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Sunday, I began my journey to North Dakota from Fort Wayne by bus. Fort Wayne is a moderate-sized city in northeastern Indiana. I could wax poetically for a few minutes about all the fun things you can do there on a Saturday afternoon (depending on the season). For the most part, I feel fairly ambivalent towards Fort Wayne; it exists. Sometimes it's the most amazing place in Indiana, other times it's just boring. It's familiar to me, though.
My bus trip took me through five cities, three of which where I had a layover. As a traveler only passing through briefly, I thought I'd collect my thoughts and first impressions on them.
Chicago: I've been to Chicago about five times now, and each time, I feel a bit of apprehension as I approach it. Neil Gaiman compared Chicago to a migraine in American Gods; it begins small with a few outcrops of small towns until it builds up into this massive collection of urban life. Chicago is huge. It's also crowded and imposing and brash. It has its own life, its own way of doing things, and it doesn't give a damn if your way does not correspond.
I spent about three hours at the Greyhound terminal downtown. Weary travelers crowded the seats and floor, and long lines of people were stationed at the doors where buses were scheduled for loading and departure. I was fortunate to get in my line as soon as I did. My bus was an hour late and did not have enough room to carry all the passengers in line. One man in the line beside us was vocal in his opinion of how Greyhound should be handling this - which meant that passengers in his line should be allowed on before us, even though their line was not waiting for that bus. The bus driver responded by dragging a customer service representative over to explain that the bus (our bus) was meant to take us to Minneapolis, and while it did stop at the other line's destination - Milwaukee - that stop was brief and not meant to last as long as it took to unload several passengers, because the bus was on a strict schedule. I'm not sure how this explanation made any sense.
When I left Chicago, it took forever to actually leave the city limits. It felt as if Chicago stretched into Wisconsin. Eventually it faded, though, like a hangover.
Milwaukee: We rolled into Milwaukee about 2am. It was dark and I had just woken from one of my many naps that night. I didn't actually see much of the city, but from my impression of the roads that we traveled to leave it once we were finished at the terminal, it was a city built on transportation. The highway roads were layered - not like a series of clover ramps, but like the roads were intentionally layered above one another. I don't even know, guys; it's hard to describe and it was also dark.
St. Paul/Minneapolis: St. Paul was nice and small and quiet at 6:30am. The streets we rolled through were only just starting to wake up. Minneapolis was more active, of course. At first I made the mistake of comparing it to Indianapolis based on a number of factors - the size of the immediate downtown area, the layout and appearance of the streets, the feel of the city as we rolled through. Then, I realized that Minneapolis was much cleaner, and its downtown looked less worn out and weary of life.
In passing, I saw a few restaurants that I would have loved to try - Hell's Kitchen, Rock Bottom Brewery, etc. I also was a doorman in a top hat standing outside of a building, as well as a sad bit of irony: there was a charity house (a place for homeless) across the street from some new motels. The only thing that separated them from seeing each other was another building.
Coming home, I decided to fly, because there wasn't an available bus from Grand Forks to Fargo. My first layover was in the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. It was very nice as far as airports go, but its size was intimidating. I had to walk all the way from concourse A to concourse G to catch my flight. It was not fun, though I wish I had had some time to stop at one of the million restaurants housed there.
Fargo: Fargo was much smaller than I had imagined; though, now I wonder what exactly my expectations were. I think they may have been tied in with the Coen Brothers' Fargo, though the film itself never actually takes place in the city. My immediate impression was that it was like Muncie, IN, only with less potholes and more life.
Muncie - if you've never been there - is an extremely depressing place (with the exceptions of a few areas). It looks rundown in places, like it just wants to give up on life. If Muncie was a color, it would be gray.
Anyhow, in Fargo, waiting for my final connection to arrive, I began writing down my impressions of the cities I had passed through so far while chugging the first thing I had to eat since twelve hours before (when you factor in time zones) - a protein health shake from a yuppie health drink shop that was convinced that its customers could easily lose weight by just consuming their products and no exercise (I call bullshit, but my key lime protein shake was pretty damn good and high in calories).
Grand Forks: This is where I spent the rest of my vacation, visiting the amazing Beate and meeting her friends. I hadn't had a chance to talk to anybody in Fargo, but the people in Grand Forks? Were friendly, approachable, and pleasant to chat with. The town itself was clean and welcoming, even though huge piles of snow remained in grassy areas (they actually shoveled their sidewalks). I was (and still am) completely charmed by the local color, the small inviting stores, the accessibility of the town, and how safe I felt when walking around even at night.
Across the Red River (which was flooding when I was there; city workers were putting up barricades to block off two bridges), is Grand Fork's other Minnesota half - East Grand Forks. It was every bit as charming as Grand Forks, though I wish I had been able to see more of it. Both towns had a very homely feel to them, and I suspect that these would be the type of towns that had "the best damn [insert item]."
I also toured the University of North Dakota with Beate. Like many universities, the architecture was a mixture of old and new, an the campus itself was sprawling, but at the same time, it felt intimate.
At the same time as my vacation, a writer's conference was going on. Art Spiegelman (author of Maus) was one of the guests, and there was a lunch on St. Patrick's Day with him in the university bookstore (which housed a coffeehouse). Beate and I went down there, but it seems that the only way to eat with Art Spiegelman was to sign up for the conference (which I kind of figured). I didn't get a chance to talk to him, but I did see him. Out of politeness, I did not take a picture.
Is it possible to visit a place once and leave your heart there? I've been home for two days now, and that's what I feel. I really wish I could see Grand Forks in the spring or summer, when there are farmer's markets, an open greenway by the river, and no snow.
My bus trip took me through five cities, three of which where I had a layover. As a traveler only passing through briefly, I thought I'd collect my thoughts and first impressions on them.
Chicago: I've been to Chicago about five times now, and each time, I feel a bit of apprehension as I approach it. Neil Gaiman compared Chicago to a migraine in American Gods; it begins small with a few outcrops of small towns until it builds up into this massive collection of urban life. Chicago is huge. It's also crowded and imposing and brash. It has its own life, its own way of doing things, and it doesn't give a damn if your way does not correspond.
I spent about three hours at the Greyhound terminal downtown. Weary travelers crowded the seats and floor, and long lines of people were stationed at the doors where buses were scheduled for loading and departure. I was fortunate to get in my line as soon as I did. My bus was an hour late and did not have enough room to carry all the passengers in line. One man in the line beside us was vocal in his opinion of how Greyhound should be handling this - which meant that passengers in his line should be allowed on before us, even though their line was not waiting for that bus. The bus driver responded by dragging a customer service representative over to explain that the bus (our bus) was meant to take us to Minneapolis, and while it did stop at the other line's destination - Milwaukee - that stop was brief and not meant to last as long as it took to unload several passengers, because the bus was on a strict schedule. I'm not sure how this explanation made any sense.
When I left Chicago, it took forever to actually leave the city limits. It felt as if Chicago stretched into Wisconsin. Eventually it faded, though, like a hangover.
Milwaukee: We rolled into Milwaukee about 2am. It was dark and I had just woken from one of my many naps that night. I didn't actually see much of the city, but from my impression of the roads that we traveled to leave it once we were finished at the terminal, it was a city built on transportation. The highway roads were layered - not like a series of clover ramps, but like the roads were intentionally layered above one another. I don't even know, guys; it's hard to describe and it was also dark.
St. Paul/Minneapolis: St. Paul was nice and small and quiet at 6:30am. The streets we rolled through were only just starting to wake up. Minneapolis was more active, of course. At first I made the mistake of comparing it to Indianapolis based on a number of factors - the size of the immediate downtown area, the layout and appearance of the streets, the feel of the city as we rolled through. Then, I realized that Minneapolis was much cleaner, and its downtown looked less worn out and weary of life.
In passing, I saw a few restaurants that I would have loved to try - Hell's Kitchen, Rock Bottom Brewery, etc. I also was a doorman in a top hat standing outside of a building, as well as a sad bit of irony: there was a charity house (a place for homeless) across the street from some new motels. The only thing that separated them from seeing each other was another building.
Coming home, I decided to fly, because there wasn't an available bus from Grand Forks to Fargo. My first layover was in the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. It was very nice as far as airports go, but its size was intimidating. I had to walk all the way from concourse A to concourse G to catch my flight. It was not fun, though I wish I had had some time to stop at one of the million restaurants housed there.
Fargo: Fargo was much smaller than I had imagined; though, now I wonder what exactly my expectations were. I think they may have been tied in with the Coen Brothers' Fargo, though the film itself never actually takes place in the city. My immediate impression was that it was like Muncie, IN, only with less potholes and more life.
Muncie - if you've never been there - is an extremely depressing place (with the exceptions of a few areas). It looks rundown in places, like it just wants to give up on life. If Muncie was a color, it would be gray.
Anyhow, in Fargo, waiting for my final connection to arrive, I began writing down my impressions of the cities I had passed through so far while chugging the first thing I had to eat since twelve hours before (when you factor in time zones) - a protein health shake from a yuppie health drink shop that was convinced that its customers could easily lose weight by just consuming their products and no exercise (I call bullshit, but my key lime protein shake was pretty damn good and high in calories).
Grand Forks: This is where I spent the rest of my vacation, visiting the amazing Beate and meeting her friends. I hadn't had a chance to talk to anybody in Fargo, but the people in Grand Forks? Were friendly, approachable, and pleasant to chat with. The town itself was clean and welcoming, even though huge piles of snow remained in grassy areas (they actually shoveled their sidewalks). I was (and still am) completely charmed by the local color, the small inviting stores, the accessibility of the town, and how safe I felt when walking around even at night.
Across the Red River (which was flooding when I was there; city workers were putting up barricades to block off two bridges), is Grand Fork's other Minnesota half - East Grand Forks. It was every bit as charming as Grand Forks, though I wish I had been able to see more of it. Both towns had a very homely feel to them, and I suspect that these would be the type of towns that had "the best damn [insert item]."
I also toured the University of North Dakota with Beate. Like many universities, the architecture was a mixture of old and new, an the campus itself was sprawling, but at the same time, it felt intimate.
At the same time as my vacation, a writer's conference was going on. Art Spiegelman (author of Maus) was one of the guests, and there was a lunch on St. Patrick's Day with him in the university bookstore (which housed a coffeehouse). Beate and I went down there, but it seems that the only way to eat with Art Spiegelman was to sign up for the conference (which I kind of figured). I didn't get a chance to talk to him, but I did see him. Out of politeness, I did not take a picture.
Is it possible to visit a place once and leave your heart there? I've been home for two days now, and that's what I feel. I really wish I could see Grand Forks in the spring or summer, when there are farmer's markets, an open greenway by the river, and no snow.
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Date: 2010-03-21 09:48 am (UTC)From:(Visit me next?)