My Kind of Town

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The time came to leave the Pacific North West. I’ve lost track of how many stages there are to my travels, but Chicago deserves a top billing. Maybe it’s because I’m with family. Maybe it’s because I get to sleep in a room of my own. Maybe it’s the glorious weather. Maybe it’s the feeling of being on the water. I had to shake my head a few times yesterday when I ran along the lakeshore, reminding myself that Lake Michigan is in the middle of the country.

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My hosts have played a blinder. John took a day off yesterday, giving me a break from Google Maps and showing me around and giving advice on what else I should do. I’ve already got my plans for Monday and Tuesday sorted.

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There is a Brussels-like vibe to the place. We went to a street festival last night, a farmers market this morning (after watching Belgium wallop Ireland into the middle of next week) and this evening we are off to a party where the meat has been smoking all day. I’ve had a pedicure and made brownies. It really could be home, if Brussels had the sunshine and large bodies of water on tap.

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