dokodemo

I have a hard time putting my finger on it, but the flavor of Chicago is especially unpleasant to me. The people walking around look ill, pale. Its like the film Jacob's Ladder, where a hallucinating Vietnam vet is seeing ghouls and men in black among the crowds... People of Chicago look that way to me.

The city seems to smell especially bad, worse than the paper mills of Missoula, worse than the bum-urine of Seattle, worse than the open piles of human feces in San Fransisco. Drivers in Chicago seem more impatient than is typical, the possibility of a horrible wreck seems to be looming constantly.

With that out of the way, let me try to be more fair; I do love some things in the city. The restaurants and entertainment options, the museums and parks, the Lakeshore, it is all fabulous. Needless to say I always enjoy seeing my mother and sister, and now the bonus of my sister's children.

There is not much to report about my visit, other than the first attack of what I can only call "van anxiety". I am not going to cutify that to "vanxiety" though it might make sense. I realized I am getting nervous and agitated when I am not camping. I want to be either behind the wheel, hiking, or living in the van. It was almost traumatic for me to pull the van into my mom's garage and leave it there for a few days. I wanted to ge checking up on the van, I wanted to be washing it or rearranging my items. I did get a thorough interior cleansing done, which was overdue.

Going into the city for 2 days was stressful because of this. It was just not where I wanted to be, though I did want to see my sister and her family. It was an excellent visit, and well worth it... I offer all of this not as complaints of any kind, but to document some of the unanticipated mentality which a vanagon trip provides.

I have a daily routine in the van, tasks to do in the morning, an order of operation so that everything ends up put away correctly. It only took me 2 or 3 days to settle into it, and it is very disturbing when it doesn't happen.

An intellectual understanding of this perhaps obsessive thought pattern doesn't help. The only solution is to get back onto the road and keep vanning.

While in Chicago, I met my sister at the new Millenium Park, which is quite stunning. We noticed a crowd of police on bicycles, and wondered what the deal was. Suddenly a fleet of black limos and SUVs arrived, and Lance Armstrong hopped out, taking a quick ride in his jeans (no helmet!), followed by a flock of police and his motorcade. Some fundraising event, I suppose. The section of street behind him was blocked off, so that in the photos he could appear to just e out for a casual ride, and not surrounded by specatators.

Very little else of note occured that is of interest to the general public; suffice it to say that a pleasant visit was had, but I am eager to get into the Smoky Mountains.