In a previous post, #013 to be precise, I made a statement. It was a rash and foolhardy statement; a statement which I didn't fully understand. A statement that has resulted in death.
Because in post #013, I said: "the demise of Sir Jimmy."
Jimmy Saville was, to many, an icon. It was my words that foretold his end. To all those affected at this sad time, I give my sympathy and condolences. I am solely to blame for his passing, and await my own fate accordingly.
RIP Jimmy. I'm sorry.
Now then, trip-wise, next stop was Madison, the state capital of Wisconsin, and a couple of nights rest after the long road across the plains.
I guess you could call Madison one big urban suburb. The very centre of the city is a strip not more than a dozen blocks wide, sandwiched between two lakes. Right in the middle is the St. Paul's-esque capitol building, built at a forty-five degree angle to the rest of the city. The sizable University of Wisconsin is housed here, and takes up a swathe of land to the west, but the rest is pretty much American suburbia personified - porched houses from within a few hundred yards of the capitol building outwards.
The whole place is completely obsessed with the sport of the college. There was not a soul who wasn't dressed in the colours of the Beavers the Saturday I was there. They thronged the main streets during the afternoon, in order to watch the football team play away in Minnesota. Then, the same evening, I was confronted by a stampede of hockey supporters making their way to the game - everyone had swapped their red and white football replica shirts for their red and white hockey replica shirts.
After I took a stroll around the capitol area, and looked at the lakes, I found myself an arthouse cinema linked to the Sundance festival, and went to watch a film. When I've been spending time in cities I've tended to leave the van be and walk places whenever I can - it means I get to see a bit more of the place. In this instance I somewhat underestimated how far the cinema was, and took a good hour and a half to get there. Still, after some food as well, I was sat down for three hours at least - plenty of rest for the return leg. I watched 'Take Shelter', and was really impressed. It's got two or three absolutely brilliantly acted scenes, and left me pondering for the ninety minute walk back and more.
Next I make my way to the Windy City. And on the way I face a barrage across the bows from the relentless wind. I swear the driver's door was flexing under the weight of it half the time - it was a real battle to control the van. Despite this, the Purple Nimbus reported heat of 20C outside - balmy, and barmy, temperatures for this time in November in northern Illinois.
On the last stretch into the metropolis, I make more emergency stops than I've ever done in the space of four minutes. And I've driven in France before. I had fun finally making it to the door of the hostel too, due to unforeseen road closures and roadworks, and my still rudimentary grasp of the American road systems. Emily, bless her, did a great job until we plunged into the heart of skyscraper territory, where she started coming over all schizophrenic: take this road, no this road, no the first, no no...
Maybe it's just hormones. I won't pry. She's never been the sort to divulge much about herself anyway.
I spent the first night by the massive windows in the corner of the second storey of the hostel, watching life go by on the street below and on the iconic overhead rail thingy, just a few feet from where I sat. I also got myself a new camera app for the ipad, so played with that (some results below). This is the grandest hostel on the tour so far. It is incredibly spacious. And has the most conversational group of room-mates to date as well. Australia, Brazil, Canada and Wisconsin are all represented and we discuss politics, guns, terrorism, slavery and religion.
I spend virtually a whole day in the Art Institute. It's the second biggest gallery in the States and has a really impressive collection. Some of my favourites...
> A collection by the survey party photographer of reportage-cum-art shots of the route taken by the Pacific Railroad between Colorado and the Californian coast.
> A collection of authentic miniatures of European and American rooms between 1700 and 1930. Attention to detail was breath-taking: genuine oil paintings recreated in minute detail, murals in adjoining rooms completed in totality even though you can only see a fraction of them through a door.
> 20th century American classics, like 'American Gothic' and 'Nighthawks'.
> Best of all, some greats of the European Impressionist masters, including Seurat's 'A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte'. This painting was one of the first forays into Pointillism (millions of tiny dots of paint to build up the colours) and is huge, far bigger than I ever imagined, which makes the fact it is in the Pointillism style even more impressive.
More time is given to wandering around the downtown part of the city, to the Museum campus in the south and along the shores of Lake Michigan. I grab an eyeful of its' buildings and the bridges over the Chicago River (as used in Christopher Nolan's version of Gotham City). The views around and about are mightily impressive. I decide against going up the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower - I think I'll get my go-up-a-big-building-to-look-at-the-view fix in New York. I also end up spending a whole afternoon planning the next two-and-a-half weeks; open campgrounds are few and far between at this time of year, and the more I work out here in the city, the easier it will be on the road.
My sister lived in Nuremberg in Germany for a time a few years ago. I visited her over there and stood on the decaying spot where Hitler once received his rallies; though thankfully he was ultimately doomed, his was a defiant show of strength.
On the day when an Iranian scientist was mysteriously blown up and the Occupy protesters are forcibly removed from Zuccotti park in New York, I came to the scene of another show of strength - Grant Park - and the steps from which Barack Obama gave his speech, having secured the American Presidency in 2008.
On a global scale, these are undoubtedly the most worrying times I have experienced. Financial and international uncertainty, the ecological destruction of the planet, world leaders grasping for solutions. Everything feels like it is coming to a head at the same time. I remember, like many I'm sure, of feeling optimism for the world that November night, just over three years ago. The thing is, there is no reason for that light to have diminished - there is still cause for optimism.
Right now, more than ever that I have been aware of, feels like a time when anyone, everyone, can help to make things right for the world. You just have to be constructive and lend your support to the things and to the people you believe in. And don't be afraid of change. Because change is, quite literally, the only way things can get better.
And I've just gone and paraphrased D:Ream.
B*gger.
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