Also: formerly dilapidated, now gorgeous historic housing

Doug, of Doug fame, decided earlier this week that our Minneapolis education was not complete unless we had been to Nicollet Island. We were a little perplexed, since as far as we could tell Nicollet Island seemed to mostly consist of a dowdy restaurant that was probably the height of fine dining in 1975. Doug assured us that there were other treasures to be found there, including one of the best views of downtown. He was right; it was gorgeous. Though slightly marred by a bunch of intoxicated 20-something guys who told us they were living in the woods and urged us not to touch their backpacks. Which we planned not to do. Apparently woodland-dwelling guys spend most of their time playing poker on their iPhones down by the river. One seemed bent on “befriending” us; upon learning that we were moving to Boston, he told us he was from there. From a little town by “the East Bay,” near “Portage.” As far as we’re aware, these are not places in Massachusetts, though we let it slide, in part because we wanted to walk around and look at the beautiful historic houses. Turns out the north part of the island is full of gingerbread-house-esque ancient wooden houses that were lovingly restored after having been nearly destroyed by neglect. It sorta looks like Nantucket, complete with stone streets and old-timey streetlights.

While walking around admiring the neighborhood, Doug and Becky discovered that we also hadn’t ever been to Milwaukee Ave and urged us to check it out. We went over there on Saturday and were stunned by how gorgeous the houses were, tucked away in the most unlikely location in the middle of a block. Apparently the street was developed as a worker’s community in the 1880’s; by the 1970’s it was in severe disrepair and nearly demolished. But wow, has it made a comeback. It’s also only for pedestrian use (except emergency vehicles), so you’re able to leisurely down the block and see only a few other walkers and kids on bikes. In our post-Minneapolis dreams, all of our friends move in there together, and eventually their tiny children run rampant down the historic street. Better get crackin’, kids.