The most unique thing about Minneapolis (apart from it being Home of Pilsbury) is the skyways. I had totally underestimated their size and complexity. The wise Minneapolitans, realising that their state was clearly not fit for human habitation in the winter months, decided, instead of flying south to Phoenix for four months, to build streets within the streets and buildings. Go up a flight in the symphony hall, conference center, or large office building, and you find, not just above-ground passages between buildings, but whole indoor streets, complete with Subways and barbers and the like lining them. Their heating bills must be astonishing, but who knows? Maybe the goal is to contribute to global warming and thus obviate the need.
Hell’s Kitchen.
Who could have predicted that Nirvana would be disguised under the name of Hell’s Kitchen? This place was SOOO good. My dear friends B and C took me there on Wednesday, and I went back Thursday and Friday. I had the most amazing lemon-ricotta hotcakes, wild rice porridge, marscapone bruschetta.
After brekkers we got to go and listen to B playing with the symphony- fortuitiously, there was a children’s concert that morning, so I got to go and listen before the meetings. A great international selection of music, complete with Hungarian folk dancers.
We also visited the modern art museum – some great pieces (my favourite being a pair of plastic spheres, one silver, one gold), and the usual random mix of video installations that either depressed or bemused me. I’ve yet to see a video installation that wasn’t completely angst-ridden, unless the one with the man running through the desert alone telling jokes to the nothingness counts, and I don’t think it does.
We followed that up with a delicious dinner at the tres chic Wolfgang Puck place within the museum (restaurants in museums are genius, I’m always starving and sore-footed at the end of them).
The city is very shiny and just-washed looking (in contrast with dusty SL). There’s a long walking street called the Nicollet Mall, lined with shops that we were glad for our bank accounts’ sakes that we hadn’t discovered before the last day. We saw the Mississippi (I have no idea if I’m spelling that right, I wasn’t taught the song at school), and thought about seeing the bridge that collapsed, but were a bit walked out.
And we didn’t see the Mall of America. Sort of as a statement. Sort of.
Oh, and the conference was quite good, too.
Monday 12 November 2007
Minn. Part Two
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I think that telling jokes to the desert should count as Art. I mean, that's a metaphor for my whole life! And isn't that what Art is supposed to be?
Did you notice if Minnesotans are more given to self-medicating their SAD with booze, etc like other denizens of dark northerly lands (I'm thinking the Russians, here)? Or do those ingenious indoor streets solve everything?
I never learned a song for Mississippi. Just "M, I, double-S, I, double-S, I, double-P, I"
What they need a song for is Cholmondely.
I didn't notice a ton of drunken revellers, I must say (and we frequented a few places where I had the opportunity. Unless they just drink alone in a suitably northern repressed manner.
Well there SHOULD be a song. Or some kind of rhyme.
I dream of marrying someone called Choldmondely and enjoying the blank looks on people's faces as I spell it out. "No, c h O. Yes I know it sounded like 'chumley'."
Much belated comment -
They have a indoor set-up like that in Montreal too. Very cool but also confusing and easy to get lost without the normal "outdoor" landmarks.
Glad you got to enjoy so much of the city on a business trip.
Post a Comment