Two and a half months ago, I left Colorado for my first solo travel adventure. I have gone by train, plane, bus, boat, and car—south to Tijuana and north to Vancouver, then straight across the West to end in the quintessential American city, Chicago.
It turns out that 72 travel days is just about enough to break me. I feel like I could sleep for a year. Everything hurts. I’m cranky. I’m pretty sure I am dying.
At the start of my trip I was bubbly and excited, talking to strangers in the hostels, meeting all sorts of interesting characters from around the globe. Now, I’m a total travel grinch. I’m like:
“Hey Japan! Stop hogging the mirror!”
And “MUST you Skype with your entire extended family right next to me, Brazil?”
And “Put your shirt on, Italy! This isn’t an Abercrombie & Fitch store!”
But I managed to muster my last bit of energy to explore the Windy City (or as much as I could see in a day and a half…)Who knew that Chicago was so frickin’ beautiful? I mean, probably a lot of people, but I was not one of them until a few days ago.
I got my Art Institute on. It is the second largest art museum in the United States.
Five bucks to anyone who can explain what the big whoop is about Cy Twombley.
My other big touristy thing was to go on an Architecture Foundation boat tour on the Chicago River.
I had one fun night out on the town with a real Chicagoan. We ate bone marrow. There was Fleetwood Mac. Thanks, Charlie Goodvibes.
Overall, I have to say that Chicago is one of the coolest cities I’ve ever been to, and it was a great finale to my trip. Now I am going to sleep for a week.