Car? Touché, I only need the El
(Is that enough of a cartouche for you, Jason? Medium doesn’t support putting elaborate rings around heiroglyphics. To be honest, I don’t really support it either.)
My map is a collection of some of my favorite places around the city. As straightforward as my idea was, I found myself struggling to pinpoint what drew me to each location, or what made it so special to me. It forced me to reflect on the time I’ve spent here, and memorable moments that tied me to various places around the city.
The first place on my map is the Wells Street Bridge.
I distinctly remember the first time I went over the bridge. My journal entry from that day details the experience, which you can read in the little excerpt. That was written on September 7th, and still holds true about a month later. In the article, “Downtown is for People”, Jane Jacobs writes, “…the feature that drew the most comments was the proportion of open space…”. Being surrounded by air and water in the middle of the city is definitely a noticeable attitude change- the sense of oppression that comes from the skyscrapers is gone. The bridge in itself is also a form of “punctuation,” because is oriented horizontally among the vertical structures of the city.
My second location is the Fine Arts Building. I stumbled upon this place last Tuesday, when I went on my quadruple bookstore bonanza around the Loop. Although Performance Music wasn’t my area of expertise at all, I was struck by the history of the building. The marble floors, smooth wooden banisters, and the murals on the walls on the 10th floor gave the place a sense of timelessness that I hadn’t felt since moving here.
As the owner of Performance Music said, “…this place hasn’t changed much since it was built.”
Another reason why I liked this place so much was because of the arts-centric nature of the whole building. When doors opened, classical music would waft out like warmth out of a hearth. The quiet “ding” of the elevators reminded me of old movies I’ve watched. Even the café on the first floor is called the “Artists Café”. Sometimes the grid system and right-angle city planning makes me feel like my mind is also locked in a mathematical, calculating setting.
Being surrounded by so many practitioners of various art forms felt like a respite within that rigid structure.
I was perusing the flyers on the wall of the music store, and found one for a group of Renaissance singers called The Pippins.
Since none of the a capella groups on campus let me in (I’m not salty- I’m really not), and because being what is essentially a musical LARPer sounds like a fun time, I contacted the email on the bottom of the page. A couple days later, I got an ecstatic invitation from a woman named Jen. Unfortunately, the times they practice coincide with my swing dancing, which takes priority. Sorry, Jen. I wish I could sing Fine Knacks for Ladies with you- I really do.
My last Loop-based location is my advisor’s office.
In Leo Hollis’ article, “Cities belong to Us,” he discusses that “reclamation of the city begins with the realization that ‘that’ place… is in fact ‘our’ place.” Although he is speaking about the reclamation of public spaces, this resonated with me in the context of student resources. Sometimes I feel like asking for help is a weakness. For my first couple of weeks here, I had no inclination to meet with any of my advisors, or go to the Career Center, or look at OrgSync. However, Common Hour helped me see the sheer amount of resources available to me. After a while, it became apparent that I needed help figuring out what I want to do, and that it would be stupid not to take advantage of what’s there. It took a while to convince myself to schedule an appointment, but I did it, and it was one of the best choices I’ve made.
Chris Doseck has been endlessly gracious in answering my wide variety of stupid questions and directing me towards relevant resources. It feels great to know that I can schedule an appointment any time I want, and be able to go in and let the clueless freshman side of me go on a rampage. The last advising appointment was preceded by my Grant Park parakeet spotting, and ended with me being told to contact the head of a new major being offered at the College of Communications this winter. I met with her a couple days later, got the exclusive scoop on what the course list and potential career paths are, and am on the right track to be the first freshman (so far!) to declare the Communications and Technology major. My advising office has been a welcoming environment where I’m not afraid to ask for help, and has been the hub of my major decision-making.
Moving across my map, let’s start at the northernmost point. Suzie’s, also known as Noon Hour Grill, is marked only by a small menu taped to a door in the alleyway facing the Morse El Station. It’s in between a physical therapist and what used to be a small games store which is now an artisan oil shop. I’m not sure whether the change was because of gentrification or just poor business planning. Either way, what matters is that this tiny Korean fusion diner was the first restaurant that my suitemates and I went to together. The menu is chock full of various Korean dishes, and then an American grand slam breakfast at the bottom of the menu.
Nha Hang Vietnam is another excellent restaurant if you’re craving something Vietnamese. I don’t remember much from my experience because I was suffering from the DePlague when I went there, but it’s on Argyle, and the food was incredible.
Ark Thrift is in Wicker Park, and the first time I went there was during our rainy Immersion Week Day. I ducked in after lunch to escape a strong squall, and immediately bookmarked it in my mind as a place to come back to. It was busy despite the rain, with workers lugging tarp-covered containers full of various goods into the store for categorization.
The weekend after immersion week, I went by myself to peruse their eclectic selection, and ended up walking out of the store with a Cars 2 blanket and a lime green razor scooter. The blanket was necessary. I needed something that was cheap, light, and would keep me warm. They had limited selection, and I have poor decor skills anyways.
The scooter was an impulse buy- I saw it as I was walking up to the register and asked the middle-aged man behind the counter how much it was. He looked me up and down, winked, and said, “For you? Five,” in a European accent I couldn’t quite place. Sure, he was kind of creepy, but a five-dollar scooter is a screaming deal. I ended up selling it later that day (for a ten dollar profit!), but still have the blanket.
Because it’s so gaudy, my roommate and my friends started making “Amy’s Cars 2 Branding” a running joke. Since then, my collection has expanded to a pillowcase, a card from my friend in Portland, and a one-dollar hot wheel from the Target off Wilson.
Looking at my map, I noticed that the south side and anywhere inland has been neglected by my explorations. This is largely because I haven’t heard any recommendations of places anywhere not on the red or brown lines, which are the two CTA routes easily accessible to me.
A lot of people were surprised that we went to Beverly, so anywhere near the south side has been absent from my circle of friends. Because I base my explorations largely off of recommendations, I also have not been back to those areas.
This idea of popularity being synonymous with safety is explored in Solnit’s “The Solitary Stroller in the City”, where she states, “a popular, well-used street is kept safe merely by the many people going by… heady currents of the urban river in which everyone and everything can mingle.”(187).
The small area that I have stayed within is surprising to me, because I feel like I’ve been more adventurous than a lot of the people I know- especially in regard to exploring alone. However, this map has shown me that I have also been (subconsciously or otherwise) restricted to the northern half of Chicago. Although our exploration of Beverly was very illuminating in terms of getting rid of preconceived notions of the south side, the fact remains that I don’t feel as comfortable going down south as I do going up north. This feel of unease starts as far up as Chinatown, as was shown in my reflection during Exploration Three.
When I imagine Chicago, I think at once of the expansive view from the top of the John Hancock tower, and the particularly crunchy leaf I stepped on en route to class this morning.
I think of windswept CTA workers in high-vis jackets huddled against the wall as the red line goes through a tunnel, and the feeling of warm soup going down a sore throat.
I also think of dead fish floating in the river, trash piled in the crevices of streets, and of the worst rendition of Hallelujah I’ve ever heard echoing relentlessly through the Blue Line tunnel.
My view of the city, from the birds-eye view, is woefully incomplete. If the city was a set of legos, I would be on the second page of the manual, barely laying the foundation for my plastic millennium falcon. However, I think of my experience more as building something out of a bucket of loose blocks- without instructions, an inorganic object created out of organic creativity. This map is similar in the sense that it doesn’t really work to orient any tourists, but helps people understand what my experience in this city has consisted of. Oftentimes tourist stops have corkboards with tacks saying “Mark where you’re from!” and this project felt like an extension of that.
That being said, I would encourage anybody to go to the places on my map (except for Chris’ office, that would be a bit strange.) Chicago is still a slightly alien, angular city, but these pockets have been kind to me. I hope that anyone who goes to these spots feels the same way.
Hollis, Leo. “Cities Thrive When Public Space is Open to All .” 18 July 2013. Aeon. Online Article . 24 October 2017.
Jacobs, Jane. “Downtown is for People.” 1958. Fortune . Online Article . 24 October 2017.
Solnit, Rebecca. “Chapter 11: The Solitary Stroller and the City .” Solnit, Rebecca. Wanderlust: A History of Walking. Verso, 2001. 187. PDF.
