Winter 2011: Why the @#$% do we live here?

"We live in a beautiful city," said Lynn, one of my relentlessly perky friends in Minneapolis. As she said this, we were engaged in certain behavior observed only among native Midwesterners: We were taking a pre-dawn run around Lake Calhoun on a bone-chilling January morning. Among other things, I was wearing a hat, a muffler, two pairs of gloves, a "base layer" of Dri-Fit tights, and a pair of winter running pants that cost $130. What on earth was Lynn talking about?

As we rounded the lake's southern edge, I managed to wrest the ice-encrusted muffler from my face and finally saw it: the twinkling lights of downtown Minneapolis, radiant against the city's unpolluted, subzero skies. I turned my head. I rolled my eyes. I saw nothing beautiful about this winter scene. In this moment, I only wanted to escape this miserable and antiseptic icebox.

Lucky me. Within the month, I would accept a new job and move cross-country to Boston, where at least it's somewhat warmer. Unlucky me. Exhausted and defeated, I would eventually come running home to Minneapolis, where at least a million things are better than in other U.S. cities. Take it from me, and people like me who left the Twin Cities only to return: Life here is pretty good.

Sure, New York City and San Francisco also have top-notch grocers. But with more natural-food co-ops per capita than any other state, Minnesota has a thicker spread. Here in the Twin Cities, we also enjoy fine local institutions like Kowalski's and Lunds -- they spoil us with fresh produce and tasty artisan groceries. "It's like going to Balducci's in New York," says arts writer Julie Caniglia of her neighborhood Kowalski's. "Only they have more stuff -- and it's cheaper."

"The bike paths here are amazing, and nothing compared to where I lived in Phoenix or even San Diego," says Gretchen Ditto, a Minneapolitan whose unusual career spans fashion and finance. A pair of physically fit Minneapolitans, Ditto and her husband just completed their first Ironman Triathlon in November. The experience made her all the more appreciative of the city's abundant trails. Thanks to the Twin Cities' dense off-road network, she completed multiple 100-mile training rides with relative safety and ease. "It meant I could train without cars," she says. "It meant I could train without getting hit." Formerly of San Francisco, a telecommunications manager and hard-core bike commuter named Jim Kruzitski appreciates Twin Cities trails for another reason: "They're actually useful for transportation," he says. "For example, I see people pedaling to Twins games. In other areas, trails go nowhere and have no connection to anything practical."

Within weeks of returning to Minneapolis from Boston, I found myself seated in the 75-person Cedar Riverside People's Center Theater. Everyone there paid no more than $18 to see "After the Quake," a fantastic production by Minneapolis-based Walking Shadow Theatre Company. After alternating between the corporate arts organizations and college/conservatory productions of Boston, I relished this encounter with independent art made by grownups -- at a bargain price. "These small- and medium-sized organizations are everywhere in the Twin Cities," observes Adam Wahlberg, an editor and music lover who once lived in Seattle. Sure, many other metros have rich arts scenes. Ours is surprisingly sophisticated, smart and diverse. Also, regarding the storied Twin Cities music scene: Our riches include awesome rock venues (First Avenue, 400 Bar), one of the country's coolest radio stations (89.3 the Current), one of the world's best orchestras and legendary spawns (Prince, Paul Westerberg).

A well-traveled Twin Citian knows all about the glorious farm-to-table restaurants in Portland, Ore. Maybe she's even chomped her way across the ethnic eateries of Los Angeles. Thing is, her hometown boasts something many big cities don't: a bunch of cozy chef-driven restaurants with reasonably priced meals, ideal for weeknight dining. "If you can't get a reservation, you can usually find a seat at the bar," observes Alexis Walsko, a globetrotting publicist who used to split her time between Denver and Minneapolis (now she's full-time here). Her favorite destinations for spontaneous dining include 112 Eatery, Barrio, the Bachelor Farmer, Tilia and Sea Change. "All are brilliant, inviting and so friendly," says Walsko. As for ultra-frugal diners like me: Heaven is a place called Wilde Roast Cafe, Moose & Sadie's or Common Roots. Many cities simply don't have such tasty organic meals for under 10 bucks!

True story: A cruel fate awaits many a native Minnesotan who flees the arctic chill by moving to another city. Of moving to Seattle, editor Wahlberg remembers, "It was the difference between being cold and wet. Out there, it's always this mist. It's in your clothes and you're constantly wet. I felt much colder in Seattle than I ever did in Minneapolis." In my case, I spent my worst Boston evening trudging through stinging rains and 30 mile-per-hour winds. Then I shivered all night in my frigid apartment -- my landlady, a typical New Englander, entertained romantic fascinations with drafty old houses. Thank goodness for skyways and my toasty new home in Minneapolis.

Forget "Minnesota Nice" (that's an allusion to our darker tendencies anyway). This regards our pleasant habits of professionalism and decorum, which enable Twin Cities residents to have peaceable interactions while moving about the city. This struck author Neal Karlen when he returned to Minnesota after 10-plus years in New York. "Just going to the grocery store, and not getting hockey-elbowed as I reached for an apple -- it was nice," he says. It's true, the contrast is less stark for those who returned from the Left Coast. Wahlberg, the editor, found Seattleites civil enough. He still thinks Minnesotans are more polite. "We've perfected the art of being helpful," he says. "Sometimes it seems artificial -- but where else do you see strangers running across the street to push someone's car out of the ditch?"

We Minnesotans are famous for our strong work ethic -- too bad for us, we're also known to punch in at 8 a.m. Few outsiders realize, however, that our eager relationship with work has a fortunate flipside: The Midwestern boss-man lets you off the hook by 6, sometimes 5 p.m. This point will resonate more with reverse migrants from the East Coast, since the West Coast has its own culture of rest (think of Seattle's Sun Breaks, for which workers spontaneously flock outdoors to soak up rays). Here in the Twin Cities, a pair of former Best Buy employees have even mastered (and bottled) the formula for work-life balance: they invented R.O.W.E., aka the Results Only Work Environment, a flex-time strategy that makes for happier, more productive worker bees. Minnesotans are also big proponents of Summer Fridays. "A lot of companies here institute half-day Fridays in the summer," says Gretchen Ditto, the finance-fashion expert whose job entails plenty of travel. "I don't see that anywhere else."

Granted, this isn't Portland, Ore., the nation's undisputed brew capital. But Minneapolis has a burgeoning beer scene that's starting to attract a smattering of thirsty tourists. According to Michael Agnew, a certified cicerone (think sommelier for beer) and Minneapolis transplant: "Minneapolis is one of the major up-and-comers" in the beer world. "We've had three breweries open in the past year: Harriet, Steel Toe and now Lucid Brewing," he says. "It's a fast-growing scene, and what's happening here is by and large very good." For proof of our rising supremacy, simply hit one of your neighborhood beer bars for a flight of local suds. Agnew suggests the Happy Gnome or the Muddy Pig, both in St. Paul.

Face it, we enjoy a luxurious amount of space out here on the prairie. That roominess can be downright shocking for those returning from New York, Washington, D.C., or San Francisco. Julie Caniglia, the arts writer who lived in New York, was impressed with the wide hallways and closet space she found while shopping for apartments back in Minneapolis. "I started apartment hunting in January," remembers Caniglia. "That was the tradeoff for the weather -- look at all the space I can get!" Bonus: When something breaks in that castle of yours, the average Minnesota handyman doesn't require baby-sitting. He's usually prompt, helpful and honest. And he doesn't even want a tip. That doesn't play in some places -- yes, Manhattan, I'm talking about you.