On the road again -- feels like home

America.

What can I say about this place...It is exactly like TV and it's nothing like TV. It was a difficult goodbye to the streets of Japan, the rain pouring on haphazard streets, the half-readable kanji blurred by water streaked glass and my own eyes that brimmed with the sadness of leaving, a sadness that stems from knowing that, when we return, it will be only as mere visitors.

As expected, we had numerous hurdles with our luggage that included two backpacks, three carry-on bags, and two guitars and a shamisen that needed to go on-board and not underneath. Hours of fun negotiation ensued. Here's Ryan pre-shave checking out his baggage ensemble:


A suitably uncomfortable plane ride (even in premium economy) involved obligatory screaming infants, corpulent snoring Americans, and ill-conceived airline fodder...not even the airline stewardesses provided any visual relief, what with a median age of 50 something and a slight hint of 'Yeah? Whatever' about them.

First purchase in America: Coffee from MacDonalds to get change for the phone.
Number of fake boobs seen at the airport: four inflated sets

We were met at the subway station by our host Steve and his neighbor Paul. As the gay games are on in Chicago, Steve and his partner Bob were already decked to the rafters with Australian gay men with tight bodies and muscle shirts, his neighbors Paul and Lisa had agreed to put us up.

Their place is absolutely gorgeous and the bed is like something from another world for us single futon ground dwellers. Plump, feathery, with multiple pillows and a thread count approaching zenith levels...mmmmmm

Also, just to really indulge our Americana dream fetishes, Paul is an FBI agent and Lisa is a lawyer. No shit...you could not ask for a better start to the visit than that, except for the fact that these guys are incredibly generous and accommodating and Paul LOVES Chicago and decided that we had to do all the "bests." Cue trip to Connie's pizza joint where we all sucked back deep-dish pizza and Corona Beer.

For those ingnoramus's amongst you, deep dish is like a pizza pie -- it has a thin crust and an edge like a pie and then the topping is just loaded in there in goopy, cheesy, super-size me layers. After two pieces (minus the crust) we were spent, and the box of leftovers was actually impossible to carry in one hand. We got a thick crust version -- here it is.


The next morning, Circadian rhythms spinning wildly like a polyphonic pocket watch playing Mrs Malaprop's greatest hits, we rose at 5.30am. By 8.30am we were decked out with two incredibly zoopy hybrid bikes, one care of Steve and Bob because Lisa is a 6ft Amazonian and I couldn't even hook my leg over the frame!

We rode into town along the bike path that runs along Lake Michigan -- A brilliantly, independently free and democratic blue sky day glinting with radiant flecks of industry and ingenuity. The path was crowded with fit people, training for the marathon, tour de France, Marathon De Sables, or the fake boobie beach volleyball tournament. The Chicago skyline is breathtaking -- it's like Gotham city and 2050 -- a silver odyssey all rolled into one. Here's me trying at an 'I built this city' pose:



We zoomed around on the bikes all day. We were obsessed by exteriors, by the way things gleamed, by the intensity of the green grass, the ostentatious fountains, the sheer size of things. Streets sprawled widely, giving us a sense of what it means to be an 'avenue.' Public art is huge here, and we were impressed at how much spectators could play, interact, and merge with the art on display.

THE BEAN


THE VIDEO FOUNTAIN



We rode for hours, delving into different neighbourhoods, and having to do a few quick reverse manouvres. In Chicago, neighborhoods change in a block -- one minute it's all Starbucks and tree-lined streets, the next there's abandoned tenement blocks and feelings of ill-will and impending danger.

Thrillingly, we encountered a young girl on the street selling lemonade -- I was so excited, that this REALLY happens in America and not just in the Babysitter club series. We took pictures, and bought a cup -- highly delicious, but subject to massive inflation -- a buck a cup as opposed to the 20c a cup I remember from my childhood fiction days.

After cruising back up the lake path, stopping off at 'Boystown', the gay distict, we arrived home to find Paul all geared up to take us to 'Superdawg'... What is Superdawg? Only the most famous hotdog place in the whole of Chicago...a 30 min drive up Milwaukee Ave, it's a joint where you drive in and park. There is a speaker phone at every car spot to order your food and the girls bring it out and attach the tray to your car window -- the only thing missing is the rollerskates. Here is Paul -- he is armed and knows what he wants, so just do as he says...


I am gonna sign off here -- the sun is cooling off and after lathering our sunburn in soothing aloe, we're back on the bikes, jet lag and all, to checkout a free music festival tonight.
One thing though -- I LOVE the fonts in America --- they simply rock.