Another eventful few days in New York. I think you could spend years in this city and still not see all it has to offer. Goodness knows, I left after 9 days with a list as long as my arm of places I hadn’t seen and things I hadn’t done. Oh well, I guess it’s always a good idea to leave something to see next time. In the meantime, here are some more things I did manage to get around to doing and seeing.
On Sunday, Hannah and I decided that we wanted to visit High Line Park and spend the day ambling about the West Village/Greenwhich Village/Chelsea/Soho areas, interrupted by a leisurely lunch. High Line Park is so brilliant, I could go on for hours. But I know you don’t have hours, so let me (try to) give you the short version (warming, I was highly excited by the Park so I may go on a bit).
The High Line is an elevated railroad that was built in the 1930s to remove trains from the streets of Manhattan's largest industrial district. The last train ran on the High Line in 1980. The track was then left abandoned and began to fall into disrepair. In the late 90s when the track was threatened with demolition, a community group formed to save the High Line and turn it into a public space. After many negotiations with the City, in 2003 an open ideas competition, "Designing the High Line," solicited proposals for the High Line's reuse. 720 teams from 36 countries entered and hundreds of design entries were displayed at Grand Central Terminal. I’ve always wondered why we go out to tender and pay huge amounts to firms to re-hash the same tired designs they do for other projects. I’m glad to see that someone else thought the idea of open competition was good and tried it out, thereby demonstrating the exceptional things that can be achieved when people do something motivated by passion rather than just the promise of profit. The High Line is, in my view, a roaring success. The first section of the Park was opened to the public in June 2009 with the second section opened in June 2011. It meanders above street level giving a different perspective on the glorious medley of New York’s buildings, while providing a range of different environments - grasslands, woodlands, grassy and paved meeting areas, viewing platforms, benches and glassed amphitheatres where you can observe the streets below (drolly, street theatre). The plantings have been integrated beautifully into the industrial structure and the original railway lines have been left untouched in many places, demonstrating how nature reclaims even our hard, big, impressive feats of engineering. There are also places to stop and enjoy the landscape on the way through the park. The cafe we stopped at serves delicious food and refreshments in 100% compostable (not recyclable, compostable) plates and cups. High Line Park is such a brilliant example of what our urban areas should look like that I just about expired with the excitement of it all. A run-down, ex-industrial eye-sore gets turned into a place of beauty where people can interact and form communities. A linear park that encourages walking and exercise even amongst those that might not be fitness freaks. Snack stops that are landfill-waste free. A place where people can escape to connect with nature even in a densely populated city. An oasis for other creatures (there were some beautiful architecturally designed bird-houses along the way too). And all in a space that is high above the streets so it does not take away space from other needed city paraphernalia. Every city should have a High Line style park - sheer brilliance.
After we got to the end of the park we wandered through the meat-packing district, out through the West Village to Washington Park and Greenwhich Village. One of the things I love, love, love about New York was the same thing I love, love, loved about Paris - people use public spaces. A city park is so much nicer to be in when there are people in it. Even those of us who periodically threaten to become hermits because there are just too many idiots in the world are fundamentally human and therefore, by nature, social creatures. Even if I don’t feel like interacting with others and risking half-witted ingresses in my life, it is still a nice feeling to be around people in general. Being in urban public parks that contain no signs of life is both slightly frightening and somewhat depressing. It’s nice to sit on a bench and listen to a talented busker (Washington Park provided us with a choice of jazz quartet, man with a grand piano playing classical greats and a modern percussion/dance troupe). It’s nice to watch people sketching, playing chess, playing boules, strolling, sunbaking, lolling about on the other benches. It’s nice to be surrounded by the vibrant, pulsing life of a city, while ensconced in a green bubble. And New York is blessed with many such bubbles.
After enjoying the buskers and the lolling, Hannah and I strolled to Greenwich Village to find a place for a leisurely lunch. Just so you understand the magnitude of this task, I have to give you some context about eating out in the USA. Leaving aside the “bigger is better” view of serving sizes, the other maxim prevalent throughout the country’s eateries is “I feel the need, the need for speed”. Fast food is not limited to McDonalds. It’s all about get in, get out. The first time I received my main before I finished my entree, I was prepared to blame that one establishment and write a scathing review of the service. But it’s happened in several places now. Plates get cleared the minute you take your last bite regardless of whether everyone else at the table has finished or not. And if you say “not a the moment” when you are asked about dessert, your bill will arrive promptly thereafter. So, when Hannah and I wanted a leisurely lunch, we knew it was going to be a tall order and both of us were psychologically prepared to do battle over our right to sit at a table for as long as we jolly well wanted. Luckily, our mental loin-girding was unnecessary. We were lucky enough to find the charming ‘Palma’ on Cornelia Street. It had an outdoor courtyard garden, which was a perfect setting for what we wanted. The food was excellent, the cocktails were delicious and the lovely waitress did not make us feel like culinary criminals when we wanted to breathe in between drinks or courses. If you are in New York, don’t miss it. As well as being in a beautiful neighbourhood that alone is worth exploring, the great food, atmosphere and service is worth the trek from wherever you are staying.
After lunch, we dandered around a bit more but in the general direction of mid-town. We took the view that we would find a subway along the way, but once the walking got rolling, we ended up walking the whole 40+ blocks home. So here is a piece of NYC trivia - north-south Manhattan blocks take 1 minute to walk, while the east-west ones take 3 minutes to walk. That’s at NY walking speed of course.
The next day, I met up with Hannah and her up-state NY friend Anthony. We caught the subway out to the very end of Brooklyn: Coney Island. It was, like most amusement parks, well past its glory days but it was nice to see another iconic New York sight and I had a sense of halcyon nostalgia as I imagined the place in its heyday in the 50s. Ah, the good old days!
That night, while Hannah and Anthony were on a harbour evening cruise, I put on my brave pants and went to a zouk lesson. Having not danced for 2 months, I was a bit worried about how I would go - you never know the standard of what you are walking into. Plus I didn’t have my dance shoes, which is always distressing. I felt like a plumber turning up to do a job without a plunger - the plunger might not strictly be needed on every job it but it just doesn’t look right to turn up without one and there are moments when only a plunger can do the job. Nevertheless, I took the class. They called the moves funny names, preferred the faster style of zouk and the standard was quite low (to be fair it was a “pre-intermediate” class) but there were a couple of accomplished dancers and I took them out for a spin after class just to get some fly-by practice. So despite the lack of plunger, I still did the job.
The next day, Hannah, Anthony and I met early in the morning to go get in line for the 9/11 Memorial. Hannah and I had seen the site previously from the outside but we wanted to go in and see the memorial proper. Wow. It was very emotional. The design for the memorial went through quite difficult and extensive public debate but I think it has been worth it for the results are exceptional.
The memorial is actually a remembrance of the almost 3,000 people killed in all the September 11 events as well as those killed in the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. The footprints of the original twin towers have been preserved and in place of the buildings are two reflecting pools. The twin pools are each nearly an acre in size and feature the largest manmade waterfalls in the North America. Once again, the design was selected from a global design competition (resulting in more than 5,200 entries from 63 nations). The names of every person who died in the 2001 and 1993 attacks are inscribed into bronze panels edging the memorial pools and the names have been placed next to colleagues, in company groups or however else the families of the deceased have requested. A beautiful place has been created at the scene of a tragedy and it has created a respectful and peaceful place for contemplation. The tactile cut-outs of each name give you a sense of physical connection with those that died. For families who had nothing to bury, no doubt it goes some way to providing a place of comfort and solid place of rest. For those like me who are visiting, as you run your hands over each name, you can’t help but feel the enormity of the loss. For each person lost, there are loved ones who grieve. And there are so many names. This is the way with all tragic losses of human life but perhaps if there were more memorials of this nature, we might not be so gung-ho on warfare and other forms of slaughter. It’s very hard to do anything other than ache for peace when you are in a place like this.
All three of us were very tired and emotional after seeing the memorial. I defy anyone to see it and come away unaffected. My only suggestion for improving the memorial is to have volunteer-staffed hugging stations around the place. The desire to connect with others in a loving way is almost overwhelming in the face of such sadness. I really needed a hug afterwards. So we all retreated to our hotels for a bit of a rest and to allow our moods to mellow for that night, we had to prepare to laugh our asses off.
And that we did. We went to see “The Book of Mormon” on Broadway. It is the first Broadway Musical by Matt Stone and Trey Parker, the creators of South Park. It’s is billed as “God's favorite musical”. To say it was irreverent would be a colossal understatement. What else would you expect from the warped minds of people who create characters such as Mr Hanky the Christmas Poo? Except that unlike South Park (which I personally find crass and irritating rather than funny), this musical was clever. Of course, there was plenty of cussing and poking fun at a group’s religious beliefs but overall it was more witty than disrespectful and more tongue-in-cheek than vilifying. Not being a fan of South Park or musicals, I was surprised to find that I enjoyed it. It was such a thorough parody of musicals and other broadway productions and itself, that I think it might have been impossible to be offended. And it also contained some very sharp social commentary. Little wonder it is one of the hottest shows on Broadway at the moment. I’m seeing Messers Stone and Parker in a whole new (grudgingly impressed) light. After returning to Brooklyn diner for an unnecessary and overly-large dessert, Hannah, Anthony and I bid our farewells.
But before I left New York, I had one stop left. The Natural History Museum. Crickey! I’ve already mentioned the epic galleries of New York. The NHM took epic to whole new levels. I had 4 hours and managed to get an ice-cube-sized experience off an iceberg-sized museum. It was fascinating. Apart from the taxi-dermied animals, although I do have to admit their stuffed animal exhibits were better than most.
The cultural exhibitions (even though I only got as far as sub-Saharan Africa) were excellent and actually contextualised a lot of the artifacts they displayed. Museums normally have cases of crusty-looking artifacts with very literal, wholly useless descriptions. For example, a case of “spear points, various locations”. You can’t help wanting to choke the curator while asking how they can expect anybody to get excited about a bunch of triangular rocks with no context about the people who used them or why it is necessary to have a whole case-load of them displayed as opposed to one fine example. Not so at the Natural History Museum - there were exhibits containing models of people, shown in various situations. Useful descriptions of items along with the context of their use and the reasons why they are significant - brilliant!!!
The biodiversity exhibit was particularly excellent, and included the best explanation for why humanity needs to change its ways that I have ever seen. A succinct, 5 or so minute video explained what biodiversity is and does and showed how human activity is impacting on it. It also showed us what we are losing in the process. The fossil exhibits were also exceptional - as well as having lots of high-impact, very large dinosaur exhibits, there were also brilliant descriptions of what science does not know. It was the first time I saw the extent of the gaps in our scientific knowledge about the natural world and its history. It made me think about this in the context of climate change and snort slightly at the irony that people want 100% certainty in predictions about climate change before they will agree to do anything differently, while they are quite happy to teach a whole bunch of stuff about our past as indisputable fact when we know there are mammoth (no pun intended) gaps in our knowledge. In relation to our past, the fact that our knowledge has more holes than swiss cheese and the adjustments made to previously held facts are enormous, this doesn’t shake their faith in science one iota, but if we’re talking about our future, we have to be able to predict with 100% accuracy every single possible variable before making a decision and if one tiny aspect doesn’t come to be 100% as we expected it, we question the entire premise. Puh-lease!
As the coup de grace, I saw “Journey to the Stars” at the museum’s planetarium. Squeal!!!!! It was so amazing, I haven’t the words. Apart from occasionally having to close my eyes to overcome motion sickness (apparently my brain is easily tricked into believing it is in motion, even when it is firmly ensconced on a seat bolted to a non-moving floor...), it was sooooooo cool to be flying throughout the universe. Whoopi Goldberg narrated a whole heap of facts about stars, how they work, how they are born and die etc, which was all very interesting but the thing that was beyond imagination was the visuals. A 180 degree domed screen above our heads turned into a 3-d experience of space travel. It was quite possibly the coolest thing I’ve seen to date. Avatar had nothing on this and that won Oscars. Pffffffff....... this was way better, even if there weren’t any blue people in it. And best of all, once the nausea subsided, I was left with a warm fuzzy feeling, thinking about how every element in the universe was created within stars, which means we all have an element of the ancient and connected about us and most important, we all have star-quality in us. Boom boom.
Now, I’m back in the Big D (Dallas, Texas) and once again enjoying the delightful company of the (great) Danes and the sublime hospitality of Jo and Adrian. There may not be museums full of Monets or planetariums but since Jo and Adrian are having a pool installed we may see a fossil or two and more importantly, we have been able to enjoy lots of fine wining and dining and lots of sport. Jo and I are now outnumbered by men, which means that the household has regressed to raw competition at every available moment. In other words, sport, sport and more sport. On the bright side, I have now watched the historic moment when the Rangers beat Detroit in game 6 to get into the World Series for the second time. Since the two years that the Rangers have made it into the Series have included my presence in Texas, I am now taking credit for their success. Texas, you may thank me with honorary citizenship.
No comments:
Post a Comment