an early valentine

if you hate children, and magical unicorns, and warm fuzzy feelings you should probably stop reading right now. i've come to expect the unexpected from valentine's day. this year was no exception - hanging with les and neighbor john, feeding my recent peter pan obsession with "hook," and red cross-ing the night away. but my best valentine came last friday at a place called freedom house.

i'd stopped by to meet with my 8-year-old "language partner." plans changed when a group of young, and clearly beloved, volunteers showed up with party hats and birthday cake. the small tv room transformed into a party palace as residents, staff, and volunteers filled the small space. i tried to duck out when my young pal confronted me with: "you're not staying for the party?"

there was only one answer to give.

enjoying my fly-on-the-wall position, i felt my heart grow too big for my rib cage: suburban high school kids celebrating passage into adulthood, a 5-year-old lost in music and one-of-a-kind dance moves; and a group of adults immersed for a blissful moment in the familiar sounds of home. it was that cinematic scene when voices fade and the focus gets softer. the camera pans widely, sentimental music kicks in, and its your cue to cry. i was overwhelmed by that elusive notion we call love.

so i tried to sneak out again, but my little buddy caught me in the hallway. "you're leaving already?!" he asked with concern. "when will you be back?"

not soon enough, little man. not soon enough.

detroit blogger john

christyn and ismael came over tonight to sample my first attempt at fattoush, israeli salad, and falafal laffa (many thanks to les for the help!). per the usual, christyn tipped me off to another great blog. forget my "things to do in detroit" google doc, detroit blogger john's done all the research for me...

detroit grocery quest

al-haramain, photo courtesy of stephen mcgee

this isn't the first time i've posted about grocery shopping in the d. and, realistically, it won't be the last. i'm slowly discovering that buying food can be a hobby in its own right. tonight leslie and i braved the cold to check out al-haramain international foods in hamtramck. a historically-polish community, hamtramck now boasts a significant arab population (primarily yemeni) and is culinarily-known for kebobs as much as kraut. while les was scouting out bargain produce, i got lost in the olive oils and fresh-baked laffa bread. all told, the damage was about $40 and i walked away with specialty items like falafal, laffa, olive oil, local dairy milk, graviera cheese, and sumac in addition to fresh produce and dry goods. did i mention it's open until midnight (unheard of in detroit) and features an olive & nuts bar?

previously on detroit grocery quest: kim's produce delivered groceries to my doorstep. no service charge whatsoever. gotta love living at the park shelton...

next adventure: little asia mart at third & forest. walkable. bikeable. totally likeable? only time will tell.

i did it!

i ran across international borders twice, unfettered. i fueled (and occasionally bathed) myself exclusively with gatorade and luna bars. i high-fived over a dozen strangers. with a finish time of 4:31:13, i can officially add "run a marathon" to my eat-your-words list.

dad met me between miles 10 and 11:

and again at the finish line:

both times i was overjoyed to see him. despite what the photos suggest.

cheer squad

i was 6 miles into a run this morning when two kids - dressed in sunday best - fell in step beside me. the older of the two spoke up:

k: excuse me, are you jogging?
c: yes, i am.
k: is it fun?
c: fun enough.
k: oh.
c: are you gonna jog with me?
k: oh no!
c: ahhh...c'mon!
k: (bolting in the opposite direction) nooooooooooooooooo!!!!

this isn't the first time i've scared small children. nor the first time i've encountered an impromptu cheer squad. running in this city is a highly interactive sport. some of my favorites include:

(critical approach)
"you need to lay off the cigarettes!"
"better run, girl, or i'll run you down!"

(positive reinforcement)
"didn't i just see you across town? you go!"
"how far you running today? new york? that's something!"

one week til the marathon :-)

the grocer and me

the following conversation ensued between a local grocer and me when i returned the platter and bowls from a catered fruit tray i'd purchased for a women's activity at church:

g: how'd it work out?
m: great! as i predicted, the almond dip was a major success.
g: they liked it, huh?
m: (picking out a few new purchases). yup. me and some of my girlfriends were doing this home spa thing and -
g: spa thing?
m: yeah. and we wanted something sweet and light to go with it.
g: oh.
m: so it was perfect.
grocer follows me to the register where he instructs the cashier how to ring up my new purchases.
g: home spa...so like massages and those facial rubs?
m: uh-huh. and some epsom salt water to soak our feet.
g: girls are weird.
m: uh-huh, it was great.
cashier gives me change and passes my purchases across the counter.
m: (to the cashier) thanks.
g: see ya later.
m: next time.

wheels of fortune

recently, i came across a new york times blog that outlined the comparative costs of car v. bike ownership in new york city. among the 159 comments in response to this entry, my favorite was: "come on. be practical. rest of america is not new york." and that got me thinking...

i'm single with no children, live in the motor city, work 15 miles from my apartment, go to church 30 miles away, love to socialize by "going out," and have been tracking my monthly expenses religiously since i moved here last year. the past 14 months reveal:

car - $4654
i drive a 1999 chevy prism that my parents gifted to me. it has approximately 145k miles, and i piggyback off mom and pops insurance to get a lower rate.
purchase - $0
insurance - $560
gas - $1538
maintenance - $2556

bicycle - $323
i ride a custom build road bike i bought from a community bike shop. during the summer months, i rarely use a car. from october-march, i use my bike primarily for recreation and short commutes within the city.
purchase - $250
maintenance - $18
security & accessories - $55

other transportation costs - $1324
public transit - $59
trains, planes, and (rented) automobiles - $1265

dollar for dollar, i have found owning a bike is approximately 14 times cheaper than owning a car in detroit. as the daughter of an economist, i feel compelled to bring up opportunity costs, such as time, convenience, earning potential, security, and social capital. i'm admittedly biased toward cycling and public transit, but that's not everyone's cup of tea.

commentator 159 is right. the rest of america is not new york. where do you live? how much does it cost you to get around?

how does your garden grow?

it may not be eden exactly, but there's plenty of garden in the d these days.

GREEN RECOVERY PROJECT
this is a work effort to engage river rouge residents who are disabled or in addiction recovery with other community members through vegetable gardening. it's in the early phases - i was helping build raised beds last friday - but i'm looking forward to starting a "grow it, eat it, love it" group with our teenage clients later this summer.

ART CENTER COMMUNITY GARDEN
this is the new fancy-pants garden around the corner from my digs. and home to my 8x12' garden plot rental, which i will cultivating with leslie and neighbor john this year. with any luck, we'll learn a few things, eat some fresh produce, and (fingers-crossed) be ready to sell at eastern market's "grown in detroit" stand next season.

GEORGIA STREET COMMUNITY COLLECTIVE
this is why i love detroit; every time i leave my apartment i realize i have a long way to grow.

grocery shopping

my love for the d can be summarized in three words: calder's horchata icecream.

see, it's like this: there are no grocery store chains in detroit unless you consider family dollar or save-a-lot a grocery. which makes food acquisition interesting; or decidedly suburban. i generally opt for the former.

if i'm feeling fancy, i shop at eastern market for produce and specialty items like cheese and nuts. otherwise, i stay fresh with kim's produce and go to either food pride or university foods to get dry and canned goods. then sometimes the smell - or simply the memory - of fresh tortillas and salsa lures me into honey bee market for a one-stop shop plus surprises like coconut soda and giant strawberry-flavored marshmellows.

which brings me back to calder's horchata icecream. my partner in crime and roommate, leslie, recently informed me that my favorite local dairy sells their icecream at honey bee market. it's not cheap, but as i am a witness, the sweet sensation of farm-fresh icecream in the freezer section of a city grocery lingers.

making old things new

sometimes i get these nutty ideas in my head that i just can't shake. like when i dreamed i was at junior year homecoming wearing a traditional cheongsam and wouldn't shut up about it until mom took me to joann fabrics to pick out a pattern and fabric for the dress. those ones.

when i moved into my apartment a few weeks ago, the mental steamrollers went to work in high gear and pretty soon i was set on an antique bedframe. old building, old frame - makes sense, right? 6 days of bedroom floor camping and 2 visits to eastern market antiques later, i am the proud owner of a 1920s painted metal frame with flowery detail in the center of the head/foot boards. dusty and rusty and 3/4 wheeled; everything i'd hoped for.

tonight i set about the business of restoring it. step one: pull off remaining 3 wheels and cast aside for (possible) future use. step two: scrub it down with soapy water and a wet rag, then use a dry rag to, well, dry it. scrub, dry. scrub, dry. scrub, dry. easy enough and it looks great.

i almost can't wait for spring cleaning when i get to do steps 3 and 4...

first snowfall

ride there. cheat death. rock on.

there's nothing quite like a perfect saturday. i slipped on my rainbows and slung the bike chain over my shoulder before heading to biggby's for my first detroit bikes group ride. from biggby's, approximately 50 cyclists including me started out on the free java junket tour: croissant & nutella from 1515 broadway, mango juice from cafe con leche, the grilled 3 and apple cider from cafe 1923, and a warm hello at good girls. but that was just backdrop for the true treats: real conversation with long-time acquaintances kristen, jen, and joanna; "small cities" talk with connecticut mike; bike designing/building advice from keith; dirt bike park construction with ben, jason, and joey; a friendly visit with leopold's owner greg; and catching up with detroit bikes organizer tom...

tom deserves a paragraph of his own. a retired lapd officer, and detroit native, tom destroys every obligatory prejudice my liberal heart harbors against law enforcement officials. witty, affable, charismatic, creative. today after telling an entertaining, if not tragic, story about attempting to spread his brother's ashes across the pacific, he concluded: "my life motto has always been - ride there. cheat death. rock on."

post bike ride, i managed much needed visits with neighbor john and baby rach before meeting up with jay for a night at the movies. earlier this week i learned the burton theatre, which recently opened in a defunct school building, offers a special discount for cyclists. after jay scored a bike from a local punk commune and i free popcorn coupons from burton building owner, joel landy, it seemed fated for us to see crude this weekend.

**burton theatre image courtesy of burtontheatre.com**
the theater was everything i hoped for - a pseudo-sketch neighborhood, a kooky back door entrance, an unceremonious stairwell, and a spectacularly designed 33mm film theater with old-school concessions. the movie was well-done and exceptionally depressing. jay and i biked back to woodbridge to soothe our nerves with the good-humored company of his roommates and a few episodes of arrested development.

that, folks, is life in the d: ride there. cheat death. rock on.

i'm no sharp shooter, but i know when i (don't) see one

when i biked past seven dudes in flawless camo strutting out of a business building on monday, i thought: funny they're all asian. as i rounded the corner to find my route destroyed by a massive military demonstration, i fought off annoyance, and obediently rerouted myself. quietly, as instructed. that night, i asked the red cross team if they knew who was being honored. nobody could say.

yesterday, i saw a man gesturing a large truck to drive the wrong direction down a one-way street. and it finally clicked: duh. they're filming a movie. my mind raced through images like the hasty wrap-up of a good heist. why hadn't i noticed? people whispering confidentially about clean, gutted tanks parked near the transit center; a serviceman conversing with a casually well-dressed civilian about shooting schedules; an uncanny number of exceptionally good-looking men; and the familiar sense that, amidst this chaos, i was somehow the spectacle.

after recovering from personal disappointment about my poor recognition rate, i savored the sequence and sighed: there's no place like home.

mission:inevitable

for detroiters, exploring michigan central station is a rite of passage. more a question of when than if. after a productive discussion about economic development and tree-planting along jefferson ave, i stepped outside to inhale the damp, autumnal air. tonight's the night, i thought. i hurried home, changed into stealth attire, and set out to pick up my partner in crime.

**the ghost of mcs. courtesy of nicole rork, june 6, 2006.**

we parked a few blocks away and approached the enormous building with awe and anticipation. residual rain drops fell against scrap metal and stone, heightening our sense of unearthly abandonment. from inside, the main floor looked more like a shipwreck than a waiting room.

as we ascended, the scenery changed. sometimes ugly, sometimes stunning. city lights cast a heavenly glow through broken glass. stepping onto a balcony level with "save the depot," i had the fleeting sensation i was in a very strange production of romeo & juliet.

the rooftop, however, was the night's triumph. comfortably chilly, the mood changed from shakespeare to spiderman. only a superhero could know how it felt. to be trespassing 18 stories above street level, sidestepping unruly vegetation to take in a sleeping city.

september: a suspenseful daydream

i've been on a nostalgic kick lately. that is, if you consider watching 5 hitchcock films in 4 weeks "nostalgic." to catch a thief lured me in. soon, my evenings were consumed by men who knew too much, spying through rear windows, and knowing - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that this was the best way to spend my time. by labor day, i was on the edge of my seat at the michigan theater begging fictional characters not to visit the bates motel.

on red's recommendation, i started into middlesex after returning from portland. this, of course, piqued my interest about all things motown. bike rides, inquiries, and lingering lyrics led me to ruminate over the '67 riots. in the end, i arrived at a much clearer understanding of how and where the detroit riots started. and, as usual, contemplating canada. it seems only natural that a girl who loved the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald would grow into a woman who looks to dylan and lightfoot for answers.

a mutually ill-informed debate over the leadership qualities of malcolm x versus dr. king drove me to watch spike lee's self-titled biography. incredible performances and fresh direction made me do the right thing with my movie queue. trying to reconcile my pacifist tendencies with a new narrative, i stumbled into this bit of trivia.

having exhausted my mind and spirit, i refueled with a lovin' spoonful of knickerbocker's best remedy:

tour de troit

yesterday, ann arbor adam and i biked across town to join 2,000 other cyclists for the 8th annual tour de troit. inexperienced at group rides, i wasn't sure what to expect. what ensued was pure magic. although i was familiar with almost every sight we saw, it was a completely new experience sharing them with thousands of other people. residents came out of their homes to cheer us on. i ran into friends and acquaintances throughout the day. at one point, i rode alongside an 80-year-old man who related tales of running the detroit marathon in yesteryear. most people stopped halfway gabriel richard park along the riverwalk to enjoy snacks and the view. after the ride, we partied in roosevelt park with michigan central station for a backdrop including music, catered food from local businesses, and perfect weather. for pictures, check out the free press photo gallery or this cyclists' photo gallery along the ride. on the way home, adam and i caught the final stages of tiger stadium's demolition. a local controversy since comerica park opened in 2000, it was eerie to actually see the half-demolished stadium coming down.

street jazz

"art in a context," painted across the worn brick building, taunted me as i waited for the light to turn green. black and blue tones in the night sky accentuated the lines of the old warehouse in a way that was strangely stunning. truthfully, i was so excited for the street jazz class at detroit dance studio that the building could have been surrounded by a slew of crackheads desperate for their fix and i would have found it charming. but cars not crackheads filled the well-lit parking lot and i entered the studio without interruption.

prominent pictures of alvin ailey's american dance theater reminded me of my first love affair with this art. toy banks' class. harrison high school. watching revelations:



tonight's session, however, took a different tone. linda's choreography chased janet jackson with fosse. all to the music of mary j. blige. it was everything i hoped for. perhaps i should have been mortified by the way my body was (or wasn't) moving. but linda was an accommodating teacher and i have an inexplicable relationship with confidence.

so it was that i biked home - inhaling the crisp autumn air, singing "way i walk, way i talk, my swagga," mentally reviewing tonight's choreography - and mused: a group of young entrepreneurs have the guts to open a neighborhood dance studio. in the midst of a historic recession. in one of the nation's most blighted cities. detroit, i think i love you.

no school left behind?

i snapped this photo on my cell phone during last night's bike ride. joy middle school caught my attention because of its striking similarity to cooper elementary. the neighbors weren't keen to chat with a snoopy cyclist so i googled into an explanation:

"the school was one of many closed by detroit public schools last year. it appears no one moved or secured anything in the school after it closed, leaving it open for vandals to have their pick of everything from supplies to students' records to the infrastructure of the building itself" (r.h. boone, detroit free press, march 23, 2008).

julyful joyful!

july's been packed with music like a sausage with intestines. err. let's move on. friendly recommendations, free music festivals, spontaneous nights of soft rock, and dueling piano bars have filled my ears and my time. the highlights:

the avett brothers put on a great show at cityfest. responsive, playful, passionate, and downright good-looking, they shouldn't have been surprised by the warm response they received from the audience. yet they were, leaving with disarming laughter and a jovial: "thank you, detroit! see you next time!"

i'm embarrassed/proud that i found out about le fanfare du belgistan via tweet. i wasn't sure what to expect, but i figured anything described as "a belgian gypsy brass band" was worth a try. they played in the garden dining patio resting percussive instruments on the raised beds used to grow fresh greens and tomatoes for le petit zinc. tom manoury projected his voice through a megaphone to explain that belgistan is wherever you find happiness, peace, and music. "it is here," he said before picking up soprano and alto saxophones, which he played simultaneously. and indeed it was.

"a few years ago, my mom was really worried about me so i wrote this song to let her know that i was fine. which i wasn't. at all. so...this song is a bold-faced lie." and with that greg laswell launched into do what i can. this sort of light-hearted humor about life, fans, and his music marked the entire peformance. on tour with elizabeth & the catapult, his show at the blind pig was a bit of bliss in a very unconventional year for me.

ghostbusters

last week damien and i were making our way to the blind pig when we noticed something strange in the neighborhood:
more specifically, in the crosswalk. before reaching our destination we picked out a handful of ghoulish cousins acting as crossing guards. i didn't think much of it until i was walking home from the concert of colors and stumbled across this spirit:

first-hand sightings 40 miles apart. identical images. all in city crosswalks. looks like we have a guerilla artist on our hands, folks.