Chicago & Indiana
In May 2019, I flew to Chicago to drive my rental car to Indianapolis to attend the Indy 500 (click here for part 1) . But there was more to this trip than just races. So, in this second part, I share the stories, anecdotes, and of course, photos of both Chicago and Indiana.
Upon arrival in Chicago, we rented a car to drive to Indianapolis in the neighboring state of Indiana the next day. This meant we had a white Chevrolet Malibu at our disposal for this trip.
After going to the races on Thursday and Friday, we felt like getting away from the hustle and bustle of the big parade in town on Saturday, so we decided to head out. On Google Maps, we'd spotted a small lake called Lake Lemon a bit further south, with a marina marked next to it. So, we set off without a real plan, armed with an (offline) navigation app on my phone. Soon after leaving the main road, we truly found ourselves in the Indiana countryside. People still lived in wooden houses here, some of them in poor condition. The roads also had a rather "Flemish" feel, with occasional large potholes. Once we arrived at the lake, it turned out that almost every road leading to it was private property, including the marina. Tourists had never been heard of here. Finally, after going three-quarters of the way around, we came across a road that briefly crossed the lake. A photo opportunity for me, though. Even the jetties were, once again, private property for the locals who were busy fishing there. It must be said that other drivers often waved in a friendly manner. But when we stood there looking around, it seemed like someone further down the road was keeping an eye on these strange characters.
In short, time for a new plan. Further along in Indiana, I saw the Hoosier National Forest, complete with a lake and hiking trails. So we got back in the car and headed a bit further south. When we arrived at the forest, the park ranger at the entrance already informed us that the beach was closed due to flooding. Well, that was an understatement. After a walk in the woods, we finally found the perfect bench to sit in the sun, and a little further on, we saw the tops of the trees poking out of the water. The water level was considerably higher than usual there.
Eventually, we simply found our way back to our motel in the south end of Indianapolis. Where we were staying, it was especially striking how many fast-food restaurants there were. There were about 20 joints within a single square mile, practically every fast-food chain. The next exit on the ring road was the same. Even when we drove into town, for example, to that oval race on Thursday night, we'd find more of the same fast-food chains on the street corners. And often quite cheap, too. Across from our motel, you could get burgers for $0.99. You could get them 24 a day, 7 days a week. One time, at 5 a.m., I looked out the window and saw two cars parked at the drive-thru window. No wonder there were so many large Americans. Along the way, the poor condition of the roads and houses was striking. But that evening, I also heard the waitress at our restaurant say she was working two jobs to make ends meet. The next day, at the Indy 500, Henri overheard another (large) diner next to us say he had to make do with $200 a week (and was working long hours). Along the way, we sometimes noticed the poor condition of the cars and how they had been patched up temporarily.
During the trip, it was also noticeable that there was still a certain segregation between the white and African-American populations. For example, it was odd that the Hoosier 100 race on Thursday evening was held in a Black neighborhood. There were also many employees with people of color in the parking lot, but as soon as we got to the race, it was all white patrons and staff. The same thing happened at a diner near our motel. The waitstaff was all white, but the kitchen staff were all black. It seemed as if the racial segregation they used to have there still existed. A very strange sensation.
On the Monday after the Indy 500, we headed back to Chicago for our final hotel. Our hotel was right on Route 66, so we naturally wanted to see it and Chicago itself. Once we arrived, the weather decided to throw a wrench in the works. It started raining heavily. But after a while, sirens suddenly went off outside. I turned on the TV and discovered a real tornado alert had been issued for the area!
A tornado did eventually touch down. But that was further east. The worst damage was therefore east of us and just south of us. It was mostly quite wet where we were.
That evening, I asked a waitress at a bar where we'd been drinking if they experience tornadoes there often. She said they mostly happen in the more rural areas further south.
That day was Memorial Day, similar to our Remembrance Day. Earlier in the weekend, it was noticeable how enthusiastically the Americans sometimes cheered on soldiers who were being driven around on the backs of pickup trucks for the Indy 500. We also had the opportunity to fill bags with chocolate bars and candy at a sponsor's booth, along with a message for the soldiers. I politely thanked them. On Memorial Day morning, we saw on the news how five-year-old children at school were making crafts from cardboard breakfast plates to decorate the graves of fallen soldiers. Of course, I have respect for those who died for our freedom. But this felt more like it was drilled into them from a young age.
As we spoke to the waitress a bit longer, we discovered she wasn't born in the US, but in Italy. She'd lived in the US since she was six months old, but now that she was around 19 or 20, she was still an unwanted American. If she were to leave the country, she probably wouldn't be allowed back. If she were to apply for a residency permit, it probably wouldn't be granted until she was 56. Her only other option for an expedited residency, a decent medical education, and, not to mention, a generous enrollment bonus, was to enlist in the army. As a normal nurse or waitress born elsewhere, she wasn't wanted in America, but she was good enough for the war machine...
The next day, we took the old Route 66 to a subway park and ride to explore further into Chicago. Route 66 didn't live up to the hype on this stretch either. It was a string of dilapidated commercial buildings, eateries, and the occasional business owner who might still mention it in their advertising. From the outdated, rattling subway into Chicago, it was also a sad view of decaying suburbs. Downtown Chicago, however, offered a different perspective. Just like in Manhattan, there were plenty of spectacular skyscrapers to be seen here. In this case, literally skyscrapers. An increasingly thick layer of clouds often obscured their tops. Unfortunately, taking a photo of the view from an observation deck wasn't possible that day. But luckily, there was still plenty to see and photograph along the parks, buildings, the river, and even Navy Pier. By late afternoon, we had completed a nice tour when the rain decided to stop, and we quickly fled back into the subway.
It was another wonderful trip. However, this time I started to feel more strongly that America, beneath the surface, is still plagued by poverty and problems. Socially and in terms of infrastructure, things weren't always well-organized. In short, there's no place like home!
