Moving to Chicago, or Tone it Down America

After over a month in Chicago, what have I learnt? Firstly, that I'm not writing nearly enough - and I haven't done for about a year. It used to be an escape for me - an outlet for everything, whether I was publishing publicly, or simply spending hours creating an eloquent, self important rant about whatever had pissed me off that day, only to delete it once I had it perfected. My own variety of Mandala, laboured over and then swept away, ready to start again. I felt I should have picked up my blog again as soon as I got here, detailing my foray into the unknown – but my foray into the unknown was mainly me getting lost, getting drunk with strangers, and feeling very alone, so I guess you didn’t miss out on much. Oh, and I accidentally found the Bean one day…

Dead Friends

My accent is popular here - mainly with folk who want to talk to me about the queen, or Diana, or all the words I 'don't say right'. Otherwise it's mainly great for ensuring I never get the fucking coffee order I want. It also helps with dating, at least for the first date, which is also strange out here. It’s intense and casual at the same time, and usually involves an actual date of some kind, instead of just yelling at each other in a club before being invited over to “Netflix and Chill”. Or, my preferred method of vaguely fancying someone, becoming friends with them and then never doing anything about it, ideally moving to a different town/country after two years or so and never talking to them again.

Arty Stuff

 The city is pretty cool, and so far I’ve lived in really nice areas. Logan Square was, as all Hipster villages are, filled with great bars and cafes and quirky shops. I spent a day in a tattoo shop. I didn’t fit in. Ukrainian Village is also nice, in that it’s close to the city and the cool bar streets, and slightly closer to the train station for work. The actual place seems quieter, although there is a ‘Western Clothing’ store opposite my amazing flat, so at least I’ve got Christmas presents for everyone back home sorted…

Thanksgiving Parade

Thanksgiving was great, and also weird. I was invited to a colleague’s house, to spend it with her family which was the sweetest thing. It’s pretty much a rehearsal for Christmas (i.e. getting drunk with your family), but instead of celebrating the birth of Santa and opening presents, people celebrate sports and yell a lot. And say what they’re thankful for, which as a British girl was a little uncomfortable. Sincere emotions = intense discomfort.

I think the main thing I've learnt is that maybe I'm not as independent as I thought I was. Maybe in a good way. I need people more than I thought, and I miss having people I love around me. If I’m slightly busy at the weekend, it’s difficult to talk to anyone back home because of the time difference, which is hard. This also is weird for me (see above emotions/discomfort etc except now this is something I’m feeling about myself. I give myself the creeps…). I haven’t taken many photos either, because no one else is a tourist and I’m usually just hanging out with people. It’d be weird to take my fancy camera to the bars.Long story short though, feelings, drinking, and I guess I’m blogging again.

Cocktails and Cathedrals

After a good solid month of doing nothing particularly exciting, I've just had one of those spectacularly busy weeks, which left me a bit torn about what to write about. There was France, London, wine tasting, not to mention my favourite holiday of them all (ok, maybe apart from Christmas); HALLOWEEN!

I planned to do some Halloween themed tutorials - I LOVE playing with make-up and fancy dress, this year I was a gruesome flapper - and I made a worm-infested Bailey's jelly brain. But it just seems a bit too late now. There's always next year I suppose, or perhaps an unseasonal Valentines post for the single and bitter. In the meantime, I swung for the rest of my holiday in France...

The first week was spent largely lying by the pool and doing the odd spot of painting as the house was finished around me. But who could blame me? As England was being torn apart by storms (or so the news would have us believe) I was cycling to the bread shop in the morning and sunning myself with a good book (Along Came a Spider - brilliant read) in the afternoon. I even braved a swim, although the pool wasn't heated and so was pretty darn cold.

This is not to say, however, that I didn't earn my keep. My cocktail making prowess was called upon almost daily for sundowners, and I was even called upon to host a cocktail party for the local ex-pat friends and neighbours (it was intended to be pre-dinner drinks, but no one left before midnight - I call that a victory for my bartending).

Pimms

Here, Lynda and I are enjoying an ice-cold Fallet Royale - created especially for the occasion and named after the house. It's incredibly simple, similar to a Kir Royale (Cassis and Champagne) but made with Floc, a local liqueur that's a bit like sherry, a bit like port, and quite delicious. Simply pop roughly a single measure into a champagne flute and top with bubbly. Add a blackcurrant or black grape for garnish and enjoy in front of a French sunset. Or an English one. Or Made in Chelsea...

I did also manage to squeeze in a bit of culture during my trip, before you judge me too harshly. On Monday I went on a trip to Auch, a small town west of Toulouse.

 

We stopped here for a bit of lunch. By which I mean three courses of butter-soaked deliciousness, obviously. I had an incredible pumpkin soup with hazelnut foam and roasted hazelnuts that I'm desperate to figure out the recipe for. I'm fairly sure it's largely butter and cream, maybe some duck fat. It is the fois gras region after all. 

The main event however was the Cathedral.

The Cathedral is a little replica of Notre Dame and, despite the scaffolding, is quite beautiful. It's even more so inside...

It may be a bit smaller than its Parisian sister, but it no less impressive. I loved Auch, it's full of beautiful architecture and small winding streets. Big thanks to the Sturtivant family for letting me tag along with them, you wonderful brilliant people.

Sigh. I miss France, and really hope I get to go back soon. At least I made it back for Halloween though.

I couldn't not give you a picture...