You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
We've got a mere three days here with Clinton, Emily, and Hazel in north Chicago, nestled between the long ride up the Interstates from Virginia and the long flight, via Stockholm(!), to Rome. In Italy. It's our second day now, 31 October 2022.
Andersonville is an official 'neighborhood' of north Chicago, at one time an ethnic enclave of Swedish immigrants and still closely identified with the Swedish cultural heritage (witness the flag on the water tower). We've come to fetch Hazel from her school, and whilst we're waiting . . .
. . . Clinton's treated us to a middle eastern lunch at the Middle Eastern Bakery & Grocery, which boasts a well-known shawarma palace on the premises. Following which . . .
. . . we're walking off the abundant calories along N. Clark St, apparently the spinal chord of the Andersonville neighborhood.
There's the Swedish American Museum ('celebrating 45 years'). On the website TimeOut, Zach Long writes: 'Andersonville began as a small village of Swedish immigrants in the mid-19th century, eventually becoming the hub of Chicago's Swedish population (which was once second only to Stockholm) in the early 1900s. Swedish-owned bakeries, shoe stores and delis once lined Clark Street.'
We should also have mentioned that the Andersonville neighborhood, famous for its Swedish heritage, is also, in Zach Long's words, 'now better known for hosting one of the city's largest LGBTQ communities'.
So perhaps that's why the tee shirts are already out of stock.
We're tagging along behind Clinton and Kristin, because taking bushel baskets full of photographs is a time-consuming labor of love.
BTW, in passing, sweetgreen is a 'locavore-friendly counter-serve chain specializing in organic salads & bowls'. Tempting, but we've just filled up on falafel, etc.
This is the picturesque Brown Elephant, 'the resale shop of Howard Brown Health'. Kristin is not one to pass up a thrift shop, so here we go.
The front rooms are semi-commodious, but they're leading back into some kind of architectural enormity.
Ooof, there it is.
Putting a long disused space to very good use.
With a rainbow flag. Oh, got it.
And best wishes to everybody. Howard Brown Health is by all signs a very worthy institution: 'From pediatrics to geriatrics, we deliver expert care to the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Regardless of your ability to pay' (source).
The check-out desk
Next up, the Philadelphia Church.
(What's that all about, anyway? Well, there all kinds of Philadelphia Churches around, who knew? But this one is the Philadelphia Swedish Pentecostal Church, which was founded in the US in 1926 and moved into this disused bank (built in 1921) in 1939. It operated in Swedish at first, then switched to Swedish and English in 1940, then solely into English in 1956. Best wishes to the pentecostals, too.)
Who doesn't know the feeling?
The Brown Elephant buildings again, once a huge theatre evidently.
An Andersonville street scene
That's sweetgreen again from the other side. Sorry, we're still stuffed with kufta, falafel, and kebab. And shawarma.
On the other hand, the Potbelly sandwich shop looks awfully good, too.
We never ask impertinent questions, so we're left with just our speculations.
It didn't work -- all speculations fail us.
That's the Svea Restaurant, 'the home of the Viking Breakfast'.
Recalling the old country (back when half its population were milkmaids). We're actually a serious Sweden fan (mainly from Scandi Noir detective novels), and two days from now we'll be passing through Stockholm, in fact, seeing nothing, however, but the SAS airport lounge, awaiting our transfer for Rome.
Quaint, but dwarfed
Hinting at some discreet half-timbering
Time to pick up Hazel from her school, where by all accounts she's doing well and quite happy.
Goodbye to Andersonville, at least for the time being.
Hazel with the bookbag that may well outweigh her.
The wonderful cats are at it again, oblivious to the animal documentary on the telly.
But wait . . . Choupette has noticed.
Melvin is hooked: whatever that is, 'it's eating a Grey Francolin'!
Now the narrator is informing us that 'they may be called jungle cats', and Choupette looks really envious. A jungle cat wannabe.
An underpass of the Chicago 'L', slightly suggestive of the Mezquita in Córdoba. (Slightly)
Heartfelt . . . who could ever argue with that sentiment? Oh wait! Well, no one that we know anyway.
Our last day, we're out for a lengthy bracing walk. This is the Fargo Beach, where we commence our expedition.
Along the lakeside N. Sheridan Road, adjacent to the Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Evanston, founded in 1859 and more than 400m along the lakefront (and 800m back to Chicago Road). Nice tree.
A brief interlude, whilst half of our party investigates a real estate 'open house' and comes away impressed, even though the distinctly odd house has already been sold.
A worthy answer to the problem of distributing Halloween trick-or-treats in the middle of a covid-19 pandemic.
This is a fairly posh neighborhood, with a serious leaf-raking problem in prospect.
It's got its share of odd trees, too.
Now we're coming up on Elliott Park and veering over to Chicago Ave in Evanston . . .
. . .then soon to turn back south and pause for a light lunch on the terrace of the Firehouse Grill.
Chicago Ave. scenes
And back to the Fargo Beach, and not long thereafter . . .
. . . to the via Julia a block from the Tiber in Rome.
Next up: A month in Italy, November 2022
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