house mirror.

Sixty-six feet long and thirty-three feet high, the Bean is made of polished stainless steel and was installed a mere twenty years ago.

Another interactive feature at Millennium Park, the Crown Fountain splash pad, involved water and two fifty-foot towers made of glass blocks projecting video of real Chicagoans.

We sat near the splash pad with gelato cones from Amorino, a busy, brick and mortar shop near the park.

As I was finishing my cone, two young men approached us and asked, “Are you happy?” Well, of course we were we said, and one of the men filmed us telling the other man all about it, and so we got ourselves on YouTube. (briefly at .08, then 5:54, and longer at the 6:26 mark)

Cities are such an odd mixture of work and play. Who keeps all of this clean? I kept asking myself. As a tourist, I focused on the bright, potted flowers and art installations, but all I had to do was look down to think about the maintenance. The street sweeping and lawn care, repairs and garbage removal. There are legions of workers making a city shine, but none know how to get rid of flattened gum. And actually, that gum sparked an affinity for Chicago, New York’s sister in grime.

We walked about eight miles on our one full day in Chicago, beginning at the southwest edge of Lake Michigan, past the many joggers and strollers.

Bob wore a blue Hempsmith tee under his button-down so that he could send Arlo a photo of his clothing line being worn in Chicago. And because Bob believes that tie-dye is always a solid fashion choice.

We couldn’t have asked for a brighter, more beautiful day, I thought, as we made our way into Grant Park.

The Clarence F. Buckingham Memorial Fountain is made of pink Georgia marble and was installed in 1927 by his sister, Kate. We had stumbled upon one of the largest fountains in the world and my respect for Chicago was growing by the minute.

The bronze, Art Deco sea horses represent the four states bordering Lake Michigan: Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan.

City parks are a refreshing distraction from the concrete jungle, a place where geese graze just like anywhere else on earth.

And Squirrels forage for whatever they can scratch up.

Back to the gum-crusted, crumb-dusted, but not poop-smeared streets. Kudos to Chicago’s pooch owners for doing a great job of cleaning up after their pets.

Birds tell us it’s okay to breathe the air. When we moved to coal-sooted Tianjin, China in 1998, I knew we were in trouble as soon as I realized there were hardly any birds.

You will know me as a tourist because I have a camera and it is pointed up.

Bob crosses a bridge alongside some mildly-disturbing art.

The Chicago River Riverwalk offers lots of places to sit and eat and there were plenty of people doing just that, but we kept on walking. When a fire boat drifted by, I thought about how cool it would be to see them suck water from the river and shoot it into the sky.

Muffins long ago digested, we stopped for some of that world-famous Chicago Pizza, a not so big one, and ate it all. It would have been wrong to come here and not eat their pizza, but I’m too old to change my allegiance to Brooklyn Pizza with its thin crust, black dough bubbles, and scant sauce and cheese.

Towards the end of the day, I was really hitting my stride, as at home as I could be.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child was playing a couple of blocks from our hotel, so we decided to cap off a perfect day with a play. We were, after all, staying in Chicago’s theatre district.

It felt good to sit down after a day on our feet and we settled into our plush chairs for some first class entertainment.

Bob caught the sunrise on Monroe Street on our final morning in Chicago while I was upstairs doing yoga. I am grateful to him for my cultural adventure in the Second City.

Chicago’s Loop is a lot like New York’s Times Square without the food carts, honking cars, and pot fumes. Comfortably familiar with a few nice surprises. The next time I see Chicago’s theatre district in a movie, I can say, “I’ve been there!” I’ll think about the gum, and the birds, the fountain, the fire boats, and the secret facade hidden within a stairwell.

Here’s how Art in Bloom works: Each artist chooses an inspirational piece of art, and crafts a corresponding floral arrangement.

A pair of pink “wedding cake” shoes inspired me to remove my lens cap, directing my attention downward.

White sneakers were prevalent and I made a note to get myself a pair.

I love how much care some patrons gave to their outfits. If I weren’t a coward, I would have photographed some of the more outstanding ensembles. Caroline offered to ask several fashionistas permission on my behalf, but I demurred.

Instead, I continued snapping furtive pictures, earning the disapproval of NCMA’s inhabitants.

When a third inanimate onlooker gave me the side eye, I felt chastised, shouldered my Sony, and plunged deeper into the exhibits.

Caroline doing the correct thing

Meanwhile, my host was behaving in a proper manner, appreciating the floral arrangements we had come to see.

Still, my concentration wandered more toward the onlookers than the featured content. I wondered what they were thinking as they leaned in towards one item or another.

If I were from another planet—or hadn’t been raised Catholic—the image of a scantily-clad man impaled on two boards would certainly be worth a closer look.

Art is so personal, that it almost seems wrong to appreciate it in public. Maybe that’s what was holding me back. What would happen, I wondered, if I let myself react with wild abandon?

Okay, this one got my attention. Now we’re talking! I thought. I’ve been waiting for color like this all winter, and now, here it was!

More color. And shoes!

I asked Caroline to take my picture with another vibrant composition. As for my shoes, I am wearing the tan Teva flats that carried me all over Kumasi, Ghana ten years ago.

This molten piece was inspired by the work of art on the wall behind it which reminded me of Salvador Dali’s melting clocks.

Interactive art is always fun. This camera turned me and Caroline into a mosaic.

Caroline.

Cookie.

I liked this one because it made me feel like I had wings.

My rule is this: If I stare at a painting for more than ten seconds, I have to photograph it. “Where’s the lion?” I kept asking myself. “Is it standing behind me?”

More shoes!

This is a corner of a disturbing painting of dead and mostly-dead animals. Caroline said she began noticing kittens and other domesticated animals lurking in centuries-old paintings a few years ago. We wondered how on earth a seal made it into the kitchen, and marveled at the bold little cat defending that basket of oysters from such a large creature.

Caroline liked the gold foil in this multi-media project.

Cute! And yes, shoes again.

This nearly-human sculpture, fashioned from small buttons, stopped me cold.

So much for hanging around. Until, next time, that was my latest foray into the art world.

Friends make any day more fun, and the aquarium was a dry place to immerse ourselves in marine life. We only got slightly wet walking in from the parking lot.

We all took a half step back each time this enormous shark swam our way. I thought his/her wide open eye gave her/him a terrified look, but I doubt that is accurate. Sharks, like many animals, cannot share their feelings via their face because they lack the required musculature. Sometimes I wish my face were not so expressive. Maybe that’s why people pay for botulinum toxin injections.

Bob took this photo of a green tree frog, one of the cutest animals on earth.

Bob and I loved swimming with angelfish and the like in the warm waters of the Caribbean. Some mornings, still, I wake up and ask him, “If you could do anything today, what would it be?” He always turns to me and says, “Go snorkeling!”

While I was gaping at an alligator, Bob walked around the corner and got this picture of two beady-eyed caimans.

A pair of seahorses doing whatever it is seahorses do. These are one of Camille’s favorite animals.

At an interactive exhibit, we were encouraged to pick up plastic sea turtles embedded with chips, put them on scanners, and discover their ailments. Camille soon learned that her turtle had a gut impaction, probably caused by plastic which was ironic considering the turtle’s physiology.

Nothing you would want to touch, but reportedly good to eat, the lionfish swam languid laps around their tank. Also, they have a face only their mothers could love.

The sting of a moon jelly is not as painful as that of other jellyfish.

We didn’t get the name of these jellyfish with the super long tentacles and that lovely pattern on their cap. If you know what they are, please let us know.

Pacific sea nettles dance like no one is watching, which of course, we all were because how could you not be mesmerized by their sinuous waltz.

These nettles have four frilly arms and a slew of thin tentacles.

I watched the sea nettles rise and fall, otherworldly, pumping slowly around the tank. I took more photos than I care to admit, and when I looked at the pictures later, I had trouble believing they were real.

We go to museums to see and learn, and to while away grey mornings. How deliciously fun to come away with blown minds and a renewed respect for nature.

It was going to be hot on this last day of June, so we started out at 7:30 AM. The garden paths were still cool and we wondered how it was that they stayed so green until we heard the unmistakable patter of water drops and realized, Hey, it’s not raining – they’re watering the heck out of this place.

Shelley paused at the main entrance by a nicely-layered garden, reigniting my lust for echinacea.

“Yep, gotta get me some of these cone flowers,” I said to Shelley.

A week later Bob and I went down to Big Bloomers in the rain and got ourselves a couple of echinacea plants for our pond garden and a cart full of other “must-haves”.

Bob and I felt like part of the inner tribe, wandering the greenhouse aisles with other die-hard horticulturalists, among them one of Duke Gardens’ very own curators.

I doubt it’s possible to visit Big Bloomers for under $100, which is what we spent, congratulating ourselves for not buying more. If it hadn’t been pouring down rain from tropical storm Elsa, we might have spent twice that.

I am happy to report that we have two Rose of Sharon trees at Trouts Farm Gardens.

There were bees everywhere, bathing in pollen, drinking in the day, doing what bees do: pollinating plants, making food, and perpetuating their families.

Cookie on Iris Bridge in the Historic Gardens, only slightly wet with perspiration.

Eye-catching Meyer Bridge at the Asiatic Arboretum, with jets of irrigation water in the background.

Shelley was as taken by the bamboo as I was with the echinacea. She’s been toying with installing some at her place for years, hoping to happen upon a non-spreading variety. Turns out the Fargesia genus (Cold Hardy Clumping Bamboos) will not take over a yard. Or so they say.

Shelley and I couldn’t decide if we liked the bamboo graffiti or not. The rules-based side of my personality bristled at this flagrant disregard for the sign asking that pen knife not be pulled from pocket and used upon the bamboo, but my urban-artsy/anthropologist side found it interesting.

Shelley regarded Duke’s splendid rose garden, a mélange of color with a few roses sprinkled in for validity.

I captured what I believe to be a European paper wasp on what kind of flower I can’t say. Which is fine. Art doesn’t have to be labeled. Forget what I said about the wasp. It’s a bug with wings on a yellow flower and I liked the way it looked so I took a picture.

Update: Thanks to my naturalist buddy, Linda, I’ve learned that this is not a paper wasp, it’s a cicada-killer wasp (Sphecius speciosus). Although their yellow markings are similar to the paper wasp, Cicada-killers are twice as large and have a much thicker abdomen.

This mesmerizing water feature gurgles away outside the gift shop which was closed for COVID on the day we went. Shelley and I stared through the windows at stuff we probably would have bought had the shop been opened, and congratulated ourselves on dodging that bullet.

The Madagascar palms outside the shop were so bright and spiky I wanted to bring them home where I would somehow graft them to our pear trees and spend the rest of my years thumbing my nose at the thwarted squirrels.

I’m glad I went on this day trip, I’m lucky to live close to big city culture, and I’m grateful for friends like Shelley who keep asking until they get the correct answer.

Raleigh and nearby Research Triangle Park draw cosmopolitan talent like our friends Heyward and Caroline. What a nice surprise to receive their invitation to Art in Bloom 2021 at the North Carolina Museum of Art on June 6.

‘Twas a joyful vibe at the museum and we dove right in to absorb the colors and the light.

Here’s how Art in Bloom works: Flower artists choose a painting or other object from the museum’s permanent collection and create a floral arrangement that dances with, or mimics the piece.

Some entries are stand-alone creations unassociated with a work of art, like this giant arrangement meant to evoke, “the feelings of freedom and movement and the excitement of sailing.”

I stood in front of “A Swan Attacked By A Dog” trying, and failing, to imagine how I would depict this mesmerizing pair in blooms.

Jean-Baptiste Oudry totally captured the frightening fierceness of the terrible swans who lurked in the rushes at the end of the street behind my childhood home on City Island. The dog doesn’t scare me at all, and I have no doubt who will win this battle.

Bucolic as heck, this was another picture I got myself tangled up in. Two horses of entirely different temperament — one placid, one a spook — and their languid handler on a fine summer day. I love how the bay is washing out his mouth, sticking to the business at hand, while the black fixates on something across the pond, prepared to prove his spirit.

I found the art aficionados nearly as captivating as the art.

Heyward laughed out loud when he saw this painting. “It’s 2020!” he said and so I asked him to take my picture with Caroline as proof of our endurance and survival.

A mirrored box drew us like moths to a flame.

Inside, a flurry of pulsing light threatened to run away with our eyeballs. The experience reminded me of my Nana’s kaleidoscope. My brothers and I would point it to the sky to maximize the colors.

For whatever reason we had no such toy at home and I suppose the drive to see my grandmother and the anticipation of finding the kaleidoscope there made it all the more fun. The art museum is like that, a box of toys just waiting to be played with a mere thirty minutes from home.

Meanwhile, there was a bonsai exhibit happening outside.

Artist Diane Makgill explains how her arrangement was inspired by the painting below.

You come, you see, you are wowed by the colors, you get caught up in images of horses and whatnot, but it isn’t until you encounter one of the artists that you realize all the thought and wonder that goes into every piece.

How fortunate I am to live so close to Raleigh and for friends like Caroline and Heyward!