Okay, so Sturbridge has completely redeemed itself today. Despite being a community overly reliant on cars meaning that there is no real bustle or pedestrian traffic in Sturbridge proper, a bit down the road from my little industrial park bit of it, it manages to be most things I would expect. I had fun exploring it yesterday, it has a little theatre which is extremely random. It calls itself a repertory theatre but as I walked in on a Sunday afternoon there was a show going on and the next show won't be starting until Friday. I'm quite gutted to be missing the Halloween spectacular running the week after which is a stage version of Night of the Living Dead. I would contemplate returning to Sturbridge for a night just to see that! The rest of Sturbridge was mainlymade up of touristy shops, which were lovely as they emphasised antiques and primitives. My personal favourite was a shop that advertised "Gently Used Clothing" and had a little homemade pumpkin that I'm going to buy for myself and something for Big Sis to redeem the whole Enchanted-Forest-being-closed-down fiasco when I go back on Wednesday. I got back to the hotel and had some Rice Krispies for tea because I didn't want to go out and because the food in the hotel is just bad. I watched the finale of So You Think You Can Dance which took me up to midnight and then went to bed.
Today and tomorrow I had decided to devote to Old Sturbridge Village because you get a two-day pass and what a great decision that was. I had an absolutely wonderful day there today. The weather has been lovely; sunny and hot with a lovely breeze and the trees are starting to turn so there'll be a sea of green that'll be broken up with a spectacular red maple. It was quiet but not dead in OSV and the fact that it was a 19th Century village meant that people were actually walking places. I found out how to fire a musket, how to dip a candle, how to use a printing press, met some oxen, learned about schools in Massachusetts, tried some fudge, bought me a bonnet and a fife (I must stop myself from completely whimsical shopping) and rode on a riverboat. I spent about six hours there, enjoying the scenery and the company of the re-enacters, shopkeepers and craftspeople who were all very willing to talk about the museum and their own lives. Two of the men that I spoke to were semi-retired and I was wistful on behalf of my parents that there couldn't be somewhere like this for them to work, they would love every second of it.
This evening I went to the Publick House, which was mentioned in one of the recipe books in the museum giftshop as one of the best traditional inns in New England. I found my way there after getting directions from a girl on the desk at the hotel who clearly doubted my ability to get there in under a day without a car. It was less than a mile to get there, American perspective is very skewed. I did get nervous on my way back because it was dark and I'm on my own but I think that's reasonable. I'm most nervous of the traffic, though, my head keeps wanting to turn English-way and I have to force myself to look the other way so every crossing takes twice as long because I have to factor in being extra-specially sure that I am safe before I go. It was totally worth it as the food was excellent, the atmosphere was great and the service was lovely. They even gave me a doggybag of freshly baked bread and anyone who gives me free bread is... sod it, can't think of anything. I like bread a lot so it's definitely a good thing.
So I'm feeling very positive although am concerned that the talking to myself thing is getting a bit out of hand. It's something I generally do when on my own but have started doing it in public for lack of any other companions. I may have diverged completely into two separate personalities by the time I get back!
p.s. Thank you, Anonymous, for your comment. Do I know you outside of the bloggy world? I am curious. But I really appreciated everything you said, particularly the offer of violence. It's tempting but I think MuleBoy's got it bad enough as it is at the moment. For a start, he hasn't been able to go to New York so he's kicking himself at the very least.
p.p.s. Thanks also to Marion, I haven't been able to publish your second comment due to the phone number but I have written it down and will take you up on it if I have any probs.
p.p.p.s. Everyone is very lovely, thanks for reading this blog. It really feels like a lifeline at times.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Another Universe
I am in Sturbridge. And am about to go exploring after a ridiculously long period of time just being in the hotel. The journey on Friday was hugely, hugely long: frustrating at times; and emotional in the later stages as I indulged in some introspection as a result of being tired and without other amusement, having finished my book and run down the batteries on the iPod. The train journey was fine and broken up pleasantly by Neil Gaiman's Anansi Boys as well as Regina Spektor to accompany the stages of the journey where I gawped out of the train windows. My goodness, there's a lot of pretty in Connecticut. I was so astonished at the capital building in Hartford, the state capital, that I pestered my neighbour to find out what it was. I don't think she minded that much.
After the train, I had no plans so in Springfield, Massachusetts, there was more pestering but this time of people whose job it was to be pestered and so they had no right to be as reluctant. I do honestly believe, from my experience, that Americans are actually worse than English people at the service industry. I get more and more English as I get more and more apologetic for everything, including my accent which is apparently unintelligible. The train people did, however, give me information and the phone number for the bus people, leading to the most bizarre phone conversation of my life, and I've had a few. Potentially the guy on the other end of the phone had had some bad experiences with English people in the past but I'm betting he's just had bad experiences with people. He was damaged and emotionally distraught and I did question whether I was being Punk'd. I'm never going to be able to recapture it but here's a sample of the conversation after about five minutes of tension:
Me: I need to get the bus again on Thursday to get to Boston
Him: Okay, the train stops at the South Station and the Back Bay
Me: Oh great, the Back Bay.
Him: What?! There's nothing there at the Back Bay! It's industrial buildings and the docks. What are you thinking?
Me: All I've got is the name of the hotel which is the Back Bay Hilton
Him: (barely concealed fury) There's nothing there!
Me: (very carefully now) I'm very sorry, I didn't know. What would you suggest?
Him: (silence. For about five minutes. I'm genuinely wondering whether he's crying or punching a wall. Finally...) You can get the 11.15 bus service from Worcester to Boston.
I spent the whole phone conversation, which was about 10/15 minutes, feeling as if I was walking on a knife's edge. I walked through Springfield to the bus station and finally, at the front desk met someone who said they loved my accent although this was said almost apologetically after he had gawped at me and I had to repeat myself. I decided that I would put on an accent after this so that conversations wouldn't take quite such a long time when asking questions etc. It backfired. Of course. Anywho. More pretty scenery and introspection on the bus, as well as a charismatic bus driver, which was nice. We drove straight past Sturbridge which, according to the guy on the phone, hasn't had a bus route since 1995. So I needed to get the bus from Springfield to Worcester and then spend loads of money on a fricking cab to go back the way I just came.
As the cab journey progressed, I started to get bad feelings about Sturbridge. The cab driver said we would be driving through towns and I couldn't see any. There were just odd houses dotted alongside the route. As we drew closer, I had the disturbing realisation that I was right. Sturbridge ain't no town. It's a glorified rest-stop. The hotel is quite town-like as it has shopping and facilities enclosed within the main part of the building but there is no real community here. I may be proved wrong as the week progresses, and I hope so, but at the moment it doesn't look good. It has to be said that I haven't made much of an attempt so far, I spent most of yesterday in my room, with brief sojourns out to the fitness center (rubbish) and the pool to make up for my breakfast of M&Ms. I was shocked how tired I was though, which makes it slightly more excusable. So, today I am making amends and will be exploring. Tomorrow I am going to head out to Old Sturbridge Village, which I am expecting to be the best bit and I will get a two-day pass, so that's Tuesday sorted too. I'll be grand.
After the train, I had no plans so in Springfield, Massachusetts, there was more pestering but this time of people whose job it was to be pestered and so they had no right to be as reluctant. I do honestly believe, from my experience, that Americans are actually worse than English people at the service industry. I get more and more English as I get more and more apologetic for everything, including my accent which is apparently unintelligible. The train people did, however, give me information and the phone number for the bus people, leading to the most bizarre phone conversation of my life, and I've had a few. Potentially the guy on the other end of the phone had had some bad experiences with English people in the past but I'm betting he's just had bad experiences with people. He was damaged and emotionally distraught and I did question whether I was being Punk'd. I'm never going to be able to recapture it but here's a sample of the conversation after about five minutes of tension:
Me: I need to get the bus again on Thursday to get to Boston
Him: Okay, the train stops at the South Station and the Back Bay
Me: Oh great, the Back Bay.
Him: What?! There's nothing there at the Back Bay! It's industrial buildings and the docks. What are you thinking?
Me: All I've got is the name of the hotel which is the Back Bay Hilton
Him: (barely concealed fury) There's nothing there!
Me: (very carefully now) I'm very sorry, I didn't know. What would you suggest?
Him: (silence. For about five minutes. I'm genuinely wondering whether he's crying or punching a wall. Finally...) You can get the 11.15 bus service from Worcester to Boston.
I spent the whole phone conversation, which was about 10/15 minutes, feeling as if I was walking on a knife's edge. I walked through Springfield to the bus station and finally, at the front desk met someone who said they loved my accent although this was said almost apologetically after he had gawped at me and I had to repeat myself. I decided that I would put on an accent after this so that conversations wouldn't take quite such a long time when asking questions etc. It backfired. Of course. Anywho. More pretty scenery and introspection on the bus, as well as a charismatic bus driver, which was nice. We drove straight past Sturbridge which, according to the guy on the phone, hasn't had a bus route since 1995. So I needed to get the bus from Springfield to Worcester and then spend loads of money on a fricking cab to go back the way I just came.
As the cab journey progressed, I started to get bad feelings about Sturbridge. The cab driver said we would be driving through towns and I couldn't see any. There were just odd houses dotted alongside the route. As we drew closer, I had the disturbing realisation that I was right. Sturbridge ain't no town. It's a glorified rest-stop. The hotel is quite town-like as it has shopping and facilities enclosed within the main part of the building but there is no real community here. I may be proved wrong as the week progresses, and I hope so, but at the moment it doesn't look good. It has to be said that I haven't made much of an attempt so far, I spent most of yesterday in my room, with brief sojourns out to the fitness center (rubbish) and the pool to make up for my breakfast of M&Ms. I was shocked how tired I was though, which makes it slightly more excusable. So, today I am making amends and will be exploring. Tomorrow I am going to head out to Old Sturbridge Village, which I am expecting to be the best bit and I will get a two-day pass, so that's Tuesday sorted too. I'll be grand.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Leaving New York
It's been a manic few days and I still maintain a complete love for the city. It's so diverse and, despite a fair few grotty places that I feel actually add to its charm, there are points of awe-inspiring loveliness. I slowed down a bit on Tuesday after managing to get back to sleep again, which was a huge relief. I took my first subway train to the World Trade Center site. After visiting the site and the series of galleries that make up the exhibition and tribute to the tragedy, I was left feeling that the people behind it are attempting to create an atmosphere that is very hopeful, looking to the future rather than dwelling on it. The site itself is filled with workmen who are about to start rebuilding and the plans for the memorial garden and new transportation hub are detailed on the information point. The area around it is bustling, understandably what with it being the city's financial district. The visitor's centre creates a progressive exhibition that deals with every stage of 9/11, from contextualising the World Trade Center for people who lived in New York and worked there, to the disaster itself, to the rescue and recovery, to a memorial room with carefully placed tissue boxes and finally to a room which showed messages of hope and love from around the world. The galleries never sentimentalised the tragedy, merely presented it and never touched on the "war on terror". It was beautifully put together and thought-through and I found it very moving without having felt manipulated.
I got back on the subway and headed back a little way north to SoHo (South of Houston) where I attempted to find the shop in my guidebook. After walking up and down Mercer Street a few times, I walked into a gallery and asked where it was and was told it had closed down. I was so gutted, I really wanted to get a present from there that was unique and original but not necessarily touristy. All the other shops around me were boutique-y and despite the US being criticised for obesity, no shop that I had so far gone into had anything bigger than a small-cut size 14. So much for shopping! So I joined Broome Street and walked along to Little Italy, half expecting that the Festa di San Gennaro would be cancelled. I was relieved to see glittery banners and some stalls as I approached as well as some bored looking cops stationed behind road bloacks. The Festa itself probably picked up more speed at night but during the daytime was a number of foodstalls and fairground games, alongside outdoor dining rooms belonging to the restaurants that lined Mulberry Street, the main thoroughfare of Little Italy. As my appetite was still a little reluctant I merely had an Italian lemon ice, perfect for the steaming hot day, and bought a cannolo (singular for cannoli) for eating in my hotel room later. Although the Festa was quite smallscale, it did give me the opportunity to see a lively side to Little Italy that potentially could have been quite quiet during the day. I enjoyed watching the aggression between stallholders on either side of the street as they shouted insults across the pedestrian area, it was nice to know that the bravado you see in fiction isn't entirely sterotype.
After I had discovered every nook of the Festa, ambling through, licking at my ice which had yummy bits of rind in, I headed to the top of Mulberry Street but couldn't find anywhere that looked like NoLIta. Realising I was on East Houston Street, I considered finding Katz's deli but I didn't want to eat anything, having turned down a cornucopia of delights (well, mainly pizza) already. I figured it would probably be crazy-busy as well. I regret it now, 'cause it would be nice to rub it in next time I see When Harry Met Sally and the orgasm scene but there's no point if I'm just doing it for the sake of it. That's been a mantra of mine on this trip - do it because you want to, not because you feel you should. There are many more things I could have done but haven't and all I can say to that is, next time I come, I shall do more. This is not my last trip to New York.
I located Broadway and decided to walk up it, which must have been a mile and a half, although it's difficult to measure in your head until you get to the numbered streets, what with 20 blocks being a mile, and Broadway skews it as it is one of the least geometric roads. It doesn't go in a straight, parallel line unlike the rest. Another reason to love this city; it's so logical apart from the crossings, which make me laugh they're so poorly thought out. I got back to my hotel and totally enjoyed a couple of hours of chill out time before I went out again for dinner and a show. Unfortunately, I left it quite late to get ready and fretted quite a lot about what to wear so only had time for a starter before the show, but that was probably a good thing given the sheer size of the portions and my current limited capacity for food which is restricting me to feeling hungry only twice a day. The show was fun, full of energy but not as moving as it could have been. The style was different but hardly one that, as a small Jewish lady behind me said on the way out, reinvented the wheel. One girl did stand out however with a frenetic dancing style and an extraordinary bluesy, folky voice that was atypical for a musical. On the way home, I decided that walking a mile (this one was easy to work out, hotel on 29th, Eugene O'Neill Theatre on 49th) back to my room in heels was a stupid idea and decided to get a cab - important New York experience no.12. I succeeded in stopping three but wussy little tourists incapable of stopping their own cabs nicked the first two, which was my fault for standing in the wrong place. I learnt my lesson and finally managed to snag cab 3.
Yesterday, I headed downtown again, getting the subway to South Ferry. I wandered through Battery Park, which had a surprisingly emotional effect on me, which was the theme of the day. I got my tickets and set off over the water to Liberty and Ellis Islands. I didn't get off at Liberty, it was enough for me to be close and I didn't want to go up the Statue so just stood top deck and gazed at her a while. After a while the ferry moved off and around and the audio announcement gave a picture of what it must have been like to have been the immigrants coming into Ellis and I got a bit teary again, imagining them seeing La Liberte and the Manhattan skyline and how extraordinary that must have been, and how simultaneously terrified and exhausted they would have felt with the uncertainty and the pressures of the voyage. When we got to the Island I think I spent about four hours there, I had a fun half hour randomly searching for relatives after realising that everyone else in there had a great deal more information that me in the proper archives. But the search programme was great and I found someone who is potentially an ancestor - Charles Carney, Irish/British, from Bradford, England. I shall get Our Kid (would he mind if I called him that too?) on the case! Then I spent hours going through the museum, which was an exceptional demonstration of immigration in the US; historically, sociologically and personally. I didn't even get to the last floor, I'd spent so long everywhere else!
I came back in the ferry and trotted along to the South Street Seaport for some actual shopping - managed to find presents and, finally!, postcards, which was a relief. I would have got into trouble with Granny if I'd not found any at all. I then had a dilemma about the rest of the evening, with my choice dictated by my single status and my back which had really started aching from the walking. I got back to the hotel, got changed and wandered back up to Times Square for a meal and to watch Stardust. I may watch it again when I get home, it's lovely and watching Mark Williams play a man who was previously a goat is something that is still making me giggle a wee bit.
Right, there we go, a comprehensive summary of two days in New York without any insomnia as an influence. I have written so much in my journal (best present ever!), and postcards, and a blog that it is making me a feel just a wee bit like I'm not on my own quite so much. Next stop, Sturbridge.
I got back on the subway and headed back a little way north to SoHo (South of Houston) where I attempted to find the shop in my guidebook. After walking up and down Mercer Street a few times, I walked into a gallery and asked where it was and was told it had closed down. I was so gutted, I really wanted to get a present from there that was unique and original but not necessarily touristy. All the other shops around me were boutique-y and despite the US being criticised for obesity, no shop that I had so far gone into had anything bigger than a small-cut size 14. So much for shopping! So I joined Broome Street and walked along to Little Italy, half expecting that the Festa di San Gennaro would be cancelled. I was relieved to see glittery banners and some stalls as I approached as well as some bored looking cops stationed behind road bloacks. The Festa itself probably picked up more speed at night but during the daytime was a number of foodstalls and fairground games, alongside outdoor dining rooms belonging to the restaurants that lined Mulberry Street, the main thoroughfare of Little Italy. As my appetite was still a little reluctant I merely had an Italian lemon ice, perfect for the steaming hot day, and bought a cannolo (singular for cannoli) for eating in my hotel room later. Although the Festa was quite smallscale, it did give me the opportunity to see a lively side to Little Italy that potentially could have been quite quiet during the day. I enjoyed watching the aggression between stallholders on either side of the street as they shouted insults across the pedestrian area, it was nice to know that the bravado you see in fiction isn't entirely sterotype.
After I had discovered every nook of the Festa, ambling through, licking at my ice which had yummy bits of rind in, I headed to the top of Mulberry Street but couldn't find anywhere that looked like NoLIta. Realising I was on East Houston Street, I considered finding Katz's deli but I didn't want to eat anything, having turned down a cornucopia of delights (well, mainly pizza) already. I figured it would probably be crazy-busy as well. I regret it now, 'cause it would be nice to rub it in next time I see When Harry Met Sally and the orgasm scene but there's no point if I'm just doing it for the sake of it. That's been a mantra of mine on this trip - do it because you want to, not because you feel you should. There are many more things I could have done but haven't and all I can say to that is, next time I come, I shall do more. This is not my last trip to New York.
I located Broadway and decided to walk up it, which must have been a mile and a half, although it's difficult to measure in your head until you get to the numbered streets, what with 20 blocks being a mile, and Broadway skews it as it is one of the least geometric roads. It doesn't go in a straight, parallel line unlike the rest. Another reason to love this city; it's so logical apart from the crossings, which make me laugh they're so poorly thought out. I got back to my hotel and totally enjoyed a couple of hours of chill out time before I went out again for dinner and a show. Unfortunately, I left it quite late to get ready and fretted quite a lot about what to wear so only had time for a starter before the show, but that was probably a good thing given the sheer size of the portions and my current limited capacity for food which is restricting me to feeling hungry only twice a day. The show was fun, full of energy but not as moving as it could have been. The style was different but hardly one that, as a small Jewish lady behind me said on the way out, reinvented the wheel. One girl did stand out however with a frenetic dancing style and an extraordinary bluesy, folky voice that was atypical for a musical. On the way home, I decided that walking a mile (this one was easy to work out, hotel on 29th, Eugene O'Neill Theatre on 49th) back to my room in heels was a stupid idea and decided to get a cab - important New York experience no.12. I succeeded in stopping three but wussy little tourists incapable of stopping their own cabs nicked the first two, which was my fault for standing in the wrong place. I learnt my lesson and finally managed to snag cab 3.
Yesterday, I headed downtown again, getting the subway to South Ferry. I wandered through Battery Park, which had a surprisingly emotional effect on me, which was the theme of the day. I got my tickets and set off over the water to Liberty and Ellis Islands. I didn't get off at Liberty, it was enough for me to be close and I didn't want to go up the Statue so just stood top deck and gazed at her a while. After a while the ferry moved off and around and the audio announcement gave a picture of what it must have been like to have been the immigrants coming into Ellis and I got a bit teary again, imagining them seeing La Liberte and the Manhattan skyline and how extraordinary that must have been, and how simultaneously terrified and exhausted they would have felt with the uncertainty and the pressures of the voyage. When we got to the Island I think I spent about four hours there, I had a fun half hour randomly searching for relatives after realising that everyone else in there had a great deal more information that me in the proper archives. But the search programme was great and I found someone who is potentially an ancestor - Charles Carney, Irish/British, from Bradford, England. I shall get Our Kid (would he mind if I called him that too?) on the case! Then I spent hours going through the museum, which was an exceptional demonstration of immigration in the US; historically, sociologically and personally. I didn't even get to the last floor, I'd spent so long everywhere else!
I came back in the ferry and trotted along to the South Street Seaport for some actual shopping - managed to find presents and, finally!, postcards, which was a relief. I would have got into trouble with Granny if I'd not found any at all. I then had a dilemma about the rest of the evening, with my choice dictated by my single status and my back which had really started aching from the walking. I got back to the hotel, got changed and wandered back up to Times Square for a meal and to watch Stardust. I may watch it again when I get home, it's lovely and watching Mark Williams play a man who was previously a goat is something that is still making me giggle a wee bit.
Right, there we go, a comprehensive summary of two days in New York without any insomnia as an influence. I have written so much in my journal (best present ever!), and postcards, and a blog that it is making me a feel just a wee bit like I'm not on my own quite so much. Next stop, Sturbridge.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Here I Am
So, I am in the basement of my hotel at 2 in the morning logged in and letting you know what I'm doing. Unfortunately mainly what I'm doing at this moment in time is not sleeping. I'm very, very tired but my body clock is currently very confounded, doesn't know where I am or what I'm doing. This has also affected my appetite, much to my surprise. Who knew that could happen? It's very appropriate for the city that never sleeps, however.
Yesterday was amazing. I have decided that New York is fabulous. I couldn't imagine living here unless I suddenly became immensely rich but I love it. My favourite part was probably Central Park, particularly Shakespeare's Garden. I happily sat there and sniffed lovely herbal smells and watched butterflies for a while. I also sat in Strawberry Fields, on Drunken Accomplice's recommendation (I also popped into FAO Schwartz where someone was actually playing Chopsticks on the floor piano a la Big), watching the possibly self-appointed custodian and listening to her tales of wild nights and "twinking" roommates and tried to work out whether she had ever been a man.
I walked a lot, starting from my hotel on West 29th Street up 7th Ave (the Fashion Ave) to 34th Street where I walked around to the 5th Ave entrance of the Empire State Building and wandered around the top, although I didn't get so brave as to go up to the 102nd observation deck. I went just before the other tourists piled in and left as it started getting busy, with a real sense of the city's shape that I hadn't been able to get from a map. I then rejoined 7th and walked to Times Square, which was different than I expected despite having seen it on so many films. It is much longer than I thought and not particularly square-like, but as big and brash as I had hoped, even the signs for the subway are illuminated with golden sparkles. After a restorative, yet unfinished due to it's enormous size, muffin, I bought me a ticket for a show that I'm going to see tonight; "Spring Awakenings" and then headed up 7th Ave to Central Park. I almost felt that I got absorbed by the park. I originally intended to take the subway but ended up just walking and the park seemed to stretch endlessly on either side of me. The skyscrapers that I could see over the trees were a reminder of the city but from inside it all seemed so far away. I eventually, after much sitting and contemplating, got to the Metropolitan Musem of Art on 5th Avenue. I snuck in, I'm still not entirely sure whether or not I should have paid an admission fee, wandered about a bit but as an emotional rather than academic enjoyer of art found the exhibits rather dull and felt that I could have been anywhere, except for a few rooms which had been made into recreations of actual living spaces with items like staircases as exhibits. They were quite special but I couldn't find anything that explained them as a whole rather than the sum of their parts. This was a particular disappointment in the room with bed and the cupids as it was stupendously lovely. Maybe if I'd've paid I'd have had some kind of comprehensive guide book. I walked through an exhibition of Dutch paintings from the time of Rembrandt and found my eyes drawn effortlessly to a Vermeer painting across a room of flat portraits. I was very tired by this stage so decided to head back down 5th Ave and look for somewhere to eat and a movie theater. I contemplated watching two films but was so knackered I came back to my hotel room after one and effectively conked out at 8.30. I guess that may be the reason I woke up at 1.30 but I keep hoping I'll need to catch up - I've missed so much sleep!
Anywho, insomnia is a factor in this so don't expect such an exhaustive recounting in the future but that's episode 1 of my adventures. Hopefully there will be many more - I haven't fully decided what to do today but I'm definitely going to go to Little Italy as today is the Festa di San Gennaro. I'd also like to pop into a little shop on Spring Street for a present for Big Sis. And as I'm in Little Italy I may go to NoLIta (North of Little Italy) which is apparently a funky shopping area. And I have a theatre trip planned for tonight, if only I can stay awake...
Yesterday was amazing. I have decided that New York is fabulous. I couldn't imagine living here unless I suddenly became immensely rich but I love it. My favourite part was probably Central Park, particularly Shakespeare's Garden. I happily sat there and sniffed lovely herbal smells and watched butterflies for a while. I also sat in Strawberry Fields, on Drunken Accomplice's recommendation (I also popped into FAO Schwartz where someone was actually playing Chopsticks on the floor piano a la Big), watching the possibly self-appointed custodian and listening to her tales of wild nights and "twinking" roommates and tried to work out whether she had ever been a man.
I walked a lot, starting from my hotel on West 29th Street up 7th Ave (the Fashion Ave) to 34th Street where I walked around to the 5th Ave entrance of the Empire State Building and wandered around the top, although I didn't get so brave as to go up to the 102nd observation deck. I went just before the other tourists piled in and left as it started getting busy, with a real sense of the city's shape that I hadn't been able to get from a map. I then rejoined 7th and walked to Times Square, which was different than I expected despite having seen it on so many films. It is much longer than I thought and not particularly square-like, but as big and brash as I had hoped, even the signs for the subway are illuminated with golden sparkles. After a restorative, yet unfinished due to it's enormous size, muffin, I bought me a ticket for a show that I'm going to see tonight; "Spring Awakenings" and then headed up 7th Ave to Central Park. I almost felt that I got absorbed by the park. I originally intended to take the subway but ended up just walking and the park seemed to stretch endlessly on either side of me. The skyscrapers that I could see over the trees were a reminder of the city but from inside it all seemed so far away. I eventually, after much sitting and contemplating, got to the Metropolitan Musem of Art on 5th Avenue. I snuck in, I'm still not entirely sure whether or not I should have paid an admission fee, wandered about a bit but as an emotional rather than academic enjoyer of art found the exhibits rather dull and felt that I could have been anywhere, except for a few rooms which had been made into recreations of actual living spaces with items like staircases as exhibits. They were quite special but I couldn't find anything that explained them as a whole rather than the sum of their parts. This was a particular disappointment in the room with bed and the cupids as it was stupendously lovely. Maybe if I'd've paid I'd have had some kind of comprehensive guide book. I walked through an exhibition of Dutch paintings from the time of Rembrandt and found my eyes drawn effortlessly to a Vermeer painting across a room of flat portraits. I was very tired by this stage so decided to head back down 5th Ave and look for somewhere to eat and a movie theater. I contemplated watching two films but was so knackered I came back to my hotel room after one and effectively conked out at 8.30. I guess that may be the reason I woke up at 1.30 but I keep hoping I'll need to catch up - I've missed so much sleep!
Anywho, insomnia is a factor in this so don't expect such an exhaustive recounting in the future but that's episode 1 of my adventures. Hopefully there will be many more - I haven't fully decided what to do today but I'm definitely going to go to Little Italy as today is the Festa di San Gennaro. I'd also like to pop into a little shop on Spring Street for a present for Big Sis. And as I'm in Little Italy I may go to NoLIta (North of Little Italy) which is apparently a funky shopping area. And I have a theatre trip planned for tonight, if only I can stay awake...
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Off I Go!
As part of my new life, I am off on what would have been my honeymoon on my own. I am terrified and hugely excited, particularly about New York, a dream destination of mine. It's going to be strange - I've never been away on my own before and holidays have tended to be with people who know what they're doing so I just turn up and follow them. A catch-all phrase recently, described as such by Penfold, has been "a voyage of discovery" and none more so voyage-y or discover-y than this. As I am going to be in towns and whatnot, I may blog as I go so be prepared to receive blogs from my travels. Learn of my awe at the Big Apple, be astounded by my inability to go anywhere without a car (as many Americans have been when I have tried to find out about public transport in advance of my trip), and marvel at my exploits. And please continue to email and comment so that in some way, I know I have my people with me (I nearly wrote peeps. It sounded wrong).
One of the things you can do is comment on my Daemon - I am nothing if not bandwagonny - I think it's accurate and given the nature of the world as described in the Dark Materials books am greatly relieved Brynn isn't a dog. I'm really not cut out for the service industries long-term.
One of the things you can do is comment on my Daemon - I am nothing if not bandwagonny - I think it's accurate and given the nature of the world as described in the Dark Materials books am greatly relieved Brynn isn't a dog. I'm really not cut out for the service industries long-term.
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