A DAY TRIP DOWNTOWN

Orange, red, and gold leaves litter the sidewalks and the sky is cloudless against the Morgan landscape. I wish I’d worn gloves that day as my bare hands shivered inside the thinly lined pockets of my brown jacket. On a normal Thursday, I’d be waiting to go to a Spokesman meeting, and my friend Vanessa would be in the library studying waiting to go home to Pennsylvania, but today was a break from the everyday. She and I rushed from Holmes Hall to the bus stop at Hillen Road, for a day trip downtown.

To her, this meant seeing a new place that she’s never been. For me it was going out and seeing what I couldn’t see before, now that I’m an adult and away from the safe hold of my mother when we lived in Baltimore. “When I get there, I’m going to find a small local restaurant and become a regular. The waiters will know me by name,” I remember telling my mother before I left Florence, South Carolina in June.

As the Baltimore Sun reports, the city has reached its 200th homicide this year with a shooting on Franklin Square. After decades of population decline, the city population actually increased last year. However, with crime rates, and shows like The Wire, along with it’s close proximity and tense relationship with DC just 40 miles away, growth is a struggle for the city.

Being young and coming from a small town, however, I see a lot more than just crime and The Wire (I actually haven’t seen the show at all.) I see opportunity; at least more here than where I’m from. My few years of living in an urban atmosphere created a lifestyle that I couldn’t give up just yet.

We were an interesting pair to take on this day trip. We met during freshman orientation and instantly connected; we were both commuter students not from the area. She was from a small suburb in Pennsylvania, yet lived in many places of the world such as Switzerland, Mexico, and Paris. I didn’t see so much of the world. Home for me was a growing town that just got a Chipotle, where hunting seemed to be everyone’s hobby, people still had outhouses, and there was no such thing as catching the bus.

However, if you could stand it, like I had to, walking was possible with the few sidewalks. I also lived in DC, and PG County, so Baltimore wasn’t as strange to me, but it was still a lot to explore, especially since I’m a lot older than I was when I lived here.

The first stop on our trip - Graffiti Alley. We rushed to the bus stop, hoping not to miss the infrequent buses. We got off at the Coldspring Lane Light Rail Station, not too far from where I was staying with my aunt. We crossed the tracks to get to the other side where we saw a girl not so discreetly rolling a blunt. Not too long after, it came and we hopped on, leaving the girl at the stop.

We got off the light rail at Mount Royal and walked the big colorful bridge. I cursed the wind every step of the way, feeling as though I’d somehow teleported to the Ice Kingdom. Next thing to buy - gloves. Once we made it to Graffitti Alley, my eyes were in awe as I’d never seen anything like it before. Nestled snuggly between North Avenue and Howard St. was a wonderland of graffiti, a beautiful garden of colors. It was an urban oasis. There were plenty of lazy and uninspired tags, but they were obscured by the colorful and bizarre lettering. A part of the Open Walls Project, Graffiti Alley is a hotspot for creative minds where they are allowed to do graffiti legally. There wasn’t a place like this back home in Florence.

“Take a picture of me walking so that I can put in on my Instagram,” Vanessa said, handing me her lime green iPod touch. I obliged, also getting a photo of myself in the process.

We got off the light rail and headed towards the Harbor. “What street is this?” She asked as we made sure to keep note of her grandmother’s work address.

“I got this,” I said as we passed the Convention Center. I stuck the little map with the address in my back pocket as we continued on.

We walked past the Inner Harbor, Harbor East, and the little development between. Once we got the Thames Street, the real fun began. “It reminds me of Switzerland - the little shops and the small streets,” she said as we walked by the little boutiques. We passed The Sound Garden, a popular records store that we went to before we left. There was a place like this in my hometown, on Irby Street, but I forget the name. She had to use the bathroom and I was thirsty, so we headed into a charming 7-11 where I purchased a Gatorade. This 7-11 was different from the many others popping up around the city. Unlike the normal 7-11, this one felt more open, and had a little bar facing the window, allowing a beautiful view of the street.

It was such a pretty scene. Who could imagine that this street was rampant in larceny and assault. Or, that there was a shooting, just a few weeks ago, a few blocks north on E. Baltimore Street.

“Oh, this is so Europe.” she’d said several times walking down Thames, referencing the fancy restaurants and shops.

And then we reached the waterfront.

The sun seemed to be waiting on us as it shined with its welcomed warmth, giving the brick buildings a golden glow, and reflecting brightly on the open water. The waves themselves were a sight to behold as they violently lapped over each other, small tepid waves. “Take a picture of me by the pier!” she said. By this time, I was tired of pictures, taking them and being in them. But I obliged, understanding that I’d be the same way if I could only see this once in blue moon.

We walked back towards the square where people were taking pictures, eating food, and socializing. It reminded me of home, the way people seemed so relaxed. If there’s anything considerably different about the city, people here seem to be so much busier. We then went to an art gallery that I’d been to once before. She liked photography, and I like art, so it was only appropriate to go since it was so close and we were doing ok on time.

Quite the surprise, we were greeted by an old man, a photographer, rather than the nice couple with their dog, whom I had met before. My own little heaven, we were surrounded by artworks large and small. From cityscape reliefs to watercolor countrysides, there wasn’t a scene that wasn’t there. I was everywhere at once. From one artwork to the next, I was cold and I was warm. I was underwater, and I was in the sky. I was in the world.

While I was enjoying the numerous artworks, Vanessa was having conversation with the photographer, a Nikon guy like myself. As I was about the art, she was about the photography asking tons of questions and just marveling at the beauty of the photos. “I use Photoshop,” said the man, explaining to her how he edited the letter “a” into a ship in Baltimore.

We were running out of time, so I tapped my wrist as a signal. Not wanting to seem rude, Vanessa didn’t know what to do, so I faked a phone call, and we left.

The sun was still out, but you could tell it was getting late. We needed to be at her grandmother’s job by 5:30. “We should do this more often!” said Vanessa as we walked along S. Caroline street. I agreed. It was fun. “Next time, we should go to a restaurant. We would have if you didn’t take so many pictures.” I said, wanting to go to Jimmy’s, a little restaurant close to the pier. She just gave me this look that I understood as “don’t go there” and so I didn’t take it any further.

With the city releasing it’s plans for the Inner Harbor 2.0, I see a future. There are exciting things going on in the city. Baltimore has a growing startup scene, the festivals are an experience, and the little cultural events that happen are entertaining. I like to think of it as a renaissance era Harlem.

Baltimore is a city like any other. No, it’s not New York, nor is it Los Angeles. But thank heavens it’s not Detroit.

We made it to her grandmother’s workplace just as the sun started to set. It was 5:28. She called her from her phone as we waited on the steps in front of the building. A few minutes later, to my surprise, there was this short white woman who waved to Vanessa. “Hi grandma.” said Vanessa, who went up to her. She told me she stayed with her grandparents as her parents (father and stepmother) lived in another country. However, this was an interesting twist, for me at least.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy.” I said as she came over.

“Hi, nice to meet you! How was the trip? Where did you all go?” said her grandmother. Vanessa then told her of our adventure, starting off with the girl smoking at the light rail. We got into the warm car, and I silently rejoiced for the warmth as we left the parking garage. I could really use some gloves for Christmas as my hands slowly warmed back up.

Traffic on I-83 was packed. I didn’t mind, however, as it was much better than taking a bus home. Vanessa and her grandmother were in the front, as we all waited for something to happen. By this time, it was dark outside. I thought back on the day, and how much fun I had. And in the moments sitting in that car, I knew I’d made one of the best choices in my life.