Fargo Public Library, Fargo, North Dakota

There are places I know I'll never have to go to again—at least not by choice, and I would hope never by necessity, though I suppose you can't control everything (not that I will stop trying). Amarillo is one place. An ugly, racist, completely hostile and upsetting pass through was all I needed to secure that deal, but the place also had that scalped soulless feel to it that left me feeling grimy, heavy, and teeming with swirling unease. As I documented earlier in this blog, Barstow is definitely on the list. And now I can include Bismarck, though truth be told I'd probably find my way back just to record that creepy clock for posterity. But otherwise, bad vibes abound, so on the list it goes.

O! How I love a skybridge!

Fargo was a far better match for me—a nice mix of old and new with lots of charm in between. I was very hungry by the time I rolled into town in the early afternoon, so pulled over to check Google for "food near me." I was at my limit with the fast food and wanted something of substance that was truly local. By luck I was parked nearby a place called Luna, which touts itself as a "neighborhood kitchen." Having lived in NYC for 15+ years, I was familiar with its hype, hip to its jive, etc. etc. They have wine and cheese and a menu that changes daily—you get the drift. It was also located in a dilapidated strip mall, which upped the hipster ante to 11.

On this fine day I ordered soup—they had a fabulous chicken, bacon, and broccoli soup that was out of this world yummy. I even posted a pic via Instagram and Facebook to which my nearest and dearest commented ahem was this before or after u chucked it up. Everybody's a comedian! But I stand by the dish. The service was also wonderful, and the place was decorated with efficient simplicity. I felt comfortable dining there in my hoodie and exerpants.

The new Fargo Public Library is located in the downtown area amidst old brick behemoths and some fantastically ooogly bank buildings. The library itself, born in 2008, is a chic, modern, welcoming space with lots of natural light and bright color on the walls, upholstery, and fixtures. Once you are up in the main part of the library, it feels very open and airy, almost like a rooftop library, protected from the elements but open to the surrounding city.

The way into the main space is a bit odd, but I suppose someone thought it was a cool idea and who am I to judge. When patrons walk in the front door, they must go down a long hallway to get to the central stairway. There is a coffee and treat shop on this level, as well as a main circulation desk, art gallery, and other spaces I did not explore but did not seem to be open to the library main (e.g. meeting rooms, staff rooms, etc.).

On either side of the main interior doorway are brilliantly colored, tiled murals of sunflowers. I tried my best to capture them, but you really have to see them as you move through them, the way the tiles gleam and the colors glow. I would bet every kid who goes to this library is absolutely in love with these murals, and that their memories when looking back on the Fargo Public Library will be warm and happy, with mega sunflowers spilling upward and over every neuronal flash.

Upon ascending to the second floor, the library, too, unfolds like a flower, a chrysanthemum of different rooms, stacks, open spaces, lounge areas, and a long, deliriously abundant bank of desks up against the far wall. A glorious find. I spent two very productive days at this library, forgoing exploring any other branches since I knew I would pine for this one and all its lovely petals.

Main foyer and circulation, first floor.

Central staircase. You can see the gallery in the background.

I was criminally remiss in documenting the space I am describing, by the way. You'll just have to trust me (or check out online galleries) to get a sense of the Fargo Public Library's overall loveliness. It was, for me, a working library, where electricity and consistent wifi was easily available and I was able to concentrate with little to no distractions.

I think one of the things that helped was how they parsed up the main sections of the library so that they were not all intermixed and stepping on each other's vibes. The circulation room, computer room, and meeting rooms were along one wall, all glassed in and separated. while the study desks were on the opposite side of the floor. The stacks serve as a natural separator between the main thoroughfares and places where people require quiet. The children's section, easily always the noisiest part of every library, was sequestered to the first floor. In this arrangement everybody gets windows and nobody feels encroached upon.

You would be surprised at how many libraries do not do this. Many, many libraries instead embrace a free love approach to library design, where desks and lounge areas co-mingle unprotected with noisy, rambunctious computer bays and all in front of the kids section where screeching monkeys are hanging from the ceiling and clanging cymbals in a cacophonous orgy of "Community." A lot of libraries have few choices; being retrofitted to embrace new technologies, you have to make do. But newer libraries that forget their patrons needs (or God Help Them, think "open plan" is a fab idea we should all embrace in every space ever no matter what the industry) quite honestly have NO EXCUSE. Think of your patrons, dumdums. All of them.

Anyway, since I was in the same general area for something like 12-14 hours total, here are some shots of my views over those two blissful days at the Fargo Public Library.

Other impressions of Fargo:

Notice the hook haaaannnnnnd, aahhh runnnn

Not sure if this is something everyone does everywhere, but this is where I saw my first "Construction Man" made out of traffic barrels and cones and other construction materials. At first I found it weird but charming, but it gets creepier every time I look at the picture. I think it's because you are only supposed to recognize what it is in passing and you are never, ever meant to notice details. Do not stare too long at Construction Man. 

I also had the worst pizza of this journey while in Fargo. Though I am loathe to name names (Rhombus Guys), I am torn (Rhombus Guys) since it feels wrong not to warn others of the terribleness I experienced (Rhombus Guys). Here's what: sticking to my theme, I had the 8-inch margherita--a fairly simple pizza that should not be impossible to pull off. The place is known for its weirder selections, such as "Tater Tot," "The Angry Dragon," and something called "Blue Heaven," which consists of "bleu cheese cream sauce, steak, bacon, tomato, red peppers, bleu cheese, cheddar and mozzarella," a combination so rich and stinky I would have likely hurled had I dared to try it...so I know a simple margherita probably isn't in their wheelhouse. However. My pizza had nothing much on it: unremarkable mozz, dried husks of basil, and some oil (tomato what? I saw little to none of that). But somehow the whole middle of the crust was soaking wet. I ripped off the wet, doughy sections and ate what was left. The sad thing is that the bread was actually the best part, so it was akin to eating fairly good breadsticks once I managed to piece it back together. Not a good margherita, though, and it begs the question: If my simple pizza got soaked in the middle, what happens to all those overloaded monstrosities on the menu? Completely uncooked dough holding up a center filled with stinky grease? I guess we'll never know. But for this visit, I give (Rhombus Guys) two stars and big, fat "Yikes."

The accent. You know what I mean. We all enjoyed Frances McDormand in the movie. Including all restaurants I visited, my AirBNB hosts (great!), library staff and patrons, and convenience stores I patronized, I heard the accent exactly ZERO TIMES. Seriously. My conspiracy theory is that North Dakota—and especially Fargoans—got super self conscious about the accent after the movie came out and the rest of the country started mimicking it (how ya doin MaARRGe?) and they just forced themselves to stop talking like that. Which is a damn shame. Either that or the movie is a damn LIE, which just can't be true (if so? rude). I was genuinely bummed. I wanted to hear the accent. And don't play. People always want to hear the New York accent, the Boston accent, the Kentucky Fried Chicken accent. We all do it so don't even. [Postscript: I am ablush. After watching all available seasons of the TV show Fargo—checked out from my local library HUZZAH!—I now know that those accents were 100% Minnesotan, since that is where most of the movie's characters are actually from! Incidental research led me to the truth as we made our way through the show—great freakin show—so I seriously apologize to Fargo and North Dakotans in general. Hugs.]

Finally, North Dakota. It's a lot like Kansas, a whole lotta flat. But just like Kansas, those gleaming fields can be damn beautiful. A couple more shots, then on to the next...