(Wondering?)(Wandering?)Chicago
My trek began around the DePaul Lincoln Park campus at 5:20pm, as I went to get ice cream and then figure out where to go.
I had been walking around Sheffield Avenue, admiring the buildings and looking closely at what I would otherwise simply rush past. The Levan Center where we first had our Discover Chicago class caught my eye and as I viewed it from the opposite side it amazed me how quickly our perceptions about locations change as time goes on and memories are made. Hardly a month ago I was asking a staff member where the Levan Center was and walked in hurriedly and in a daze all at once, stressed out about my very first time in college and not knowing what to expect. Now just a few weeks later I have the luxury to casually observe the architectural design of the building and view it with much less unfamiliarity and far more admiration.
The emotional aspect of this seems quite peculiar to me — why do we have a tendency to change our views of places and territories so much in such a short amount of time? Why do we even find the need to depict certain views about them in the first place? I believe it is human nature to make observations about all that is around us, both old and new, and thus form opinions and feelings that are ever-growing and changing. We are meant to walk around and observe the beauty of nature and humanity that encompasses us and appreciate it for ourselves, as it helps free a person’s mind, body, and spirit by allowing them to release stress through the exercising of the legs, lungs, eyes, and mind.
As I walked around the city I took in the smell of the air around me. It smelled chilly, if that makes sense, and carried a slight scent of urine. I pulled my mask back over my nose and kept going forward. Having taken the train from the Fullerton station to the Loop at 6:00 pm, I was aimlessly walking around the city with my pink drink in my hand. The sky was a plain gray and it was neither hot nor cold, yet it still strangely felt like there were mildly warm breezes and small gusts of cold wind that quietly creep up out of nowhere.
I walked along the streets, strolling and turning with my head swiveling around in order to look up at all the buildings passing by. I somehow ended up on LaSalle Street, and as I kept going forward I noticed a man in a black hat ten feet in front of me. I didn’t realize he was there up until now because he was bending his knees forward in order to crouch down and his large hat blended him in with a black flower pot hanging right beside him. As I got closer I realized he was holding a professional camera in his hand and the fact that he was pointing away from the entire city towards a wall confused me until I looked over and saw a girl with a big hat and stylish purse posing. It took me a minute to realize so I almost photobombed the shoot but thankfully they saw me coming from beforehand and gestured for me to pass forward. I would later see two other instances of people capturing other people or the city lights with professional cameras and it left me wondering what each one’s reasons were and how different people can all view the same thing differently.
At around 6:25 pm I made a right turn at the street up ahead and found myself near the stores at Block 37 on State Street. It was starting to get dark and as dusk was approaching I observed how the golden lights of the city shimmered amidst the contrast between the end of the day and the beginning of the night. There were well-light entrances for movie theaters, vibrant Mexican restaurants, and numerous individuals hustling and bustling about. I stopped for a minute and took in the crowd around me. In front of me walked a female security officer in a gray shirt with a blue umbrella in her hand. We passed what seemed to be a family, with young women tugging along a little girl who was holding a toy monkey with long arms and screaming. As I walked past the entrance to the mall I peered through the glass doors and observed the people walking around, mostly young individuals who were either hurrying around for whatever tasks they were rushing to complete or only standing still to look at their phones. There were numerous people in business attire, and as I passed an open window restaurant and bar I noticed a group of people who were presumably coworkers out on an office dinner, sitting near the window and chatting loudly. The sound of laughter and smell of warm food wafted around me and followed me down the street. It was a stark contrast in comparison to how alone I had been just a few minutes ago, and how alone my walk would be later that night on the way back. In my opinion that is the most beautiful thing about Chicago–– there is not too much of anything. People get to enjoy many quiet and peaceful spots within the metropolitan area and I believe that such a balance is always needed.
The combination of bleak weather and lively people gave the streets a strange yet comforting feel. At first as I was walking alone I was a tad put off by the seeming emptiness of the sky and strange chill that seemed to have engulfed the streets but having turned onto State Street transformed my perspective immediately. It showed me that despite what the city may seem to feel like, it can only be felt when filled with the people who inhabit it, for they are the ones who are the city. Turning around on State Street and going back towards the LaSalle train station at 7:00 pm, I reminisced about all the sights, smells, sounds, and most importantly feelings and observations I had felt during that particular walk. A city would not be a city with just sidewalks and buildings — it needs people in order to make it what it is. During my walk prior, I would notice the occasional bottle or rag lying around, remnants of humans with no humans in sight. It seemed very surreal as I wondered where the people who left these items were and it felt like I was walking past a live time capsule, as people come and go on these streets and leave their marks on them. It circles back to the idea that the city is the people and the people are the city and the streets of the city are therefore embedded with histories and glimpses of the people who walked them before, be it ten minutes or ten years.
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