It's funny how one experience can give you the flavor for everything that is to follow.
Shortly after I passed beneath the Welcome To Bismarck sign at the airport last Friday night, Mike took me to a restaurant called The Bistro and treated me to a lovely meal of breaded walleye. Yes, that’s a tasty fish, not a medical condition. Served by a cheery waitress — who, like most everyone I encountered over the next few days, was pleasantly efficient and accommodating — it came with a steamed flash-frozen vegetable medley, quickly forgiven after a few forkfuls of the baked potato, the first of several enjoyed throughout the course of the weekend. I’ve never met a spud I didn’t like, and they do them right in North Dakota. After easing into a $12 glass of Rombauer, it all started to feel like it could be home someday.
This meal symbolically set the tone for the house hunting weekend in Bismarck: Some things will take getting used to, others were unexpectedly delightful, with the familiar and reassuring juxtaposed gleefully with discovery.
I was quietly charmed by this early foray into my new hometown, but the headlamps on my future snow blower are set at high beam.
Knowing we’d have a lot of car time, Mike tuned in a local hip hop station so I could have my Katy Perry on the prairie. North Dakota Girls, anyone? Knowing the conservative nature of my new state, I was actually surprised to find the same 12 songs on Hot 97.5 in Bismarck as we have spinning hourly on KISS in Seattle. That said, they played the Walmart version of most of them. Who needs to hear the explicit cut of Rhianna’s Rude Boy anyway? I hear a kinder, gentler musical future. Punctuated by on-air personalities who project their voices through their nasal passages.
So back to the house hunt. One of the requisites we’d told our realtor was that the place needed trees in the yard. Or at least one. We viewed properties from the modest to the majestic…and even magical. But sylvan? We wish.
I was astonished to see how much new construction there is in a city of this size. Everywhere you look, new subdivisions with “patio homes” to McMansions are springing up along the rolling landscape just outside of town. In Seattle, of course, if you’d like a new house, you need to tear down an old one or live in the soulless suburbs.
North Dakota's strong overall economy pushed by oil and a healthy agriculture sector have created more jobs than takers across the state, which boasts the lowest jobless rate in the nation at less than 4 percent. North Dakota is also one of the few states with a budget surplus. With a currently small population base of just over 50,000 in Bismarck and just over 640,000 in the whole state, the resulting property taxes are high, and state income and sales taxes keep the snowplows on the road.
The Missouri River runs through town and it quickly became clear that it serves as the community playground. We are toying with living on it ourselves. We cracked up as we visited houses for sale on streets named “Mutineer” and “Galleon.” Here we were, in the midwestest of the Midwest, driving on streets more aptly named for the Oregon Coast or something.
They say that waterfront property holds its value because it is finite. You can’t make more. Not so, say the buoyant Bismarckers…who are creating manmade lakes and a system of bays that serve as pretty settings for homes off the main channel of the Missouri. Kind of the opposite of what Dutch people do. What do I make of that?
Speaking of water,
‘oly buckets did I get an amazing surprise present on Saturday afternoon! We visited the Bismarck Aquatics Center, which at first glance seems to rival Seattle’s King County Aquatic Center where the Olympic trials have been held, not to mention numerous important national meets. A 50 meter pool was split into two 25s, with a diving tank to boot. The water gods are smiling on their faithful little mermaid as she strays from the coast.
Sunday I swam at the also gorgeous facility at the YMCA across town, all sunshiny big windows, just to get a sense of both. I had a lane to myself for an hour, after the gal at the front desk admitted me for free and even gave me a padlock for my stuff, since I was from out of town and all.
One quick note here on acculturation. It’s not like we’re moving to Mars or anything, but I think it is worth giving the whole interpersonal thing a little pause. In Seattle, you drop your swimsuit in the locker room shower and make yourself at home. Can I do that in Bismarck without people thinking I’m some crazy hellbent nudie? In Seattle, I ask lots of questions. In Bismarck, do I curb my curiosity and make friends at their pace, not mine? Folks seem genuinely nice, and I know I can be a little overwhelming.
Speaking of culture (I guess one quick note wasn’t enough): The day I arrived was opening day of deer season. Mike said the office cleared out pretty quickly by mid day, if his colleagues turned up to work at all. Families took their kids out of school, so everyone could roll out their barrels and do their worst. Maybe this is kind of like early dismissal for a soccer game or piano recital at home, though Mike said it is sort of an unofficial state holiday.
I feel like Bismarck has surrounded itself with a bubble of optimism. A permeable membrane to protect it from the worst of what’s outside, and cultivate the best of what’s within. Family is first and then some. Better restaurants are closed on Sunday nights, so we learned, perhaps so families can do a huddle on the home field and call the plays for the week ahead. Hard work is evident in the swept sidewalks and raked leaves. Drivers don’t honk if you delay a beat or two at a green light. Individual responsibility is clear. The guys driving Harleys without helmets make sure the sons and daughters riding with them have theirs securely fastened.
Mike, Amy and I were on Fox Island Sunday night, when we helplessly watched a house across the river in Mandan begin to burn. Mike called 911 and did his best to describe the location, which was difficult because it was dark and we were unfamiliar. He was the first to report the fire. We waited over 9 minutes before we even heard sirens. Once we had an emergency in Seattle and the fire truck arrived at our house in less than two.
I loved the big sky but I missed the mountains.
I loved the “new” Irish pub, but missed Merlin the accordion guy at Kells.
I love that there’s a neighborhood called “The Cathedral District,” but will miss Compline at St. Mark’s.
I love that on a clear day you can see the state capital from virtually anywhere in town, a perpetual landmark for daydreaming drivers like me.
I didn’t love Space Aliens, but now we have experienced Bismarck’s version of Chuck E Cheese and that box is checked for good.
I love that my Ugg boots should keep me warm until it’s about 20 below.
I love that this is only the beginning of what we’ll discover.
I'm not gonna lie to ya.
Selling a house that serves up sunrises like this as casually as a morning coffee, or never hiring a guy with a chainsaw to top that tree.
