Discovery is a wonderful thing. Rediscovery is a wondrous thing, I think because with redisocvery, there is this underlying sense of poignancy - a sweet reminder that you that you've found something you once lost.
I have been away from this space for a while, partly because I feel like I haven't been engaging in anything particularly interesting - or rather interesting enough to share here. But a sense of rediscovery has underlain the days leading up to this (these) moment(s), the moment I remembered the password to my blog account, the moment I logged in and opened a fresh post, the moment I rediscovered this space.
So where have I been? At home. And let me tell you, until this point I had operated under the assumption that a travel blog was alive as long as you were not at home - once you returned, it kind of passed away silently and recessively, slipping into the darkened caverns of the internet and the shadowy crooks of your own mind.
Hence, when I say that rediscovery has been quite a theme of my recent existence, I mean it has really become the lens with which I am seeing everything, like a permanent pair of rose-colored glasses have hijacked my standard pair. This rediscovery is happening in two main ways: seeing parts of the familiar world that I hadn't bothered to investigate before, and seeing all of the familiar world through another person's eyes. It is with these vantage points that I am documenting my home city, with these vantage points that I have returned to the "travel" space.
I'm rebranding.
First, and I know this drips of Pinterest-cliche-Hallmark wisdom, I've internalized the idea that life is an adventure itself that we are traveling through - and deserves to be met and described with the same amount of wonder as any new destination. So I'm resurrecting this space with that sense of optimism, about my city, my home, my life. None of these things is quite new, but I remember discussing the readjustment, the kaleidoscope of viewpoint that allows a fresh take on the familiar.
Once given the option to go around Chicago à la a fresh, Windy City tourist, I immediately took it. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, I went through a phase where the city itself stopped being interesting. Seeing it became a chore, relegated to the rare times when family or friends visited from out of town and wanted to take in the sights. I always opted to stay home when trips downtown were planned. There could be nothing enthralling about a bunch of buildings and museums I'd seen a million times. And lakes don't really change much throughout the years, so it's not like that was a selling point.
Now though, I'm at a point in my life where I may be soon leaving Chicago and the greater area - and I don't know if I'll come back any time soon. With the fire of this urgency and the chance to show a Chicago virgin around, I embarked on a newly familiar journey.
In travel circles, people often bemoan the "tourist traps," the big, old landmarks and cultural centers teeming with out-of-towners. I was (am) one of them. But in all honesty, these sights are tried and true, and together form the fulcrum of any city, either withstanding the test of time and remaining relevant, or integrating themselves seamlessly into the pattern of city life. There is most certainly a beauty in that. Millennium Park is as functional as it is pretty, bustling with both strangers and natives dropping in for a free concert or to take a selfie in the reflective surface of the Bean. The Art Institute is a world-class museum that houses its own share of masterpieces, even a whole gallery dedicated to Monet, and yet maintains an aura of individualized art appreciation. Never will you fight someone else to catch a five-second glimpse of a painting or sculpture. The ritual of slow, conscious starting and reflection is still very much alive. For many visitors, it's the rare opportunity to see a favorite composition in the flesh for the first time.
Across the way from the museum is a gorgeous, blooming prairie garden filled with walkthroughs and pools to dip your feet in. The juxtaposition of the imposing Chicago skyline, with its buildings scraping the clouds, against the soft, billowing loveliness of prairie grasses and flowers is one to almost bring you to tears. Yes, that sounds dramatic. But think about it, we live in a world where this is possible, where we almost inhabit the sky, but can still lie in the grass and listen to the earth's cooing breeze.
Through all of this touristing, I realized something important about traveling - and perhaps also about existing. It doesn't really matter if you're seeing something for the first or fiftieth time. Who is with you, how you choose to inhabit the place together, what you share, these are the moments in time that make up experiences and add to them the lasting quality that makes them memories.
And that is the philosophy behind my new brand.
I have been away from this space for a while, partly because I feel like I haven't been engaging in anything particularly interesting - or rather interesting enough to share here. But a sense of rediscovery has underlain the days leading up to this (these) moment(s), the moment I remembered the password to my blog account, the moment I logged in and opened a fresh post, the moment I rediscovered this space.
So where have I been? At home. And let me tell you, until this point I had operated under the assumption that a travel blog was alive as long as you were not at home - once you returned, it kind of passed away silently and recessively, slipping into the darkened caverns of the internet and the shadowy crooks of your own mind.
Hence, when I say that rediscovery has been quite a theme of my recent existence, I mean it has really become the lens with which I am seeing everything, like a permanent pair of rose-colored glasses have hijacked my standard pair. This rediscovery is happening in two main ways: seeing parts of the familiar world that I hadn't bothered to investigate before, and seeing all of the familiar world through another person's eyes. It is with these vantage points that I am documenting my home city, with these vantage points that I have returned to the "travel" space.
I'm rebranding.
First, and I know this drips of Pinterest-cliche-Hallmark wisdom, I've internalized the idea that life is an adventure itself that we are traveling through - and deserves to be met and described with the same amount of wonder as any new destination. So I'm resurrecting this space with that sense of optimism, about my city, my home, my life. None of these things is quite new, but I remember discussing the readjustment, the kaleidoscope of viewpoint that allows a fresh take on the familiar.
Once given the option to go around Chicago à la a fresh, Windy City tourist, I immediately took it. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, I went through a phase where the city itself stopped being interesting. Seeing it became a chore, relegated to the rare times when family or friends visited from out of town and wanted to take in the sights. I always opted to stay home when trips downtown were planned. There could be nothing enthralling about a bunch of buildings and museums I'd seen a million times. And lakes don't really change much throughout the years, so it's not like that was a selling point.
Now though, I'm at a point in my life where I may be soon leaving Chicago and the greater area - and I don't know if I'll come back any time soon. With the fire of this urgency and the chance to show a Chicago virgin around, I embarked on a newly familiar journey.
In travel circles, people often bemoan the "tourist traps," the big, old landmarks and cultural centers teeming with out-of-towners. I was (am) one of them. But in all honesty, these sights are tried and true, and together form the fulcrum of any city, either withstanding the test of time and remaining relevant, or integrating themselves seamlessly into the pattern of city life. There is most certainly a beauty in that. Millennium Park is as functional as it is pretty, bustling with both strangers and natives dropping in for a free concert or to take a selfie in the reflective surface of the Bean. The Art Institute is a world-class museum that houses its own share of masterpieces, even a whole gallery dedicated to Monet, and yet maintains an aura of individualized art appreciation. Never will you fight someone else to catch a five-second glimpse of a painting or sculpture. The ritual of slow, conscious starting and reflection is still very much alive. For many visitors, it's the rare opportunity to see a favorite composition in the flesh for the first time.
Across the way from the museum is a gorgeous, blooming prairie garden filled with walkthroughs and pools to dip your feet in. The juxtaposition of the imposing Chicago skyline, with its buildings scraping the clouds, against the soft, billowing loveliness of prairie grasses and flowers is one to almost bring you to tears. Yes, that sounds dramatic. But think about it, we live in a world where this is possible, where we almost inhabit the sky, but can still lie in the grass and listen to the earth's cooing breeze.
Through all of this touristing, I realized something important about traveling - and perhaps also about existing. It doesn't really matter if you're seeing something for the first or fiftieth time. Who is with you, how you choose to inhabit the place together, what you share, these are the moments in time that make up experiences and add to them the lasting quality that makes them memories.
And that is the philosophy behind my new brand.
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