City of Solitude
For my walk, I used the Randonautic app. I began my walk at the Field Museum. It was around 3:30pm in the afternoon. The sky was cloudy, and the sidewalks were soaked. Since it wasn’t a great day outside, there weren’t a ton of people at the Museum.
I saw a mom, dad, and two kids leaving. One of the kids was swinging around a small gift bag. A man leaving the museum made a remark about dinosaurs to the kids, and they giggled.
I began walking down McFetridge Drive, where I saw a few people avoiding the drizzle by sitting on the marble beneath the trees. I passed by two college-aged friends who were eating hotdogs together. The hot dog stand looked delicious, and I could smell the waft of whatever was on the grill.
After this point, I saw that I was being led toward Soldier Field, which I had heard of but never seen before. It was absolutely massive. I kept walking on the sidewalk, and when I turned the corner, there was a line of bushes on my right and a black fence on my left. It was hard to tell how far back it went. I soon realized I’d found myself in an unfamiliar state of solitude. It seemed sketchy because I was surrounded by vents, trash cans, and abandoned machines. There was no way to turn right out of it because it was right against the railing of a busy road. It was strange walking in such a deserted place. It almost felt like I should not be there. I could hear the sound of air rushing through mechanical parts.
I was somewhat comforted when I reached the front of Soldier Field and saw a group of three adults standing and taking pictures in front of a statue of George S. Halas.
After this, I crossed Waldron Drive and began walking the perimeter of a parking area for Soldier Field. It was partially underground, with a few entrances leading inside of it. Leaves grew down the sides, and I saw a soda vending machine near the entrance to walk inside of it.
A woman walked past with a pug. She was the first person I’d seen since the people in front of the statue. Her little pug wore a tiny bright yellow rain jacket, which I thought was adorable.
After making it in a circle around the entire parking lot area, I was now on Special Olympics Drive. I was led beneath the overhanging Dusable Lake Shore Drive. At this point, it really hit me where I was and how far away I was from University Center. This was the furthest south I’d ever gone. Save for a few cars, I was completely on my own. I kept looking around for people, but it was just me.
When I reached the end of the road, I was outside a train station. I was confused about how to cross it, but I ended up finding a ramp that led to a platform to get over the tracks. While walking up this, I was passed by a woman jogging. The area was surprisingly quiet, and though I could see a man waiting at the train station below, I still felt very isolated. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but I wasn’t used to this level of solitude in the city.
Once I was done walking on the platform, I encountered an elderly woman and a little girl walking in my direction. They were passing beneath a bridge. As the woman approached the center, there was a massive puddle. She held the little girl’s hand as they stepped through the water.
I ended up on Calumet Ave, in a quaint and peaceful residential area. That was where my main journey had ended. In total, it had been about thirty-five minutes since I had begun at the Field Museum, and I was amazed to have ended up in a completely unfamiliar place.
To get back, I walked forward until I saw State Street and then I turned right. I knew that University Center was on State Street, so I was able to make it back, though I was pretty far away.
In “Paris, or Botanzing the Asphalt,” Rebecca Solnit quotes Walter Benjamin who writes, “But to lose oneself in a city — as one loses oneself in a forest — that calls for a quite a different schooling” (p. 255). What is the meaning of “losing oneself in the city?” Have you ever lost yourself in this sense? If so, describe your experience. What do you remember?
In the context of the quote, losing yourself in the city refers to a level of immersion in your experience. It is when you go from traveling to a specific place to truly wandering in an area. It is about the sensory, visual, and auditory experience more than a greater purpose. I have lost myself in this sense. It happened to me after I approached Soldier Field. That was when I became immersed. I was heading somewhere, but mostly I was wandering. I didn’t know what would come ahead, but I was eager to see things as they came. The chaos felt farther away from me, and the few people I saw, I was able to pay more attention to than if there had been many. The uncertainty of the city was something I accepted. I was in the moment. Little things stood out to me. I was feeling the dampness in the air, or the hum of the traffic. I even felt the silence when there was less noise (170).
