I rose before my alarm and was dressed by 7ish and writing a blog. Deborah said I need only ask for a coffee maker for my room, yes! But I still had to go without coffee on Saturday in my room. I was dressed and waiting for Deborah, who would soon appear in the lobby. We headed for the hotel restaurant; Deborah had a voucher. We chatted and had very supportive waiters who did not mind being ignored. They did supply us with almost unlimited coffee. I had a pile of bacon with two poached eggs and an English muffin. I have spaced what Deborah had.
Deborah had a 2-ish train to catch back home. We had limited time, and paying $30+ for a big-name museum for a two-hour rushed visit seemed a waste. I discovered the free Museum of Design, and that worked. We enjoyed the modern art (well, some of it) and some excellent modern paintings, which were pointed out by a desk person who had us turn around and see them. There was some across the street in the cultural center. The desk person then explained the building, the tours available in Chicago, and the displays. We took the elevator and started with the Paris and Chicago photo exhibit. We later found a room full of bowls representing the student debt crisis in the USA (something that appealed to Deborah and me).
We were running out of Deborah’s visit and headed to Elephant and Castle, a British-style pub (a local chain), after my phone got us turned around a few times. We ordered pies for lunch. I went with a bubbly Diet Coke, as I think my colon was reacting to too many salads. There were no accidents but a close call at the hotel earlier.
(At this point, I lost my connection and was forced to use an other editor)
After lunch, we walked to the Amtrak station and arrived forty-five minutes early and then another ten to locate the waiting area. I saw Deborah connect with some nuns and a college student all headed back on the Wolverine, the name of the train. I headed back to the Palmer House. I was already at 9,000+ steps for the day and could use a nap.
I enjoyed the day’s warmth without winds, and the town is quieter on non-work days. I rested and read in my room on the 23rd floor, 258. I also collected some caramel corn and chocolate-covered almonds at the train station, and I munched on them. Deborah kept me up-to-date, and she was fine on the train.
I dressed in my suit and soon out the door for my evening. I had got a few hours of sleep, at best. I decided on the German place nearby as it was on the way to the Lyric Opera, which was not in the theater district but mixed with all the banking buildings. I think it was there first. Susan was my waiter, and I found a small table. Soon, I was supplied with locally made German-style Dunkel beer; I went for a smaller glass (it comes even in liters) as I wanted to be awake for the opera, Rigoletto, tonight. This is the song you, dear reader, will know here. I went with the cheapest seat in the theater (still about $100 with all the extra charges).
Susan, my waiter, discussed the menu and decided on the Hungarian Goulash, which I also make, but with spaetzle instead of mashed potatoes. I don’t make spaetzle. It was good, and it had more pepper spices than I used. It did not have the ground rye seeds I am used to using. I think mine was better, but it was good to try it and compare. Also, my tastes are still off from the surgery and the resulting thrush infection. Still, it was great, and Susan gave me coffee to finish with and helped me enjoy the opera.
I met a couple from the UK at the German place who were popping down by train from visiting relatives in Michigan. We agreed that the USA trains are disappointing but cheaper than the UK trains (something I did not know about). They would be headed to the art museum on Sunday. I recommended, the guy was a retired Royal Navy, the U-boat at the Industrial Arts, too.
The Lyric Opera House was five blocks away, and my dress shoes and stiff legs and hips were a challenge that I rose to. As I got closer, I noticed that the dress style was becoming more formal. I was feeling better about my clothing choice. It was opening night for the opera!
The place was packed. The crowd was visibly excited and an even mix of younger and older people, something I had not seen before for an evening show. My seat was the last row on the first balcony and about the same distance, or even shorter, as my more expensive seat on the second balcony a few months ago in New York City’s Met. The sound was great, and I could not read the distant translation except for a few words. I could watch the stage or read. I decided to just enjoy the show and only tried to read once in a while. The leads and action were excellent. The staging was minimal and less than I used to, but I think it worked. The chorus was terrific, and the singing was as good as it gets. I am a poor judge, but the audience seemed to love it, too.
I was happy to have spent the evening at the opera. The walk back was fifteen minutes or longer, as my pace was reduced to a stiff walk. The street crowd consisted of skin-showing young people, middle-aged folks in formal wear from various evening weddings, or older folks in suits and nice dresses. The hotel was rocking with the bar full and the speakeasy closing. I found my room, got in my PJs, and could not sleep as it was too early (my two-hour time difference caught me). I finally slept and woke up often. I am tired this Sunday and stiff.
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 