West Side, Best Side!

Geeg (who ranks very high on the list of best roommates ever) was born and raised in Cleveland, OH. Two weeks ago, she took me and Sophia to her hometown that is located on the southern shore of Lake Eerie. She had to do some business, and knowing that the two of us had never been there, Geeg wouldn’t take no for an answer. And, of course, no wouldn’t have been our answer, for that matter. Since we do not have class on Fridays (unlike Natalie, who would have loved to come along, but didn’t want to miss class), the matter did not need much discussion. So, when classes were over that Thursday, we left Athens at around 5 p.m., and I sat in the back of the car because I wanted to catch some sleep. And I seriously needed some sleep; the previous week had not been too good to me.

It started with a great Monday: St. Patrick’s Day! Unlike the probably totally made up (that is, without any religious or traditional background) Green Beer Day, which was celebrated furiously on all of Court Street the Wednesday before St. Paddy’s (while I had tons of work to do) , St. Patrick’s Day is not really a big festivity in Athens. It is, however, a great day for Irish-American (and some Italian) Geeg, and thus for us. So we all had a good time at Lucky’s, along with a drink or two. That day, I must have caught some kind of infection or cold or whatever. Because the next day, I did not feel too well. And it was not a hangover!

"Jack the Ripper." Get it?

Unfortunately, that very Tuesday, our Global Leadership Center class made a trip for an overnight stay at two lodges in the Hocking Hills, about an hour’s drive from Athens. That was ill-timed because I was not really in the mood for partying all night, which was probably the (unofficial) point of going there. We had a good dinner and hung out a bit, made a fire outside, played some pool and foosball, and we even had a bath in the hot tub. Yes, pure decadence. But since I still felt kinda sick, I was neither really enjoying all of that, nor was I in the mood to nag, especially about the bourgeois temptations of the hot tub that I had fallen prey to. But some kind of Marxist deity (I know—what a profane idea!) was quick in judging me. After a short night of no more than four hours of sleep, I woke up jaded, and with a sore throat. And the entire Wednesday was mostly a sick day. Thursday wasn’t much better, but since we did not plan on going out in Cleveland, I thought sick in Athens, sick in Cleveland—what’s the difference? And I really wanted to see the city and visit Geeg’s family.

So, back in the car to Cleveland. All in all, I might have caught an hour of sleep on the three-hour drive. The girls were able to tell from my eyes being shut while my mouth was open wide. At least I didn’t snore, they said.

When we arrived at Geeg’s home in a nice residential area in West Cleveland (West side, best side!, I’ve been brainwashed) we were greeted by her parents and grandma, and a huge black cat by the name of Clarence Clemens, I think. We had a great dinner (first pasta since I don’t know when, great salad, and a tasty desert), and later the girls and I watched some Portlandia until I had to go to bed in order not to fall asleep on the couch. Still being sick, the prospect of falling asleep in a warm and comfy bed has rarely felt so good.

View from outside Sokolowski's

The next morning, I already felt better. First highlight of the day: Sokolowski’s. Geeg had been talking about this Polish restaurant the entire week, promising the best food ever, and she wasn’t exaggerating too much; it was very good indeed. My meal consisted of chicken paprikash, pierogi, and sauerkraut, and it was great, but way too much for me to finish. So I took it home in a container. Just as good as the food was the place itself: very cozy atmosphere, and at the service counter, Polka music was playing, while in the restaurant’s main room, a guy played the piano.

Afterwards, Geeg’s mom chauffeured us around town; we passed the Indian’s baseball stadium, the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, saw the shores of Lake Eerie, went to a market hall, and visited the national gardens, a big park where many nationalities are represented with statues and monuments. The German Garden featured a replica of the statue of Goethe and Schiller in Weimar along with a smaller bust of Friedrich Ludwig Jahn, that old gymnastics guru. Finally, since we were there during the International Cleveland Film Festival, we saw a good movie, Bart Van den Bempt’s “82 Days in April,” in which a Belgian couple travels through Turkey in order to retrace the trip of their son who had died in a car accident. Very touching story, a bit lengthy at times, but probably intentionally so. Great visuals.

And then it was time to head back home, the car loaded with food that Geeg’s mom gave us poor students.