This weekend I took a little excursion into Chicago with some people. It was really nice. The first thing we did was go over to Millenium Park and watch the little kids playing in the fountain. P. and A. took off their shoes and wandered on into the fountain and I ended up peeling off my sneakers and following them in. The fountain was basically these big monolithic towers on either end of a plaza with glass bricks. Images could be projected onto the bricks and a persons face always placidly wathed the crowds passing. It was suprisingly warm the past few days probably topping out in the mid to lower 80's.
The water was fine. All these little kids would run back and forth sometimes splashing water on us. Occaisionally a thick, heavey stream of water would shoot forth from the lips of one of the faces dousing some of the running children. After the park we went to the Art Institute of Chicago browsed through the impressionist works and a few contemporary/ modern artists. Mostly modern. Until a few years ago I didn't really have a taste for modern art. It's been slowly growing on me. That evening we ended up going out to dinner at a tapas bar (more on that later).We ended up staying at a really nice friend of A.'s who lived in Lincoln park in a tiny but cute apartment that seemed to be a renovated hotel room. I slept on the floor and woke up really early this morning. I couldn't sleep so A. and I quietly snuck out and went up the eighth floor where they have a deck with sunchairs that alternately overlooks the park and Lake Michigan or the skyline of the city depending on which way you're facing and we hung out for a couple hours watching the sun come on up.
After being introduced to the Original Pancake House (I had the Hawaiin pancakes) we wandered around a street market consisting mainly of jewelry and art. After a thorough tour of the Lincoln Park Zoo we walked down to the shore of Lake Michigan and hung out of the beach for a bit before I began my trek home. I had to take a bus, then walk a mile, take a train, then walk a mile, and then drive two hours to get back home. Not so bad over all. I met a drunk black man on the train from Memphis who as a fellow southerner decided to impart the following advice on me through a barely intelligible accent slurred through the consumption of a can of Camo in a paper bag.
1. Finish my education. Stay in school as long as I could. Make some money.
2. Never trust a woman. He had two wives and both had left.
3. Women like money. Be careful. (See point 1)
4. Jesus owns my ass.
6. Respect women. One brought you into your world. (I told him I thought my Dad might have had something to do with it but he set me straight. Read points two and three and revel in the irony.)
7. B.B. King is one of the greatest musicians to ever live.
8. Money doesn't mean anything, Jesus can call you at any point in time. (See points 4 and 1).
9. Repeating and contradicting yourself makes you seem more intelligent to your fellow passengers. If more credibility is required consume large quantities of bum liquor in their prescence, engage in profuse handshaking, and talk loudly.
Don't get me wrong. He wasn't a bad guy. Just a bit ...intoxicated?
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So my trip to the tapas restaurant inspired me to try to make Tortilla Espanola (this is the recipe I followed). I used to eat this stuff almost every day while I was in Spain for my afternoon snack. I mean I'd be coming through the door of the neighborhood cerveceria and th bartender would start cutting me a slice and pulling me una caña (small draft beer). The Spanairds I knew always told me it was really easy to make so I tried my hand tonight for dinner tonight. If you look to your right that is the result. That's not exactly what's supposed to happen but it was at least reminescent of tortilla. I'll try again and see if it works better another time. I was actually suprised at how little egg actually went into it...
