Explore Your Environment

Some of the best advice my dad has ever given me is "Wherever you are, take the time to explore your environment". Now, last year that environment was Uni. Just being in college, in general. Campus. Pangaea. The sheer wonder of being far, far away from home. I can also chalk some of my hesitance to wander away up to the company I kept and my lack of wheels. Now, suddenly, I have friends who like to walk, car keys, and an eye on the horizon. And it's awesome.

Last weekend I went to St. Louis on a day trip. I know, crazy, right? Nineteen hours from start to finish, as we left at 7 am and finally got home at 2 am the next morning. The morning was cold and beautiful as we raced the dawn through mid-Missouri. The fall leaves were beautiful and we hit a valley filled with bright white fog. The grass there was soaking wet and glittered like diamonds as the soft, low lying rays of the morning sun hit them.

We grabbed Lucia in St. Louis and my, it was nice to see her. From there we went downtown, went through the courthouse in a rush, took pictures in front of the arch when the sky was grey and the monument seemed to gleam like liquid silver, and then did the mandatory ride to the top. I've gone up the arch about once every three years in my life. Any more and it would drive me insane - but this much is just about right. We rode the tiny capsule elevators all the way up and took laughing, silly, high altitude and crowded spaces pictures.

Zahra needed to pray, so we found her a spot on the arch grounds, in dappled sun and shade, and the rest of us ran to the nearby hillside which was blanketed in the yellow and gold leaves of two beautiful trees. Allan and I rolled down the hillside in a 'roly-poly contest', I believed he called it. Lucia took pictures of us rolling, collapsed in heaps, laughing.

Afterwards, a quick lunch at Hardee's behind the courthouse, and a few minutes running about the fountains there - one dyed blood red, the other cascading like a modernist waterfall down a series of steps. I made my way out to the center of it, trying not to get my feet wet. The weather by then was beautiful, absolutely ideal for October.

We went on to Forest Park, got in the zoo a few minutes before it was due to close. The zoo is free, so we didn't care much. At first it seemed that none of the animals were out but the birds - although there were no shortage of those, from the peacocks that wander the zoo grounds freely, to flamingos in the bird cage, to ostriches strutting around in open air safari exhibits. As the clock hit five, closing time, we made it to Big Cat Country, where we found a last enclave of late to leave zoo guests and a variety of beautiful tigers, pumas, leopards, and lions. We felt so silly, being there when the zoo was supposed to be closed, listening to the cats get impatient for their dinner. The hill was decorated with huge faux boulders, and it felt somewhat like a fortress as the sun sunk lower in the sky and bathed us all in golden light.

At length we headed for the exit, found one more animal in the form of a restless bear. We watched his fruitless attempts to climb to the top of his tree with his feed buckets and rubber ropes. We had him to ourselves. He was aware of our presence, looked at us. Once he stared straight at us and the hot air from his nostrils turned into white steam in the cooling air. The way his fur moved was very interesting. It was so thick, so tight. At times the bear stood on his hind legs and his movements seemed almost human.

We finally left, just in time to avoid the groups of workers who were heading out in search of lost and 'lost' zoo guests. As the sun set we took pictures in front of the art museum and it's proud statue of St. Louis himself.

The last item on our itenerary was the City Museum. Amy and Esther still seemed to think it would be an actual museum. I hastened to correct them. "It really doesn't merit the title 'museum'," I said. "It's more like a giant playground." I could tell, though, that my words didn't really sink in until we arrived, until they saw the sheer expanses of twisted metal and plaster that formed slides, ballpits, rope climbs, tunnels made of 'trees', castles, a series of caves and caverns that twisted far below our feet, a network of madness that brings out the best feelings of childhood. It's impossible to look at it all and not think, "If only I'd found this as a child!" And to that I reply, "Who said anything about being a child?"

Then I'm off, leading them through the tunnels, up slopes that seem too steep, through tunnels that seem too tight, up to platforms that seem unreachable. Esther is afraid of heights, but step by step she makes it to the two real airplanes that hang suspended in the sky above the city museum, the only passage defined by a tunnel made of wire and full of gaps large enough for arm or leg. The night air is cold but it seems right for such a place. Our adrenaline and energy is racing and our skin is warm and red. The metal is freezing cold under our hands as we fly further and further through the darkness. Below us, bonfires are lit and burn, tossing up sparks that disappear somewhere in the air between us and the ground.

When we've exhausted ourselves - when it's already late enough - we head to The Loop for dinner at the Melting Pot. The directions Google gave us are wrong and we spend twenty minutes searching for an address that doesn't exist, like Platform 9 3/4. When we find it at last it is late, past ten, but when we step inside it is warm and we are engulfed in the smells of rich fondue. We laugh, unwind, relax, eat bread dipped in swiss cheese fondue, mushroom caps stuffed with 'green goddess', filet mignon and duck cooked in coq au vin, and, for desert, a yinyang of dark and milk chocolate fondue with cheesecake, oreo covered marshmallows, strawberries, and brownies...

We head back through Missouri in the pitch black of the early morning. But it's the weekend, we can sleep as late as we want once we reach home, and, most importantly, we are free to do whatever the hell we want. It feels good.