What I’ll remember most about Minneapolis is the people
MINNEAPOLIS was not exactly near the top of my must-see list of places. It is, sort of, in the middle of nowhere. No wonder Prince and the Coen brothers don’t really make a big deal about the fact that they are from around these parts.
But, after surviving the snow and the rain and the humidity here for four months, the city unexpectedly crept into my heart and left me with a lifetime of memories.
Not because it’s home to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, which recently showcased the work of Matisse (never mind the occasional Van Gogh, Picasso, Paul Cezanne, Salvador Dali or Claude Monet).
Nor does its appeal lie in the fact that it is home to the Walker Art Centre, which provides space for all kinds of contemporary art (Edward Hopper’s paintings were a fascinating discovery). Nor is it because of the Weisman Art Museum (its futuristic design is, in itself, worth a visit).
Nor can my attraction to the city be explained by the fact that it is home to a two-week international film festival, which features more than 250 films. After all, I hardly knew my way around when it opened in April, and managed to catch only one documentary.
It’s not even the fact that there are so many lakes and parks around that made such an impression on me. Sure, Minneapolis certainly knows how to use its assets: it shows free movies in its many parks during the summer, making the city throb with life.
St Anthony Main is another example of good town-planning: trendy restaurants are scattered along the street, with a movie house that shows some gems. And having the historic Stone Arch Bridge close by, which provides a link to the Guthrie Theatre, is nothing less than a stroke of genius.
And does that theatre pull in the crowds. I watched in amazement one Friday night as throngs of people kept turning up. I couldn’t even get through on the phone the next day to find out if tickets were available for some show.
A voice message thoughtfully explained that the delay was caused by the popularity of My Fair Lady. A week after US playwright Christopher Durang’s Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike opened, it was also difficult to get a ticket – on a Tuesday.
And the fact that I could walk home after the show, which ended around 10pm, was also not quite the reason Minneapolis appealed to me. Sure, people were still strolling about casually; the more fanatical were even out for a late-night jog. Cyclists, as usual, were everywhere.
Did I mention the Mississippi River, which cuts the city in two? It is not even the sight of this sprawling, seething mass that will stand out in my memo- ries of Minneapolis.
What I will remember most are the people: it is a truly welcoming city, attracting folks from a range of different cultural backgrounds and countries. A visit to the nearest grocery store swiftly puts paid to any stereotypes one harbours about this mid-western city.
A passing stranger will raise a hand in the street and greet you. Someone else will step out of the lift and say: “Have a good day.”
That is what I will remember most about Minneapolis.
Of course, there are still many unresolved issues, like in any city or country. But what will stay with me about Minneapolis is the simple humanity of its people. And their restrained, yet unmistakable, appetite for life.