The Twin Cities, Minnesota

By the end of my stop in Iowa, it was the third weekend since I’d been out on the road, and I was beginning to get a little weary. Moving around from state to state, hopping from hotel to hotel, and always greeted by new faces, I was beginning to miss the familiarity of someone that I knew. On Friday, I woke up with a smile on my face, knowing that I was driving to Minneapolis, where some friends of mine had recently moved. Not only was I eager to see them and where they are living, but they also kindly offered me a place to lay my head. It was highly motivating to think that my surroundings for the next few days would not be that of a generically decorated, impersonal, and uninteresting crash pad, but a home with the welcoming aura of reunion. After checking out, eating a quick breakfast, and filling up the tank, I hit the highway toward the Twin Cities.

The drive wasn’t much to speak of. It was mostly a dry, flat landscape with the occasional field of corn or patch of trees. It was several hours before I arrived in Minneapolis, the larger and better known of the Twin Cities. Fighting against the beginning of the rush hour traffic, I arrived just before 5 in the afternoon. It was wonderful to see friendly faces.

The next morning, my friends and I went out for breakfast. They lived in Whittier, a neighborhood in southwest Minneapolis, close to the quirky Uptown. With a plethora of unique restaurants offering organic cuisine with a twist and many shops that one would be hard pressed to find anywhere else, Uptown is the perfect neighborhood for young adults to explore. There are all kinds of coffee places and cafes, each with a different gimmick to separate them from the rest. We went to breakfast in Whittier at a place called The Bad Waitress. This is a restaurant that certainly lives up to its name; one orders food at the front, retrieves coffee and water from jugs at the counter, and waits at the table for someone to deliver his or her meal. The good thing about this system is that there is no waiting for the bill, or for refills on coffee and water. The fare is all-organic, cooked to order, and assembled with care. It is not the fastest service in the world, but the wait is usually worth it. I was thrilled with the end result; I would much rather wait a little while for a well-prepared, thoroughly cooked meal with prime ingredients than immediately receive a hastily thrown together, sloppy mess.

            The city itself was very much a college town, with all of the variety and happenings that go along with that. Minneapolis is also a very ‘green’ city with a strong focus on sustainable living; many of the buses run on ethanol or natural gas, and the efforts of preservation are evident everywhere. Because Minneapolis is so far north, navigating during the winter can be quite unpleasant and even impossible at times. The companies of the downtown Minneapolis noticed this, and they built an enclosed walkway that stretches between buildings two or three stories above the street known as the skyway. It is the largest interconnecting skyway in the world, boasting 8 miles of enclosed, climate controlled pedestrian walkways. The first skyway was built in 1962 between the Northstar Center and the Northwestern Bank, now owned by Wells Fargo. This summer was the 50th birthday of the city’s oldest skyway still in use, built on June 12, 1963 between the Northstar Center and the Roanoke Building. Because the companies downtown built all of the skyways, there is no consistency in design, and navigation can be difficult. Although some say that the skyway has drained some of the popularity out of life at street level, the benefit of allowing workers, consumers, and visitors to walk between buildings in the comfort of the indoors seems to greatly outweigh those concerns. This year, there are plans to greatly extend the skyway eastward to connect downtown with the Viking stadium. This would undoubtedly increase the flow of traffic throughout the entire system, and hopefully provide opportunity for some much-needed upgrades, such as convenient access to street level.

            One evening I ventured into downtown with my friends, shivering at the crisp September air and stopping to take pictures of the glorious skyline. We stumbled upon what looked like a group of party-goers, all dressed in gowns and tuxedos, standing on the sidewalk. Down a hill, we saw flashing lights and what looked like some sort of event going on in a large, white tent. As we stepped closer to get a better look, a woman in a uniform approached and informed us we had to stay on the street. We asked what was happening, and she explained that the members of the board were throwing a dinner party, and the orchestra, who were currently on strike in protest of a hefty pay-cut, were standing in the cold on the street in ball gowns and tuxes, mocking them. She and her colleagues were there to make sure they didn’t start any trouble. Embracing Midwestern friendliness, we talked and laughed with her for a few more minutes about this and that, and I was beginning to think that she was the friendliest security guard I had ever met.

She told us, “ I can keep talking with you, but I don’t have a radio, so they’re gonna come over in a bit to make sure that you’re not giving me any trouble.” Sure enough, a few minutes passed, and two very tall men dressed in all black walked over and asked her if she was doing all right. She replied that we were fine, and my friend reassured them that we were just chit chatting with her about the goings on.

One of the guards threw his arm over my friend’s shoulder, grinned, and said, “You’re all good, man.” He gave him another squeeze, almost like a side-hug, and then walked back over to his post. My friend was utterly bewildered, but pleased at the fact that he had just been side-hugged by a security guard. That would definitely never happen in the northeast. Later, I did some further research on the strike, and as it turns out, it is the longest strike of a major American orchestra to date. The Board released its new plan, which cut some members of the orchestra entirely, cut the remaining musicians’ salary by 34%, and devised a new schedule that would book the venue with an increased number of outside performances, forcing the musicians to share stage time with others.

There’s a mentality present in Minneapolis that is indicative of most of the Midwest; it’s a down-to-earth sensibility that is found more commonly here than in most other places. Midwesterners are generally more courteous, personable, and tolerant than people in other parts of the country. They are also less wasteful, more frugal, and share a heightened sense of community than almost anywhere else that I have ever visited. In the Midwest, you are far more likely to find help in a pinch from a stranger, and you will probably make a new friend in the process.  When you’re driving during rush hour, others are more likely to let you in should you have to merge or make a turn. It’s a mentality of not considering oneself more important than anyone else, and an earnest desire to put a smile on another’s face. Out of all of the cultural norms I have experience so far, I have found that the welcoming, considerate nature of Midwesterners is by far one of my favorite.

            I mentioned in my Wisconsin post that there are certain phrases that are more prevalent in the upper Midwest, generally due to the large population of Scandinavians. My grandfather, a Wisconsin-born full Norwegian, was known for using the phrase, “Uff da,” rather frequently, which is a very common expression in Wisconsin. His sister, Sonya, lives in Minneapolis, and I was thrilled to be able to visit her and her daughter, Carmen. I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with them, and during our conversation, I appreciated how much they used the friendly and endearing phrase of Minnesota, “Don’t cha know?” It was heart-warming to be reminded of my late grandfather, whom I miss dearly, but it was also interesting to see how often cultural norms and phrases affect day-to-day interaction. Just like my grandfather with “Uff da,” I will always be reminded of my dear great aunt Sonya when I hear, “Don’t cha know?”

After a weekend of exploring the city, catching up with my friends and visiting my relatives, I set out on Monday for St. Paul, the ‘twin city’ of Minneapolis. Even though St. Paul is really the capital, the proximity to the much larger city of Minneapolis makes the two almost indistinguishable. St. Paul is a smaller, more manageable town. The Capitol seems to be the center of business, but with a huge renovation underway, navigation and parking close to State House was not a simple matter.

The front of the building is very similar to other Capitols I had seen thus far, with the exception of an enormous, sparkling statue of horses in front of the dome. It was covered completely in gold leaf, and it was practically blinding if you caught it from the wrong angle. The dome looked enormous, which makes sense since it is the second largest self-supported marble dome in the world, exceeded only by the Taj Mahal. I entered the building and hurried to catch up to a tour that had already begun because it was the last one of the day. Our group visited the House chamber, which was nothing terribly remarkable, before we ventured up to the observation deck. Apparently visitors are no longer allowed up there without a tour guide because of damage the horse statue had sustained in the past, and it was very costly to repair. Because of the extremely harsh weather during the winter months, the horses have to be coated in a new layer of gold leaf about every thirty years, a process that costs thousands of dollars. One would think that a statue that cost so much to maintain might be controversial among taxpayers, but it was clear that many of the native Minnesotans in our tour group were very fond of it.  

The tour was over after we descended from the observation deck, and so I ventured off to check out the Senate and Supreme Court Chambers. Unfortunately, they had large gates blocking the entrance, so all I could see was part of the dimly lit rooms through the cold, metal bars. It was a little disappointing that I had missed most of the tour, but something told me that I had seen the best part. When it came to this stop on my journey, it seemed that my day-to-day experiences in the twin cities themselves showed me more of their culture than the Capitol.

I felt that Minneapolis and St. Paul were two of the most crucial stops so far on my trip. Minnesota has an important role in American history, culture, and economy. It is home to iconic companies like General Mills, Target, Best Buy, and Dairy Queen. It has an impressive, bustling downtown, complete with 8 miles of climate controlled skyway and lively suburbs to match. The Capitol dome in St. Paul is vast, but the golden horse statue almost steals the show. It was a wonderful experience and a delicious slice of the big American pie. Tuesday morning, I packed up my things, bid my friends farewell, and set off for the high plains and the Dakotas.