Visiting the US

The first odd thing was: getting in the Visitors line to enter the US. Just passing through, folks.

There are things to like in America, and there are things to like better in Europe:

America: The first thing I noticed was the smell of chlorine everywhere--the bathrooms, the tap water, the hotel hallways.

Music, or music-like noises, everywhere, too. Every public place has to have a sound track--hotel lobbies, restaurants, airports, shopping malls, satellite radio in the rental car. Even parks have speakers bolted to the trees. Either Americans love bad music, or they use it to protect them from thinking.

You can get Dr. Pepper in the Netherlands now. Civilization arrives just in time for me.

The Netherlands are cleaner. (That is not obvious, though, when you visit Chicago, which is one of America's cleaner cities.) I do appreciate the Netherlands toilet stalls: private, tiled in, doors that lock. American toilet stalls offend both ear and nose with the little panel between the, er, seated participants.

The Dutch drivers are incredibly better skilled than average American drivers. And the bicycle paths are so extremely excellent. Americans have nice bike paths through parks and along old rail lines in the countrysides, but bicycles are just not used the same way, and protected paths don't line every major street. In America, cars rule; in the Netherlands cars yield.

Dutch staircases are a mortal hazard. I really hate them. Already I carry scars on my shins, calves, and shoes. I don't understand why Europe's biggest feet are forced to negotiate its smallest stairsteps. You have to go up and down all stairways here with your feet sideways--there is no way a shoe will fit in a safe way. Yes, space is precious here, but New York and San Francisco, crowded as they are, manage without deadly stairways.

And Starbucks: forget coffee--we're talking latte, toffee nut latte, mocha, caramel, vanilla, white chocolate, apple mocha, valencia, americano, cappucino, frappucino, crappucino. "Oh and could I get that double cupped?" "Oh, I wanted that with no cream." "Oh, I wanted that with low-fat, no-fat, reduced fat, skim milk." "How much is that, excuse me I have to answer my cell phone." And you realize you're waiting in line behind three cell-phone users, while the counter clerks are answering the house phone. All this for coffee almost as good as what Europeans throw out at day's end.

My first meal back in the US was at a burrito restaurant I had wanted to try. I got this enormous thing with my 20 ounce (600 mL) root beer, and I wondered how people in the US could eat like this and not grow big as houses. I looked around--they were big as houses. I left half on my plate, and went across Barrington Road to get practically all my US shopping done--on a Sunday afternoon. Try that in the Netherlands.

Back at the hotel room, I decided I couldn't stand the tap water, so I drove to Office Depot for a 28-pack of 1/2-liter bottles, for $6. Enough for the week. I walked in to this cavernous neighborhood shop, and laughed out loud. Except for IKEA Amsterdam, I had not been in a store this large in three months in the Netherlands--and in the US this store was not even anything special.

I spent Thursday recovering from Wednesday's 10-ounce (300 gram) hamburger. I bought a suitcase to replace the wonderful one the Schiphol airport had destroyed on the way over. Thanks a lot.

The week of work had gone well enough, and then the parents "just happened to come through the Midwest" in time to share a weekend around Chicago. We ate our way to gastric oblivion at a place in Schaumburg famous for real Chicago pizza, "not that Pizzeria Uno stuff." Saturday we tooled around towns near my US office, at some towns I might want to live in when I return to the US--someday. Sunday, OK Sunday we went downtown. Chicago, one of the world's great cities. (Check out my April-May archives for great details.)

Something I forgot to mention here in April: the previous time I'd spend any time in downtown Chicago, years ago, there were a lot of people talking to no one visible, looking up at the buildings and sky as they spoke about this subject or that, ignoring you or stumbling into you, looking at their watch, talking, talking, talking. That is, quite insane. This trip, everyone talked to no one visible but with a phone to his ear, looking up at the buildings and sky, disorented, running into you, or stepping in front of buses. Talking, talking, talking. I'm not sure this is an improvement.

A highlight of the day was the top floor of the John Hancock tower. Great view of Chicago, even hazy as it was. Navy pier gleamed in the noonday.
 

And Chicago stuns with its muscular presence as seen from any angle. Though you can't tell here, this urban density stretches for miles.
 

The building at the previous picture's upper left corner has a swimming pool on the roof. How much steel does it take to support the weight of all that water? But a roof provides the city's only outdoor privacy.
 

Or maybe not so much privacy...
 

Sunday's highlight downtown was the Air and Water Show. Over Chicago's Lake Michigan shore, airplane pilots show off low over the water, just beyond which boaters picnic and look up. And from the John Hancock building, we are looking down on the show.
 

At left, Chicago's near north side. That's nice. At right my father's full head of hair. That's not fair.