Three Days in November

If you know me or if you read these blogs enough, you know that I love Chicago.  One of the main reasons is the sheer number of cultural events that are offered.  I know of no place that offers as many as Chicago does--outside of New York City.  Three days earlier this month are indicative of at least one reason why I never tire of Chicago.

On Thursday, November 8, my friend Roger and I went to the “Newberry 125” exhibit at the Newberry Library.  This library has more than 1.5 million books, 5 million pages of manuscripts, and 500,000 historic maps.  And for their 125th year anniversary they brought out 125 of their most impressive items for display, many not often seen.  I can hardly list them all here, but some of the ones that most impressed me were a first edition of Montagne's Essais, a first edition of Candide, a Shakespeare First Folio (I had never seen one of these legendary books in person!), a first edition of Don Quixote, a pair of Anna Pavlova's dance slippers, a Mozart manuscript from when he was 9, mostly in his handwriting, the rest by his father, the first Bible in America--written in the Native-American language of Massachusett, a 1700/1715 version of the Popul Vuh, a Thomas Jefferson letter, and a number of beautiful maps, some with very odd versions of how we know the landscape looks.  It was a remarkable chance to see these extraordinary items.  I felt lucky and honored to be in their presence.

On Friday Roger and I went to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  This was my birthday gift to him.  They did three works: Benjamin Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, William Walton’s Violin Concerto, and Beethoven’s 7th Symphony.  The Walton piece was new to me and I found the music quite beautiful; it didn’t hurt that it was performed by the wonderful Gil Shaham, who was fun to watch: he was all over the front of the stage, playing to the audience, then the concert master, and then practically under the conductor’s nose (Charles Dutoit, by the way).  The CSO is one of the world’s leading orchestras, and this performance made it clear why that is the case.  If those concerts weren’t so darned expensive, I would go to more.

Saturday I doubled up on events.  Starting around noon was the live in HD broadcast from the Metropolitan Opera of their new production of Thomas Adès’s The Tempest.  These live broadcasts are not quite the same as being in NYC at the Met, but they are as close as I can usually get--and they are very good.  They offer superb visual and sound quality coupled with the excitement of a live performance.  Since I’ve been to the Met I can picture the house.  This is a modern opera, premiered in 2007, and the music was sometimes startling and often beautiful, the staging was daring, and the singing excellent.  And it was conducted by the composer himself.

Then that evening it was off to the DePaul Concert Hall to hear the DePaul Symphony perform Mahler’s 9th Symphony.  This was another work I had not heard before, so that was a treat.  Perhaps the orchestra suffered a bit, in my view, from my having heard the CSO the day before, but it was still a fine evening, especially the last movement, perhaps the most haunting and deeply sad music I have ever heard.  Mahler may have known he was near death when he wrote it (scholars argue about such things), but it was his last completed symphony, and there is little doubt the music aches with a premonition of death.  Herbert von Karajan said this about the 9th:  “It is music coming from another world, it is coming from eternity.”  And after some initial rough moments in the performance, by the fourth movement the DePaul Symphony had a firm grip and there was absolute silence in the hall: no coughing or squirming; and there was a long pause at the end before the applause and standing ovation came.

All my days here aren’t so busy, although they could be.  But there’s enough going on that I never run out of things to do; in fact, I run out of money before I run out of events.

Riding the L

There are few things more associated with Chicago than the elevated system, known as the L (although some insist on calling it the “el” which is, in fact, the New York City system).  It’s my great good fortune to live right next to an L stop, the Diversey Station, so I use the L more than any other way around town; in fact, because of the nearness of the station, after living here a year, I sold my car.  And have not missed it a bit.

As you can see from the map below, the L centers around downtown and the Loop.  Trains either pass through the Loop or circle around the Loop and return from whence they came.  Only the Brown Line and the Purple Line (a rush hour line only) stop at Diversey.  Those trains take me right downtown, and since they loop around, they pretty much get me any place I want to go downtown.  The Red Line also goes downtown from my area, but I have to take a Brown to the next stop and then pick up the Red.  The Red becomes a subway as it nears downtown and follows the famous State Street, splitting the Loop in half and then heading on south.

The trains generally run about every ten minutes, so there’s never a very long wait.  Of course with my luck I often--or so it seems--get to the platform just in time to see the train pull out.  But the wait is short.  Since, with one exception, I don’t have to travel during rush times, the trains are often not crowded and seats are available; but there’s no doubt that occasionally you’re going to have to stand.  At my age, rather disconcertingly, young women tend to offer me their seat--never young men--although I always refuse their offer with a smile and “I’m not that old” comment.

There are occasional other problems with the L.  Sometimes, if the trains begin to stack up, they will run express.  This means that they make an announcement that they will be skipping the next few stops and if those stops are your destination, to get off the train and await the next train, usually right behind.  I can imagine that this is a problem for visitors who don’t know the stops well; but when I hear it, I know if I need to get off or not, and then there is a mad scramble for the exits.  Another problem is the occasional closed station, usually for rail or platform repairs.  I get the weekly e-mail alert from the CTA so I can always check on those.  About two weeks after moving here, my station closed for a total remodeling; for months I had to walk south to the Fullerton station or north to Wellington.

My one day to ride during rush hour is Tuesday morning as I head to class.  I always dread that ride.  By the time the train gets to Diversey, it’s already crammed full; I often don’t get a seat, and since I’m lugging my messenger bag and my book bag, it’s impossible to read while standing;  and it’s a boring ride by oneself and without a book.  I take the Purple Line as it goes clockwise around the Loop and gets to my stop before the Brown Line, which goes counterclockwise.  The rush hour passengers are different from passengers at other times: quiet.  People are off to work, perhaps sipping their coffee and reading the paper, and they are not traveling in packs.  No one talks, other than the occasional boob on his or her cell phone.  It’s a good idea to wear plenty of deodorant on those commutes as you can bet you’re going to be jammed in like the proverbial sardine.

In spite of the occasional problem, I love riding the trains.  And after being here over five years I haven’t tired of them one bit.  Come to Chicago and ride the L!