A belated post--Life in Minneapolis
July 2, 2007
Clean, sterile, curt, efficient. Airports have gotten better at doing their job since the last time I moved. This time it was only an hour-long flight, though, so I guess it can’t really be compared to the cross-continental nightmare it was when we moved from Beijing to Toronto.
On the American end of the airport adventure, I spotted a poster that advertised “traveling” to Mexico. Didn’t catch that? Well the laser printer ad beside it screamed realistic “colors.” I sighed. I can no longer have spelling wars with Microsoft Word.
Later:
We burst through the clouds. Below, a magnificent expanse of green and yellow greets us: the dark olive green of forests, the grass green of meadows the yellow of wheat…in a dozen different shades the earth is patched, woven through with the snaking rivers, embellished with sparkling lakes.
These gems glitter dark turquoise under the sun, here and there, dozens contained in the land I can see through the tiny plane window. Each shaped like its own story-moon, boat, woman, leaf-they lie coolly and expectantly under the sky.
Houses begin to become visible. They gather closer together, occasionally in bunches like grapes connected by the road vines. Highways straighten, and more grey is mixed within the green. Soon, humanity bubbles out of the earth and sprouts up in factories, buildings, high rises, looping bridges…Baseball diamonds and high school football fields lie pretty and proper amongst the grid-like neighborhoods. Cars can now be seen crawling like obedient insects along the veins of the city, and a practiced voice tells me to buckle my seatbelt.
Civilization looms up in my face, shaking me back from the window, leaving a faint trace of mist on it where I had caught my breath in awe earlier.
The plane touches down tentatively, once, twice, firmly now. I am speeding along the runway towards my new home. I am back down to earth.
Evening:
My new temporary home is a nice little apartment in a townhouse complex. Below my balcony is a pretty outdoor swimming pool lined with little gardens and white patios. Tonight when we went to stretch our legs, a duck mother and her three ducklings were taking a dip in the pool, presumably having come from the pond just a hundred meters away. One of the little ones couldn’t make it back out of the pool again and began to scream in panic as its mother and siblings waddled away. I ran upstairs to our third floor apartment, threw on my bathing suit, came back down, and jumped into the pool. After some coaxing ad splashing, I managed to lend the duckling a hand and pushed it out of the pool. Mommy duck came waddling back, quacking loudly with a hard, blazing look in its eyes.
Later we walked the two minutes to Saint Anthony’s Village plaza, which is visible almost from our window. It’s like a cute and pretty town square amidst a sprawling suburb, much like Streetsville in the middle of Mississauga. On the farthest end of the village is a Wal-Mart, outwardly decorated to match the quaint little town look, with an interior that brings me right back to every other Wal-Mart I have ever been to. Except this one is bigger than the one at Square One. Everything is bigger here.
Outside the plaza is another pond, lined by gardens, fountains, and a permanent outdoor theatre. Another couple of miles (see, I’m already thinking in miles) down is Silver Lake, a beautiful stretch of water lined by thick trees. Public accesses come and go along the Mississauga-Road-like boulevard, full of benches dedicated in loving memory to Mary or John or Andrew. My brother runs around, excited as anything, chasing squirrels and shadows.
I kind of like this place.
Clean, sterile, curt, efficient. Airports have gotten better at doing their job since the last time I moved. This time it was only an hour-long flight, though, so I guess it can’t really be compared to the cross-continental nightmare it was when we moved from Beijing to Toronto.
On the American end of the airport adventure, I spotted a poster that advertised “traveling” to Mexico. Didn’t catch that? Well the laser printer ad beside it screamed realistic “colors.” I sighed. I can no longer have spelling wars with Microsoft Word.
Later:
We burst through the clouds. Below, a magnificent expanse of green and yellow greets us: the dark olive green of forests, the grass green of meadows the yellow of wheat…in a dozen different shades the earth is patched, woven through with the snaking rivers, embellished with sparkling lakes.
These gems glitter dark turquoise under the sun, here and there, dozens contained in the land I can see through the tiny plane window. Each shaped like its own story-moon, boat, woman, leaf-they lie coolly and expectantly under the sky.
Houses begin to become visible. They gather closer together, occasionally in bunches like grapes connected by the road vines. Highways straighten, and more grey is mixed within the green. Soon, humanity bubbles out of the earth and sprouts up in factories, buildings, high rises, looping bridges…Baseball diamonds and high school football fields lie pretty and proper amongst the grid-like neighborhoods. Cars can now be seen crawling like obedient insects along the veins of the city, and a practiced voice tells me to buckle my seatbelt.
Civilization looms up in my face, shaking me back from the window, leaving a faint trace of mist on it where I had caught my breath in awe earlier.
The plane touches down tentatively, once, twice, firmly now. I am speeding along the runway towards my new home. I am back down to earth.
Evening:
My new temporary home is a nice little apartment in a townhouse complex. Below my balcony is a pretty outdoor swimming pool lined with little gardens and white patios. Tonight when we went to stretch our legs, a duck mother and her three ducklings were taking a dip in the pool, presumably having come from the pond just a hundred meters away. One of the little ones couldn’t make it back out of the pool again and began to scream in panic as its mother and siblings waddled away. I ran upstairs to our third floor apartment, threw on my bathing suit, came back down, and jumped into the pool. After some coaxing ad splashing, I managed to lend the duckling a hand and pushed it out of the pool. Mommy duck came waddling back, quacking loudly with a hard, blazing look in its eyes.
Later we walked the two minutes to Saint Anthony’s Village plaza, which is visible almost from our window. It’s like a cute and pretty town square amidst a sprawling suburb, much like Streetsville in the middle of Mississauga. On the farthest end of the village is a Wal-Mart, outwardly decorated to match the quaint little town look, with an interior that brings me right back to every other Wal-Mart I have ever been to. Except this one is bigger than the one at Square One. Everything is bigger here.
Outside the plaza is another pond, lined by gardens, fountains, and a permanent outdoor theatre. Another couple of miles (see, I’m already thinking in miles) down is Silver Lake, a beautiful stretch of water lined by thick trees. Public accesses come and go along the Mississauga-Road-like boulevard, full of benches dedicated in loving memory to Mary or John or Andrew. My brother runs around, excited as anything, chasing squirrels and shadows.
I kind of like this place.