Chicago!

Music wafts through the tiled halls while the wind picks up, the train nearing closer and breathing tunnel air like a giant, metal dragon. People are packed into the cars like sardines, the city life boasting a variety of business suits and briefcases, midriff cutoffs and workout clothes.

There are many things different about Chicago than Atlanta.

Still getting over the magical excitement of being on a plane for the first time in nearly 4 years, face glued to the window to my right, my first sight of one of the Great Lakes came into view and – Chicago through the windows to the left, massive and impressive and a sight to behold. I’d felt myself spoiled by the Atlanta skyline for the past year, proud of my city and the sights and sounds that it had to boast. However, even I had to admit that Chicago was bigger if not more fantastic and enchanting than Atlanta. The lake glowed an inviting blue green colour and boats dotted the water’s surface, looking like mere Barbie dolls and bath toys from the thousands of feet up above.

I could hardly contain my excitement as we touched down at O’Hare and I stepped foot on Illinois soil for the first time (uhh, kind of?). My first experience with the CTA was even more amazing. Having grown up in Florida, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the concept of reliable public transportation. I’d just ridden the MARTA train for the first time that morning. I’d been warned that MARTA, which I had previously thought both reliable and impressive was, in fact, actually the opposite and was great if you didn’t have anywhere to go in a hurry. Saxophone tunes filled the CTA station and after climbing in a train on the “Blue Line” the doors shut and the train whizzed down the tracks East towards the city at speeds just on the cusp of being frightening. I was even more enchanted however, as the train emerged from a tunnel and sped right alongside the highway, where I could peep into the cars beside me.

The bus was a foreign concept too – having never taken a bus in my life, the dizzying options of places to go made me more confused and overwhelmed than my first day of PT school. When you wanted to get off at a stop, you pulled the string on the side of you, which rang a bell that signaled the driver to stop. The weather was windy and cool; I think I was just as amazed by my first glimpse of what prairie land looked like as I was by the sheer size of the city. Even the houses looked different, with bay windows for days and sandy colored stone and more flatness than I had seen since Orlando. And what is a White Castle, anyway?

My weeklong trip in Chicago is such a myriad of amazing foods, new sights and interesting people that it would be impossible to write it all down in one blog post. I was satisfied alone by merely riding the train, feeling a rush of anticipation as, sitting underground, the air started to shake and rumble and the cold air began to whip my hair in all different directions. And then the train would come roaring down the tunnel so fast that its screeching halt still didn’t seem like enough to make it stop in time to board. During rush hour, the trains were so packed that you literally had to sardine yourself into an already packed train, so close that you were hugged by bodies on all sides and you hid your purse close by your side.

Deep dish pizza was a nightmare on my blood sugar. Also, it took an hour to make. Also, it was amazing. I probably won’t be able to eat it for a few more years because my pancreas is still revolting, but I’ve never been one to complain about good food – it’ll just have to get over it.

While walking the streets of Wicker Park, one of the more hipster, grungy but inviting and eclectic neighborhoods of Chicago, there is a boarded up old building with a small yellow light above it. A tiny rusted door handle peeps along the side of the wood. You wouldn’t think much of it, but peel open the heavy wooden door attached to the handle and you find yourself in a dark, quiet entryway encased by thick silence and caressed by heavy velvet curtains. Push your way through the curtain to your left and you find yourself in The Violet Hour, the most intriguing bar I’ve ever visited (At 21 I realize this might not be saying much, but seriously, it’s really cool). All the chairs are made so that you can easily face whomever you’re with, and the only way to see is by the light of candles dotted around the small room.

Having a penchant for visiting pretty cemeteries, Graceland cemetery was also a beautiful visit right off the red line. Willow trees cast their leaves in green curtains gently down where they touched the blue-brown waters of a small lake; in the center, a bridge led to an island that serves as final resting place to the very architect who designed the city of Chicago.

After cashing in over 15,000 steps through the city of Chicago I found myself at Navy Pier, which was far enough outside the city’s downtown that if you look behind you and it’s nighttime, you are gifted by the most beautiful show of lights. The ferris wheel was even more incredible, as it rose above the lake and brought you closer to the glittering lights.

There were so many things to be amazed about. The water plant downtown is a castle. The trains are always on time. The public zoo in Lincoln Park is free. Swing dancing happens almost every night to the accompaniment of live jazz bands. If you happen to find yourself at the Green Mill Lounge, once said to be a favourite hangout of Al Capone, you might happen on one of these jazz bands. If you find yourself swing dancing to the music, the crowds will cheer for you into the early hours of the morning. The John Hancock building gives you an absolutely stunning view of the city. The Chicago dogs are the best hot dogs I’ve ever had. Chinatown has the best Pho. People give away pizza on the subways. Musicians fill the train stations with music; flutes, violins and saxaphones. Jewel Osco grocery stores sell liquor, which is truly a marvel after coming from the South.

I couldn’t have asked for a better break away from school as I approach second year. Sure, Chicago had some downsides; 7 months of winter, no carrying guns (I love my gun, not a redneck), and I gas was a staggering $3.99. As I arrive back in Atlanta today, I find myself happy to be back in a place that has finally come to feel like home, even if it means having to wake up at 6 (I say 6 but I actually mean 7) tomorrow morning.

Still, I can’t wait to visit again. I’m going to miss good public transportation, especially as I fight the long lines of traffic to get to school tomorrow.