In which Roz and Layla watch a play of their relationship and explore the wilds of Minneapolis

By Roz

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Next morning was our last full day in Bar Harbor, much to my consternation.  How can it be that 37 days of vacation can start to speed by already…?

We began the day by fulfilling a lifelong ambition of Layla’s: walking over a sand bar.  I didn’t know it was an ambition of hers when I read about a sand bar that connects Bar Harbor town proper with a tiny nearby island but I am happy to take credit where it isn’t due.  Layla yet again demonstrated her (lack of) skill in skimming stones and when we got to the island I demonstrated my (lack of) skill in following a hiking path.  It was all very lovely, though, with lots of cheery holiday-makers kicking around in a surprisingly non-annoying fashion. 

We headed back into town in more than enough time to avoid being caught by the tide and headed to a coffee shop to contemplate our plans for the day.  We mused on getting a boat to an island (argh, expensive) or on climbing Cadillac Mountain (argh, steep) before eventually settling on hiking up a smaller mountain.  We bought a couple of bagels to sustain us for lunch, and headed on to the ever-delightful free bus.  Our hike proved to be the perfect combination of relatively shady, not that uphill and beautifully scenic – with the delightful addition of a glacier lake in the middle. 

Back in town, we headed home only pausing for an ice cream (alas this was one of those occasions where we agreed to share, compromised on flavour and neither of us was entirely content).  And then, packing.  Revolting.  To console ourselves we headed out afterwards to dinner at a nice place which had once been a speakeasy called Gayln’s Galley where we had squash cakes (the vegetarian’s crab cake) and beets and such like.  We then went for one final meander along the shore path before heading over to Improv Acadia.  I’d lobbied to go again partly because I’d enjoyed it so much and partly because I’d been horrified that when they asked for a volunteer couple to describe the history of their romance (so the troupe could perform a version of it), Layla had felt she shouldn’t volunteer because – as a lesbian couple – we wouldn’t be family-friendly enough for the audience that was largely composed of children and their parents. Layla was repentant and annoyed at having given in to her own ridiculous prejudice, so was up for going again. The show was just as good second time around and we mused that they are probably the best improv troupe we’ve seen outside of Austin (where we saw the best improv show we’ve ever seen which rather spoiled us for all other shows!).  Sure enough, towards the end of the show, when the audience was asked for a volunteer who’d been in a relationship for more than two years, Layla was the first to have her hand up (amusingly she was so eager, she looked rather like a three year old volunteering to be the first to open a present or some such).  She was brought on to the stage and after some cheery banter and questions where Layla told the troupe – and audience – all about us, the troupe then performed a play of our romance.  And it was just brilliant.  And entirely family-friendly…

Next morning we were up early for our drive back to Bangor airport.  Same chatty and enthusiastic driver and in our hour-long drive we covered everything from politics to the merits (or otherwise in his view) of Uber.  It’s probably best to draw a veil over the rest of the journey to Minneapolis.  Suffice to say our second plane was cancelled, and so we spent an unfortunate amount of time at Philadelphia airport and my plans for Minneapolis fun that day went up in smoke.  Though it was cheery enough in some ways – we found a Vino Volo and passed a good amount of time playing Scrabble (though I lost), drinking sparkling wine and eating cheese.  We arrived at Minneapolis airport around 8.30pm and were surprised (and pleased) to find our luggage had made it there too.  The public transport nerd that exists in both Layla and me was delighted by the tram that took us cheaply and quickly to our hotel from the airport. 

Under normal circumstances we’d be thinking of bed by 10pm.  But driven by the imperatives of our step trackers and by the depressingness of having spent all day in and around airports and planes, we decided to head out for a cocktail in the warehouse district despite the late (for us) hour.  The bar – Marvel - was one of those speakeasies that you’d never find if you didn’t know it was there which I’d come across in my over-zealous holiday research.  Inside it was mismatched furniture and industrial chic and lots of locals (not a tourist in sight – a far cry from Bar Harbor), and the unpleasantness of the day melted away quickly.  Layla bravely went for a cocktail with olive oil and egg white in it (I’m still not convinced, but she insists it definitely tasted like dessert) whilst I went for something pleasant with gin and citrus.  We walked back to the hotel – going a different route, and quickly establishing that Hennepin Avenue (one of the main streets in Minneapolis) was definitely not a place for us (our skirts were too long and our heels too short) and collapsed into our very comfy bed. 

Next morning we went to a very pleasant place nearby for breakfast before heading over to the ‘chain’ of five lakes on the delightfully efficient local bus.  We’d heard about the walking/cycling/boating fun offered by these lakes from pretty much everyone we’d told we were going to Minneapolis (well everyone who hadn’t looked horrified at the prospect of going there at all) and so we hired bikes from a place near Lake Calhoun and set off.  The paths were for cyclists only (walkers have their own paths – so civilised) and it was delightful to spin along the shore in the sunshine.  After a while, we stopped to check our route and Layla broke the news to me that there was an email from our lawyer about our London flat-purchase.  This caused a reasonable amount of angst – not because the news was particularly bad, but because the whole process of buying a property is a tedious and stressful one in England (and if it doesn’t go through we are going to be homeless when we get back to the UK).  But, having dealt with the lawyer’s email, we continued on, around Harriet Lake and then bound for Cedar Lake, and all was going relatively well until I made the rash decision to change gears when going uphill.  This did not work out well and the bike chain ended up jammed somewhere it shouldn’t have been.  I tried to do my best butch work to fix the problem.  No success. Eventually we called the people who’d rented the bikes to us.  I was – in some ways – relieved when they came and also couldn’t fix the bike.  All the more so when the girl who’d come to fix it agreed to give me her bike so she could walk mine back to the shop…  Still we felt we’d had our bike-riding fix by this time, and so once we’d deposited the bikes, we went for lunch in a nearby spot and contemplated our flat-purchasing and lack of furniture.  And so it was that we found ourselves eating vegetarian tacos by the lake whilst Layla ordered a sofa to put in a home we don’t yet own…

After lunch we walked around the prettiest of the lakes, Lake of the Isles, towards Sebastian Joe’s, an ice cream spot that had been strongly recommended by a friend who’d grown up in Minneapolis.  The day was growing hotter, and so we pretty much collapsed when we got there– but not before we’d acquired an ice cream each (enough of the compromising and sharing!). We hung out there for a while with our books, before braving the sun again and walking over to the Walker Art Center. The art – a pop art exhibition and a retrospective focussed on the art that the gallery had acquired in its 75 years of existence – was quite good.  But our main interest was the artist-designed mini-golf.  This was exceptionally well designed –quite the hardest and most interesting mini-golf course I’ve done.  I lost.  It’s best to gloss over my feelings…  We walked back through Loring Park which was pretty – and with a walkway that seemed to be Minneapolis’ answer to the High Line Park in New York City - and dreamed of being indoors and in air con. 

Back in our hotel room we cooled down and showered and eventually our faces faded to more or less their usual hues.  We resolved that the following day we’d be more careful about being outdoors in the full blast of the sun (ha, didn’t manage to do that).  We eventually headed out to an early dinner at a place called the Bachelor Farmer which I’d booked for our first night and had to cancel in favour of the delights of Philadelphia airport. It’s one of the best restaurants in Minneapolis, and the food was interesting and delicious and included a popover (the favourite of Bar Harbor which I’ve never seen on a menu otherwise).  I’m not really a dessert person, but for the first time in memory regretted agreeing to sharing with Layla since the panacotta was amazing.  We then went to a comedy show.  I loved the venue for giving a free drink to anyone who had come on public transport – all the more so since I persuaded them that Layla and I were both deserving by proving we’d walked there by showing our step trackers.  The comedy was good (and a skit on Governor Scott and climate change had particular resonance given my recent visit to Tallahassee) but towards the end of the show Layla was fading with tiredness and so we made a speedy exit and went to bed. 

Next morning, I woke up with a racing heart wondering if there’d been an email response from our lawyer (who is of course in a different time zone from us). As did Layla. Disappointingly I only remembered it was Saturday after I’d woken up enough to look at my phone…  I went for a brief run whilst Layla was getting up and then we headed out for breakfast and then on to the tram to Minnehaha Park. The park is huge and delightful and has a little shady river path to walk along that takes you from a waterfall all the way to the Mississippi river.  We felt very cheery as we walked along this, passing and being passed by the odd local.  We then hiked back along the other side of the river, passed the Hiawatha statue and then on a longer walk along a creek to Hiawatha Lake.  It was beautiful and we felt unexpectedly local as we debated the merits of the different houses we passed.  Eventually, a little hotter than we would have liked, and on a quest for a hipster coffeeshop, we arrived in a cool little area where we had lunch and then hung out with our books in the Angry Catfish, a ridiculously hipster bike and coffee shop (including consuming a slightly terrifying doughnut from a nearby and excellent bakery).  When our books finished we hopped on a bus and then the tram back to the hotel where we showered and packed before heading out for dinner in a Japanese izakaya that I’d booked near the Guthrie Theatre.  I’m occasionally booking this kind of place in hopes of convincing myself that we’re not doing something silly by moving to Japan. However, this is mainly backfiring on me at the moment since Layla breaks off in the middle of conversations to gaze fixedly at various Kanji symbols to assess whether she (a) knows it (b) used to know it but can’t remember (cue for berating herself) or (c) doesn’t yet know it (also cue for berating herself).  Nonetheless the food was very good and I enjoyed my “east meets west” beer flight too… 

We then walked round the corner to the Guthrie Theatre and had a little meander there before going inside to see the play The Music Man.  This was well-done, if not my favourite musical of the era.  But it was a sold-out show, and we were exceptionally glad to be there.  Immediately after the show, there was a giant 20 minute firework display which seems to be an annual thing to celebrate Minneapolis.  It was clearly a really big deal, since people had been camping out for some hours to get a good viewing spot.  And it was a great display, which we watched for 10 or so minutes before walking home.  I almost liked the walk home more – because we were walking past lots of enthusiastic people watching from their balconies and we could hear their “ooos” and “aaas” and see the reflection of the fireworks in their windows.  And then, bed.  And the end of the second chapter of our grand holiday.