On our first day in the city, we took a tour of the astonishingly ornate state capitol building, before cycling around the sizeable downtown area. We found a good used bookstore in which to while away some time and replace the biography of Ernest Shakleton which I had recently finished reading, before retiring to the awesome Court Avenue brew pub, where we enjoyed a few pints of fantastic beer and were given a private tour of the onsite brewery. Hungry and slightly drunk, we had a late lunch of Chinese pizza (yes really!) at the nearby Fong’s Pizza restaurant. We shared a Crab Rangoon pizza, and a Chicken Kung Pao pizza, both of which tasted great under the circumstances.
The following day the indulgence in outlandish dining continued at the Iowa State Fair, which had been recommended to us by a lady that we had met in Rocky Mountain National Park, and which is held every year at the Des Moines fairgrounds.
During the course of the day we ate corn dogs (frankfurter deep fried in corn batter), grilled sweet corn, deep fried chocolate brownie, deep fried pineapple, a smoked turkey leg, and a variety of ice-creams. But the fair provided more entertainment than just gourmet food; over the course of the day we saw a beard completion, wood cutting competitions, multiple vintage tractors, a variety of antique farm equipment, the biggest pumpkins conceivable, men carving sculptures with chainsaws, unimaginably strange breeds of pigeon, humungous bulls, pigs and horses, and a man selling cosmetics made from ostriches. The fair was everything that I’d hoped it would be, and more, and I left feeling wholly contented.
We left Des Moines after our third night in the city, and returned to the I80 for an almost inconceivable straight stretch of the road, leading to Iowa City. Iowa is considerably hillier than Nebraska, and I was thankful for the gradients in breaking up the endless monotony of arrow straight interstate and corn fields. We probably would have skipped Iowa City, and headed straight to Davenport, if it hadn’t been for an invite from the lady we’d met, and whose house we’d visited whilst staying in Aspen. She had invited us to visit her again at her home in Iowa City, and we were thankful for the kind offer.
We arrived in Iowa City in the afternoon, and spent a significant length of time trying to find a parking space not subject to the bizarre rules which force residents to move their cars from one side of the road to the other each evening (purportedly to allow street sweeping and snow clearing vehicles to do their jobs, but more likely as a means to raise revenue from fines). We spent the rest of the day in the bustling downtown area, enlivened by the large population of students from the nearby state university. Iowa City is fairly small, but the centre is full of bars, restaurants and cafes; there is not a great deal to do in the day, but the centre truly comes alive at night. The following few days were spent in the company of our friends from Aspen, and once again we were shown a great deal of hospitality.
After a few restful days in Iowa City, we hit the I80 again for the final time, coming off shortly after crossing into Illinois, to join the I88 headed into Chicago. After around 50 miles, the I88 becomes a toll road, and not knowing how large the tolls are, we decided to leave before the first toll booth, and follow the free Highway 30. Being well versed in city driving, I should have known that rejoining the interstate before reaching the city limits would result in a quicker entry into the city, but instead we stuck to the smaller roads, and drove the final 15 miles into Chicago on Washington Boulevard. Our choice of road resulted in a slow crawl into Chicago, and showed us nothing of the city but the low density, run down suburbs on the west side. After driving around a park that had no suitable parking spaces, we ended up parked alongside a city park on a quiet road, less than 2 miles from the skyscrapers of the downtown loop.
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