There are plenty of reasons why Central Iowa is a terrific place to live.
Here are some of the best.

We talk a lot - as a community - about what we need, what we want, what we don't have, what we should have. As residents of Central Iowa, there is much to complain about. Our cities are far from fiscally fit. Our property taxes are high. Our schools aren't what they used to be. Corporate welfare is staggering. There are hints of corruption and hints of incompetence regarding our leaders. And the list goes on and on.

However, none of those things make us unique. The bad in any community is typically a carbon copy of the bad in communities the country over - big and small. Living in Los Angeles does not make civic sleaze and failing schools any more tolerable simply because one has a view of the ocean. And the same can be said for the proximity of the Rockies in Denver, Broadway in New York or the small-town charms of Anywhere, U.S.A.

Do these places have amenities we do not? Obviously. But they also understand the pain and suffering of problems we'll never know. From the Seattle Fish market to the unlatched screen doors on the houses which sit off of rarely traveled country roads, we're all dissimilar. And while having a growing downtown, or excellent theater and opera, or a lower cost of living, or world-class museums, or fine independent restaurants, or miles of bike trails, or a vastly improving music scene are hardly worth puffing out our collective chest and strutting around, when blended together with a number of other admirable and some inimitable characteristics, it can be difficult to say, "There's no place like home."

We've all decided, for one reason or another, to live here in Central Iowa. Maybe it was a job that brought you here. Maybe it was family that brought you back. Maybe you never left in the first place. And while many of you are geographic apologists, and while we agree that the discussion should never stop regarding what we need, what we want, what we don't have and what we should have, if one stops to think reasonably about where we stand as a community, it is impossible not to celebrate being a Central Iowan.

Of course, we would love to have the ocean, too, and the mountains. But until the next huge meteor hits, we'll roll with the Butter Cow.

A good bang for your buck

Even the most audacious social butterflies often find themselves smashed into the windshield of financial reality when they leave the lush landscape of Central Iowa.

You can count on Cityview to be the first to malign anyone who says there's nothing to do in Des Moines, but its not uncommon to hear the laments of those who left the Des Moines area for greener fields and found they didn't have the cash to graze like they did back home. This is a city where you can live two blocks from venues that host big-city extravaganzas like "The Lion King" and Paul McCartney and still pay next to nothing in rent for your downtown digs. This is a city where you can get a live music fix at a local club virtually every night of the week and pay so little in cover, you can get completely trashed and still have plenty of cash on hand for even greater indulgences over the weekend. Not to mention, Central Iowa's civic inferiority complex works in favor of your wallet, with municipalities bending over backwards to throw your tax dollars right back at you with events and concerts that will cost you next to nothing.

So you think you'd be living the high life in cultural hubs like Chicago or Minneapolis? Unless you want to be living in some overpriced closet, dining on Ramen noodles and Natty Ice to save enough for the privilege of being financially raped by self-important venues, landlords and businesses, you'd probably be better off banking on the always-improving lifestyle of Central Iowa. In fact, if we just stopped thinking of ourselves as second rate we might realize that, in Des Moines, we've got nearly all the trimmings without paying for the pretension. And that's a bargain.

March Madness

Sure, every state has high school sports tournaments, but March Madness in Des Moines is unique. First of all, there is nothing anywhere like Iowa's state wrestling championships. It's been completely sold out for decades and it is the best-attended wrestling tournament in America, driven by a mob fanaticism that attracts college recruiters, international media and behavioral psychologists.

From the Big Sioux to the Little Nodaway valleys, communities storm the skywalks wearing the face paint and colors of their singlet-bedecked warriors. While tribes from Lost Nation and What Cheer demand respect from the 21st century's luckier townships, Des Moines' malls grapple with each other for coveted shoppers, running shuttle busses to the Iowa Events Center. Wrestling week is, by far, the busiest time of the year for Des Moines bridal stores. Apparently, nothing makes girls want to dress to the nines like watching boys score points in same-sex violence.

Hoopsters next take the big stage with less fanatic fans, but deeper histories. In the case of the Iowa girls' basketball tournament, the oldest in the nation, the tradition even outdates a woman's right to vote. By the time boy cagers crown their champs, downtown Des Moines has spent a solid month impersonating a high-school playground, where one's colors really matter and heroes are forged the old fashioned way, by keeping their heads under fire.

Our music scene is no turkey

Hey pilgrim, the Des Moines music scene may not be as phat as those found in larger markets, but it's no turkey thanks to the efforts of independent businesspeople who continue to stick their necks out, often at great financial risk, to improve this city's cultural offerings.

In case you haven't noticed, there's a cornacopia of small venues catering to our eclectic music tastes these days, and that's no small feat when you consider the fact that the music industry is in a recession. In the past year, we've seen a few clubs like Roadhouse 69 and The Playground close, but we've also seen a few emerge, including the Walnut Tap, the Ritual CafŽ and the new House of Bricks.

During that period we've also witnessed venues like Blues on Grand, Hairy Mary's, Keyster's, the Vaudeville Mews and the Lighthouse Coffeehouse continue to book prominent national acts while perhaps some lesser-known, but equally important places for live music like the Hull Avenue Tavern, Orlondo's, AK O'Connor's, Court Avenue Brewing Company, Raccoon River Brewing Company, Kenny D's, the Hessen Haus, Java Joes and Bourbon Street South faithfully host local bands and their fans.

And though we're happy the Wells Fargo Arena, Val Air Ballroom and outdoor amphitheater shows bring some much-needed balance to the music scene, small venues are the meat and potatoes that sustain it, and their owners are the risk takers who too often are forced to find creative ways to keep their doors open in the name of promoting live music. They're also the places where music matters the most, where fans can feel the music up close and personal and interact with artists, whether it's through the music or by getting an autograph. When was the last time you were able to do that at a ballroom, an outdoor festival or an arena?

Anderson Erickson products

The folks at Anderson Erickson dairy hear the tales all the time of the extent some individuals will go to in order to get their products when not in the company's hometown. The woman from Des Moines who spends the winter months in Hawaii who packs the sour cream Party Dip - the kind with the blue lid - in dry ice to take with her (even though 9/11 has hampered this practice somewhat); the New Yorker who has his mother FedEx AE yogurt to him almost weekly; and the relocated Iowan living in Southern California whose first stop when coming back to town isn't home, but rather the grocery store to load up on AE large curd cottage cheese. In fact, ask any expatriate what he or she misses most about Central Iowa and one is bound to hear all about sweet acidophilus milk.

"It's a cult-like following," says AE Marketing Specialist Betsy Hoye, who admits that when she first got on the job years ago she questioned what all the rage was about. "But you really can taste the difference."

Sound like corporate hooey to you, like Hoye is reading from a script? Probably a little. But for the hundreds of people who drop off "love letters" at the AE booth at the Iowa State Fair, the proof is in the pudding. Well, it's actually in the cottage cheese, and yogurt, and ice cream and chocolate milk.

"They tell us how they send it to their kids at college who are homesick, or to their parents who move south for the winter," Hoye says. "It's pretty incredible, the loyalty."

And the secret is out. Anderson Erickson products are in Kansas City, Omaha and the suburbs of both Minneapolis and Chicago, and the company is flexing its muscle in those markets, as well.

"It's all about superior taste," Hoye says. "Better ingredients. A little more time spent to make a better product."

Dave Barry once said when covering the caucuses here, "Wow, the AE Cows. I've got all their albums." A dip jealous about dip.

The Des Moines Art Center

In 1916, eccentric recluse James D. Edmundson endowed the creation of a major art center here. With uncanny foresight, he stipulated the museum be built west of town, far from the coal-fouled downtown air of the early 20th century. Edmundson also demanded the museum always be free to visitors. As a result, the delightful architectural hodgepodge of three great architects has given Greenwood Park a museum without the elitist baggage that accompanies such institutions in most other cities.
That was particularly clear in recent years, as the museum became unusually community-oriented. The serendipitous relationship with the city park led to stunning outdoor sculptures by Mary Miss and Andy Goldsworthy. The recently upgraded Clare and Miles Mills Rose Garden brought hundreds of wedding parties to the shadow of the I. M. Pei wing. (Legend has it, the illustrious architect was so pleased with this work he signed it - the south windows bearing his Mandarin name.) And though the Des Moines Arts Fest outgrew the museum that founded it, wildly popular events like the Day of the Dead festival still reach out to the changing demographics of Des Moines. A unique partnership with Wells Fargo Financial made a downtown annex possible, appealing to young office workers. And Director Jeff Fleming has taken the museum to new glory, turning personal contacts with world-renowned artists like Christian Jankowski into American debuts that much larger museums envy.

Local theater

Des Moines has never been lauded as a mecca for culture. Yet here we are, toiling away to change all that, thanks to some likeminded individuals who have taken it upon themselves to create an environment where the arts are embraced.

Take, for instance, the local performing arts scene. Sure, we've got plenty of Broadway productions coming through town each year - including an unprecedented four-week stint for Disney's "The Lion King" - thanks to the Civic Center of Greater Des Moines. But we've also got plenty of excellent community theater troupes offering quality entertainment options, and there always seems to be at least one at any given time being staged in Greater Des Moines.

In fact, support for local theater has grown so much, and Des Moines and Iowa have so many quality theater options that some forward-thinking minds involved with StageWest decided our fair city deserved its own fringe festival, an opportunity usually afforded to much larger markets and for a much more liberal pool of theatergoers. Yet somehow the inaugural Iowa Fringe Festival took place this past summer over four days in five venues, giving 20 different performance groups the chance to perform edgy, offbeat or untried theater pieces. And it went so well the powers that be are going to try to do it again next year.

Included in the festival was Aggravated Assault Ensemble, a group of intense performers based out of Iowa City, who also recently brought a production of the progressive and controversial "Mustapha's Bride" to the Vaudeville Mews stage. Further pushing the comfort levels of Central Iowans is Des Moines Area Community College theater, led by the creative genius of teacher and playwright William Johnson.

Then there's StageWest itself, who, in addition to putting together the Iowa Fringe Festival, isn't afraid to take chances with its theater season. This year included the challenge of bringing "Angels in America," a play of epic proportions, to the Civic Center's Stoner Studio Theater. And finally there's the abundance of comedy groups, both improv and sketch, which have amassed their faithful followings.

If all of these entities keep it up, Des Moines might just become the mecca for culture and entertainment that the naysayers believe it never will be. In fact, many would say we're already well on our way.

We're a place to grow

If only Bill Knapp were in the boat business instead of land development, local politicians might be convinced to flood half the state to give young folks the seaside opportunities they crave.

In other capital cities around the nation, employers are drowning in a constant flood of new talent, and dime-a-dozen college grads are lucky to land a shit-paying internship. Not so in Iowa. Here legislators are so desperate to hold on to the up-and-coming demographic they actually considered exempting under-30s from state income taxes. In other regions, candidates with short resumes are quickly shown the door, but, with the rest of the state graying at a frightening rate, Central Iowa is a place where eager-eyed kids are given a chance to show their potential, and bureaucrats don't discount their opinions, but rather go out of their way to embrace them.

And the Generation-Y veneration is indicative of a larger trend. In Central Iowa there is room to grow - and we're not talking about those nauseating developments out in the 'burbs. Because the metro is hungry for improvement, desperate for identity, and eager to nurture new initiative from the general ranks of the apathetic, this is ground zero for jumpstarting your career or putting into action whatever vision of social justice (or self-promotion) is knocking around in your head. Here, passion is just as important as past experience, and, while we certainly have a handful of pompous "leaders" who have incredibly narrow templates for success, rubbing elbows with the elite is fairly easy when most of them are the kind of folks who are sweating it out on the stairstepper next to you at the YMCA.

Sure, everyone has aspirations of climbing to the top of their field and gazing down at the big-city skyline from their corner office, or sparking a social movement that improves the lives of countless global citizens, but you've got to start somewhere. In Central Iowa, instead of being just another nameless nobody, you're the next great hope. And, ocean or not, that's the kind of foundation that almost assures smooth sailing ahead.

Downtown's continued revival

Over the past few years, downtown Des Moines has happened, and it has happened in a huge way. Housing developments, world-class museums, an extension of Central Iowa's exceptional recreational trails to finally put the riverfront to good use, a Western Gateway that will hopefully be an outstanding welcome mat, an arena that has already attracted some of the world's biggest acts, more workers than ever, and the revival of downtown doesn't seem to be slowing down.

In the old days, the boarded-up windows at Babe's were a disturbing sign that downtown was going the way of the dinosaur. Now boarded-up windows more than likely mean there is work going on - a new office, a new restaurant, new shopping - capitalizing on the vision that downtown can and will eventually be a world-class city center and a true neighborhood that doesn't go into hibernation when the clock strikes 5.
Simply put, it's an idea whose time has come.

From large-scale events like Winefest and Taste of Des Moines, to weekly summer concert series on the river, to the sidewalks of East Village stealing some of the skywalks' pulse, to Dam-to-Dam runners spilling into Nollen Plaza, to our most popular happening, the farmers' market, to an arts festival that makes the rest of the nation red with envy, downtown is making more of a splash with each passing day. Not to mention, the people are sticking around. And be it for an entire day or an evening out or for good, downtown has a bright light shining on it that developers and business owners cannot help but be attracted to and, in turn, act on.

Des Moines, historically not in step with the times due to shoddy city leadership and your typical feet-draggers is smack dab in the middle of the biggest wave seen downtown since the floods of '93. With this wave, though, comes a promise that greatness can be achieved, that we can be more than even we ever thought we could be.

Drake Relays

As "America's Athletic Classic" closes in on its 100th birthday, its physical body is having a complete makeover, even though its soul still runs with the illustrious ghosts of Jesse Owens and Wilma Rudolph. The Relays is not just a track meet anymore, but, to paraphrase F. Scot Fitzgerald, it is rather the happy coincidence of the perfect time and the right place. Des Moines is never so beautiful as it is on the last Saturday in April, when magnolias yield to lilacs and the grass is greener than youthful dreams of victory stands. The Relays brings grade-school runners to the same arena as Olympic champions, making it a rite of passage for young athletes, and an interactive weekend on which anyone might stand in line for smoked turkey legs with a gold medalist.

It is also Des Moines' most cosmopolitan weekend, with both fans and participants coming from all 50 states and more than a dozen foreign countries. Thousands more come from afar for reunions and parties, some of which have been going on for more than a half century. And by the time it's over, Des Moines will have crowned new champions in everything from a "Most Beautiful Bulldog" contest to a Mascot Relays, running will be cool again on playgrounds across the state, and someone from Kenya or Korea will be back home talking about this wonderful town in the middle of America.

Two-wheel momentum

Don't let the stereotypes of fat people and flat landscapes deceive you into thinking Central Iowa's got no air in its tires when it comes to those on two wheels. Sure, we're nationally known for RAGBRAI, but the cycling scene is a whole lot broader than one drunken marathon for those who get a kick out of dressing up and peeing in corn fields.

In Central Iowa, biking isn't just a sport for the fitness nuts and the granola-munchers. In Des Moines, biking is trendy - artistic bike racks have public unveilings in the likes of the East Village. In the metro, biking is increasingly practical. Thanks to a federal grant, you can now throw your bike on the front of public buses to ensure you stay alive during the most treacherous stretches of our still unsafe streets. Not to mention, biking is the darling of economic development and corporate philanthropy - just ask Principal, who ponied up millions to green their corporate image and city leaders, who are touting the Riverwalk as the best thing since pork tenderloin.

And that buzz is contributing to what those in the know say is a surprisingly satisfying place to be a cyclist. Not only can you start in the middle of downtown Des Moines and, barely leaving the safety of your paved path, find yourself enjoying a less-hectic landscape as you head north to Big Creek State Park via a vista of Saylorville Lake, west past Adel and Panora all the way to Jefferson, or south through the farm fields to Martensdale, but more connections for off-street paths around the metro will make the urban landscape even more accessible for bikers in 2006. Taking a wider view, just last week the Iowa Natural Heritage Foundation announced plans for a new path from Ankeny to Woodward that will augment an already impressive network of rails-to-trails in Polk County, and private and public organizations are taking strides toward the creation of loops through Central Iowa that will keep residents and tourists peddling for more than 100 miles a pop. And, while we're generally lacking in the topography department, there are even increasing options for the more rugged two-wheelers, with new mountain-biking trails slated for Indianola and Coon Rapids next year.

We all know that "if you build it, they will come," and if the momentum keeps up, we might have a construction boom that puts Central Iowa on the board for something other than an obese populace that gears up for one ostentatious annual ride.

Pilgrim chefs

Des Moines dreams about new industries attracting young entrepreneurs, while here in Central Iowa the oldest profession ("dinner first, sex later") is already a magnet for talented, young chefs who want to own their destiny. Some came from halfway around the world: Liam Anivat (Cool Basil and Thai Flavors) and Mao Heineman (King & I) whose Thai touches taught the city to love lemongrass; Ng Tran (Pho 777) who upgraded Vietnamese food to classic levels at start-up prices; "Baba" Singh (India Star), whose clay-oven specialties turned chicken into a royal bird; Chris Jackson (Cookery) whose brand new cafŽ brings West African soul to Drake's Dogtown. From south of the border, chefs like Rosa Martinez Ruiz (La Rosa), Antonio Berber (Carnitas Don Javier), Carlos de Luna (El Salvador de Mundo) and Carmen de Avila (La Pena) have turned us on to authentic, in some cases, totally scratch native American cuisine.

Within our 50 states, Cy Gushiken (Ohana) came from Hawaii with island fantasies and Japanese nuances; Dan Vuong (Mimosa, Belwood French Bakery) came from the culinary wonderland of Monterrey Park, California, and gave us French Indochinese flair; Louisianan Rob Beaseley (Mojo) brought Cajun boldness; Jeremy Morrow (Star Bar) delivered southern roots and California style from his Nashville and Northern California background. While Georgian Andrew Meek (Sage) came with a bag full of Atlantic Coast manners. And along with colleagues too numerous to mention, they all made this the most interesting culinary town between Denver and Chicago.

The Iowa State Fair

While we can get a good gander at some of the worst fashion faux pas, stringy mullets and shady hygiene practices that Central Iowa has to offer just by taking a day trip to Wal-Mart, that experience pales in comparison to the statewide freak show that is the Iowa State Fair. Every August they come in droves, sporting those black socks and sandals, those cheeks that hang unwisely out of the bottom of their cut-off jeans, those too-tight clothes that reveal every nook and cranny of their deep-fat-fried-Twinkie-filled frames.

But that's not the only reason we love the Iowa State Fair. We also love the fair for the veritable smorgasbord of culinary options. (Can you use the world "culinary" in reference to foods that come on a stick?) And beyond that, we love it because it embraces the agricultural ethos of our state, measuring the biggest cucumber and rewarding the largest boar (and his sizeable balls).

This internationally acclaimed marvel of a fair was recently named by Midwest Living magazine as one of the "Top 30 Things Every Midwesterner Should Experience," and is listed in the New York Times best-selling travel book "1,000 Places To See Before You Die." The Iowa State Fair also served as inspiration for the internationally acclaimed novel "State Fair," three motion pictures and Rodgers and Hammerstein's Broadway musical.

More than 1 million visitors passed through the gates of the Iowa State Fairgrounds this past year, a mark that was also hit the three years previous. And while we're sure it had something to do with the rides and the food and the wacky contests and farm machinery and performance events, we're also pretty sure it had something to do with the people-watching aspect. That's why we return and will keep on returning for many years to come.

Des Moines Metro Opera

Held in opera's off-season, Des Moines Metro Opera is able to draw world-class voices to its small, stunningly personal venue. It has done this ingeniously, by casting "out of character," and, for instance, letting famous lead singers play villains here. It also succeeded because even the gilded divas of art's most pampered discipline find Indianola a marvelously warm place to aestivate, with the big happy opera family of Simpson College and Des Moines. Mostly, though, it has succeeded by the sheer force of Maestro Robert Larsen's personality. Larsen could have left Iowa years ago, for a dream job in New York, but his calling was still saying, "Des Moines." For that, we will always be thankful and richer.

It takes a confident, daring singer to answer Larsen's challenge: The worst seat in the Blank Center's Pote Theatre is closer to the stage than the best seats in New York's Metropolitan Opera house. And while that can be intimidating to singers, it affords the audience a rare and precious opportunity. So, in the best of ways, Des Moines Metro Opera epitomizes the quality of life in Central Iowa: What we might lack in frequency, or scope of production, we more than compensate with intimacy.

We're just the right size

If you've ever been stuck in a three-hour traffic jam with millions of other drivers in Chicago or been on the uncomfortable end of blank stares from townies at the tap in Baxter, you've probably gained an appreciation for the size of Central Iowa. Life's quirky moments have a way of reminding us of that.

For all the belly-aching, planning and building we do in hopes of making us something we're not, it makes you wonder if anyone truly appreciates the delicate balance we strike by living in Des Moines and, yes, its suburbs. As a matter of fact, those of us who live, work and play in Central Iowa are afforded a lot of opportunities folks in small and big cities don't have - namely the option of being recognized or becoming just another face in the crowd.

Oh, sure, it sucks when you run into an ex or that asshole you had to answer to at your old job. Those are the times when you wish you could walk by someone on a crowded street and they wouldn't even notice you. But isn't it nice to know the manager of the grocery store or the gal behind the bar who knows your name? Not to mention, it's certainly worth having to drive only five minutes to the pharmacy or gas station - that is, of course, if you're not stuck on the Bermuda tarmac known as I-235.

But unless you have an ego the size of Mo Dana's and feel the need to be seen everywhere you go, there are also enough nooks and crannies for you to hide on every side of Des Moines, to keep to yourself, to raise your family and do your job quietly and thoughtfully. Sometimes, just losing yourself in anonymity is reward enough for living here. And for that, we're utterly thankful. CV

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