0 0 * 0 0 0 0 4 6B - The Michigan Daily - Thursday, September 23, 2004 The Michigan Daily -Thun CITY OF MANY CULTURES ANN ARBOR OFFERS HAVEN FOR INTELLECTUALS, OUTCASTS AND P ARTIERS ALIKE Windy City. Big Apple. City of Brotherly Love. Celery City (that's Kalamazoo, in case you didn't already know). Though the village of Annarbour, as it was called at its incep- tion in 1824, has rightfully escalated to city status, it has yet (save vacuous "A squared") to receive a public-sanctioned nickname. Why this nickname void? Surely Ann Arbor possesses as much, if not more, char- acter than Nail City (Wheeling, W.Va), or Curtain Rod Capital of the World (Sturgis, Mich.). The University's 1837 relocation from Detroit, a steady influx of people (the current population around 114,000), and a huge growth of businesses has transformed the 28.2 square miles of Ann Arbor from a green, small village into a bustling, color- ful city. A nickname, though it may be one per- son's concept, requires adoption by the people to keep it alive. And while diver- sity is possibly Ann Arbor's greatest asset, it can function as a vice by preventing a unanimous agreement on an image of the city. A brief survey of Ann Arbor's night- life reveals the polemical, capricious and impossible task of pinning down "Ann Arbor Culture." The upstairs of Rendezvous Cafe (1110 S. University Ave.) on a Friday night is an agreeable, laid-back place. At 9:00 there are about 12 people on the warmly-lit sec- ond level: A couple is smoking flavored tobacco out of an ornate hookah; others are reading, chatting and smoking. Jad is sitting at a table with five other men, four of whom are playing Tarneeb, an Arabic card game. Recently earning a Mas- ter's degree from Eastern Michigan Univer- sity, Jad has lived in Ann Arbor for more than three years and continually comes to Rendezvous to relax and meet with friends. "I feel comfortable here," says Jad, explain- ing the interesting mix of people he finds at the cafe: "... there's (people) from all over, almost. (At other places,) you don't see people from China; you don't see people from India, from Brazil or Palestine. And," he adds, holding a Marlboro Light in-his left hand and a Paulo Coelho book in his right, "I can smoke here." Jad, who speaks English, French and Arabic, lived in Lebanon before coming to Ann Arbor and is slightly baffled by the University's party culture. "It's weird that they say U of M is one of the best (schools) in the country ... When I was in school, we couldn't go out drinking very often. I won- der how people are having good grades." Jad's friend Ata, who hails from Istanbul, Turkey, finds Ann Arbor slow and quiet. Ata thinks Ann Arbor is safe and friendly, but that "(University students') fun is very limited: study all week, party Friday." He also notices a lack of global awareness among students: "I asked my (University) friends, 'Can you give me three countries surrounding Iraq?' They couldn't." According to Jad, Ann Arbor, or its image, thwarts students' natural behavior. Thinking of the city not as a "real world" town but rather as a "student town where people coming from different places try to act according to specific 'norms' that belong to the town," Jad observes that stu- dents' pretenses are sometimes overcome by alcohol indulgence. "Even if people are sometimes acting snobby, they will act nat- urally, or sometimes worse, during parties. In Lebanon, snobs are snobs all the time." By 10:00, the upstairs has considerably filled up with smoke, bodies, and conversa- tion. Jad and Ata return to their conversa- tion and the street below begins to liven up. A couple blocks away from Rendezvous, the sounds of a trumpet, noise machine and polite applause reverberate in the sub- terranean walls of East Quad's Halfway Inn. Not quite Jad's "periodical snobs," the crowd here is a mixture of undergrads who are, at least ostensibly, interested in music and community. LSA junior Dave Armitage, a member of the East Quad Music Co-Op (which books and organizes the shows), remarks on the uniqueness of these shows, which usually draw between 50 and 150 people: "The Half-Ass is different from places like the Blind Pig in that we are a nonprofit venue, so all the money we make a the show goes back to the bands." Atmosphere, of course, adds to the shows: "There are also plush couches and mood lighting, making it a perfect date destination for all the lovers." Armitage suggests that the co-op is start- ing, or reviving, a new culture: "The con- certs in the dorm don't bring the culture, child, but the culture is bringing the con- certs to the dorm." Down the street from East Quad, a slightly swanky house party is underway. A small crowd gathers on the apartment's roof, which overlooks a very busy South University Avenue. LSA junior Kellan Cummings and RC freshman Natasha Stagg are perched on a ledge. While Stagg is excited about her move to Ann Arbor - "There's a lot more diversity here ... I like the overall feeling of it, compared to Grand Rapids" - Cummings's thoughts on the city lack any doses of romanticism. "There's a lot of good restaurants here; I must admit that," he offers. Then, after a pause, he adds, "There's good record stores, too. That's it." Down below, Cummings's apathy is completely contrasted as two enthusiastic students, who are coming from a very dif- ferent kind of party, share their thoughts on the city. "My favorite thing about Ann Arbor is the parties," says Dan Brown, who goes to school in Port Huron. "The frat parties," interjects LSA freshman Ron Mantell. "You don't have to pay for shit; it's awesome. You never have to pay for anything." Their tip to check out Sigma Alpha Epsi- lon (apparently it's off the hook) was not overooked. On the driveway of the loom- ing house, two sorority hopefuls explain their Greek desire. LSA freshman Jenny 5edney, who justifies.-i ushing with: 'Bsi- cally, right now, I'm going through the pro- cess till I find it annoying," is impressed with the town and "knickknack stores" around Ann Arbor. Her friend, Jessica Delaney, also an LSA freshman, looks forward to the structured sociality of sorority life: "I love having something to do constantly. I love, like, say on this day there's gonna be this party, or on this day there's gonna be this party - I love that; I think that's so fun." Though the women plan on becoming part of the Greek culture, they are still sensitive to those who don't rush. "I have a group of friends in my hall that some of them are like, 'I wanna be in a sorority,' and some of them aren't, but we still can hang out," Sedney says. The last stop of the night is Mitch's on the corner of South Forest and South Uni- versity avenues. The crowd at Mitch's is older, calmer and more clothed. Dana Con- gbon goes to Wayne State University, but frequently visits Ann Arbor. She likes the Ann Arbor bar culture, especially Mitch's, "because you don't have to be a whore to get in." Congbon and her friends get a kick out of the uber-mini-skirts that have been seizing the thighs of undergrads this sea- son and are relieved that Ann Arbor offers alternatives to frats. "Have a beer, sing some karaoke," Congbon says of the bars, "you don't need to hooch out." It's clear from Friday night's south-side expeditions that there are, in fact, many sub- cultures that lie beneath a somewhat elusive "Ann Arbor Culture." What's noteworthy, though, and a facet of the city's culture, is that these subcultures are actually represent- ed. On Saturday night, one of Ann Arbor's subcultures was celebrated with festivities in Kerrytown. "Like a Prayer" blasts outside Vaugh Court, and a swarm of people is dancing at OutFest, a festival kicking off National Coming Out Day (Oct. 11). Jeremy Merk- linger is the president of WRAP (Washtenaw Rainbow Action Project), which organizes this 10-year-old event. "This would never happen in Howell, or Grass Lake, or even Jackson," Merklinger declares. "Ann Arbor is so open-minded and liberal - it's just acceptable here to be gay." He points out that the facts that WRAP has a working relationship with the Ann Arbor police department and that the mayor came to OutFest speaks greatly of the city's toler- ance. No cultures, or subcultures, are ideal. "The (LGBT) community is very, very divided," Merklinger says. "People start to clump together with people that they understand." Of course, Merklinger's comment can be applied to many communities, including many of those in Ann Arbor. The depth and breadth of sub-cultures in Ann Arbor show- cases the diversity and community that the residents possess. Isolating a single culture to exploit, or tout as an image, seems futile and unnecessary. Perhaps the population could be appeased by this nickname: Ann Arbor - The City of Cultures. DAVID TUMAN/Daily Patrons in front of Rendezvous Cafe on South University Avenue exemplify Ann Arbor's quasi-Bohemian lifestyle while enjoying flavored tobacco from a hookah. FOREST CASEY/Daily Ann Arborites sip a few drinks on a balmy September evening in front of The Brown Jug, also on on South University Avenue. Students purchase snacks at the Halfway Inn (also known as the Half-Ass), a venu