St Paul - the top Twin

OK, so St Paul and Minneapolis are

called the Twin Cities.

But they are not identical twins.

They could not be more different.

Several Minnesotans mentioned a bit of a contrast between the two. But they did not quite prepare one for just how dramatic that difference is.

Minneapolis is the boy twin, clever, loud and untidy.

St Paul is the girl, gentle, quiet, cultured, sensitive.

St Paul is a city to fall in love with. She's magic.

Well, perhaps not the underground parking garage. That is weird. We get a lovely welcome from the parking attendants but they don’t tell us that we have to navigate down and down and down a claustophobic cement corkscrew driveway into the bowels of the riverside to find a parking space.

Then we have to walk up many ramps. And there is the St Paul Science Museum. It is right there on our to-do list. In we go.

Well, it is yet more proof how America is geared towards children. This museum is a kids’ playground of learning - and there are packs of kids spinning things and pulling things and poking things.

It features a tug boat and a giant astronaut as well as a big dinosaur skeleton facsiile. It has a display of Egyptian mummies but it charges extra to go there. It has some

interesting human body displays and a big section on genetics with the theme that racial difference is an idea rather than science.

Best of all, it has a rogue’s gallery of quackery.

Bob McCoys Museum of Quackery and Questionable Medical Devices.

I had written about this years ago in my Internet column. It was and is a terrific website. And here were all the wild devices.

And truths. Those vibrating belts they used to use in slimming

parlors will not help you lose weight. Coloured lights will not cure ailments. Radium drinking is a kill, not a cure. Phrenology-machine head mapping reveals nothing.

The collection of oddball machines are like weird torture chamber devices - but they were long used and believed in and a lot of quacks made a lot of money convincing trusting souls that they would do them good.

Walking through St Paul is really soothing. It is uncrowded. It is about lunchtime as we leave the museum. The sun is shining. it has turned into a delicious day. All around the city

people are strolling slowly or sitting on park benches eating slowly. No one hurries. Lots of people are sitting alone. I don’t think I have ever seen so many solos. A lot of women. Dotted around. Eating, reading, doing phone…

We pass a bronze statue in honour of a local hockey coach and stroll up, past a stunning theatre and arts complex, to a glorious open area. I would call it a square but it is a round. There’s a charming fountain with a statute of woman and child and, far distant from the fountain, a curve of iron benches upon which people sit and lunch, read, phone or just sit. And there,

standing in a corner of the park with his coat and hat over his arm, is none other than Scott Fitzgerald in magnificent life-sized bronze. He was a native of St Paul.

We wander off admiring the imposing old Landmark Hall which is backdrop to this lovely park. We seek food.

We find Peanuts, instead. A statue of Charlie Brown and Lucy in the park. Ah, yes, Charles Schultz is another son of St Paul.

More relaxed people sit on their own. A few people stroll. A food truck vendor selling soups calls out to us. We respond but have no intention in the world of souping from a truck.

A saxophonist is playing laid-back jazz,

exquisitely. The strains reach out across the park. Oh, lovely. Where is he?

Oh, standing in the shade on the corner. A passer-by pauses and then sits in a chair beside him to listen.

We go over and compliment his playing.

And then we discover the Meritage restaurant with oysters from just about every oyster ground in America

and an outstanding seafood menu. It is rather swanky. The perfume of garlic and goodies is irresistible.

We are shown a perfect table in the shade on the patio.

More gentle jazz in the air, this time from the restaurant’s sound system.

We watch the local city workers out at their lunchtimes, unhurried, convivial, quiet.

There is hardly any traffic. It is the quietest town in the world.

Iced tea is served and then the mussel amuse bouche - a vivid saffron creamy seafood soup with one delicate mussel. We eat it with a teaspoon.

It is rich, with an elegant, nay accomplished fish stock base. It is utterly exquisite.

So are our salads, a seared tuna Nicoise for B and a salmon and asparagus for me. Perfection. Delicate, perfect.

We purr off to visit the mighty Landmark building in the centre of town.

It smells musty and is drenched in faded grandeur.

There’s a setup for a wedding in the main hall.

It is deserted apart from a quiet women at an information desk.

I take a brochure and we check out the city walk and what we have yet to see.

The St Paul Hotel where Gene Autrey stayed WITH his horse. We enter its grand chandeliered foyer and weave our way to the skyway.

Tour guide Judy had told us how the St Paul skyways differed from Minneapolis insofar as they were uniform, all designed and supplied by the city itself. In Minneapolis, they were the responsibility of the various buildings and were diverse.

We walk a couple of skyways which give us good views of the city.

Then we potter back to the car and headed for the Fitzgerald Theatre - named in honour of Scott, of course.

It is where Garrison Keillor presented his Prairie Home Companion Show for so many glorious years. He has just called it a day. We heard his final program on the radio while were driving

a week ago. So sad. It was an institution, broadcast by Minnesota Public Radio which also is based here in St Paul.

The theatre looks great but it is closed for renovations.

Directly opposite, oh my, a giant round structure declaring itself the Church of Scientology.

Our eyebrows skip to the back of our heads.

Time to go.