Minnesota trip, by the numbers

• 5: number of total nights in the trip
• 4: number of nights spent in Minnesota
• 1: number of nights spend in Wisconsin
• 3: number of visits to my beloved nonagenarian grandmother
• 1: number of grilled cheese sandwiches (Velveeta, of course) eaten at the home of my nonagenarian grandmother
• 3: number of cups of tea drank at the home of my nonagenarian grandmother
• 4: number of games of Scrabble played with my nonagenarian grandmother
• 1: number of games of Scrabble won by me when playing with my nonagenarian grandmother
• 2: number of times I had lunch at the new Burger Jones in Uptown
• 2: number of times I had bagels for breakfast (Bruegger’s once, Einstein’s once)
• 0: number of times I had Starbucks coffee in the midwest (Dunn Bros. and Caribou are both firmly non-zero tallies)
• 3: number of purchases at the Uptown Art Fair
• 3: number of purchases in the Maple Grove Shoppes
• 2: number of awesome gifts from family members
• 2: number of items I had to carry on the plane in a separate shopping bag when all of said new acquisitions did not fit into my luggage
• 5: number of times I drove over the new 35W Mississippi river bridge
• 2: number of times I turned on my rental car to find Jack Johnson playing on Cities97
• 2: number of new songs heard on Cities97 in 6 days of driving around in said rental car (not that familiar music is a bad thing…)
• 0: number of times I drove directly by one of my old apartments in Minneapolis
• 4: number of times I was close enough to one of my old apartments in Minneapolis to feel nostalgic
• 3: number of times I randomly teared up while driving around town
• 3: number of times I was asked if I had heard from my ex-husband (not in over 2.5 years, for the record)
• 1: number of times I had a bad dream about said ex after everyone kept asking about him
• 2: number of good friends from high school that I got to see on this trip
• 1: number of high school friends that I meant to see but ran out of time
• 0: number of cousins I got to see on this trip again due to very limited time (maybe next time…)
• 2: number of times in the last 3 trips to Minneapolis that I’ve ended up spending time out of Minneapolis at another midwestern town with a Big 10 University
• 0: number of times in the next 3 trips to Minneapolis that I intend to spend time out of Minneapolis at another midwestern town with a Big 10 University (although who knows if I can really control this…)
• 3: number of gifts for my parents that I forgot back in England
• 1: number of gifts for my parents that I brought with me to Minnesota but forgot to give them
• 4: number of possessions of my sister’s that I meant to bring and also forgot in England
• 2: number of “care packages” that I will have to send from England to deliver items to parents and sister
• countless: number of times I’m glad that I finally made it back to Minnesota after a year in England and traveling elsewhere

Minneapolis update

I was going to write a post about the bittersweet nature of being home in Minnesota, but then I realized I had written it already–last year at this time, when I experienced the same sorts of ups and downs about being here. Read it here. So that’s the emotional update, that made it much easier than trying to write the words fresh. I guess in some ways that is why I don’t spend much time here anymore, much to the chagrin of my family. It’s just a bit too much.

So that said, what have I actually been doing?

• Staying with my best friend in her awesome new digs near uptown but in the part where grown-ups actually live.

• Bought an amazing photo of the old Uptown theater, at the Uptown Art Fair last weekend. Seemed appropriate. And it’s one of those photos that, if you know what it is, it’s awesome, and otherwise it just looks nice.
• Took what must sound like a totally random brief road trip to Madison with my sister. Had a three hour work meeting and then sis and I went on the town, stayed overnight and came right back. If you’re in Madison, check out Harvest Restaurant, it rocked.
• Played lots of Scrabble with my nonagenarian grandmother and her caretaker, who happens to be my dad’s older sister. When my sister’s not playing too, I can win occasionally. When the sis is there, I get crushed every time. Grandma does the scorekeeping and you have to keep a close eye on her or she’ll deprive herself of deserved points
• Had dinner with another good friend and her little girl, now almost 4. There are still a few very good friends here (as well as a large number of facebook friends!) and I don’t do a perfect job of catching everyone when I’m in town, but I try my best. This particular friend has an edge since she lives six blocks from Grandma, so I’m always lurking about her neighborhood!
• Drove over the new 35W bridge, tried to view it from the side from the Stone Arch bridge and decided it is so undistinguished and indistinguishable that you cannot even clearly see it in the photographs, it just blends into the scenery. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
• Bought a few random toiletries at Target

Off to spend my last full day here with the parents and sister, with perhaps one more stop off at Grandma’s. Going to walk around Lake Calhoun in the sunshine, meet my parents’ new dog, and probably eat just a bit too much at newer restaurants in the area. And try to stay busy so as not to dwell on the melancholy or bittersweet feelings, but just enjoy the sunshine.

And now I’m “taking the piss”

Serious point what has been bothering me for days has been vented, and I’m sure will land some flaming horrid comments that my thin skin will find disturbing. But I persist with blogging and now attempt humour. Headline on today’s Guardian website:

New British Search Engine ‘Could Rival Google’

The best part about this is how the “could rival Google” bit is in quotes–and they’re careful to cite the source as not being them–as though they realize how silly this must sound. I also love how important it is that it’s a British search engine. This I find strangely endearing, in part because it is exactly like the “Minnesota connection” phenomenon. Local newscasters in the Twin Cities can find–and do–find a local connection for any important story, and no matter how tenuous, they hype it on the local evening news as though it was the most critical aspect of the study. Imagine my shock on moving to Britain and discovering that they do the same thing! Oscars? Sod the full list of winners, how did the British actors and movies fare? In both cases it’s driven by the same general phenomenon–reporting stories to the local group (Brits or Minnesotans) and trying to increase the relevance of the story to those local people. And I think it also sort of implies a slight inferiority complex in the case of MN, I’ll not try to judge if that’s true about Britain Regardless, I read the story and the site from which the quote came, at least for the forseeable future my money’s on Google.

Whither the weather

There was a major winter storm in Minnesota yesterday, and now the cold is setting in. Today my transplanted self had to give a lecture in a different part of town than I’m normally in, and given the ambient warmth and sunshine I decided to walk back to the office instead of cabbing it as I had there. And I had left my coat and scarf in the office, and didn’t need them on the 3 mile walk. The English spring report: crocuses are out, as are snowdrops and the daffodils are up and getting ready to bloom in the next few days. The English spring comes early, and lulls us into thinking that the summer will be warm (it won’t). But on a day like today, I didn’t at all mind being here instead of in Minneapolis.

The flyover zone

I admit it. I am from the midwest. I have been perfectly clear about that in my previous musings on my life in the UK. I am now accustomed to getting blank stares from Brits who have never heard of Minnesota. But I take particular offense at gross generalizations like this:

The middle of America is really very dull but I stay awake for the sake of appearances and eventually I find my way up north in Illinois where, to my great surprise, I found myself doing live improv on stage in Chicago.

This quote is from UK national darling Stephen Fry, and is in an article on the Guardian website about Fry’s six months spent travelling with an aim to visit the fifty states. Poor Stephen, he must have missed Minneapolis somehow in his quest. It happens all the time, it makes a far better stereotype to visit some podunk town filled with extras from Fargo than to see the cultural capital that quietly exists in the middle of farming country. Or, if one has heard of Minnesota, to associate it solely with the fictional Lake Wobegone and dismiss any possibility of a literate, cultured populace in the quiet but active business centre that brings you Target, Best Buy and Medtronic.

Yes Minneapolis is often the second (or, even worse, completely neglected) major and metropolitan city that may or may not be mentioned in a flyover view of the US. And yes, we have a bit of a complex about it. The classic “Minnesota connection” to any news story is our feeble attempt to gain prominence on a national scale. Neglecting for the moment the fact that Sarah Palin debuted at the Republican National Convention at our local hockey arena/concert venue. Why should anyone be bothered to notice that Minneapolis exists?

The city is abundantly rich in water with twenty lakes and wetlands, the Mississippi riverfront, creeks and waterfalls, many connected by parkways in the Chain of Lakes and the Grand Rounds Scenic Byway. Minneapolis was once the world’s flour milling capital and a hub for timber, and today is the primary business center between Chicago, Illinois, and Seattle, Washington. Among America’s most literate cities, Minneapolis has cultural organizations that draw creative people and audiences to the city for theater, visual art, writing, and music. The community’s diverse population has a long tradition of charitable support through progressive public social programs and through private and corporate philanthropy.

I clearly will have to start a PR campaign with the photos I’ve taken in the city. I’ll get to work on this. Yes, the weather is famously difficult, being both hot and sticky in the summer and cold, dry and diabolical in the winter. But it is beautiful, cultural, and interesting like no place I have ever been. I have, as I realized yesterday, now been to most states in the US, with the only exceptions the following seven: Alaska, Hawaii, Idaho, Montana, Texas, Utah, Wyoming.

I admit it, I am tired of the fact that I have to explain to blank-faced Brits that the US is highly variable, not just from state to state but within a state. I come from a state where there is a major cultural city, Minneapolis (or the Twin Cities if you’re picky) and a lot of surrounding, sparsely-populated farmland save a minor city or three (Duluth, St. Cloud, Worthington). Minneapolis is akin to any of the cultural centres in Europe in terms of arts, theatre, music (especially jazz) and our only problem is the relative lack-of-age in terms of comparisons to other large and culturally important cities. Oh, and perhaps location. And weather. But I welcome you to examine the flyover zone more closely when next you happen to have the opportunity.

Road construction can be quick…

…but only when it needs to be. A mere 13.5 months after the 35W bridge sank into the Mississippi river in Minneapolis, claiming 13 lives and raising much discussion (engineering and otherwise) about the causes and realities of maintenance, the new bridge is about to open in Minneapolis, a full three months ahead of schedule. The debris of the old bridge was not even removed last year when I was in town late August for the State Fair, but the new bridge is already in place. The construction crew had a financial incentive to open the bridge early, and they have come through. It makes you wonder, however, why the rest of projects going on in an average construction year can take so long. The crosstown project? Need not be dragging out for all of this time. You need something done fast? Show me the money!

Outrunning the storm

So we did end up packing the vehicles and leaving the outer banks of NC before this storm called Hanna actually hit. It was not one of those storms that was going to be Andrew- or Katrina-like in its legacy, but since the house rentals in OBX are Saturday to Saturday, and we would have had to be out of the house by 10 this morning, we would have been trying to drive Northwest about the same time that Hanna herself was going NW and given how hard it’s been raining, I’m pretty glad we decided to pack it in yesterday morning. We had sun or clouds for the packing-driving-unpacking chores and now I’m inside warm and dry watching the storm rage outside. I have to start the other packing chores tomorrow since I fly back to the UK on Monday after my two weeks of happy American-ness. Let’s review:

Week 1, Minneapolis. State Fair, Jonny Lang, Summit beer. New glasses and haircut (things I never seem to have time to do when working full time). Target. Sister and Grandmother plus lots of other family. Friends and their kids and dogs. Not a minute to spare.

Week 1/2 border. Moving east for beach prep. Target. Groceries. Laundry.

Week 2, beach (OBX). Swim in ocean, walk on beach. Get more sun than modern women’s magazines would recommend. Stand resolutely behind the idea of a healthy tan and feel no guilt. Beach triathlon. Relaaaaaaaaaaaax. Cook. Eat. Yum.

Week 2/3 border. Prep for the trip ‘home’ to the UK. This is all speculative, now, and the things I hope to do in the next 48-ish hours. Hopefully get in one more good bout of outdoor exercise once Hanna leaves town. Hopefully get to Target one more time. Hopefully find that everything acquired on this trip will fit in my suitcase (doubtful, must arrange back-up plan!) Hopefully continue to relax just a bit more, since on my return to the UK the next three months will be positively brutal with work. This made my ability to relax at the beach so much more important, and I’m feeling pretty good about having really chilled out (or the opposite given the sun and temperatures) for beach week!

A perfect midwestern day

Today was my last full “day” home in Minneapolis, MN. Tomorrow I fly east for the second half of my ‘holiday’ from both work and UK life. So it had to be today, the perfect Midwestern afternoon, that would send me on my travels feeling good about the trip here (however difficult) and the time spent.

I met my sister for lunch, Korean food in a tiny deli of the sort that you need to be told to go to because otherwise you would never notice it, but when you get there it’s packed. We then headed to our beloved nonagenarian grandmother’s house, where we played two pretty serious games of Scrabble and then did some crafts. Yes, I’m serious. My Gran taught me to crochet when I was about 9, and lately I’ve discovered that you can crochet out of wire and add beads and it starts to resemble jewelry. So me, my sister, and my aunt spent part of our afternoon crocheting bracelets out of colored wire and interesting beads, while Grandma looked on and marveled at the things we were doing. After 5 or so hours hanging out with the family matriarch, I headed back to meet a good friend and her not-quite-3-year-old daughter. I had not seen them in a year (a crime!) we did the thing where you can order pizza over the internet and just hung out with the pizza and a bottle of inexpensive red.

It was nearly a perfect day. My only sad thoughts come with the fact that every time I’m in town I set aside what seems like lots of time to spend with my Grandmother, and every time I’m here I wish I had ten times as much time to just sit around and eat Velveeta grilled cheese sandwiches with her. Nothing is either more midwestern nor more home than a cheese sandwich at the kitchen table with Grandma. And this is why I come “home”.

The Walker, Puck and Target

Today was the day I got to go to the new Wolfgang Puck Restaurant in Minneapolis with my beautiful and talented sister. We arrived at the Walker Art Center slightly early for our reservation at 20*21 so had time to get our gallery tickets and wander a bit before lunch. Our lunch seats on the window overlooking the city were great, the food was amazing and the amusing East-meets-Midwest cocktails (Sake with Minnesota’s own Prairie Vodka served in a martini glass with cucumber shavings) added to the experience. We tried to get into the art, but I’d have to say after my awesome experience at Boston’s ICA a few weeks ago, I saw nothing in either the visiting or permanent collections that left me excited. The building itself was more interesting than the art contained within:

It is, however, slightly disconcerting to see that this parking garage:

is all that remains on the site of the former Guthrie Theater, site of many childhood field trips (as sis and I were discussing today):

Having dismissed the art INSIDE the Walker, we walked out into the Sculpture Gardens where there is plenty of dependable, high quality art of the sort I love the most:

not to mention the iconic symbol of Minneapolis:

Thus satisfied with art and food, we headed across the epic footbridge:

into Loring park, my old neighborhood from my first post-divorce apartment:

We decided it was such a nice day, we would keep walking into Downtown, and go in search of Target, water and coffee, not in that order. We found iced lattes at Caribou, bottled water and did indeed have a nice time at Target. I have to admit, though, I bought no Cheez-its since my dear friend with whom I have been staying had acquired some for me prior to my arrival!

The last amusing scene I wanted to share from Downtown Minneapolis is the pub I used to go to when I lived here, far before I had ever stepped foot on English soil. Seeing all the flags in the breeze today gave me a good chuckle and reminded me that although life can be tough, and sometimes can make you sad, enjoy the ride and have a good laugh at the expense of my own younger self, who had no idea what a real English pub was like until I moved to England.

This is home

(For the soundtrack to this post click here)

The song, Home from Sheryl Crow, was featured in one of my favorite movies, No Looking Back. The movie has several things going for it (not least the killer combination of Ed Burns and Jon Bon Jovi) but also touches me deeply in the storyline, which I feel has some level of analogy to my own life. And it’s one of the hardest things about being “Home” in Minnesota this week. Sure, there is the elation of the Fair and the fun of catching up with family and friends, but it’s not so simple as a happy joy-ride through a happy past. To me it is more of a re-visiting of the past, much of which is somewhat melancholy.

Home is where my marriage broke up, where my ex-husband still resides. Home is where I lived when my beloved grandparents died. Home is where I spent time when my career path was unclear and seemed to be going nowhere. Home is where I have struggled with the fact that my views about the world have changed, leaving me sometimes out of place in my own family. Home is where the broken heart is.

I get this feeling like people are not supposed to talk about these things. Like we are supposed to treat home as a sacred place where all happy memories and feelings lie. I find when I am home, I need to pull away from all of the memory lane activities, pull away from the fun and bustle and have some quiet time and space to nurse my wounds. I suspect this is a good thing but it’s also a hard thing. It’s for this reason that I am taking a separate week off next week to recover from “Home” over at the oceanside where I can walk quietly on the beach and think about life and the way it develops.

I’m sorry to be a bit melancholy today. Having travelled a long distance at a significant expense, it’s hard to find that the “rewards” of the trip are not exactly as expected. As much fun as home can be, I think I know why sometimes people leave their home town and don’t come back. I don’t live here any more, and sometimes I get this hint that I don’t belong here any more either. Who says you can’t go home? Maybe they were right. Or maybe it’s just not home anymore.