Natural Waterfalls in Downtown Chicago

Chicago is a beautiful city. In addition to the wonderful skyline, the lake, and the parkland, we have a number of remarkable water fountains and examples of water art. Notable examples of water art include the famous Buckingham Fountain by Jacques Lambert, the large waterfall on the Lake Side of the McCormick Center, the new Crown Fountain by Jaume Plensa at Millennium Park, and the wonderful park around the AON center. They are all beautiful and worth visiting. But, having grown up in the mountains of Vermont I like to see water with a little less intentional design every now and then. There are no interesting rivulets or streams in the downtown area, and one hardly expects to find little natural treasures like an unexpected waterfall.

Waterfall 1 (Double-click picture to play video)

The other day while walking to meet some friends at a pub, however, I discovered that Chicago actually does have naturally occurring waterfalls. Perhaps "naturally occurring" is misleading. What I'm talking about is when water runs off the roads and highways and then descends into the labyrinth of streets that lie beneath. Downtown Chicago, unlike downtown New York or San Francisco, has complicated multi-level streets beneath the apparent street level. We rarely hear about these spaces, except when there are related construction accidents, but many people use these streets to commute; most of the major buildings in downtown Chicago use them for deliveries and trash removal, and our homeless populations use them to avoid the rain and bad weather. It's a very interesting underbelly of the city. When I first moved here, walking down in this underbelly made me uncomfortable: not only are the spaces not designed to be pedestrian friendly, but also you'll observe homeless people peeing on the streets, or if you're in an automobile, you'll observe concrete walls passing a few feet from your vehicle at 50 mph. None of these are particularly choice-worthy experiences. But, in my subsequent time living in downtown Chicago I've come to appreciate these sometimes magnificent multi-story spaces with their rust-covered columns, walls of concrete, and visible girders. They are intentionally designed spaces, lit 24 hours a day, and some are even adorned with architectural highlights, but even so, they are the sort of thing likely to be completely ignored by tourists and tour guides.

Waterfall 2 (Double-click picture to play video)

Because they are ignored, they're not always maintained in pristine condition. And it is when these systems break down during heavy rains that some of the more remarkable waterfalls in Chicago make their ephemeral appearances. It would be fun to see a collection of more of them, but I include three waterfalls from the night on my way to the pub here. Each one transfers large quantities of water, and persists for a while even after the rainstorms end. But it is sometimes difficult to see design errors as beautiful things. And there is no doubt that some of these are design or construction errors: they are eroding girders, damaging streets, and can potentially damage automobiles (see the video with the SUV below). But I like to think of these as naturally-occurring waterfalls, manifestations of nature taking back its great Metropolis. In that light they can be examples of unexpected beauty that refuse to be tamed.

Waterfall 3 (Double-click picture to play video)
This individual might want to park the SUV in a different locale!

Close Encounters of the Automobile Kind

This week I was riding along Michigan Avenue in Chicago on my blue Miyata bicycle. It was a beautiful day, and as I passed a bicycle shop I noted the, "Gas sucks. Ride a bike," sign, I was happy to think that I was getting green points for doing something that I enjoy anyway. As I approached the intersection with 13th street, a car traveling in the other direction -- which had stopped at the intersection stop line -- suddenly bolted forward and made a left-hand turn into my lane, and instead of passing through the intersection, the vehicle suddenly stopped, blocking my entire lane. I tried to brake but did not have the time to respond and ended up plowing into the automobile wedging my front tire underneath the rear car tire, and going head first over my handlebars and onto the trunk. Fortunately, by the time I hit the car I managed to slow enough that I didn't even get bruised, but I still managed to destroy the fork on my bicycle, and scratch up the car a bit with my handlebars. I was mad, since it is illegal to make a sudden turn into traffic when a bicycle is approaching, for this very reason. To quote the Illinois Rules of the Road:

"When a motorist is turning left and there is a bicyclist entering the intersection from the opposite direction, the driver should wait for the bicyclist to pass before making the turn. Also, if a motorist is sharing the left turn lane with a bicyclist, stay behind them until they have safely completed their turn."

I probably would have lost my cool with the driver, but I then looked at the vehicle I hit, and it was a Chicago police car! Yes, a police car without sirens or anything suddenly pulled into my lane. The officers were first a little angry at what happened, as if I had deliberately run into them. But it probably dawned on them fairly quickly what had happened, and one of the officers became quite apologetic, explaining that they had to stop since a pedestrian had just stepped onto the crosswalk. They both then became very conscientious about whether I was alright, and spent some time looking after me, which I appreciated. I also appreciated that there was a bike shop right there at the scene of the accident that was able to replace my fork in about an hour.

But this underscores something that many people already know: bikers rarely get the privileges that the "Rules of the Road" are supposed to afford us. When a bicycle is on the road, it is a vehicle just like any other vehicle, and it has all the rights and privileges of a car. This means that if you are driving a car and there is a bicycle in the middle of your lane slowing you down: that bicycle has the right of way, and although most bicyclists will pull toward the side of the road to let you pass, a driver has no right to demand it. But I can't count the number of times that a car has honked at me, or intentionally passed me as closely as possible as if to punish me, or yelled at me as if I shouldn't be on the road. And I am someone who actually uses hand-signals, and tries to yield to automobiles whenever possible. The assumptions many drivers in Chicago make seems to be entirely based on relative size: autos, just like SUVs seem to announce to the world "I'm bigger than you, so get out of my way." The problem for cyclists is sometimes you just can't.

Ironically, a few days before hitting the police car I was outlining some basic rules of politeness. I reproduce the sections pertaining to bicycles and cars, since they seem pertinent to this entry.

When biking on a major road, a cyclist generally stays as far as possible to the right-hand side of the road. However, there are specific circumstances when a biker will not do this, and automobile drivers should recognize these circumstances.

(1) For instance, when there is a line of parked cars on the right-hand side of the road, the cyclist will generally bike three to five feet from the line of cars. Rest assured, this is for good purpose, and there is no need to honk for the biker to get over. The problem is that it is often difficult to tell when a car is occupied or not, and if an occupant decides to disembark from the vehicle, a door will open. This door, although perhaps posing less danger to an automobile, can pose a significant danger to a cyclist, and bikers have been killed both by having to suddenly sway into traffic, and by actually slamming into that opened piece of metal and glass at 30-40 miles an hour. Please respect the cyclist's space.

(2) If a biker is going to make a left-hand turn, whatever happens, the cyclist will have to cut across the lane, and should signal to do so. I realize that letting a cyclist cross your lane may sometimes be inconvenient, but it is far more inconvenient if you deliberately prevent the cyclist from doing so. Not only will the cyclist possibly be injured or killed, but in such case the authorities may prevent you from getting to your destination for a very long time.

(3) Finally, a cyclist will often get into the middle of the road before stopping at a red traffic light when there is a right-turn lane. This is because in many states automobiles can make right-hand turns before a red light. The cyclist is being polite and lawful by allowing the cars to do so. Again, if you harass a biker for doing this, you may end up suffering the next time you need to make a right-hand turn.

Lightning Storms in Chicago

One of the most impressive things about living in Chicago is witnessing the thunderstorms. Thunderstorms are a fairly routine event during the summer, and they have a tendency to arrive on time around 4:30 in the afternoon (right when most of us have to get home from work, actually), although they can come at other times. Storms tend to be quick and powerful, but sometimes we can get multicell storms the last for hours.

Growing up in Vermont lightning storms were far less common, and were of a far more mellow variety, although my family tended to treat them with respect. I remember watching the approaching storms on the weather channel, and then helping my mom and dad unplug all the television sets and major electronic items. Then we would occasionally stay up late with the lights off waiting to see a flash or two on the horizon.

Now that I think about it I suppose I have witnessed some impressive thunderstorms of the East Coast variety. For instance, I remember sitting in an apartment on a high floor in a high-rise in Pittsburgh when lightning went past horizontally and even in an upwards direction. When I was in grade school I wrote an essay on a storm I saw from a sailboat. The storm was perfectly in synch with a priest singing Latin words to Pachelbel's Canon, making for an amazing effect. Then there was a time when I was in a tent on the top of a hill in a lightning storm and I got to witness a tree fall not twenty feet away. I suppose if it fell the other way I might not be here. In a more reflective fashion, I remember watching thunderstorms out on the bay in Provincetown from my bedroom windows. The open bay meant you could see bolts many miles out in the distance.

Well, none of these storms compare even remotely to what Chicago can dish out in a typical summer. There is even a whole new vocabulary that an East Coaster has to learn full of terms like "microbursts," "downbursts," "mesocyclones," "supercells with rotation" -- and it is in Chicago that I first got in the habit of checking the NOAA severe weather alerts, and it's also where I heard my first real tornado siren. Midwestern storms are far more serious than anything I've seen on the East Coast, although it's true that someone from Arkansas or northern Indiana might think I've seen nothing yet.

But even what Chicago can dish out can be pretty impressive. A case in point: earlier this week, a series of thunderstorms went through Chicago and left 300,000 people in the surrounding areas without power. They were accompanied by tornado warnings with even a few touchdowns. And here's the best indicator I could come up with: I got to see the Sears Tower get hit by over twenty thunderbolts in a little over an hour, occurring for the most part at regular one and a half to two minute intervals! The rhythm was so regular that I was able to predict the next bolt with a high degree of accuracy, and hence I was able to catch the bolts on film. Some of the strikes were more impressive than others. Unfortunately, I missed the most impressive hits: at least two or three times when a bolt hit the Sears Tower it was followed by a shower of sparks all throughout the surrounding area. I'll have to leave that effect to your imagination.

Recording lightning bolts on film was also a very interesting experience, since it disclosed a far more complicated phenomenon than what I saw with my naked eye. or instance, on film, a single bolt reveals itself to have been a complicated series of bolts all directed at the same place. And one can see that a single bolt often has different power levels throughout the striking process.

Well, it was quite a storm, and I had the perfect view point to witness it. Hence, in this post I can offer you some highlights of the show. All these photographs represent a "single" hit on the Sears Tower in the actual order of the sequence. I also have three film clips. The first one is in real time so you can listen to the boom of the thunder afterwards. The second two have been slowed down slightly so you can appreciate the complexity of the event.

People often compare Chicago to New York. I suppose it comes with the territory of still claiming to be "second city." But there are a few things that Chicago does better than New York, and one of these has got to be the lightning storms. Although I suppose for some people that might make it worse?

Regardless, enjoy the clips from a safe distance!

Slow Motion Lightning Strike

Slow Motion Cloud to Cloud Lightning

New Apartment!

So, it's finally happened. After several months of searching, after quite a few setbacks from university housing, from the Chicago housing market, and two weeks of absolute craziness, I have moved into a new apartment. And today is the first day that I've managed to conquer enough of the unpacking that my apartment actually looks reasonably under control. I still have about 20 big boxes of books to unpack, bookshelves to buy, and tons of stuff to sort through, but for now I have a new home.


I suppose moving is rather routine for many people, but for me it's a bit of a dramatic event. I've only lived at two other addresses in Chicago - both run by the university housing office - and although I was only at the first for a year, I've been at the second address for most of a decade. In fact, I was informed about a year ago that I was the longest continuous resident in that building of 70 units. I'm not entirely sure why I've stayed there so long, although I have a tendency to settle into a place. And it did have a lot of things going for it. It was right near a grocery store, within a mile of campus, it had plenty of windows facing three different directions, great cross ventilation, one of the most wonderful trees just outside the living room windows, the sound of crickets at night while I slept, and great afternoon sunlight that would drift in through the western windows and settle on the sofa for perfect afternoon naps. But the place wasn't all that great. For one thing, the ceiling was falling apart, the furniture was broken even before I moved in and the university refused to replace the broken items, there were worries of asbestos, and I thought the apartment might be giving me a strange chronic cough. So I decided it was time to look for a new place.


The search lasted several months, in the course of which I consulted a half dozen different services, walked into two dozen different buildings, looked at just about every apartment building I could want to live in - which I actually find to be sort of fun, must be my inner architect/interior designer - before I found the perfect apartment building. And even then there were quite a few hassles. The upshot of it all was that it took about three weeks for me to find out whether or not I got the apartment I applied for, giving me only two weeks to pack up everything (while working full time), and then my previous landlord wouldn't let me stay in my apartment until the new apartment was available, so I had to do this annoying double move: once into a storage unit, and once out of the storage unit into my new apartment. That was really annoying, since I had to pay for moving twice, and a storage unit, and I also had to find a place to stay. Fortunately, one of my dissertation committee members called out of the blue and told me that she needed someone to look after her apartment and car. That was fantastic, since not only did I have a place to stay for most of the week, but I also had a car to use to do annoying things like purchase boxes, and to move those last annoying items after I returned the truck. I then worried about whether I could afford the place, but then out of the blue the research firm offered me a raise and appointed me to be the senior corporate and market analyst. And finally, my friends Katie and Paul offered me a place to stay for the remaining few days, and to cook me food. Actually, Katie and Paul really come across as the heroes of this whole move, helping me on both days to move tons and tons of boxes. The move really would have been impossible without them. Likewise for my friend Brian who drove me all over the place and moved boxes on the first day.


Let me just say what moving is. At least four times in the course of the two weeks I was packing boxes, and preparing everything, the people around me used the identical phrase: moving is a bitch. It really is the perfect way of describing it. Moving initially seems like such a wonderful companion, it promises you a new future, a new beginning, wonderful changes and possibilities. But then, when it's 3 AM and you have to move another 20 boxes out of your apartment in the next two hours, and tip toe them up to your professor's apartment without disturbing the neighbors so you can fill the car up again, and you have a list of all the hundreds of things you need to do, and you are worried about returning the truck on time, and where the hell you put those important papers, you finally realize what sort of a thing you've committed yourself to, and the only thing you can do is wish that the whole process will be over with. Yes, moving is a bitch.








But now that I've gone through it, I can say it definitely has worked out. I have a fantastic apartment. It's arguably in the best part of the city, right next to the bike path that will take me the eight miles down to the university without any traffic, with a bus that will take me right to the university - stopping right in front of the building doorway. It's in the same building as my favorite grocery store and café, one of the best wine markets in Chicago, and the new Delacosta restaurant and club. It's right across the street from the best new movie theaterin the city, and on the waterfront. It's also high up: almost the 40th floor, with a spectacular view. It's almost too good a view to imagine. I think that Katie described it best when she put down a box and said something like, "Holy Mary mother of Jesus." I mean it looks out over the lake with the endlessly changing shadows of the clouds on the water, with a view of the locks that let boats into the Chicago River, a beach to the north, a harbor to the south, and what I think is the best part: a view of the two main lighthouses of the Chicago harbor (I'm rather fond of lighthouses, having grown up with one across the bay in Provincetown).











And at night, with Navy Pier lit up and the fireworks launching nearby, it's pretty tough to beat. It's also big for a studio/convertible, with a large kitchen, and a library (well it's just a nook behind the kitchen, but it's going to be the library). And there's a washer/dryer in the unit, which for me is just about the most amazing thing. Plus the building has bike storage, a deck on the 16th floor with gas grills, an indoor swimming pool, sauna and steam room. In fact, it's such a nice building, that I've been told oftentimes movie stars stay here when there filming in Chicago.











So those of you that are in different cities, there's a new place for you to come and stay . . . although I should add that although there's parking in the building, it is sort of expensive, and you'll probably want to wait a bit, since I still only have the futon that Sheila gave me. I hope to get a real bed in the near future, although the futon actually is really comfy, and it is nice to sleep in front of the windows and next to the stereo. Actually, speaking about the futon: Sheila, much of my furniture in the living room is from your old apartment, so you may feel right at home here! Actually, I should probably add that there is a thin possibility that I won't be living in this apartment for the whole year. Yes, paradise has fine print. The only reason I can afford this place is that there is a rider on the lease that if the apartment sells, I'll have to move out within the year, and possibly as soon as a month afterwards. Considerations such as this even make me wonder how much it would cost to buy the place, but since I may be out of Chicago in as soon as a year, I suppose that doesn't make too much sense even if it turned out possible. But it's really a great apartment.


But of course, there will be things I'll miss from Hyde Park. Yes, it's an insular community that really tests one's willpower after five years, but it's a quiet place, with plenty of trees, perfect places to go running, plenty of places to eat breakfast, great used bookstores, the fantastic Seminary Co-Op Bookstore, arguably the best single shot espresso in Chicago (see my posting on espresso), and a beautiful park along the water. In fact, on one of the last nights that I was in Hyde Park I went for a bike ride along the water, and there was a beautiful full moon overhead, it was completely quiet, except for the lapping of the water, and the lights from the building on the point cast a soft glow over the water. A spectacular scene, and it was a nice farewell from my old neighborhood. And of course, I haven't left the neighborhood. I still will be spending most of my time down there at the U of C, and at the research company I work for. Fortunately, these places are only a short bike ride away, and biking along the lake is a fantastic commute.


Anyway, a new beginning in Chicago. And I firmly believe in the importance of geographical location. Terroir, if you will. And just as a bottle of wine can reveal important aspects of the place it is from, I think we all carry parts of our terroirs with us. This goes beyond our accents, and the information we actively learn about from the world around us, but it can be detected in even the most insignificant aspects of our personalities and lifestyles. I have no idea how I will change now that I've moved out of my old apartment, and into an entirely different part of the city, but the hope is that now with a change of viewpoint, it will be so much to the better, that I can finally get that darn dissertation done!