San Francisco Blues

Ugh. So, it snowed for the whole time that I was in Chicago. It was indeed beautiful, but the cold was so oppressive that I only managed to see a few of the things I had planned to. On the first night I went to a local hotdog shop in Lincoln Park that is famous city-wide for the abuse that goes on there between the staff and customers. This may be due to the fact that it's frequented by drunken frat boys... So I entered and the big burly black guy behind the counter just said "Whatchoo want?" I got a hotdog with pickle and relish etc, and no ketchup (apparently ketchup on a hotdog is sacrilege in Chicago). It was alright. I was hoping to see a fight but I think I was there too early in the night. After the hotdog I went to a blues bar around the corner. It's been there since the '70s but it could only be an imitation of the original blues venues in the South Side. The band was impressive, playing the classic Chicago electric blues style (Muddy Waters, Howlin Wolf...) but blending into funk on several occasions. The bar girl called me sweetheart so I called her darlin. Yesterday morning the snow was heavy everywhere and it was still falling. I made my way into the city and killed some time in one of Chicago's massive art supplies stores until the gallery was due to open. I asked a lady about cartooning inks and she spent about 20 minutes taking me around the store showing me every possible material. And we talked for ages. She teaches cartooning apparently. We were interrupted by an old lady looking for charcoal so I said goodbye and she hugged me before I left. It was strange - I've never been hugged by a salesperson before. Sadly a large part of the Art Institute of Chicago was closed (American paintings 1900-1950: the section I was most interested in). An Edward Hopper exhibition is opening on the 16th, so the famous "Nighthawks" painting had been put away in preparation. I was bummed about this. The gallery has an amazing collection of French impressionist works and some of the most iconic Van Gogh and Picasso paintings. I wasn't in the mood for more European art though. The American rooms were strange, mostly focused on decorative arts... grandfather clocks, tables and chairs, etc... making them look a bit like cluttered living rooms. "American Gothic" was the only item familiar to me. Oh yeah - ha ha - currently the main exhibition at the gallery is of Indonesian textiles. I didn't bother. I spent the afternoon basically trying to keep out of the cold. The snow got heavier, and the sidewalks were piled high with the stuff. I didn't make it to the South Side. I didn't make it to the Magnificent Mile, or the Museum of Contemporary Art. I had to shuffle past and take squinting glances at the great big Picasso sculpture in the middle of town (his gift to Chicago). I did have an enormous burrito though. And at night I went to an old pizza restaurant and had a deep dish pizza. It's like a pie without a top on it. It wasn't all that great. My roommate at the hostel turned out to be a nice guy, a former yuppie down on his luck and looking for work in Chicago. This morning I left him my box of Lucky Charms and he let me try some of his Cap'n Crunch. The snow had stopped and the sky over Chicago was blue but I had no more time. It took me over two hours to get to the airport this morning so I missed my flight by a few minutes. Fortunately they put me on the next flight for just a small booking fee and I got to sit around the airport for a bit, people-watching. The travelling is catching up with me. My body's acheing. My feet are raw. And every time I sit down I start to nod off. Nevertheless, as soon as I arrived back in Frisco I went out to the Mission District, perused the main street and had another massive ("Super") burrito. It's a colourful area - very Mexican - but everything in San Francisco seems to be amplified a little bit. I wanted to find some live music tonight. The best I could manage was a crappy dixieland band in a very touristy place... And I did a lot of walking following false leads. Despite the cranked up energy of the place, you just can't seem to find a rock band on a Wednesday night. I have a lot to do tomorrow before flying back to Sydney in the evening. Berkeley. City Lights Bookstore. Chinatown. No more burritos. I'm not sure my intestines could have taken more than four nights in America.