Yesterday was another walking-everywhere day . . . this time over the Chicago River and through the shopping district toward the lake and the Museum of Contemporary Art. They had a show by the Karachi artist Bani Abidi that included selections from letters sent by Indian soldiers fighting for the British in France during World War I, with passages such as "It is like this: my train never left our village station. I am still there saying goodbye; it is as if the whole village traveled with me across the seas." And meanwhile the darkened room was filled with the music of a Punjabi folk song.
Then, a train ride, and another long walk, and dinner at Honky Tonk Barbecue, with live music by a band that specialized in 1920s pop songs and all of the performers looked like dentists or accountants.
And, then, back to James's apartment to watch several episodes of Peter Gunn, one of the most stylish TV shows ever made, in which crime solving always takes second place to jazz.
Today will be our last day here; we leave tomorrow morning early, so you won't hear from me again till later in the week. We're thinking today of ice skating, of eating Mexican food, of looking at Mexican art . . .