Last summer, a friend who recently moved to Chicago observed
that Chicagoans have a massive inferiority complex regarding their city. Of
course, I immediately became defensive and told him to stop picking on us just
because we’re not from New York and our city is just as good as any of the
cities on the two coasts and we are certainly not in flyover country and—oh, okay. Point taken.
Now that I’ve been alerted to this little complex, I can’t
not see it. It’s everywhere. At street festivals, bands are constantly
reassuring us that “Chicago is great! It’s great to be a band from Chicago!
Yeah maybe it makes more sense to be a band out of L.A. or New York but Chicago’s
good too!” On Facebook, a friend who lives in Los Angeles commented that her
commute was horrific, only to be greeted by a Chicago friend who replied from
pretty much nowhere to say “A survey shows Chicago traffic is the worst!” And really
any time anybody from New York says anything, even if it’s about a flying
monkey from Neptune, a Chicagoan’s reply starts and ends with “Well in Chicago…too!”
Don’t get me wrong. I get just as annoyed as the rest of the
world with New Yorkers who can’t shut up about their city. Yeah, garbage on the
front sidewalks and $15 for a cup of coffee, great place you’ve got there.
Their sly bragging about how delis are open sooo late and you don’t even know
how good bagels could be just makes me want to scream that I KNOW YOU THINK WE’RE
CALLED THE SECOND CITY BECAUSE YOU’RE THE FIRST CITY BUT THAT’S NOT TRUE WE’RE
CALLED THE SECOND CITY BECAUSE WE REBUILT AFTER THE CHICAGO FIRE THAT YOU’RE
PROBABLY TOO SELF-CENTERED TO EVEN KNOW HAPPENED NOW PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW
MUCH YOU LOVE TASTY DELITE OMG. And then inevitably, it comes back to the park.
Central Park. How there’s nothing like it and it brings the whole city together
and please shoot me now.
Well, fellow sufferers of low city-esteem, Katie and I have
found the perfect retort to their Central Park boasts, something against which we
previously had little to defend ourselves. While Millennium Park and Grant Park
may be the most famous parks, you have to admit that you probably don’t just
stroll through those places unless you have a friend in from out of town or you
got free tickets to the Art Institute. Instead, a more applicable park for our
unprovoked defense of Chicago/attack of New York should be Humboldt Park—Chicago’s
hidden treasure. And it has a freakin’ beach in the middle of it! (Yeah, I bet
you were wondering where I was going with all of this.)
The first time I walked over to Humboldt Park, my mom
jokingly but kind of seriously asked, “Weren’t you afraid you were going to get
shot?” Um no, not really. Like not at all. This park is full of families,
soccer/softball players, and nature lovers, just like any other park. Katie and
I went during a rainstorm, because we’re smart like that, and let me tell you,
the people who stay in a park during a rainstorm are generally the ones who don’t
have anywhere else to be (or, who are writing a super-serious blog that the
whole city is depending on!). Admittedly, we did pass a few loiterers on
benches clutching their brown paper bags and 40s, but I think they were more
scared by the two girls running around with a notepad and a camera in the rain.
We probably looked like cops. Or worse, tourists.
Anyway, Humboldt Park is amazing. To give a quick tour of
the place: it’s huge. Like, 207 acres huge. We didn’t even get to visit the
whole thing because we were in the midst of a massive downpour, but even
through the gray skies and limited visibility, the park was stunning. In the
northeast corner is a playground, including a zero-depth water playground that
would be very refreshing on a hot summer day. Adjacent is a sizeable lagoon,
big enough that I’ve seen one-man sailboats gliding across, and encircled with native
prairie plantings and quiet fishermen. At the south end of the lake is a stately
boathouse, so fancy that I expected to see Sister Maria and the Captain looking
into each other’s eyes and singing about how somewhere in their youth or
childhood, they must have done something good.
We followed the winding path, which a few joggers and moms
with strollers also populated, to bring us to the beach inside the park. Now,
the little lagoon that forms this beach isn’t huge, but hello, you’re in the
middle of a park, let’s be realistic. There is basically no current nor waves in
this water, which makes me think it’s perfect for bringing swimmers who are
still learning. There is enough sand that you can lay out and play on the
shore, but again, it’s all about having realistic expectations. When we
arrived, the rain was still pouring and the five lifeguards all huddled under a
single umbrella. Katie walked toward the water, not wanting to leave without at
least putting her toes in, and without a single complaint, one of the
lifeguards abandoned the umbrella and pushed out the rowboat so he could watch
her. Seriously, in the middle of a rainstorm (no lightning, though), the
lifeguard was willing to drench himself while Katie dipped one toe into the
pond. She quickly backed off so the poor guy wouldn’t go home with pneumonia,
but his actions really endeared us to this place.
The backdrop to the swimming beach is an old brick field
house, which looks more like a mansion than a park district property and is in
fact available for weddings and special events. Please invite us if you have one
here. There is also an Institute of Puerto Rican Arts and Culture in a
beautiful historic building, but because of the rain we were unable to visit in
person and so have to settle for looking admiringly at pictures online. In
fact, Katie and I visited less than ¼ of the park space and yet we have so much
to say about it, and more importantly, we look forward to returning.
If you think we’re being too gratuitous with compliments
here, let me assure you that this place really is breathtaking. The first time
I went, I gave my best sales-pitch to my dad to get him to go, and when he did
visit about a week later, he declared that I “dramatically undersold” the park.
And he’s a better judge of pretty much everything than Katie and me, so, yeah.
Listen to Joe.
The beach itself may not be the most incredible site in the
city, especially with the largest body of freshwater only a couple miles away,
but it is a lovely escape from busy city life. And even if the surrounding
neighborhood appears a bit tired, the park itself is lovingly maintained and a
wonderful meeting-place for all Chicagoans. Above Humboldt Park’s mature tree
line, the Sears Tower and other skyline buildings wink down at you, and you’re
once again reminded how enchanting Chicago can be.
So much more enchanting than that rat-hole, New York, and
its pathetic Central Park.
Address: approx. 1400 N. Sacramento
Parking: free lot and street parking about a quarter mile
away
Atmosphere: urban oasis
Food/Restrooms: Restrooms in Field House; food peddled by
cart vendors
Overall Grade: A-