Impact in Milwaukee

The next morning, David picks up two more guests for his Hospitalilty Club hotel. Two Frenchmen who had just spent a year studying politics and IT in Toronto. We quickly go to Lincoln Park Zoo. Back home in the afternoon. I pack my stuff and carry 45kg around for the last time.

Some people are running in the transfer tunnel at the Loop to catch the approaching Blueline. I couldn’t have run with all this stuff. So I go. And get into the blueline at the last minute. If I’d missed it, I’d have been at the Greyhound 12 minutes later. And therefore 4 minutes late. I just manage to catch the bus.

I keep falling asleep on the bus. Then I hit Milwaukee, for real. Carrie, my next host via HC, had offered me a stay for two days. Yesterday. And she hasn’t given me her address yet. Greyhound Station Milwaukee has wifi. Awesome. Get on the net, make a phone call. Not at home. I’m looking for a hostel. But some stupid search engine optimisers have spammed Google so much that not even I stupid German SEO can find a hostel.

Then a voice shouts “Frank from Germany!”. I can’t take it. Carrie has just come here, picks me up in a limousine with a really loud, loud rock and drives me straight to the Milwaukee Alehouse in the city. More German than German, but bigger and much nicer. Old beams, live brewery, live music. I can’t spontaneously decide on one of the home-brewed specialities at the bar. Swish. The barman gives me a beer tasting. A difficult decision. Rosenthal would certainly have jumped into the air after every glass back then: You think that was…

At the back, we head out to the river. Blimey, they’re eating salad here. I can’t take it! And it looks good. Let’s have it! Some guests drive right up on the motorboat. Ayli, this would be your beer garden! It’s always swaying on the water anyway, so you can certainly drink a beer more… We move on to another bar, but my eyes are already closing.

On the way home we pass a checkpoint. Policemen on dead tired horses. They’re about to check the crowds. Which ones, isn’t it all empty? Carrie says: they’re coming straight from the Milwaukee Summerfest by the sea. Huh? After the Scooter Party in New York, Pride Weekend in Toronto, the permanent festival at the Falls and the Taste of Chicago, I finally arrive at the biggest permanent state of siege in the north of America. Impact in Milwaukee. Man, I really need some pampas…

The next morning I’m exhausted again. Carrie asks me to cook something. We drive to a market where they have really fresh stuff. Seems like a land of milk and honey after three weeks of abstinence. Parmesan, rocket, pork loin, capers, vegetables… I make a fake vitello tonnato (thank you, Raphael!), which she’s pretty excited about. Afterwards I try to get into town by bus. Impossible. Stopping doesn’t work either. Carrie drives me.

After the failed revolution of 1848, many Germans came to Milwaukee. A lot of them. Brick Gothic, Renaissance, half-timbered, classicism: there’s plenty of it. The second largest brewery in the USA, Miller, is also of German descent. And the local baseball team is called the Brewers. The Pabst brewery is a dilapidated castle. And the city centre is spick and span.

The Milwaukee Summerfest lasts 14 days – with nice guest appearances by Bon Jovi, Black Crowes, B.B. King, Tool and many more. But today is rap. I quickly flee across the harbour area and admire a 50kg kiteboarder skilfully doing his sine laps with a 19mm EH kite in a 50m puddle – in 15km/h winds and surrounded by large rocks. But with a great soundtrack from the neighbouring summer festival.

In the evening, I meet Carrie again at the Alehouse. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to drink my way through the entire menu. But that’s all right. I’m no longer afraid of only getting dishwater. Off to the north!