Road Trip Part 2: Downtown Chicago

Having spent some time checking out the supermarkets, shoe shops and fast food places in suburban Illinois, we had a day to leave the 'burbs and head out into Chicago on the Northwest train that takes you into Oglivie Station.  We were really lucky that it was such a sunny day.  The city was at its best that way.

We headed for Willis tower (formerly Sears tower) first, 

hoping to do the tourist thing of going up to the top and taking some photos but there was a super-long queue and right next to us serious construction work was going on and making a LOT of noise, which the architect felt he just couldn't bear, so we decided to head off to Millennium park instead.

I've been here before, but I still marvel at the skyscrapers, overhead 'L' tracks and the crazy reflective 'bean' in Millennium park.  

The architect, with his brand new and groovy camera also marvelled at anything and everything around us.  It's his first time in the States, so he was lapping it all up and finding it all rather a lot to take in. 

While walking around Millennium park we got a taste of American parenting as a little kid who could not have been more than 4 years old, kept running ahead when his parents and older sister told him to wait.  The little tyke even stopped, turned to face his parents and said, "I can do whatever I want."  To which his parents just giggled and tried to persuade him to be more careful.  I would have given him hell.  What an ego!  If the kid thinks that at 4, what will he be like at 18?  God help that family.  The architect said he would have been yelled at and pulled into line bigtime if he'd said that to his parents when he was a kid.  

We continued on our way through the park and decided to aim for Navy Pier, 

and in resolute, totally un-American style, we walked all the way.  And it was a long way, believe me, and not paved with easy access either, but we got there and rewarded ourselves with huge Haagen Dazs ice creams.  Something called 'Rocky Road' had bits of Oreo cookies in it and chocolate ice cream with caramel topping.  Mmmm.

And that was our day, because then we had to walk all the way back (and on the walk back we saw this...)

(and this...)

(and this...)

(and this...)

(and this...)

to catch the 6.30pm train, because there isn't a 7.30pm one (for some unfathomable reason) so we would have had to wait until 8.30pm otherwise and that would have got us back to the suburb of Crystal Lake at about 10pm.  That just felt too late somehow.  I still think it's amazing how long it takes to get from Crystal Lake to downtown Chicago.  It's like travelling from Bath to London in the UK except the Illinois train stops at loads of places on the way (hence why it takes so long) and therefore goes comparatively slowly.  There's something about that slow progress that frustrates me and makes me feel like the suburbs are a nasty trap in the middle of nowhere.  But I must admit, it's easier for travelling west, which is what we did next of course.

Road Trip Part 1. The departure and the quirks and quickness of time

Who was it who said that if you've got time to write a diary, you probably haven't got anything interesting to write in it?  Maybe that was just a general comment that came from anyone who felt they couldn't really be bothered to write one.  Whatever the case, I'm certainly facing the difficulty of sitting down to write about what's been happening, when the general timetable since leaving Illinois has been to drive all day, find somewhere to eat at about 6ish and then get into a motel at 8 and battle with the quirks of that particular motel's internet connection to plan and organise where we're going to go the next day before dropping dead at about 11pm.    However, we have stayed in our current location for a couple of days in a row now, though not in the same motel, and that's given me a teensy bit of time to sit and write something now.

Back at the start of our journey, we had all sorts of airport delights to deal with.  Not least being in the nondescript surroundings of Prague airport at 5am.  5am is truly a miserable time to be awake and trying to function.  And Prague airport isn't exactly entertaining or comfortable.  

But when we got to Schipol in Amsterdam it was a little easier to cope, being that there were several eccentric little shops

 and more comfortable seating and even a library!  Woohoo!

The flight to Chicago was a battle of the mind.  I decided to cope with being boxed in in tightly packed seats for the 8.5 hour flight by sleeping for as much of the beginning of it as possible, to help me get on Chicago time.  This meant missing the main meal but was probably better for my tummy that way.  I watched the latest Muppet movie and was rather disappointed with it, but it helped to divide up the time and eventually we were on our descent and we got in a tiny bit ahead of schedule.

Getting through security was ok in the end, though we did have to wait in the long queue of 'scum', i.e. non-residents, for about 40 minutes.  And they've got all our fingerprints now.  So they can track us down.  Which is a bit of a worry considering we almost got ourselves arrested when we took photos in a supermarket in the suburbs of Illinois the next day.  

Two security guards (yes, two!) came over to us and said that some customers had been a bit concerned about why we were taking photos in a supermarket.  So my Mum jumped in before either of us could say anything, to reply, "Oh it's just that they're from the Czech Republic and they were amazed at how big everything is here and how much there is!  They were really surprised at how big the watermelons are and the rows and rows of chocolates."  To which the security guards, stunned by compliments about the abundance of America, said, "oh ok Ma'am" like little puppies lapping up praise and apologising for almost missing out on it.  I just stood there and smiled and inwardly thought how incredible it was that they had automatically taken everything my Mum had said at face-value.

So there you have it.  Paranoia and a failure to recognise irony is alive and well in the State of Illinois.  God bless America.

Prague-life

So time has been getting the better of me and not allowing me a moment to do anything creative and instead I've been caught up with learning, researching, adapting and implementing things online as well as dullidy-dull stuff like washing and, today's joy of joys - defrosting the fridge.  There is of course, never a good time to defrost the fridge, but if you're planning on taking almost a month off to go travelling in the US and you've run your supplies of food down to a bare minimum (not just due to trying not to have too much food leftover, but also due to running out of money) I guess, now's as good a time as any.

And so it is that I am purposely taking a moment to recall the little things I've been able to get up to over the last few weeks, because I felt a pang of homesickness as I walked back from Tesco today that I'll be leaving my little Prague life behind for quite a while.

Let's see...

There was the weekend I had tonnes of stuff to do but the architect and I managed to nip out into the centre for a couple of hours on a gloomy Saturday so we walked and walked and took in these sights:

And he laughed at me for taking photos because it was such a tourist thing to do.  But when there's this kind of weird stuff around, how can you NOT take a photo?

Then we had a couple of weeks of it starting to look like spring and there was this distinct change in the light in my kitchen that I had to just capture:

And that summer-yness carried on for a little while, just long enough to remind me how hard it'll be to conduct meetings in my hot little flat, and that at 4pm it's necessary to put the blinds down or the sun on my back will surely burn my skin.  And the Russian Countess came to visit and she took photos of me with my parasol and then we went out for dinner in the evening and sat in the company of a fish, because that was part of the décor:

(That is a fish in there - honest!)

And then, there were the lost days of periodness I mentioned in a previous post, with my emotional turmoil over watching 'Outnumbered' and feeling a bit nostalgic, followed by the last week or so of frantic organising.  Plus, there was the day I had my last stupid o'clock meeting on Vaclávské náměstí  so I took a photo of the big Europa Hotel as I left the building and headed to the street:

And then there was all the present-buying to do at the Easter market:

And now I'm into the 'packing and wrapping up presents' endgame that seems endless and far too much effort for the calibre of Easter presents bought.  

I received my own Easter present ahead of time in the post today and I must say I am enormously blessed:

What elegance!  What extravagance!  What yumminess....

And the other day I got a present of lovely yellow tulips, which brought the thought of spring that helped with the fact that the temperatures had gone back down to normal for spring and the clouds had come to hide the sun.

So all that remains now is to do aerobics, (to keep me fit and strong to cope with the stress of the long day of flying and hanging around in airports that awaits) finish my packing and attempt to make the most of my keyboard while I'm still here.  I actually got out the old Tori Amos sheet music last night and for the first time in my life got quite involved (and quite good at, I might, brazenly add) playing "Silent All These Years".  Which I suppose is quite appropriate seeing as I haven't written a proper full song in about two years now.  But I haven't exactly been 'silent' though, have I?

Reisefieber

I have forced myself to take a "time-out" (oh yes, a 'PB' trip again!) because I've been quietly worrying for some time now and I can't seem to shake the underlying anxiety off.  I'm making lists, ticking off what I can as soon as I can, but some things are simply out of my hands.  And I can't quite discern where all this worry is coming from but I sense it's probably just ,,Reisefieber" - that pre-travel anxiety you get when you realise you've got to get a tonne of things done before you leave for a long journey.  (Or it could just be my Mum's genes and her terrible propensity for worry gone into overdrive due to my coming off the pill for the seven days off, which causes hormonal free-fall.)

I'm pretty sure the journey itself is going to leave me feeling almost dead and I'm only talking about getting from here to Chicago.  The horrendous 4am wake-up call and 5am check-in added to the four-hour wait in Amsterdam before actually getting on a plane bound for Chicago is what might be the end of me.  That coupled with general, 'did I meet all the necessary international flight requirements this time?' stress, is bound to send my cortisol levels through the roof. 

The thing about travelling from Europe to the States is that the jet-lag isn't too bad to get over on the way there, because the time change takes you back, so when you arrive, you can just try to kid yourself that it was a shorter journey than you thought, make it through till evening and then crash and wake up the next day on US time.  Except, on this occasion, we won't be arriving anywhere near evening and will have to survive a whole afternoon without collapsing to make it through to the evening before we can go to bed.  So it'll be a bit of a challenge.

But that's just the beginning of the trip.  The rest could involve similar challenges in staying awake / dealing with anxiety, being that we're driving across to California, aiming to end up in San Francisco for the final 5-6 days of our trip.  Ironically enough, as I sat down to have my coffee and pain au chocolat in P's bakery again, the first song that came on was the one with the line, "if you're going to San Francisco..." to which I smiled to myself and thought, "yes I am!'  

I have since checked this song on You Tube and found that it's a really hippy 'Mamas and the Papas' song all about flowers and love-ins and I feel a bit nauseous now.  I have a sneaking suspicion, that despite my excitement, there'll be a little part of me that will miss Prague while I'm away and I could find myself longing for a bit of European dress sense, or culture, or even a bit of the resigned pessimism and expert moaning that you just can't get in the US without being a hardened New Yorker.

There's a line in the film "Truly, Madly, Deeply" (which happens to be one of my favourite films) where the Polish guy Titus, says, "A man should never drink, he remembers only his country, his mother, his lovers".  In my state today, I think I need to re-phrase that to, "A woman should never come off the pill, she remembers only her worries, her insecurities and while watching 'Outnumbered' later, her daytrips to 'Rabbit World' with her ex-partner..."  It's tragic what a loss of progesterone and estrogen or whatever the damned contraceptive pill consists of, does to you.  I am most definitely calling it a day now and packing myself off to an early bed with girlie videos and cups of tea, and a small ration of chocolate, because I need to lose weight before I go to America so that its sweetened food doesn't entirely annihilate my body with unavoidable fat and carbohydrates.  Hmm.  Chocolate rationing at a time like this.  Tough-going...

Reflection and brunch at Paul's Bakery

"I believe sometimes we aren't always in charge of everything that we do creatively.  We submit to things as we're going on our own journey."  Madonna

I have continued to have a somewhat 'up, down, up, down' existence lately, trying to change my attitudes to things, trying to alter my perspective and, above all, stay in the present.  But there's something about the human brain and the way it perceives time that can mean you can't out-run your personal history.  You can try to focus on the present, but what do you do when an old song comes on on the radio in a cafe or shop?  Music is that powerful that the things you associated with a song from the past can come flooding back at you.  

If music is the industry you're involved in, your work is continually informed by the past.  Songs that refused to let themselves be finished sometimes come back and ask to be looked at again.  Ideas started with no funding to finish get overlooked for other things you can afford to complete and the result is thread after thread of notes and pictures, vocal melody lines and chord sequences pulling you back, just when you hoped you were finally moving forwards.

Thankfully, by escaping to Paul's bakery for brunch this morning, I'm only being reminded of quirky French singers and they haven't started playing Maxime le Forestier yet, so I'm safe.  I needed to get out of the house.  As a writer/self-employed person working from home, you soon realise that getting out of the house from time to time is an absolute necessity and one that cannot be avoided purely on a "but I need to save money!" basis.  It doesn't work.  The extra productivity that comes from getting out and eating elsewhere so you don't have to deal with the washing up afterwards saves untold time and energy.

   

They've spruced up the place too, which is lovely (though my photo came out blurred) and they've now got nice chairs that remind me of the antique ones my ex-Swedish teacher has in her converted barn in the middle of nowhere in northern France. So I feel more at home now.

And what's really ridiculous is, the architect has had some good news on the job front, so I really am going to be going on a US road trip and I really will get to stay in San Francisco and see the Golden Gate bridge and see the sea and be free of Europe for almost a month, starting in Chicago in a month's time!  It is really happening.  And it really is my life in which this miraculous stuff will be taking place....I need to pinch myself!

Maybe the songs will come back, unhampered by debilitating emotional attachments.  Maybe they'll call me back in a new way.  Maybe I'll even write some interesting stories about my encounters with people there.  I'll certainly take some pictures to have proof.  

Things are looking up.  For now.

A dull, damp day

It's one of those gloomy, damp days today in Prague and I seem to have developed a similarly glum, dull ache that would come from being left out in the damp.  Except I haven't even been out.  (Too much to do.)  I'm not managing to get anything done today though, partly due to persistent tummy ache, partly due to perpetual brain ache.  The brain ache is down to trying to do too much in one go.  Things like my accounts (major brain ache contributor) and organising my plans for a website and co-ordinating social network use to present my work with in the meantime take up too much head space.  I think I've had enough of business webinars and online tutorials.  

So I'm pulling back for a little while and getting some rest.  I might even read a book.  Eye-soreness permitting.   I have a list of books I'd like to get, but at the moment, things like travel insurance for our planned road trip and website investment have to come first.  I can't quite believe that either will become a reality, but I suppose they must somehow.  Flights are booked, the front page of my website is designed and a tender has been put out to recent new contacts in the Prague arts world to get me a suitable web designer to work with.  So it's all 'in the offing' as they say.  (Whoever 'they' are.)

There's just a pervasive sense of dullness on a day like today.  The sounds of the road are suddenly dreary and irritating.  The car horns actually offend my ears.  The  gentle shuffling sound of car wheels going over damp roads in sequences of short shifts allowed by the traffic lights infiltrate my softly throbbing head and I have to contemplate taking an aspirin.  I hate days like this.  I don't even know where it comes from, but I find myself having gone from an optimistic, "getting things done" kind of energy in recent days to a possibly hormonal sense of self-loathing and sheer boredom with who I am.  

I'm tired of being complicated.  I'm tired of never having a holiday in the sun.  I'm tired of struggling to afford things to enjoy and above all I'm tired of my repetitive thoughts and apparent shortcomings.  I wonder if everyone has this, or if this is a self-indulgent phase only ex-musicians and artists go through?

The only answer, I have concluded, is to listen to my inner child, pick up the spare duvet, wrap myself up in it and curl up to watch House re-runs with a sugary yoghurt and dark chocolate.  It might be nicer to snuggle up with someone else, but I am alone here, and the architect might not be feeling much love towards me today, because he doesn't always, and I might be better off enjoying the non-judgment that comes with doing this on my own.  And I'm not in the mood for sharing the chocolate anyhow.

Flowers and a farewell to February

Prague was miserable-looking today and I had to get out of the house, so I bought these to cheer myself up:

Oh February, you odd little month.  How we should have been closer friends...  (I was meant to have been born in February, but somehow I was too eager to see the world so I came early.)  I have never quite got used to grey, cloudy days and find them rather hard to embrace but I really tried hard today to think of the advantages of cloud-filled skies.  Maybe there's extra protection from the sun on days like this. (Although beauty pages in magazines always warn that you still need sunscreen if you're out on a beach in Spain somewhere and it's overcast, but that's Spain, not ,,Mitteleuropa".)  There is a sense of being a little bit cocooned on dull grey days.  And maybe that's what I needed.  So it's good.

I even got to sleep until a reasonable hour this morning, which was delightful.  This helped to make up for the fact that I was up at 5.30am yesterday and that there was drilling going on until 11pm that resumed this morning at 8.40am.  I don't know who here is enough of a masochist that they think it's a great idea to fill this building yet again with the screech and squeal, growl and grunt of a drill going into several different parts of a wall after the hell we went through during the renovation work (that only recently - in the last two weeks - stopped) but I wish they'd just STOP.  I think I've heard enough drilling to acquit me of murder, on the basis of insanity-through-noise, so if I were you, drilling enthusiast, I'd watch my back.  Just sayin'...