Sunday, November 10, 2019
I Changed My Mind
Saturday morning in Detroit was cold and gray and not very inviting, but it was our last day there, and I didn't want to hang around the hotel while Ili went to the conference, so I packed up my cameras, called an Uber, and headed out for the Eastern Market.
It was fabulous.
More so, however, was the neighborhood in which it was located. The market itself was the biggest collection of fresh vegetables anywhere in the world, I imagine. I've never seen anything like it, anyway. There were baked goods and cheeses and meats as well. All in all, it was fascinating.
Surrounding the market were buildings filled with Halal butchers and other ethnic markets. The buildings themselves were painted top to bottom with "street art." I'll have pictures later. So I walked through the deserted lots and desolate areas frozen and happy. The clouds muted colors and drove the cold deep into this lazy southerner's bones, but finally I had found something of the Detroit I'd been looking for. Three hours by myself in those empty places charged my batteries.
I should say that the evening before, Ili and I went searching for a restaurant downtown. We ended up at the San Morello, the restaurant in the new Shinola Hotel, a fancy place, as my mother would say, a warm glass, brass, and wood restaurant with a fabulous bar. It was crowded with Detroit's working elite and we had to wait, but the drinks were good and the food was lovely.
So I've changed my mind about Detroit. It is a city on the rise. Everyone said so. I kept commenting on the lack of people there, but I was told over and over again that it is changing. Everyone said, "You wouldn't have wanted to be here five years ago." Or ten. Or twenty. But they have cleaned it up, and it is a beautiful stage waiting for an audience. I will go again, but I will wait for the warmer months.
I felt I got some of my photo mojo back in the end. Here is the last photograph I took just before entering the hotel to check out of the room. I saw a girl in red boots and did a pantomime asking permission to take her photo. It is nothing to brag about, but I was happy with the process. All it takes is practice.
Posted by cafe selavy at 8:07 AM