In the Rockies

In the Rockies
Butler Gulch

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Ending the Cruise -- In Chicago


Chicago! Chicago! Where was it? We were supposedly docked in Chicago, but a look out our window provided a dismal view. The Navy Pier dock was closed for construction so we had docked far from the city. The bus shuttles into the Loop ran a schedule that let us go in and back out for dinner, our last night, and breakfast on the ship. We had not realized this so were staying two additional nights in the city. We could spend that day any way we wanted so Peter chose the Shedd Aquarium. When I said I hadn't thought of visiting an aquarium without youngsters, I should have realized--I was accompanying my adult child, even to losing me in the crowd without a plan of when or where to meet! His response when I chided him--"I knew you would find me here." It sounded like one of my grandsons several years ago! And our special event--a 4D film where our behinds were pinched, water sprayed, sea monsters jumping out at us! The grandsons, at least one of them, would have loved it. We zoomed from Navy Pier to the Shedd stop and back on a water taxi, not as cool as in Venice, but fun.  
A note about the Shedd: it is large, has varied exhibits and many of those "can you find it" type small ones. I like the larger ones best and could have been in and out much sooner than we were. A photo I missed was of Peter leaning as far as possible, along with many youngsters, into the stingray tank to touch one of these creatures. A young man working there watched with me, and when Peter gave up, disgusted and sure that the young ones near him had scared the stingrays away, that aquarium assistant came over and took us to a place where there was a better chance of Peter's success. Before I had my I-phone camera in place, he had touched one of the fish and was standing up, satisfied.  
  
Back to the ship, I looked for those couples I'd especially enjoyed with limited success. After dinner we went to the evening event, a jazz singer to whose songs Peter and I danced, though I insisted we not dance right in front of the vocalist, vying for center stage as was his preference! The next morning, I headed for breakfast to see folks who had earlier departures (Peter had arranged ours to be as late as possible). Luckily, I found those I wanted to see, saying goodbyes with the hope of future connections.

The lone occupants of a town car, we headed downtown to our hotel. Others staying in Chicago for a few days took an earlier bus to hotels farther up on the Magnificent Mile. Our hotel, the Congress, is a very old hotel with upgrading mostly in the lobby areas since it was our "girls" bargain hotel near the Art Institute and Grant Park. A modest attempt was made to freshen the rooms--newer bathroom fixtures, and paint, though the chips everywhere showed the painting jobs that were done over the years. The best thing was that the rooms are still large. The hotel does have lake-view rooms but ours was of the train and buildings.


After leaving our luggage, we headed for the Art Institute, my choice though I was certain that was on his list too. The usual 10 am opening we assumed. Wrong, 10:30. Waiting with coffee (me) at Starbucks across the street, we didn't pay attention to the gathering assemblage on the Institute's stairs. We were directed to the end of the general admission line in spite of Peter's proudly displayed walking stick. He quickly motioned me to follow him to the members door. (He has more ways to avoid lines than anyone I've known!) He asked the woman at the deskwhether his other art museum memberships had reciprocal privileges. No, then could he buy tickets? She directed us back to the ticket line. He then put on his most pitiful face and asked how much a membership cost--too much for folks not regularly in the city of course. He leaned on his walking stick and looked sad. The young woman acquiesced and sold him two tickets. He had successfully avoided the line though I'm not sure that we might not have been inside had we stood in line when it was suggested!

I raced to the new wing, which I hadn't seen, knowing that several of my favorites would be displayed there. They were--and more. Covering much of the Modern wing before the crowds arrived, I enjoyed hanging out with Matisse's Bather by a River pictured above, Picasso's Old guitarist and others of his, Braque, Chagall's White Crucifixion, a meaningful painting, Kandinsky, and many others. The art piece above was in the contemporary gallery, and it is candy individually wrapped in colorful cellophane. Viewers may take a piece as that's what is intended. The piece is dedicated to the artist's partner (175 lbs. of candy representing his healthy weight) who died of AIDS and the diminishing pile represents his weight loos and suffering prior to his death. The pile is also to be continuously replenished, granting perpetual life.

While I did not photograph any of the 10 Warhols in their own room, the Jasper Johns, Twombly, Rauschenberg, and others which were part of the recent huge gift of the Edlis/Neesons, I loved this charming piece by German artist Katharina Frisch, Woman with Dog.

I texted Peter for wine in the outdoor garden cafe, (I had soup and bread earlier in the modern wing cafe) and found my way back to the main museum and their large collection of Monet's and other impressionist and post-impressionist art for a long slow perusal of many favorites. 

You may be waiting for my raves about a restaurant or a meal we ate, but this won't be the time. I picked a mid-priced place with a good review, but one that didn't take reservations--after getting no positive response about going to an old favorite up-scale Italian restaurant. No reservations, a bad idea, unless of course, it's a Chicago pizza place. So no go on the Purple Pig with a 45-minute wait and loud. When Peter saw what he wanted on the menu at the expensive steak house across the street, that was it. He loved it--and said several times afterward that we had a great meal. I never answered. It was okay, but with all the wonderful choices, a bore. So on to pizza, the Chicago girls on the cruise said that Lou Malnati's was their favorite, and they thought that one was downtown. They were correct--a 50-minute wait in a very noisy place with no perks for a white-haired man with a cane, except for a chair in which to wait. I thought we might get this event over at lunch, but when he bought a loaded beef hot dog at a stand in Millennium Park when we took a break from concert rehearsals, I knew I had lost. Beef (and Kosher) hot dogs must be rare in his town as he made a big deal of having one (in Nashville, the many hot dog places seem to have all kinds, from veggie, beef, Angus, short rib and on and on).
A view from the upper patio of the Art Institute
You may recognize the Frank Gehry designed Pritzker Pavilion bandshell in Millennium Park (in the top photo) where the Grant Music Festival's main concerts are performed. We were fortunate to hear a rehearsal of the Ryan Opera Center's performance: Of Mice and Men -- beautifully done! Except for the hot dog break, Peter spent the day seated in the bandshell area reading and waiting for the next rehearsal, and I returned from my wandering in time to hear the Mendelssohn "Italian" Symphony.

Packed and ready to meet Peter's 10:50 departure for the airport cab deadline, I left him sleeping and walked with those headed to the office towers near the lake and ate a leisurely breakfast at Wildberry Pancakes and Cafe, a recommended breakfast place filled with locals as well as tourists. Afterward I walked in the Maggie Daley park down to the lake front, wound my way through the flowers at Millennium Park and arrived with a dead phone battery back at the hotel at 10:25. Peter said we could get an early start as he was ready to go, but I said no. My phone needed to charge until his original deadline. We were going to reach the airport quite early as it was. 

These flocks look just like the ones in mother's garden!

I realized as I was writing this, that I still felt short changed by not having dinner in one of the many creative restaurants, even an old school Italian or Greek place. And next time Peter visits Nashville, perhaps we'll eat at a steak house. They are here too!
ON TO COLORADO!!!!!

PS: My guess is that before long I will delete some of these cruise posts, but for now, here is the last one.


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