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Out in the cold

It's a great experience to hit the roads when Chicago is under a blanket of snow

It was for the first time that I got an opportunity to fly across the subcontinent, over the clouds, mountains and oceans to Chicago in the Big Sky country. I thought the best ever time to travel was in winter — when Chicago hibernates — and watch the bare elm trees and the evergreen conical spruce against a purple sky, serial lights wound around trees and lamp posts, and balloon Santas dancing with the flow of the windy city that it is.

The first feel

I got my first feel of the cold outside the O'Hare International Airport. The person receiving me was thoughtful enough to get me a winter coat, gloves and hood. It began snowing the day after I landed . It was a mild drizzle effortlessly falling on leaves and grass like a shower of tiny flowers. There was a white carpet the next morning, covering everything. At first, I quietly submitted to remaining indoors and be shepherded to shopping malls, grocery stores, the Aurora Venkatachalapathy and Le Monte Sri Rama temples. But a week later,I saw a child in the neighbourhood dart out in jacket, gloves, cap and shoes, leaving her tiny footprints on the snow. She quickly made a snowman and ran back home. This inspired me to set out, come what may.

That very afternoon, I began my hour-long walks, drinking in the sights and sounds as I took a breath of fresh air. Walking is not the done thing in the Chicago winter, I was told. All exercising happens at gyms or indoors.

I experienced the essence of American life as I walked in the Western Springs park, watching children slide down the snowy slope, as the orange orb of the sun set behind the elms at 4.30 p.m.

I did have my time out for two days when I took the Metro train to the Union Station, got a glimpse of the Chicago River flowing quietly beneath the bridge and hailed a cab to the Field Museum. At the Corner Bakery, I managed to get across my preference for vegetarian food. It didn't matter that I spoke English. It needed the American twang to make myself understood. I filled myself with a California grill sandwich and tomato basil soup.

Going up 103 floors on the elevator in the Sears Tower in just a minute, I found myself amid the clouds. With zero visibility outside due to snowfall, I had to be content with browsing through the history of Chicago, the great writers and singers who lived there, on the display boards.

My walking continued through Michigan, La Salle and other avenues around the Sears Tower. It was impressive to see women police officers managing chaotic traffic at intersections, issuing tickets for violation or driving trucks with aplomb.

I spent some quiet moments within the grand dome of the Bahai House of Worship. Designed by French-Canadian architect Louis Bourgeois, the bell-shaped temple has inscriptions of insignia from world religions.

And when it was time to return, I had quite a few memorable moments and photographs to cherish.

SWAHILYA

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