Weekend Guides for the Curious Traveler
Detroit

Come early, and hungry. On Saturdays, the open-air sheds start buzzing as soon as the sun wakes up, and the first arrivals get prime pick of the heaping greens, tomatoes, jams, and pickles. More than 125 years after the market debuted, a busy afternoon might see 45,000 people browsing the produce, plants, and packaged foods. Many of the goods on offer arrive from farms in neighboring counties, and some are harvested within city limits. Wander the market’s stalls, nibbling as you go, and duck into some of the surrounding letterpress print shops, record stores, and antique shops flanking the main drag.

Once you’ve had your fill, walk a few blocks over to the Detroit Market Garden, a 2.5-acre farm that donates half its yield to local charities. Urban gardening sprouted in Detroit in the 1890s; today, the city is home to roughly 1,500 plots, where growers tend to everything from kale and collards to pigs, goats, and emu. These grounds and hoop houses close to visitors at 3 p.m., so show up earlier to survey seedlings up close, and the skyscrapers in the distance.

The farm opens up right onto this path, a two-mile long stretch of lonely and disused land made beautiful. The former rail line is now a paved greenway, most of which is below street-level. The route is a pretty spot for an afternoon amble or bike ride, streaking past colorful murals and graffiti. Rent wheels at one of the city’s local bike shops, or buy an $8 day pass to borrow one from MoGo—the city’s bikeshare program—which has a station in the market, at the corner of Wilkins Street and Russell Street. 

Chances are good you’ll smell Bert’s from down the block—there’s often a meat smoker puffing away on the sidewalk—but there’s plenty more inside. Locals stuff in for barbecued ribs, fried catfish, cookie-smothered banana pudding, and fruity pound cake, to be eaten in booths crowded with records, photographs, and other paraphernalia that nod to the glory days of Motown. At night, the backroom's red leather barstools and checkerboard floors fill up for blues and jazz sets, dance lessons, and wrestling matches. If you’ve got space left in your belly, walk over to Mootown Ice Cream & Dessert Shoppe and order a Boston Cooler, a vanilla float made with a can of throat-prickling Vernor’s ginger ale, a local speciality.

Deliciously musty books, maps, magazines, and assorted ephemera—roughly a million in all—are stacked across four floors of this drafty former glove factory. (Chandeliers, framed notes, photos, comics, and the odd taxidermied critter jut out from ceilings and walls, so mind your arms and head.) The staff doesn’t keep electronic tabs on what’s on the shelves, so you’ll need to put some stock in serendipity. If you’ve called ahead to make an appointment, you can peruse first-editions and leather-bounds in the rare book room. Otherwise, grab a map by the entrance to get your bearings, then get to wandering. Rifle through magic and Freemasonry titles on the first floor, then head upstairs for biology, mythology, and hundreds of startlingly precise categories, from “holiday cooking” to “clowning and juggling.” Plastic milk crates in the narrow aisles double as step-stools and mildly uncomfortable chairs.

Thousands of strands of beads—spanning centuries, African countries, and materials, from shells to seeds and snake vertebrae—hang in this gallery that occupies the entire first floor of a rowhouse spangled with bright paint and mirrored mosaics. Olayami Dabls, the driving force behind the project, has been collecting beads for decades, and holds court in the gallery. He also built a sprawling sculpture park behind the house, full of poetic fables rendered in rock and metal.

All over this city, artists have also transformed vacant lots into vibrant outdoor installations. Make a quick detour to this park with an eco-minded mission. Built on a former industrial site, and on the grounds of a recycling facility, Lincoln Street Art Park is home to an evolving slew of installations—painted tires, plastic lean-tos, and more, all made from repurposed materials.

You’re just a few minutes away from this nonprofit indie theater, which sits inside a former furniture warehouse. This is an unabashedly lo-fi operation: The screens are a far cry from IMAX, and the seating consists of mismatched, charmingly sagging couches, plus rows of seats salvaged when a fancier movie palace, a few miles north, was renovating. Grab a little bag of popcorn, a can of local Faygo soda, and settle in for a new documentary or a re-release.

Start your day in the middle of the Detroit River, on this verdant, 982-acre island just barely across the border from Windsor, Canada. A full loop around the perimeter will wind you past most of its tucked-away sights, from the ruined, fenced-off remains of the Detroit Children’s Zoo to the glass-topped conservatory and the recently restored aquarium, known for its collection of paddle-nosed gar. For a lesson in the region’s maritime history, stop at the Dossin Great Lakes Museum, where exhibits include a sleek hydroplane and an anchor from the wrecked SS Edmund Fitzgerald, which sank in Lake Superior in 1975. As you round the last turn on the way back to the bridge, pull over and admire the Detroit skyline from a surprise patch of sandy beach.

Back on the mainland, it’s time for lunch. Detroit’s hot dog of choice is the Coney Dog—piled high with chili, diced onions, and a squiggle of mustard—and a number of restaurants wrestle to lay claim to the best in town. Two of the contenders happen to be right next door to each other. Local legend has it that Lafayette Coney Island and American Coney Island were founded, in the early 20th century, by two brothers, and the two greasy spoons have jostled for dominance ever since. Your best bet is a taste test with a side of fries.  

From the outside, this Art Deco skyscraper is imposing: It shoots 40 stories high, and two stone figures stand sentry by the doors. The real marvel, though, isn’t visible from the sidewalk. The building’s promenade is one of the city’s best views, just upstairs from an unassuming snack shop and the county commissioners’ offices. Everything from the elevator banks to the soaring vault ceiling is awash in color. The geometric blue, green, and ochre mosaics—made by Pewabic, a local pottery firm—borrow from Aztec and American Indian patterns, while a massive mural of the state of Michigan, ribboned with gilded details, looms on the far wall. The apparel company Pure Detroit, which has a shop in the building, offers free history tours on many Saturdays and Sundays. RSVPs are not required, but email tours@puredetroit.com or call (313) 873-6004 to learn more.

A trip up Woodward Avenue will land you at the Garden Bowl, where bowling balls have been rolling for 105 years. It’s the oldest continually operating bowling alley in the city, and is steeped in local lore. Chatty staffers regale visitors with stories about how National Guardsmen and police officers bowled a few frames in the summer of 1967, as riots roiled the smoldering city beyond its doors. One rumor, since dispelled, told that Houdini performed his final show in the theater upstairs. (In reality, his last bow was at the nearby Garrick Theater, and he died in a local hospital on Halloween, 1926.) It may not have felled an infamous magician, but the Garden Bowl has neon signs, a carpet decorated with patterns of pins, and plenty of pizza and beer.