I never had a chance to post pictures from my last New York trip. There weren’t many, but I like this one: That’s the moon in the center, rising over the FDR Drive on Friday, November 23, seen from Renee’s apartment. The camera didn’t really capture what we saw, the moon seemed much larger, but I like the picture anyway.
I’m going back to New York on Sunday and remaining until next year, New Years day.
Yesterday I was playing tourist in New York again. I met a friend at the New York Historical Society where we saw a wonderful exhibit about the Marquis de Lafayette’s return to America in 1824 when he was 67 years old. He visited the 24 extant states traveling by road, in very uncomfortable looking carriages, and by water, and taking about 13 months. I decided I would like to retrace his journey. Any excuse to travel, right?
That was my first visit to the Society. I was impressed with their collections and the way they are showing them. They also have extensive documentation online of those collections that include many Tiffany lamps and Audubon prints.
I couldn’t walk around New York without going to the Met. We saw an impressive exhibit of tapestries, some of them 500 years old and still in great condition. They have set up a new gallery for contemporary photography. I always wonder how they select the artists; I certainly would have done it differently. Before I left the museum I spent a lot of time looking at books in the store. I didn’t want to carry them around with me, but there are a number of them, especially on Japanese Gardening, that I would like to own.
My blog about my trip to Japan has been written up today in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, in a great article by David Bear, Travel Editor. You can see it here. I was particularly pleased with the excerpt he chose to quote from the blog. I guess this is my 15 minutes of fame.
As I sat and watched Curtains, I realized Carol thinks of New York as a theater town, as probably most people do. I think of New York as an art town, and spend my days so busily looking at art I am too tired to think about theater by evening. There was certainly a time I saw a lot of theater. On one trip from Chicago I must have seen six plays in 5 days. I’m not sure why I don’t love it as much now.
For our last day in town we went back to the TKTS booth, this time getting half-price tickets for The Drowsy Chaperone. It was a cute story, better costumes and music than Curtains, although very similar. Both are plays within plays and probably owe a lot to the Producers. After the play we walked around Ninth Avenue looking at people and architecture, met a friend for dinner back at Sala Thai. Next: home, school and more Japan planning.
Carol spent four or five hours traveling to Ridgewood on Friday, and unfortunately, I gave her another five hours of transit riding on Saturday. She also got a taste of the real New York on Friday: there was a bomb scare at the Port Authority Friday morning, all of New York’s finest keeping people out of the building and adding more anxiety to her trip. She’s a good sport.
We began our day at the National Museum of the American Indian in Battery Park. The exhibits were filled with wonderful objects, mostly from Northwest Coast Indians. The building, the Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House, is also worth seeing. This is the centennial of the building commemorated with an exhibit in the rotund.
We boarded the Staten Island Ferry, just a short walk from the museum. Although New York is largely empty in August, all of the tourists seemed to be on the ferry. It can be a wonderful ride; next time will be better.
I had a goal in mind this trip; it wasn’t just to ride on the ferry. I always wanted to visit the Jacques Marchais Tibetan Museum, not realizing what the trip entailed. We got on a bus, conveniently waiting for us outside of the ferry terminal. Unfortunately air conditioning on the bus was only marginal and the trip was long. Then there was a long walk up a steep hill to get to the museum. It was interesting, particularly learning about Jacques Marchais, but I would not return unless I was driving. By the time we got back to the ferry we both felt like we had become a sodden mess.
Carol wanted to see a play. We went to the TKTS booth and got half-price tickets to Curtains. After dinner at a charming Japanese restaurant we settled in and enjoyed the play. It was cute. The best person was Debra Monk, a wonderful, talented, older woman with a great voice. It’s a great joy to see an older actor doing a great job.
It was hot again–it really saps my energy. First I went to the library and returned those books. I walked down 41st Street from Grand Central, following bronze plaques with quotations from famous authors, set into the pavement. This is called "Library Way." Amongst the joys of New York are these quixotic touches: funky bronze sculptures in the 14th Street subway stations, streets named after famous, or not so famous residents, a list of ticker tape honorees and dates of their parades embedded in the pavement on Broadway near Wall Street, the reservoir in Central Park named for Jackie Kennedy Onassis. One of the streets is named George and Annette Murphy Street. I wonder how many people remember George Murphy, and was Annette famous?
Walking from the library to Seventh Avenue for a bus, I found several shops selling millinery supplies and beads and stones for making jewelry. If I ever use all the beads and stones I’ve already collected, I’ll come back to 38th Street for more.
My destination was the Rubin Museum, one of my favorite places even though I abhor the way Donald Rubin made his money–healthcare management. I spent most of my time in front of three huge textiles, giant appliqués of padmasambhava. I wish someone would write a book about them, with great photos of details of the appliqué work. My interests in art always seem to be on the edges of the art world–nothing is ever depicted on a postcard.
After a tour of the green market in Union Square and a coffee break at Barnes & Noble across the street, I returned to the apartment, totally wiped out. Finally revived enough to have dinner with Barbara.
Day thirteen. Only a few days before I return to Pittsburgh. I decided to begin the packing and cleaning up process by returning the two books I borrowed from the public library last week. I walked up Carnegie Hill, and arrived at the library just as a light drizzle began. Alas! the library was closed until noon. Worse–there is no book drop. I had to return to the apartment before noon as Carol was scheduled to arrive then. I continued walking in the misty rain with the books, ran a couple of other errands and got back to the apartment about 11.
Although I dearly love New York there are some unbelievable inconveniences here. Why can’t the library have a book drop? Every suburban library understands the need for book drops. Pittsburgh even has drive-up book drops. I guess it wouldn’t be New York if it was easy.
After a Japanese bento box lunch, Carol and I went over to the Met and spent most of our time in Egypt. That’s one area I usually neglect, so it was pretty interesting going through it.
Carol had never been to Central Park. We walked across more or less from Fifth Avenue and 84th Street to 81st and Central Park West where we took the subway downtown to meet Julia for dinner. In the past I had often met Julia at a restaurant on 23 rd Street called East of Eighth. We did it again, having a lovely dinner with too much food.
Carol will go to New Jersey tomorrow to visit a friend, then we will spend the weekend together and go to the airport for planes leaving about 5 minutes apart.
I couldn’t fall asleep last night, or I should say, this morning. I was reading until 12:30, my eyes were tired but the brain kept going. At 1:30 am, I got out of bed, went to the computer, and paid a couple of bills I had been trying to forget about: out of sight, out of mind. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, but I had a hard time getting started this morning.
Shirley Sun was waiting for me under the gaze of Confucius, and we went to 27 Seafood, down the street. We had a fairly good conversation this time, better than last week. She told me about her business, showed me some of the advertising she sold, and spent a lot of time talking about different kinds of tea. I wish I could spend more time with her and help her improve her English.
My second stop was the Japan Tourist Bureau to buy my Japan Railpass. I now have all of my frequent flier miles and $525 invested in my upcoming trip. I still don’t know where I will be staying, and I’m becoming uncomfortable about it.
After all that I came back to the apartment. My lack of sleep is catching up with me, so I will beg off going out to dinner tonight.
I came prepared for very hot weather here and have been delighted by the cool, pleasant days. This day is the exception; it’s raining and in the fifties. I can’t really complain. When I left the apartment before 8, with Renee’s raincoat, it was really not unpleasant walking in the rain. This was the only way I was going to see Rose– meet her for breakfast. I came back to the apartment, afterward, and tried to motivate myself to go out again before my dinner date.
After a lunch of the left-overs from the previous night’s dinner, more multigrain salad and pear and endive salad from Columbus, I went back to the Met, along with every tourist in the city. What a madhouse! Seeking less crowded spaces, I went to one of the temporary exhibitions I overlooked in previous visits: Neo Rauch. I don’t know what to say about this one; undoubtedly some of the most confusing art I’ve ever seen. Rauch is from the former East Germany, and his paintings contain associations that are completely mysterious to me.
Also sparsely populated, the Indian, Chinese and Korean galleries kept me busy for another hour or so. My legs won’t tolerate more than a couple hours of museum viewing at any one time. Finally I got back on the crosstown bus and went over to 86th and Broadway in pursuit of Harry’s Shoes. Not my favorite place but buying shoes when my feet hurt is my favorite activity.
I want to remember not to return to Harry’s Shoes, ever. This is without doubt a place where I was most invisible. I had a hard time getting someone to wait on me; they all looked through me. Finally I tried on two pairs of shoes. I might have bought one of them, but my salesman disappeared, so I just walked out. I’m sure he thought I was a terrible old lady; I thought he was a terrible salesman. Harry, I hope you read this.
I met Ilana at 116th and Broadway, the main entrance to Columbia. She is working on a PhD at JTS, next to Columbia. She showed me around JTS and Union Theological Seminary, and then we went to dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant. Lovely day, in spite of the rain.
I’m still seeing friends and going to museums, but I took time out for an important appointment. Since this is my second year in Pittsburgh I decided I ought to have all of my health needs met in Pittsburgh. Giving up most of my New Jersey doctors was easy; I’d been doing that every other year, anyway. But my eyes were another matter, since they are the most important part of my body and the most problematic.
My New York eye doctor gave me a good recommendation in Pittsburgh; I’m very satisfied. The only person I hadn’t transitioned (love that word) was my contact lens practitioner. I love the doctor I’ve been seeing here in New York. She has spent many hours getting the lenses just right. But, I decided I ought to have someone in Pittsburgh, so I got a recommendation, went to the appointment and left with my gut feeling that I should go back to New York. This all occurred in May; I made the New York appointment almost immediately after, and this was the day. I’m still happy with her and it’s a wonderful excuse to get back to New York at least once a year.
I met Laura for lunch after the appointment. We followed our long lunch with a visit to the natural history museum to see an exhibit about mythical animals. It was a great exhibit with a lot of interesting art, particularly from China and Japan. Although they gave wonderful explanations for how some of these creatures came to inhabit our imaginations, I sometimes wonder if, at least some of them might have really existed, and we just haven’t yet found any trace of them.
My Asian art class looked at a picture of a unicorn created around 5000 years ago. Although very tiny, it was wonderfully detailed and comparable to an equally detailed picture of a rhinoceros. Why do we presume one is real and the other mythical?
I feel that way about dragons, also. They are so pervasive in Asian culture; why couldn’t they have been real at one time. Shirley Sun said the dragon was a creature of the mind. Unlike some of the discussions we have, there was nothing ambiguous about her statement. Too bad!
Nice cool, overcast day; didn’t start raining until I got back to the apartment. I met Peg on the steps of the Public Library, after taking someone’s picture in front of one of the lions. Tourists really love those lions. We walked over to Lexington Avenue to a street fair. I used to go to these street fairs often when I lived here, but after a while, they all seemed to have the same vendors. That’s still true. This one seemed to have even less variety. There were several places offering back massages, many vendors of "pashmina" scarves for $5, jewelry for $2, food, rugs, lots of handbags. The only new interesting things, jackets, coats and scarves of cashmere, hand embroidered in Kashmir, India. These were beautiful, for very high prices, cashmere or not. The only certain thing was the sweatshop labor that undoubtedly went into them.
The commercial Mozzarepa vendors were missing. I guess its time has come and gone. We finally found one stand that was selling what was probably a more authentic, but not as delicious version. We bought one, and split it. I guess my street fair days are finished. The Mozzarepa was always my big motivator.
The fair ended at 57th Street, and we walked over toward Central Park and people-watched from a bench across from the Plaza. Mostly we talked. I guess that’s what I’ve been doing since I got here–just catching up with old friends.
100 Books Before I Die 