Downtown Baltimore: missing in action

Today’s post brought to you by: the restorative powers of an hour in Panera Bread

Grateful for: choosing the best Airbnb in town

Trying hard to accept: my body’s evil streak.

Ironically one of the scariest places in downtown Baltimore is the police station.

It’s surrounded by sex shops, homeless mentally ill people lying on the ground hurling abuse at passers by and boarded-up shops.

Cop shop. Takes up 3 blocks.

I use the words ‘downtown Baltimore’ loosely because I don’t think it exists. Unless it’s that one block of office high rises and banks I walked through.

I walked and walked expecting to suddenly find a row of familiar shops and cafes but the only thing I’ve seen all morning is Marshall’s department store and I can’t go near that place because my crippled body cannot carry any more stuff.

Have now taken refuge in Panera Bread in the dodgy downtown area to (a) get off the scary streets (b) sit down (c) use wifi (d) charge phone (e) drink free decaf refills.

Baltimore is tiny. I covered the inner harbour in 3 minutes and what I assume to be downtown in 15.

The inner harbour is pretty pretty. That’s Barnes and Noble to the left – super cool inside – and that big white thing is US Coastguard Taney which is the last surviving vessel still afloat that saw action in Pearl Harbour.

On the grounds that there is not much (read as: nothing) here aside from my Mt Vernon neighbourhood, and everything outside Mt Vernon seems to be very old, very rundown and pretty damn scary in parts, I’m now looking for a city hall to file an annulment.

On the recommendation of some sadistic City of Baltimore tourist guide I hiked for miles to Fell’s Point, south of downtown.

In summary, it’s like Chicago. Don’t go south of downtown if you want to stay alive.

The promised historic and eclectic shops and cafes of Fell’s Point were not the trendy arty establishments I was expecting.

Not sure how the city considers boarded up restaurants, tattoo parlours, men loitering in groups on corners, auto body shops, tiny family-owned Italian trattoria and Latino grocery stores to be tourist magnets.

At least I found my much-needed medical marijuana clinic. Two of them in fact. At one a police officer was escorting a client off the premises.

Frankly I was just glad to see a police officer.

I was out of Fell’s Point PDQ and back in search of the elusive downtown.

My body told me very clearly at mass (when in Rome) early this morning that there is no way on this earth I am allowed to become a Catholic.

Although it might be a good idea to start praying for its forgiveness because clearly it’s out for revenge.

To add insult to injury I’ve somehow (hmmm, backpack + 45lb + steep train steps + overhead luggage rack + walk + walk some more) managed to pull the sciatic nerve.

I cannot bend, reach, kneel, pray or sit for too long. Needless to say I sat out the endless up, down, up, down, kneel, up, down, kneel, walk, kneel that is a half-hour mass.

Google quickly answered my question about whether medical marijuana was legal in the state of Maryland. Wonder what the travel insurance co’s view on that’ll be. I’m guessing the answer starts with n. Or g. As in get real.

Despite my inability to fully partake in mass (at least I was able to join in on the Lord’s Prayer), the chapel at the National Shrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary was the most incredible place I’ve ever prayed in.

Thankfully a fellow mass-ee saw me wandering the grounds trying to find the front door. Without him I never would have known to go deep underground to a 200 year-old crypt.

It was the first Catholic cathedral built in the US. To honour that fact I cleverly got the US flag in the background. Move over Ansel Adams.

I snuck a photo when they were all faffing around after communion. But it doesn’t show the extent of the passageways and arches and the candlelit eeriness.

As if the crypt experience wasn’t enough I had the most amazing experience straight afterwards.

Walked up to the Lexington Markets which have been here since cowboys were riding into town. Had expected something akin to the Queen Victoria markets in Melbourne – you know, rows and rows of fish, meat, fruit, veg, deli stalls. How wrong I was.

Baltimore is 63% African American people and 98.99% of them were outside the Lexington Markets this morning.

I was there at morning rush hour and hundreds of people were pouring out of train and bus stations or hanging round outside the markets.

I was the only white face within a 5km radius. It was incredible. Inside the markets I found fewer fruit and veg than I eat in a week and endless ethnic food stalls.

Realising I hadn’t eaten eggs for ages I found the bargain of the year – 2 thick slabs of toast holding scrambled eggs, sausage and cheese for $2.12.

As I was waiting, a homeless man clung to me like a limpet. Wasn’t sure what to do so grabbed my sandwich and slunk away to eat it.

As I ate I watched another woman with same sandwich give half hers to another homeless man so I went back to find my man and gave him half mine. The look in his eyes almost made me cry.

I’m so tired now and am running out of things to do (Johns Hopkins tomorrow) I’m going to go home for a sleep or to the magnificently stunning library.

Outside the library

Inside the library. That’s about one-twentieth of it.

So back to yesterday (when love was such an easy game to play).

Peter, I’ve put our names on the waiting list for Monticello – Thomas Jefferson’s wee shack in Charlottesville.

No, not to marry each other! This ain’t Alabama.

We’re having a double wedding (saves money). You can have Melissa from Charlottesville and I’m having Dorothy, my Airbnb host here.

For the simple reason that she’s got a set of Cuisinart copper pans.

Oh and a nice apartment. Plus, she and her string quartet buddies can play at our weddings for free.

While Dorothy was out at rehearsal last night I cooked up a storm of steak with mushroom country-style gravy, roasted Chinese eggplant, roasted broccoli, and stir-fried mushrooms and Brussel sprouts. Plus I figured out how to use the basement laundry app. Most impressed with self.

My body went into shock. More veg went down my digestive tract in that one meal than in the last 23 days.

Before whipping up my culinary masterpiece I wandered round Mt Vernon in the bitter cold.

Everywhere I turned there were old brick row houses, more wrought iron detailing than you could throw an anvil at, and old metal-framed windows lit up with golden lights.

After being wowed by my Mt Vernon neighbourhood and then underwhelmed and a bit freaked out by everything south of it, I’m crossing my fingers (the only part of my body that still works) that Charles Village and Johns Hopkins campus will restore my faith in this city tomorrow. Because I’m afraid that all the mass services in the world won’t be enough.

The south remains the winner of my affection.

Best food ever invented. In the grocery store/café/deli down the road from my Airbnb you can get macaroni, spaghetti or fettuccine made out of tofu. Guilt-free carb comfort for $1.99. Bet nobody’s ever served it with mushroom country-style gravy though like I will be tonight.

Second best food ever invented. Another $1.99 miracle. I love Old Bay. I love salmon. I love crab cakes made with salmon. I love anything that costs $1.99.

Breakfast in the best seat in the house. Watching all the poor buggers trudge off to work at 6.30am this morning as the rising sun cast a golden glow over the brick buildings.