Cherry Blossoms, The Gates of Hades, and Poe's Ghost: Baltimore's Best and Worst

I've always liked underdog cities. 

Though I must admit part of their appeal is the fun of complaining about them, I like cities who don't need to act too polished, too tough, or too fashionable to fit in with the cool kids' table. When cities have to rely on something other than their looks, they develop good personalities.

And I like Baltimore's personality.

Something nice about showing people around Baltimore: they have zero expectations. There aren't songs about it. There certainly aren't tourism efforts. The only two TV shows set in Baltimore are The Wire and Homicide: Life on the Street. The only movie I had seen depicting Baltimore was Hairspray. There you have it.

This is why I call Baltimore the Helena Bonham Carter of cities (well, I've called it that three times). No one ever expects her to show up at the Oscars looking gorgeous or sexy, so she's free to look fabulous instead. She can be trashy, wacky, surprising, outdated--and Kelly Osbourne is still going to gush over her outfit on Fashion Police.

Baltimore can be tacky; no one blames it. Baltimore can be the #2 worst city for crime in the country; at least it's not #1. And when Baltimore does something right, we cheer it on as though it's 6th-grade Mari playing dodge ball in P.E. We give it inordinate praise, take it out for a celebratory dinner, buy it a present, and promises that it will never have to play dodge ball again.

So, Baltimore, I'm taking you out to dinner. Here is what I like about you. Well, okay, here is what I don't hate about you:

1. The food. For someone who's such a nut about seafood, it's surprising I managed to stay in the midwest as long as I did. I would order fish in Illinois, but it was always a mental exercise in avoiding thoughts of salmon flopping around crowded tubs in southern Indiana, fed chicken meal and dyed pink before arriving at a Chicago restaurant. As a true blue Seattlite (read: fish enthusiast and pretentious hippie), it is a relief to know the source of my seafood, and be able to see it from my office building.

Beyond seafood, I like the mentality of the chefs here. Even at the "trendiest" restaurants (it must be noted that "trendy" for Baltimore is probably akin to "seafood" for the midwest), it seems that deliciousness wins, and diners have good manners. My culinary expertise doesn't extend far beyond Top Chef (though I totally called Richard Blais, by the by), I know that executive chefs aren't pushing aside their peers to get to Baltimore. It's a stepping stone toward Philly or D.C., and of course ultimately New York. 

But who cares. The chefs here take risks because they know we'll love them anyway. They make good food because they know we'll demand it. And we get to try a lot of mistakes that New Yorkers don't have the good fortune to ever taste. Besides, I like my food a little rough around the edges. Particularly scallops. 

2. The east-coastiness. The east coast always seemed like a really good idea to me. As a lifelong Anglophile, history dork, lover of New York, romanticizer of the ocean, and appreciator of all four seasons, I imagined it the perfect fit. As a little west coaster, I always idealized the exotic east: Buildings from 1622! High society! Catholics! Brownstones! Cobblestones! The Kennedys! I must say, the novelty has hardly waned. There is a very romantic sense of history here, and I eat it up.

I love the egalitarian mentality (or at least facade) where both hard-bitten fishermen and hat-and-glove-wearing ladies-who-lunch break bread at the same harbor. Unlike cliquish up-and-coming cities who push out the riff-raff (Portland, I'm looking at you), Baltimore embraces the world. Give me your tired, your poor--they're all here. All of them. Some better looking than others, but everyone looks a little better under the light of an alley lamp post.

3. The southern-ness of it. Considering that I was born and raised very far above the Mason-Dixon line, please forgive a heat-intolerant Yankee when I confess that this is as far south as I'll probably ever end up (famous last words). But there are days when Baltimore, positioned just a hair below the dividing line, reminds me of my joyful respect for southern culture.

People are so nice here. I thought midwesterners were supposed to be America's own batch of sweeties, but the Mid Atlantic is over here putting The Heartland to shame. Folks sit on their front steps and greet passersby; businessmen give dollars to the harbor homeless men; compliments are given freely and indiscriminately; and Baltimore's own official term of endearment, "hon," is used early and often.

Not to mention the short, mild winter. Baltimoreans would argue my boldness in saying so, but I must say this is the first winter without a post-Ides blizzard I've experienced in a great number of years.

4. Free buses and museums. Such luxuries make the city feel like a truly public space.

5. The size. For someone whose greatest pleasure is walking, Baltimore is a modest dream. I can cover the length of the city on foot in a morning, but it doesn't seem small--just walkable, like a European city.

I very much appreciate the small businesses that thrive here because the large-city competitors are minimal. The movie theatres around town all remind me of places my mom and I used to go on rainy Saturday afternoons--the ones with with red velvet curtains, old clunky popcorn makers, and plushy seats without cup holders. Considering that weekend matinees at The Charles constitute 80% of my social life, this kind of comfort is important.

A smaller city means that one's impact is bigger. It is very empowering to live in a place like this. Such a very small contribution to a community actually has a tangible effect, and the opportunities are everywhere.

6. My church. You had to know this was coming. My church in Chicago was spectacular, and my church in Baltimore is spectacular. How rare is it to find two spectacular church homes in one's lifetime? I would say fairly.

Last night was spent with our youth group discussing questions of faith--quandaries such as, Why do bad things happen if God is good? Does hell exist? Do prayers get answered? I would love to have had this kind of dialogue available to me in high school. These kids have no idea how lucky they are to get to talk about these issues with enormously intelligent adults (like me, obvs) and actually have their opinions and doubts recognized and respected.

None of these questions were answered (I take anyone's intellect into question who can provide me with 100% certain answers on matters of faith), but I was once again reminded of the specific specialness of this holy community, and I am thankful.

 Now, for balance, a few things I'm not so keen on...

1. The Power Plant at the Inner Harbor: Dear Inner Harbor, the only thing worse than being Navy Pier is wanting to be Navy Pier. xoxo, Mari

2. The front doors of my office building. Here's the hell I'm living every single day: My office building has TWO SETS of very heavy, very awkward doors. They are difficult enough for me to open for myself, but some schlub always always shows up just a couple steps behind me, forcing me to have to keep it open because of course I'm very considerate. And it is so difficult.

So sometimes I pretend that I didn't see the bloke behind me, and I just run in really fast. But then I all but slam the heavy Gates of Hades in the guy's face, and then I am responsible for an emergency. Plus it makes me look like a jerk.

Can anybody relate?? There's gotta be a Seinfeld episode about this.  

3. Sometimes getting the feeling that Baltimore is just one large crime-ridden ghetto of D.C. It is so very rare that I worry about crime, and reports of such have never bothered me to the point of changing my routine in the slightest. I've never been cautious or particularly safe, maybe because I never felt like I really needed to.

But Baltimore feels different. Perhaps it's just more obvious. For example, I just learned the hand signals that I see every day while walking to work: one finger for gypsy cabs, two for drugs, three for prostitution. I don't love that.

Something I do love: The Baltimore Guide's "Neighborhood Watch." They give you the details you want ("A man was accosted by an acquaintance who said, 'You talked about me while I was in jail' and attacked him"), the attitude you share ("Some lowlife stole an 82-year-old woman's walker from her front steps"), and local color ("A woman told police that a man threatened her with a gun and said, 'Give me your pocketbook, hon.'")

4. Mount Vernon at night completely gives me the creeps. I'm convinced that at any moment, the ghost of Poe or John Eager Howard is going to gallop up to me and start threatening me in old-timey English. Definitely more worried about this than the crime.

5. I miss old friends. Newly moved, and freshly single, I am spending quite a lot of time alone lately.

I cherish my solitude, but the missing of specific people makes for times of lonesome longing. This is just the reality of things for a nomad, but it never seems to get any easier. Being lonely by yourself isn't too hard, but being lonely with people is downright insufferable. New acquaintances still don't know my last name. They inadvertently point out my most obvious traits: "Wow, you walk fast." They bring up important subjects like Justin Bieber and expect me not to care. They ask if I've heard of a store called Anthropologie. They say things like "This weather sucks" in reference to the rain and expect me to agree.

I miss the people who tease me: the people who know better than to invite me to parties where no one dances, the ones who buy me GQ magazine for my birthday, who text me banal observations throughout the day because they know that all these small insignificant nothings add up to the most large meaningful something. I love being new but I love being known. I long for the intimacy of close friendship--the kind where I don't have to explain myself.

For now, my small social life provides me with plenty of time for the things I love so well: dining with a book, walking alone with my iPod, or watching old movies with my kitten. And, apparently, my new obsession with taking pictures of cherry blossoms--#7 on my list of things I love about Baltimore.