Something I noticed about Kansas City, aside from the historical charm, was the constant repair work being done. It seemed like everywhere we went something was being painted, spackled, or jack-hammered. There were fountains everywhere, which spouted streams of foamy white water. It is no wonder that Kansas City is known as the city of fountains. Large, long stretches of highway and land separated barns from housing communities. We toured a very large portion of the area, and I saw neighborhoods full of immaculate mansions, as well as neighborhoods that had been in disrepair for at least a decade. I was told that the crime rate in the city is very high, and it’s not hard to imagine why when you observe the discrepancy of wealth. That disrepair and decay was what really drew me to the city though. The imperfection added a sort of delicacy to the industrial brick and metal foundation. Advertisements for Downtown lofts were everywhere, converted from hundred year-old factories and warehouses. It’s the largest city I’ve ever been to, aside from downtown Portland, Oregon. I gasped when we crossed the bridge into the city, which rose up in a sort of story-book way in the midst the flatness of the land surrounding it.
Trent’s mom, Shelley, and a co-worker of hers gave us a local’s tour of the City Market, which was nestled in a clearing between restaurants and apartment buildings. It is one of my favorite places we visited. Rows of collective booths sold varieties of fruit and vegetables, as well as flowers, spices, loose teas, and freshly-baked goods. We bought macaroons and basked in the hustle and bustle.
Culturally, the food stood out to me as something that Missourians take pride in. The portions were enormous, and cuts of meat were high-quality and readily available in grocery stores. Kansas City is famous for their barbecue, and we were blown away by the experience we had at
Jack Stack’s. The meat, atmosphere, and service were all top notch, though in retrospect, I kick myself for ordering a salad (who does that at a world-famous barbecue joint?). The burnt-ends and ribs were to die for, which Trent graciously shared off of his king’s platter of samplings. I also highly recommend the cheesy corn, which was like a mac-n-cheese with corn and bits of thick bacon instead of pasta.
The mid-west was warm and welcoming of us, and I was constantly impressed by the art and variety of people we saw. It all seemed very “up-and-coming”, and filled me with a sense of excitement. I am all for places that nurture an attitude of independence and individuality as Kansas City clearly does.
