I had a first date tonight, my first with a new paramour - Chicago. Don’t you just love your first encounter with a new city? New York was the first city I fell in love with. I was not quite 21, and knew no-one. With all the chutzpa a bold young Aussie could muster, I talked my way across the Pacific, and then across the United States, under the auspices of visiting the world HQ of my employer.
I was terrified when I arrived into JFK at night, all alone, jetlagged and unfamiliar. Praying that I would make it to the comfort and safety of my cheap but centrally located Manhattan hotel room alive, I embarked on my first yellow taxi journey. I still recall the intoxicating cocktail of fear and excitement as we drove past icons previously only seen in movies. I could barely sleep that first night, between the fear that someone would sneak into my hotel room and kill me in my sleep, and the sweet anticipation of what the next day would have in store for me.
Even now, some 20 plus years later, walking the streets of Manhattan reminds me of those heady days. The distinctive acrid smell of the city, the sound of the subway – the beating heart of the city, and the determined march of the endless fashion parade of the East-Coast-stylish (and not so stylish). The corner stores selling fruit and flowers, salads and bagels. I had no money when I lived in New York (I mean really – NO money) so I spent a lot of time walking – because that is what you could do to entertain yourself for free for hours in New York City.
Strangely when my husband and I recently quizzed each other on “the best day of your life” – and the rules of the game precluded the obvious significant events (birthdays, weddings etc) for me, the most vividly delicious dates were those in a new city. Especially alone – when you are free to be completely on your own timetable - the freedom to just walk, and watch, and smell, and soak in a city – this has to be one of my all time favorite experiences. Not to say I don’t also love travelling with friends and family, but that is a different love affair.
And so tonight, while waiting for Wisey to arrive from Milwaukee, I went out with Chicago. Fall is a beautiful time of year to visit almost anywhere. In the cooler climate of the Northern Hemisphere, October is romantic and iconic. Everything is orange. The leaves are changing color as part of the annual symphony of Fall. Pumpkins adorn every doorstep, and there is a crisp, fresh smell in the air (with a vague hint of nutmeg). Chicago is the home of the two most famous “O’s” – Oprah and Obama. Other than this knowledge, I arrived into Chicago with little more understanding than this city also is well known for gangsters and pizza.
So my experience this evening was a revelation. I felt as though I was in a film set. The streets reminded me of New York, but the intensity was replaced with elegance. Still a big city for sure – but (at least from my privileged central downtown perspective) there is an air of grace. The buildings are beautiful – historic and artistic. I walked past ornate art deco buildings that could have been transplanted from Europe. My mouth literally dropped open as the escalator transported me from “street Level” to “Lobby level” of our hotel (the historic Palmer House) as ever more of the awesome ornate ceiling was revealed. On the streets I walked past beautiful old theaters and quaint little bistros adjacent to modern yet elegant chain stores (you would be amazed how classy Old Navy looks in an old Chicago building…)
I returned from my date with Chicago as a giddy schoolgirl ready to dance with joy in my hotel room (while singing into my hair brush in front of the mirror). Chicago said it would call me and we would go out again tomorrow. I can’t wait…
