When I told Ty that I had never been to
"Ooooooh. Oh. Oh, man. We're going. Yeah, we're definitely going."
A week and a half later, we found ourselves on
State Street, whose
sidewalks were bedecked with evergreen clippings and red berries. The Macy's—which
we referred to as Marshall Field's, of course—displayed its holiday finest.
Inside we went, to the Walnut Room and to the Great Tree, which sparkled and
twinkled red, purple, blue, green, silver. Inside, too, was Santa's workshop,
and Frango Chocolates, and multi-colored lights and Christmas music and
shopping bags and heavily-perfumed air. Outside, the holiday windows were
crowded, and children pointed at the scenes, pressed their noses to the glass.
We visited the Christkindlmarket, too, on
There, we bought mugs of spiked cider, and cups of goulash, and plates of
potato pancakes. We were like sheep; tightly packed and unable to move, unable
to balance our plates of salty goodness anywhere but above our heads. It was
wonderful. Daley Plaza
In the afternoon, we met Ty's dad and younger siblings at
Lincoln Park. We quickly
jaunted through the conservatory before heading into the zoo itself. As night
fell, the park became an illuminated wonderland. Trees were outlined with
thousands upon thousands of little colored bulbs, and Ty and I squinted at the
enclosures, just barely outlining the humps of a camel, the legs of an ostrich.
" … I knew little about [Chicago] until I began work on [The Devil in the White City]. Place has always been important to me, and one thing today's Chicago exudes, as it did in 1893, is a sense of place. I feel in love with the city, the people I encountered, and above all the lake and its moods, which shift so readily from season to season, day to day, even hour to hour. I must confess a shameful secret: I love Chicago best in the cold."