No theme to this one, just a dumping ground from my memories of my last two days, roaming the city on my own as the boys have been stuck at home napping and watching Japanese animation to get over their fevers and snotty noses.
On the train going uptown, a frantically cheery woman stepped on, with the voice of a kindergarten teacher with a bullhorn and began thanking us for taking her pamphlet about veganism. She preached to the captive audience about the ills of eating meat, including heart disease and impotence. He voice was getting shriller and shriller. A huge African American man in a puffy black coat made eye contact with me, rolled his eyes, and smiled when she said, "impotence." I rolled my eyes too, and we both shook our heads. By the time she told us that our bodies become "graveyards for animals" when we eat meat, she was yelling. She was scary. Then she left the train.
Nearly every New York block must have at least one coffee/deli place. I stopped in one this morning on my way to the subway. I asked for a sesame bagel with a 'shmear' and a small coffee. The lady behind the counter coudn't believe I only wanted a small. She picked up her large cup, took a sip, and toasted me. I filled my cup with half Ethiopian, half 'tiramisu' flavored. It was mediocre coffee but what a great feeling to warm my hands on the train with my cup and eat half my bagel. The other half kept me going through the afternoon when I ate it while walking down the stairs of the Met, heading to my crosstown bus, the one that cuts straight through Central Park.
I am going to miss these bagels. The smell of the fresh ones straight out of the oven, the garlic and onion, the seeds, and steam and toasters.
There was a white six-year-old boy with what looked like his nanny, a beautiful and statuesque woman who I think was African (what I could tell from her accent). She had a long-suffering way about her, that this was her charge, and she was trying her best to be patient with his nonstop questions and comments like, "Have you ever been to Harlem? I bet you've been to Harlem. What? No? You haven't been to Harlem? Why haven't you been to Harlem?" He was excited to look out the window and comment on where we were and where we were going. Upon reaching the East Side, he said, "Oh, it's the Upper East Side! I love the Upper East Side! I like it here best. I like the busy-ness. I like to be busy. I like the Upper East Side. Can you move over? You're crowding me. I want to look out. Oh, I like the Upper East Side."
Walking through the Village, I looked down to the lower level window of a Doggie Daycare business. The place was packed. Probably ten dogs were laying on cots in the middle of the room. A bulldog was, uh, inappropriately invading the personal space of a small black dog, from behind. I couldn't help snickering like a 12-year-old boy but also felt embarrassed. Finally, one of the workers yelled so loudly that I could hear it from the street, "Hey! You! Cut it out!" as he shooed the randy bulldog away.
I was disppointed that my tourguide at the Tenement Museum didn't know where Al Smith was from. Shouldn't she know that? I'm both fascinated and spooked by the old tenement housing, getting the same feeling there as I did in certain rooms at Ellis Island. New York City must have a lot of ghosts in it.
On our way to dinner, we passed Schimmel's Knishery, on Houston in the Lower East Side. If you have the chance, go. It's been around for a long time. We got a potato knish, straight out of the oven. It was one of the best things I've ever eaten. Abe forgot his hat there. We'd made it six long blocks west when we realized it was missing. I ran the whole way back to retrieve the hat (I'm not a runner, not at all). Carbo-loading via potato knish is a miraculous thing.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
New York Moment 20
Tonight after reading Abe his story in his bed, he said, "Let's talk about Little Bear," which is one of his favorite subjects.
The story about Little Bear went something like this:
Once upon a time, there was a little bear named Little Bear. He was living for a few weeks in New York City, and one day he went with Mother Bear and Father Bear on a train to a place called Yonkers to visit Father Bear's old friend Andrew. They went to Grand Central Station and got on a big train to take them to Andrew's house.
Andrew had three boys for Little Bear to play with, and the littlest boy was almost the same age as Little Bear. Little Bear kept crashing into the youngest boy so much that the boy hit Little Bear and made him cry and cry. So Mother Bear came downstairs and wiped Little Bear's tears away and told him, "Little Bear, I told you that you need to listen when your friends tell you to stop doing something." Little Bear nodded and went back to playing.
Then everyone ate some delicious salmon and couscous, and all the boys wrestled a lot. Then Little Bear got in Andrew's car to get to the station to catch the train to take them back into New York City. When they got back to the apartment, Little Bear brushed his teeth and got into bed where he fell asleep and dreamed all night about the delicious New York bagels and cream cheese he was going to eat in the morning at breakfast.
The end.
The story about Little Bear went something like this:
Once upon a time, there was a little bear named Little Bear. He was living for a few weeks in New York City, and one day he went with Mother Bear and Father Bear on a train to a place called Yonkers to visit Father Bear's old friend Andrew. They went to Grand Central Station and got on a big train to take them to Andrew's house.
Andrew had three boys for Little Bear to play with, and the littlest boy was almost the same age as Little Bear. Little Bear kept crashing into the youngest boy so much that the boy hit Little Bear and made him cry and cry. So Mother Bear came downstairs and wiped Little Bear's tears away and told him, "Little Bear, I told you that you need to listen when your friends tell you to stop doing something." Little Bear nodded and went back to playing.
Then everyone ate some delicious salmon and couscous, and all the boys wrestled a lot. Then Little Bear got in Andrew's car to get to the station to catch the train to take them back into New York City. When they got back to the apartment, Little Bear brushed his teeth and got into bed where he fell asleep and dreamed all night about the delicious New York bagels and cream cheese he was going to eat in the morning at breakfast.
The end.
Monday, January 4, 2010
New York Moment 19
Abe paid very close attention on his tour of Liberty Island and Ellis Island:
We think he's got the basics down:
We think he's got the basics down:
New York Moment 18
Strawberry Fields is, according to my Lonely Planet guidebook, the most visited part of Central Park. My niece and I entered the park from W. 72nd St. and made our way to the teardrop shaped memorial with the mosaic "Imagine" in the center, a tribute by Yoko Ono to John Lennon. My niece doesn't know very much yet about the Beatles, so I wanted her at least to see the crowds of people who are drawn to this memorial.
The "Imagine" mosaic was swarming with people posing for pictures. I wondered how many people were there just because they had the same guidebook I had and wanted a photo.
A scruffy man was sitting on one of the benches with a guitar playing Beatles songs. Three or four couples were sitting peacefully on the benches, listening to the music, seemingly there as a sort of pilgrimage. I took photos of them and walked away without one of "Imagine." This was New Year's Day.
The "Imagine" mosaic was swarming with people posing for pictures. I wondered how many people were there just because they had the same guidebook I had and wanted a photo.
A scruffy man was sitting on one of the benches with a guitar playing Beatles songs. Three or four couples were sitting peacefully on the benches, listening to the music, seemingly there as a sort of pilgrimage. I took photos of them and walked away without one of "Imagine." This was New Year's Day.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
New York Moment 17
Today by myself on the subway, four guys got on the train, one shouting at everyone, introducing us all to "the great Ben E. King." My first thought was, "Oh great, I'm closest to these guys who are just going to be asking for money or ranting about something." One day last week, a guy was loudly asking for money and I encountered another very large man walking 14th St ranting about Islam.
My fears quickly dissipated as these four men, the New York Transit System's Four Tops, began a beautiful rendition of "Stand by Me." I mean, really gorgeous harmonies and emotion. Like any New Yorker though, I wouldn't look at them directly. I did all I could to avoid eye contact. Everyone else on the train was doing the same thing. The men passed me by and an Asian tourist dropped some change into their cup. I smiled.
These kinds of things are what I'd always heard about: the energy of New York. This mishmash of people, all generally getting along (as far as I've seen), bumping up against each other, helping each other out, but avoiding eye contact as much as possible. As an introvert and curious observer of humanity, I can dig it.
(my "New York Moments" are officially getting all out of order, and I'm still finding that I post a couple in one day, skipping other days. Oh well. It is what it is. My excuse is that I have a sick husband and rambunctious 2-year-old living with me)
My fears quickly dissipated as these four men, the New York Transit System's Four Tops, began a beautiful rendition of "Stand by Me." I mean, really gorgeous harmonies and emotion. Like any New Yorker though, I wouldn't look at them directly. I did all I could to avoid eye contact. Everyone else on the train was doing the same thing. The men passed me by and an Asian tourist dropped some change into their cup. I smiled.
These kinds of things are what I'd always heard about: the energy of New York. This mishmash of people, all generally getting along (as far as I've seen), bumping up against each other, helping each other out, but avoiding eye contact as much as possible. As an introvert and curious observer of humanity, I can dig it.
(my "New York Moments" are officially getting all out of order, and I'm still finding that I post a couple in one day, skipping other days. Oh well. It is what it is. My excuse is that I have a sick husband and rambunctious 2-year-old living with me)
Sunday, January 3, 2010
New York Moment 16
While my niece was here, we were tourists. I wanted to squeeze in as many of the big New York things in the short eights days she was with us. The downside of all this running about is, well, all the running about. It becomes exhausting. I found myself getting stressed about missing a train connection and stressed by the crowds of people (the week she was here is the busiest time of year for many tourist attractions in the city, the week between Christmas and New Year's).
One day, we simply decided to take it down a notch. She picked one museum she was interested in visiting, and we headed that way, not worrying about time. We found out the museum was closed when we got there (no functioning phone number to be found prior to us leaving), so in the spirit of taking it easy, we wandered around in the fresh snow of Battery Park and tried to get our bearings, tried to figure out what to do next. I gave her a couple of options, and she picked riding the Staten Island ferry. Good choice.
We mosied over to a coffee place and got a snack. We mosied to the ferry. We spent the short ride there and back taking photos of the Statue of Liberty and making strange faces. The goal was not to get one single normal picture. I tried to sell my niece on the merits of standing in front of a mirror to perfect one's ugly faces, a hobby shared by me and a couple of my friends. I'm not sure that I convinced her but she certainly laughed a hell of a lot on this ferry ride.
Because of our no-stress goal for this day, we ended up doing and seeing a lot of things, by chance or by serendipity or whatever you want to call it. Sometimes it pays to be Taoist for a day, especially if disgusting and silly faces are involved.
One day, we simply decided to take it down a notch. She picked one museum she was interested in visiting, and we headed that way, not worrying about time. We found out the museum was closed when we got there (no functioning phone number to be found prior to us leaving), so in the spirit of taking it easy, we wandered around in the fresh snow of Battery Park and tried to get our bearings, tried to figure out what to do next. I gave her a couple of options, and she picked riding the Staten Island ferry. Good choice.
We mosied over to a coffee place and got a snack. We mosied to the ferry. We spent the short ride there and back taking photos of the Statue of Liberty and making strange faces. The goal was not to get one single normal picture. I tried to sell my niece on the merits of standing in front of a mirror to perfect one's ugly faces, a hobby shared by me and a couple of my friends. I'm not sure that I convinced her but she certainly laughed a hell of a lot on this ferry ride.
Because of our no-stress goal for this day, we ended up doing and seeing a lot of things, by chance or by serendipity or whatever you want to call it. Sometimes it pays to be Taoist for a day, especially if disgusting and silly faces are involved.
Friday, January 1, 2010
New York Moment 15
Please forgive me, but this post is going to be a plug for something I think any thrifty visitor to New York should do. Grand Central Terminal offers free tours every Wednesday at 12:30 in the main hall, near the clock. Go. Set two hours aside to take in the history and trivia that the guide named Martin, aka "Marty," a retired high school teacher, says he has to let out so that he can sleep at night. Because he was a teacher, the man can project. There was something beautiful about the way his strong New York accent would reverberate through the marble halls of Grand Central, over the constant din of the half million commuters who pass through the terminal daily.I was enthralled the entire two hours. I think I may have embarrassed Marty after the tour by thanking him and telling him that, as a history lover, this tour was the best thing I'd done so far in the city. Not only is this a tour of Grand Central, but it's a history on the United States railroad system, the buildings surrounding the terminal, and of New York City at large.
There are two guides who do the Wednesday tours. Make sure you get Marty. He is the best. Here is a glimpse:
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