and each time i roam, chicago is calling me home

"i was born in chicago, 1971"
-----the pixies, 'born in chicago'

it's true. i was born in chicago, 1971. i haven't been back since then, so i've been spending the past three days with my godparents, who haven't seen me in some 30-odd years. (they tell me i've grown.) although i was a bit nervous to finally re-meet them, it turns out they're awesome people.

the disconcerting bit is that in the middle of my adventure about americana, i've found myself smack dab in the middle of my personal filipino history. my long-lost relatives here in chicago speak to me in taglish (tagalog/english) and all those tagalog words that i had long forgotten are bubbling themselves up into consciousness.

i think the thing that threw me off is that it's been almost a decade since anyone has called me anak (child) and has spoken to me in taglish. partly it's because people have stopped calling me child many years ago, but also because my folks divorced awhile back and my mom married a caucasian, which was weird, because nobody in my family had ever done that before. my mom these days prefers her new, improved, cleaner, whiter lifestyle, so the ever-present pan de sal, tilapia and bagong have all but vanished from my visits home. it was sort of comforting to listen to my godparents talking about their day in tagalog. i didn't necessarily know everything that they were saying, but it still felt familiar and calming.

my godfather advised me to go to chicago's shedd aquarium, where they just opened a new permanent exhibit of the filipino coral reefs. so, at the insistence of ninong (godfather) joe, i packed two rolls of pan de sal into my backpack and pointed myself in the direction of michigan street so i could go to the reef exhibit (or, as i jokingly told my mom, the 'reep' exhibit.) it's a beautiful and amazing exhibit and the island that all the fish and coral were imported from is very close to the coral reef that i swam in when i was a kid, which brought back a flood (an ocean?) of memories.

needless to say, it's been a pretty trippy personal trip for me here in chicago.

i wish i could say i've seen a lot of this town, but mostly i've been trying to spend time with my relatives here. i did have a chance to go to the top of sears tower, eat a genuine chicago stuffed pizza and check out the art institute of chicago, which is freaking incredible. the chicago art institute beats the crap out of sfmoma and lacma, kicks the bodies after they're down and walks away with nary a scratch as the victor. i spent the better part of a day just wandering around the galleries thinking to myself "oh my god, ~that~ is here too?"

american gothic. andy warhol's mao. many, many, many monets. chagall. picasso. dali. eames. magritte. rodin. you name, it, they have lots of it. i have to admit that one of my favorite pieces was a duchamp work which was intended to be viewed on a record player. how awesome is that?

seurat's 'a sunday on la grande jette - 1884' is an incredible painting to see in person. i'm not saying that i know anything extensive about art, but to me, this painting seems to be a fantastic example of pointillism. standing at the back of the gallery, it looks like an incredible painting, but when you get inches away from it, it's mind-blowing in its detail. from what i understand, the painting is also referencing the growth of nontraditional families in 1884, france, which makes the piece even that much more compelling.

after the overwhelming experience at the art institute, i hopped on the el train and explored the neighborhoods. my journal was down to its last few pages and it set me into a mild panic. i'm travelling. travelling requires a journal. it ranks right up there with comfortable walking shoes and subway fare. finding the gridded moleskines are more difficult than finding the lined or blank, so it looked like i might be screwed. i contemplated buying a canson and just using that, but the thought of it aggravated me.

i had been looking all day. this found me in a stellar architectural bookstore, which had some fantastic architectural viewmaster slides, but no moleskine. i then wandered into a random things boutique store, but the owner said he no longer stocked them. the blank-faced college kid in the university bookstore had no idea what i was talking about and suggested i try walgreens. giving up, i jumped onto a random train and found myself in bucktown.

the bucktown district of chicago has fought and lost its battle against gentrification in this fair town. curious to see what that looks like in another city, i hopped off at the damon stop and wandered. unfortunately, most of the shops had already closed for the day, which left me with little to explore. one of the few shops left open was a tiny boutique shop called vitu. seeing they only had ten minutes left before closing, i shambled in there on a lark.

lo and behold, they had moleskines! not just any old moleskines, but they only had the gridded kind! the owner was super friendly and talked about her own addiction to gridded moleskines, explaining why it was the only type she stocked in the store. she was great to talk to and had a lot of suggestions for places and events around town to check out. we chatted for a good long while before i thanked her for her moleskine supply and headed out, grateful that even the tiniest coincidences can make me so happy.

yup, chicago is my kind of town. <05.20.04>

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