Des Moines

I have no tourist tat for Des Moines - for reasons that will appear later. 

“I come from Des Moines. Someone had to.”

These are the opening words of Bill Bryson’s book ‘The Lost Continent’. It would be true to say that Bryson is not particularly complimentary about his home town but when I first read the book I thought that this was just literary licence designed to add a little humour. However when I had the misfortune to visit Des Moines with my two daughters I discovered there was more than a grain of truth to his description. Despite being part of a metropolitan area nearing one million inhabitants Des Moines must be one of the most boring places on earth - perhaps even more boring than Slough. [Of which John Betjeman said: “Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough, it isn't fit for humans now.”]

The evidence I have of this is threefold.

First, it was a Friday evening when we arrived and after checking into our Airbnb (which bore more than a passing resemblance to the house in Albert Hitchcock’s horror film, Psycho) we walked into town for a meal and a drink but the place was eerily empty – not a soul to be seen in the desolate echoing streets. Eventually we came across a lone pedestrian and asked him where we could eat and drink. For more than a moment this baffled him but in the end he indicated vaguely that there might be a bar open a couple of blocks away but he couldn’t be sure. We never found it.

Secondly, having failed miserably on the food and drink front we decided that a supermarket would be our only chance of eating that evening. At the check-out we enquired of the pleasant young man who was handling our order what was there to do in Des Moines. As with the lone pedestrian in the centre of town he looked genuinely puzzled and eventually confessed that he couldn’t help us.

Thirdly, the next morning, undaunted by our previous two failures, we ventured into town again. Things were looking up; this time it was a little more populated – people were gathering for an anti-Trump rally. We approached a charming family and engaged them in conversation and discovered they were familiar with Bill Bryson’s book so I took the opportunity of paraphrasing his opening line. I said “We have come to Des Moines. Someone has to”. Fortunately they took it in good part but when we also quizzed them about what there was so see and do in Des Moines, rather like the guy at the check-out, they were almost equally at a loss to suggest something. What they did finally suggest was the Sculpture Park only a couple of blocks away. What we found you can see in the picture below.

The Sculpture Park consisted of no more than three rather emaciated looking wind turbines, evidence indeed of the cultural desert that is Des Moines. So deserted that I couldn’t even find a piece of tourist tat to add to my collection.

Usually at this point in these postings I list ‘interesting things to see’. These are some of the meagre delights Des Moines has to offer:

At the Iowa State Fair you can sample apple pie on a stick and fried peanut butter and jelly on a stick. Other options include funnel cake sticks, chocolate-covered chunky bacon maple nougat on a stick, Caprese salad on a stick, deep fried brownies on a stick and hot bologna on a stick. [Albert Einstein said “I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones” - so Des Moines looks well prepared for Armageddon.]

Another big draw for the Iowa State Fair is its butter cow. Every year (dating back to 1911), the fair's dairy artist carves the 600-pound creation, along with a themed accompanying sculpture.

Tones Spices, which has a factory in the Des Moines suburb of Ankeny, sometimes donates outdated garlic salt to help with icy roads in the winter.

Don't want to go outside in below-zero winter temps or the sweltering summer sun? You don't have to if you're in downtown Des Moines. Its extensive skywalk system—climate-controlled overhead walkways that connect buildings—covers about 4 miles and 30 city blocks.

Nearly 75 inches of rain fell in Iowa in 1851.

According to one story “Des Moines” means ‘Poop face’.

From 1942 up until 2009, it was illegal to dance between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. in Des Moines

Postscript 

In researching this article I have come to the conclusion that I owe the city of Des Moines at least a partial apology. Apparently my daughters and I did not venture quite far enough to find the Sculpture Park. If we had gone just one block more we would have found the Pappajohn Sculpture Park which is indeed full of fine modern sculptures which can be viewed on Google, one of which can be seen below. Wikipedia also manages to mention a few more attractions.