Sep 072017

That Hunts, though. 

After checking out of our last minute hotel, we stopped to have breakfast at Savory Family Restaurant before leaving Sturgis, Indiana. Chooch and I had massive egg&cheese croissants which neither of us could finish And yes, I chose to eat at this place just because it was called Savory. I love that word.

In the parking lot afterward, there was that brief moment of uncertainty if Henry was going to unlock the doors for us.

One of these days…

The only thing I remember about our Saturday morning drive was that I had a major hypochondriac breakdown and started screaming about how it feels like my whole body is full of cancer and then Henry was all, “THEN GO TO A FUCKING DOCTOR!” and I was all, “NO I WILL NOT!”

And so on and so forth.

This is what it’s like dating a girl who grew up with the Merck Manual on her bedside table.

Um, anyway. The whole reason we were en route to Chicago was so I could see Taeyang perform at the Aragon Theater, but since that wasn’t until Sunday night, we had the whole day Saturday to do as we pleased with no time restraints! Of course my logical decision was to drive past Chicago and visit the Bahá’í House of Worship because you know how much this atheist dick loves religious exploration.

I had only recently heard of this place: it’s one of only eight temples in the world dedicated to the Bahá’í faith, and allegedly the oldest one at that. From what I can tell, it’s a place to worship, open to all religions. Just some totally beautiful temple in Illinois, you guys. I immediately wanted to check it out because I am obsessed with looking at religious stuff—that’s when I turn into the ultimate tourist. It was always my favorite part of the European tours my family went on when I was a kid, too. (I wept in Assisi. I also had a really bad ear ache, but still. I straight-sobbed in front of a fucking monk.)

When I suggested this to Chooch, he was like, “That sounds dumb,” but then I showed him a picture and he was like, “YES, SIGN ME UP.” So Henry was officially out-numbered. But he didn’t put up much of a fight, maybe because he thought it could be a peaceful place to take a nap.

It took quite some time to get to Wilmette, thanks to the traffic outside of Chicago, but when we turned a corner and saw the temple looming ahead, we all agreed it was worth it already.

Unlike the Palace of Gold, there were a good bit of people there, people of all races and ages. I was worried for a second that perhaps Chooch was going to act a fool, but it was like the holy Bahá’í ghosts took over his body and he became restrained, filtered, and even a tad bit reverent.

I mean, how can you visit a place like this and not have your breath taken away, even just from an architectural aspect? Ugh, it was a sight to behold. I have absolutely nothing disparaging or shitty to say about anything or anyone we saw while there. So just enjoy these pictures of this magical spot in Wilmette, Illinois, because it was really something, you guys. God, is this what it feels like to be religious?!

The surrounding gardens made me feel like Alice in Wonderland. It was manicured to perfection.

There was no photography allowed inside the temple, so I made sure to turn my phone and shove it into my purse immediately because I am so afraid of getting yelled at by anyone in even the slightest authoritative role. And there were definitely temple people skulking around with their hands clasped behind their backs, ready to narc on someone for Snapchatting the temple’s guts or taking a church pew selfie. Chooch and I sat together in and gave ourselves neck-kinks from all the staring we did at the ceiling. Henry chose a seat at a safe distance away from us, probably because he didn’t want to be associated with us if one of us were to, say, spontaneously exorcise.

The grounds really inspired Chooch to get photographical, soccer mom-style with his tablet. He was pissed at one point because I supposedly “copied” one of his pictures.

LOL I totally did too.

Fucking Henry photobombed nearly every single one of the pictures, I hate him.

We out here, bitches.

These boats were right across the street from the temple. The whole area was so fucking quaint!

Back on the grounds, we checked out the information center, which had all kinds of…information. Also, a book store which I had hoped I could buy a magnet or a temple-shaped bottle opener, I don’t know.

“It’s probably just books,” Henry said, always the souvenir deterrent.

“No, I bet they at least have postcards and collectors spoons, BRB,” I said, barging into the bookstore.

It was just books. :(

And then we set off for Chicago (again) so we could check into our hotel. TO BE CONTINUED, OMG.

  2 Responses to “Temple Tourism, Bahá’í-Style”

  1. I know you’ve been several times, and I have even lived there and hated it, but when we’re old biddies can we go to Italy together and tour all the ancient religious places in the entire country? When I was freaking out about seeing a piece of St. Francis’s robe, or frothing at the mouth about standing on the spot of the bonfire of the vanities, or regaling everyone with the sordid Medici ongoings of the church across from the duomo literally everyone with me wished I would just die so they could just go to a strip club or something :-( You would be the most bestest to share those places with :-)

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