My home for the next few days is a converted warehouse in the city’s hippest neighbourhood: the North Loop, or Warehouse District. Built in 1897 as a showroom for agricultural tools, the building is now one of Minneapolis’s hotspots – the Hewing Hotel. High ceilings, exposed beams, and views across the brick facades of neighbouring warehouses. Step outside, and you’re wrapped in history and reinvention. Old industrial blocks now hum with galleries, restaurants, coffee roasters and design studios. The district is lined up for the National Register of Historic Places – sixty-two grand warehouses, six to eight storeys high, each with stories to tell.
Before wandering deeper, I head for Hennepin Avenue. Just a ten-minute walk brings me face to face with a fifty-metre-tall mural honouring Bob Dylan: The Times They Are A-Changin’, painted by Brazilian artist Eduardo Kobra. A kaleidoscope of colour, it captures three versions of Dylan – from the young folk troubadour who once played smoky bars in Dinkytown to the icon who would change the sound of a generation.
In the late fifties, Dinkytown – just across the Mississippi, near the university – was the beating heart of the local folk scene. Here, a young Robert Zimmerman performed in tiny cafés and clubs. Legend has it he invented his stage name minutes before one of his sets.
Back in the Warehouse District, I wander through streets that once roared with industry. My walking route takes me past a 19th-century pasta factory, a Studebaker carriage works, and a Ford assembly warehouse from 1914. Each building breathes its own story.
At 718 North Washington Avenue stands the Soho Lofts – once home to a small candy business started by Frank C. Mars. After two failed attempts, he struck gold in 1922. A year later, the Milky Way bar made him a millionaire, and the Mars family a dynasty. Snickers, Mars, Twix – all followed. A century later, Mars Inc. remains family-owned, among the richest in the US.
Coffee at Backstory. A run along the Mississippi. And dinner at one of the most remarkable restaurants in the country: Owamni. Here, chef Sean Sherman – an Oglala Lakota Native American – cooks using the ingredients and techniques of his ancestors: bison, hand-harvested wild rice, sumac. No wheat, sugar or dairy – nothing brought later by Europeans.
‘As a young chef,’ Sherman says in a podcast, ‘I was shocked that nobody cooked with the ingredients of this land. On our reservation we lived on tinned food. Colonisation erased our culinary roots – yet we still foraged for berries, we still hunted.’
Owamni is his response – a modern Indigenous restaurant built on ancient wisdom. From my table on the terrace, I gaze out over the Mississippi. Most of the staff are Native American, just as Sherman intended. My hand-harvested wild rice with dried berries is nutty, earthy, and far more complex than I imagined.
This restaurant could only have thrived in Minneapolis – a city defined by curiosity, inclusivity, and courage to lead. During my stay, the Pride Parade floods the streets in colour. Despite national politics leaning elsewhere, this city chooses openness. It’s in its DNA – a trading post turned cultural crossroads where everyone who arrived left a trace behind.
For a history lesson with flair, I visit the Mill City Museum – built inside what was once the largest flour mill in the world, producing a million kilos of flour a day. Half museum, half ruin, it’s an absolute gem on the riverfront. For the best panorama, head next door to the Guthrie Theater. Its modern steel-blue design ends in a suspended bridge hovering over the Mississippi – a masterpiece of architecture.
Crossing the Stone Arch Bridge, a former railway line from 1883, I find myself in the city’s quieter half. Below, the St. Anthony Falls churn – not a single drop from a cliff, but a powerful, roaring current. This was the natural limit for boats navigating the Mississippi, the reason Minneapolis grew as an industrial hub.
Minneapolis and neighbouring Saint Paul are often mentioned together as the Twin Cities – siblings sharing history but not temperament. Minneapolis looks outward: creative, cosmopolitan. Saint Paul looks inward: traditional, community-focused, graced with grand buildings like the Cathedral, the 1893 Capitol, and the 1902 Landmark Center.
One of the region’s most fascinating landmarks lies just outside town: Paisley Park, the home and studio of Prince. The complex once hosted everyone from Madonna to R.E.M. to Sting. My guide leads me through the rooms – the massive party hall, recording studios filled with guitars, and the purple-lit lounge where Prince redefined pop culture.
As night falls, the Warehouse District hums again. Streets fill with music and laughter. Boutiques glow with minimalist fashion, handmade jewellery, and prints from local designers. I end up in The Parlour Bar – hidden in a basement that feels like a Prohibition-era speakeasy. An Old Fashioned in hand, I toast the good life.
But the best is yet to come: the rooftop of my hotel. The pool bubbles, the DJ spins, and the city skyline sparkles in every shade of the rainbow. Young energy fills the air. Freedom, once again, hums through the night.
No doubt about it – it’s going to be a late one.
Travel to Minneapolis and immerse yourself in a city that welcomes the world with open arms. A place where the past is honoured, the future celebrated, and creativity never sleeps. Wander riverside trails, sip cocktails on rooftop bars, explore bold art and boundary-pushing food — a city where curiosity thrives and every street hums with possibility.
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