Two people smiled at me this morning as I walked down my street. The first was a balding elderly man who was leaning out of his ground floor window to water his flower boxes. I wanted to stop to tell him how much I appreciate his plants, but I didn't. He glanced up as I passed and gave me a half-smile, which I returned.
As I moved quickly past, I was surprised to realize how much that brief bit of friendly human contact meant to me. People don't smile at strangers here. People don't smile much at strangers in NH either, and it would normally never occur to me to want them to, but I'd been struck by the
gleaming friendliness of a server at a bakery earlier (I'd gone on a quest to get a cronut--New York's latest food obsession. Of course, I was too late.). Faced with his sunniness, I'd realized that I don't smile much anymore--and not for good reasons.
I was never a Cheshire cat, but the guardedness and rush and faux-sophistication of the city has been rubbing off on me. The heckling from homeless men at the subway entrance--"C'mon, baby, what's the matter? Smile!"--doesn't really help.
Ten paces past the flower boxes, a few men, apparently movers, were standing in the sidewalk by their truck. My look-at-the-ground-and-get-past-the-men-without-getting-their-attention mode kicked in, but first I briefly made eye contact with one. He smiled at me--a warm, kind, undemanding smile. I smiled back even as I returned my eyes to the sidewalk and quickened my pace. Enough pleasant interaction with strangers for one day.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Hudson Street
Welcome to my daily beat.
I walk a few blocks down Hudson Street to work.
When it's warm, I walk a few blocks up to eat lunch outside in St. Luke's garden.
When the weather permits, I walk all the way down past the end of Hudson to meet with believers to worship, study, and pray at a loft in the Financial District.
Other days, I walk all the way up to visit friends in Chelsea.
Along the way, I sometimes buy a bagel at Hudson Bagels or a coffee at Dunkin Donuts (I sheepishly hide this from my co-workers, since my shrinking soul can't stand up to their scorn for the place.)
Sometimes I see children in Tribeca, always a welcome sight in this oddly child-barren city. These children are usually better dressed than I am, and I can tell their haircuts probably cost three times as much as mine, but they are kids and I refuse to be intimidated.
My new habit as I walk to the loft is to read or listen to a psalm of ascent. As much as I love this city, the constant judgments passed by others (and by myself) wear me out, and I need my heart realigned before I can sing a hymn sincerely.
Ps 123
To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
2 Behold, as the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maidservant
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God,
till he has mercy upon us.
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
2 Behold, as the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maidservant
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God,
till he has mercy upon us.
for we have had more than enough of contempt.
4 Our soul has had more than enough
of the scorn of those who are at ease,
of the contempt of the proud.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Good Advice for City Dwellers
"Tell me, Karamazov, am I very ridiculous now?"
"But don't think about it, don't think about it at all!" Alyosha exclaimed. "And what does it mean--ridiculous? What does it matter how many times a man is or seems to be ridiculous? Besides nowadays almost all capable people are terribly afraid of being ridiculous and are miserable because of it. I'm only surprised that you've begun to feel it so early, though, by the way, I've been noticing it for a very long time and not in you alone. Nowadays, even children are already beginning to suffer from it. It's almost a madness. The devil has incarnated himself in this vanity and crept into a whole generation--precisely the devil," Alyosha added, not smiling at all, as Kolya, who was looking at him intently thought for a moment."You are like everyone else," Alyosha concluded, "that is, like a great many others, only you ought not to be like everyone else, that's what."
"Even if everyone is like that?"
"Yes, even if everyone is like that...do not be like everyone else, even if you are the only one left who is not like that, still do not be like that."
-The Brothers Karamazov
"But don't think about it, don't think about it at all!" Alyosha exclaimed. "And what does it mean--ridiculous? What does it matter how many times a man is or seems to be ridiculous? Besides nowadays almost all capable people are terribly afraid of being ridiculous and are miserable because of it. I'm only surprised that you've begun to feel it so early, though, by the way, I've been noticing it for a very long time and not in you alone. Nowadays, even children are already beginning to suffer from it. It's almost a madness. The devil has incarnated himself in this vanity and crept into a whole generation--precisely the devil," Alyosha added, not smiling at all, as Kolya, who was looking at him intently thought for a moment."You are like everyone else," Alyosha concluded, "that is, like a great many others, only you ought not to be like everyone else, that's what."
"Even if everyone is like that?"
"Yes, even if everyone is like that...do not be like everyone else, even if you are the only one left who is not like that, still do not be like that."
-The Brothers Karamazov
Monday, October 11, 2010
Happy Things
Since 18 hours of class, 20 hours of work, scholar responsibilities, and homework have been occupying my time, my systematic pacing of the city has taken the back burner. Adventures, however, have not. With a nod to Kendra's happy things, here's a bulleted list of a few of the New York highlights of my life in the last few weeks.
-Eating bul-go-ki in Koreatown with dear friends
-Five hours of eating cheese and talking about God and the good life with the Middelmanns in the Upper East Side last Friday night
-Having a drunk guy yell, "What do you do, read all night or something?" as a friend and I walked from the Middelmanns' to the train at 1 am. The answer? "Well, yes."
-Reading E.B.White's "Here is New York" in Riverside Park
-Eating baklava and drinking cafe au lait in the Hungarian Pastry Shop by St. John the Divine
-Walking from 110th and Amsterdam to 34th and Sixth
-Eating bul-go-ki in Koreatown with dear friends
-Five hours of eating cheese and talking about God and the good life with the Middelmanns in the Upper East Side last Friday night
-Having a drunk guy yell, "What do you do, read all night or something?" as a friend and I walked from the Middelmanns' to the train at 1 am. The answer? "Well, yes."
-Reading E.B.White's "Here is New York" in Riverside Park
-Eating baklava and drinking cafe au lait in the Hungarian Pastry Shop by St. John the Divine
-Walking from 110th and Amsterdam to 34th and Sixth
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Jackson Heights!
While Jackson Heights is not in Manhattan (It's a neighborhood in Queens.) and thus isn't part of my Walk the City project, I'd wanted to visit it for a long time. Friends had praised its delicious (and cheap) food, and I'd heard that it supposedly had the most languages spoken per zip code (odd way to count) in the country.
So, when I ran across this plan for a Jackson Heights $1 Food Walk, I couldn't resist. I called my friend Paige, and we jumped on the train uptown on the Fourth of July. What better way to be American than celebrating the immigration culture that has made her great?
When we exited the subway in a slower, shorter, and much grubbier New York than I had yet experienced, I laughed. In being excited to explore a neighborhood that houses immigrants from many different countries, I'd forgotten that the days of mass Scottish / Irish / Estonian immigration were over. Diverse as Jackson Heights was, I seemed to be the only blonde on the street, and a rather conspicuous blonde, at that. Fortunately, the street was full of families with young children and felt quite safe, so I didn't worry much.
Clutching our small bills, Paige and I entered Rainbow Bakery, the first stop on our tour. The prices were as low as we'd anticipated, with all sorts of sweet and savory Chinese buns for less than a dollar.
I ordered a ginger pork bun, and Paige played it safe with a plain donut. Praying against food poisoning, we started our food journey.
Mine was frighteningly lukewarm, but I reminded myself that I have an iron stomach and soldiered through. The ginger could counteract an upset stomach, right? Of course right.
Our next stop? Mira Cali II Panaderia Y Pasteleria for Colombian food. Paige and I felt very, very, very white. We had no idea what we were ordering, and we didn't speak Spanish. Everything seemed to have some sort of cheese, and that seemed safe. We ordered. We sat at the counter facing the street (The wall shook and rattled whenever anyone outside leaned their bikes against it. It seemed like a very temporary wall.) and ate our plantains stuffed with cheese. We decided that we didn't like Colombian food.
Now feeling rather ill, we decided it was mind over matter and moved on. Fortunately, we couldn't find the taco truck, and we couldn't bring ourselves to buy tamales from the tamale cart (This cart turned out to be just that--a shopping cart with a cooler in it.).
We did, however, eat at a little hole-in-the-wall taco place. Paige decided not to join me in ordering a beef taco, but it was her biggest mistake of the day. The big guy who took my order translated it to the cook and added in English, "Make it extra good." I don't know if he did anything different, but, boy was it good. By far the best food of the day, perhaps because of the cilantro?
Looping back to the train station, we passed these old art deco houses. I loved the crazy fences and the throwback feel of the tiny houses. Their 1950s white middle-class feel contrasted sharply with the neighborhood that has grown up around them.
Final stop? Maharaja Sweets and Snacks for an Indian dessert. We don't know what we got, only that it was very sweet. (At this point I kind of felt foolish because I had so little idea of what was eating everywhere.) Thoroughly stuffed and sickened, perhaps more by the idea of all the food than by the food itself, Paige and I headed back. The trip was successful--we experienced new cultures, tried new food, and didn't get mugged--but I hope to go back again when it's less hot and I am more educated on what I am eating.
So, when I ran across this plan for a Jackson Heights $1 Food Walk, I couldn't resist. I called my friend Paige, and we jumped on the train uptown on the Fourth of July. What better way to be American than celebrating the immigration culture that has made her great?
When we exited the subway in a slower, shorter, and much grubbier New York than I had yet experienced, I laughed. In being excited to explore a neighborhood that houses immigrants from many different countries, I'd forgotten that the days of mass Scottish / Irish / Estonian immigration were over. Diverse as Jackson Heights was, I seemed to be the only blonde on the street, and a rather conspicuous blonde, at that. Fortunately, the street was full of families with young children and felt quite safe, so I didn't worry much.
Clutching our small bills, Paige and I entered Rainbow Bakery, the first stop on our tour. The prices were as low as we'd anticipated, with all sorts of sweet and savory Chinese buns for less than a dollar.
I ordered a ginger pork bun, and Paige played it safe with a plain donut. Praying against food poisoning, we started our food journey.
Mine was frighteningly lukewarm, but I reminded myself that I have an iron stomach and soldiered through. The ginger could counteract an upset stomach, right? Of course right.
Our next stop? Mira Cali II Panaderia Y Pasteleria for Colombian food. Paige and I felt very, very, very white. We had no idea what we were ordering, and we didn't speak Spanish. Everything seemed to have some sort of cheese, and that seemed safe. We ordered. We sat at the counter facing the street (The wall shook and rattled whenever anyone outside leaned their bikes against it. It seemed like a very temporary wall.) and ate our plantains stuffed with cheese. We decided that we didn't like Colombian food.
Now feeling rather ill, we decided it was mind over matter and moved on. Fortunately, we couldn't find the taco truck, and we couldn't bring ourselves to buy tamales from the tamale cart (This cart turned out to be just that--a shopping cart with a cooler in it.).
We did, however, eat at a little hole-in-the-wall taco place. Paige decided not to join me in ordering a beef taco, but it was her biggest mistake of the day. The big guy who took my order translated it to the cook and added in English, "Make it extra good." I don't know if he did anything different, but, boy was it good. By far the best food of the day, perhaps because of the cilantro?
Looping back to the train station, we passed these old art deco houses. I loved the crazy fences and the throwback feel of the tiny houses. Their 1950s white middle-class feel contrasted sharply with the neighborhood that has grown up around them.
Final stop? Maharaja Sweets and Snacks for an Indian dessert. We don't know what we got, only that it was very sweet. (At this point I kind of felt foolish because I had so little idea of what was eating everywhere.) Thoroughly stuffed and sickened, perhaps more by the idea of all the food than by the food itself, Paige and I headed back. The trip was successful--we experienced new cultures, tried new food, and didn't get mugged--but I hope to go back again when it's less hot and I am more educated on what I am eating.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Secret of the ESB: 33rd and 34th Streets
(I explored these streets a few weeks ago, so my memory is now a bit fuzzy.)
I had intended to start Operation: See the City at the southern tip of Manhattan and work my way up. However, I was pressed for time the day I decided to start, so I settled for exploring two streets closer to home.
Despite my hatred of taking pictures of myself, I decided to recognize the start of my grand adventure with a picture on 34th Street.
After thoroughly embarrassing myself by acting touristy, I trudged east. As I approached my beloved Empire State Building, I realized that I had never taken a picture of the building that I have visited almost every day for the past year. Again acting touristy (but carefully getting out of the way of moving pedestrians), I took my first picture ever of New York's most famous building.
Continuing east, I walked out of the desolate wasteland of strip malls that surround the ESB and through Murray Hill, a nicer and quieter neighborhood for rich people. Unfortunately, I saw nothing that interested me much until I got to the East River, which was interesting by virtue of being a river.
The next bit of my walk was a bit confusing--I thought I could walk down the sidewalk by FDR Drive to 33rd Street to head back, but I hadn't realized how large the NYU Langone Medical Center was. I ended up walking down this tiny road behind the hospital, feeling very lonely and deserted and ready to be mugged at any minute. The empty ambulances I saw comforted me a bit--at least I could get medical attention quickly. The hospital went all the way down to 30th or 31st, so I had to circle back to get to 33rd Street.
33rd Street didn't impress me much, either. It wasn't bad in the Murray Hill area, but it gets pretty yucky the farther west you go. Nearer Sixth Ave. it is full of sleazy shops and strip clubs. ick.
Also ick: In keeping with my goal to eat something on each walk, I bought a chili dog at Gray's Papaya. I know their hot dogs are famous, and they are right down the street from my apartment, but I've never been able to bring myself to buy one. I wasn't missing much. Though the guys manning the counter made me smile ("How many hot dogs do you want? Ok, 20? Oh, just one? Ok, that will be ten bucks."), the hot dog made me feel kind of sick. However, I sat in the shade in Greeley Park and people-watched while I ate it, so it wasn't a total loss.
At this point, I was getting rather warm as the sun beat down, adding to the 90+ degree heat. However, I pressed on. I pressed on past the humongous Post Office, past a bagel shop I'm excited to visit later, and almost all the way to the Hudson River. The last two blocks before the river were all warehouses, chainlink fence, and lots of homeless men, so I skipped that part and headed back up to 34th to walk back to my starting point. I figured my mom would be glad I cheated.
Honestly, I really hate walking on 34th from the river to Sixth Ave. I'm usually hot and tired by the time I get there, and this time was no exception. Plus, walking past Penn Station is kind of miserable because it is so crowded.
However, I did smell one of the nicest smells I've encountered in the city this summer while plodding along: flowering sumac. The shrubs were growing by the LIRR tracks, and their blossoms provided a pleasantly "green" smell to the city street. I think I may have been desperate for nature if I liked the smell of sumac, but I'll happily take what I can get.
Before long, I was back at my POB, dehydrated but content. I partially regret having started my project on such lousy streets--New York is much nicer than what I've described here. However, now those two are out of the way, and greater adventures await.
Memorable sights: Tons of Korean women in traditional dress walking near the East River.
A little girl playing "One, two, three, WHEE!" (My family knows what I
mean) with her dad and big brother.
Memorable smells: Sumac! (and trash, but I'll ignore that.)
Memorable sounds: The sound of quiet by the East River
Didn't spend a lot of time consciously praying for the city, but I walked in faith, and that counts for something.
I had intended to start Operation: See the City at the southern tip of Manhattan and work my way up. However, I was pressed for time the day I decided to start, so I settled for exploring two streets closer to home.
Despite my hatred of taking pictures of myself, I decided to recognize the start of my grand adventure with a picture on 34th Street.
After thoroughly embarrassing myself by acting touristy, I trudged east. As I approached my beloved Empire State Building, I realized that I had never taken a picture of the building that I have visited almost every day for the past year. Again acting touristy (but carefully getting out of the way of moving pedestrians), I took my first picture ever of New York's most famous building.
Continuing east, I walked out of the desolate wasteland of strip malls that surround the ESB and through Murray Hill, a nicer and quieter neighborhood for rich people. Unfortunately, I saw nothing that interested me much until I got to the East River, which was interesting by virtue of being a river.
The next bit of my walk was a bit confusing--I thought I could walk down the sidewalk by FDR Drive to 33rd Street to head back, but I hadn't realized how large the NYU Langone Medical Center was. I ended up walking down this tiny road behind the hospital, feeling very lonely and deserted and ready to be mugged at any minute. The empty ambulances I saw comforted me a bit--at least I could get medical attention quickly. The hospital went all the way down to 30th or 31st, so I had to circle back to get to 33rd Street.
33rd Street didn't impress me much, either. It wasn't bad in the Murray Hill area, but it gets pretty yucky the farther west you go. Nearer Sixth Ave. it is full of sleazy shops and strip clubs. ick.
Also ick: In keeping with my goal to eat something on each walk, I bought a chili dog at Gray's Papaya. I know their hot dogs are famous, and they are right down the street from my apartment, but I've never been able to bring myself to buy one. I wasn't missing much. Though the guys manning the counter made me smile ("How many hot dogs do you want? Ok, 20? Oh, just one? Ok, that will be ten bucks."), the hot dog made me feel kind of sick. However, I sat in the shade in Greeley Park and people-watched while I ate it, so it wasn't a total loss.
At this point, I was getting rather warm as the sun beat down, adding to the 90+ degree heat. However, I pressed on. I pressed on past the humongous Post Office, past a bagel shop I'm excited to visit later, and almost all the way to the Hudson River. The last two blocks before the river were all warehouses, chainlink fence, and lots of homeless men, so I skipped that part and headed back up to 34th to walk back to my starting point. I figured my mom would be glad I cheated.
Honestly, I really hate walking on 34th from the river to Sixth Ave. I'm usually hot and tired by the time I get there, and this time was no exception. Plus, walking past Penn Station is kind of miserable because it is so crowded.
However, I did smell one of the nicest smells I've encountered in the city this summer while plodding along: flowering sumac. The shrubs were growing by the LIRR tracks, and their blossoms provided a pleasantly "green" smell to the city street. I think I may have been desperate for nature if I liked the smell of sumac, but I'll happily take what I can get.
Before long, I was back at my POB, dehydrated but content. I partially regret having started my project on such lousy streets--New York is much nicer than what I've described here. However, now those two are out of the way, and greater adventures await.
Memorable sights: Tons of Korean women in traditional dress walking near the East River.
A little girl playing "One, two, three, WHEE!" (My family knows what I
mean) with her dad and big brother.
Memorable smells: Sumac! (and trash, but I'll ignore that.)
Memorable sounds: The sound of quiet by the East River
Didn't spend a lot of time consciously praying for the city, but I walked in faith, and that counts for something.
Operation: See the City
Last year, even while I still hated the city, I discovered myself defending New York against two types of people--the Gossip Girls and the Hipster Boys.
Gossip Girl--She's a Blake Lively wannabe who thinks Brooklyn is for roaches and poor people. Chelsea? She would never go there! It's full of dirty hipsters. Plus, it's below 23rd Street. Gossip Girl wants to live the Upper East Side life, just like the cast of Gossip Girl (and the family she nannies for), and she refuses to see any part of New York that doesn't fit into such a picture.
Hipster Boy? He only listens to Sufjan Stevens, lives in Williamsburg, and scorns the filthy rich capitalist pigs who live in a fake Manhattan world. He doesn't believe in going uptown farther than Union Square, and thinks that the real New Yorkers are those who wear plaid shirts and have poor hygiene. Like Gossip Girl, he refuses to see any part of the city that doesn't fit into his picture.
Feeling frustrated with both my Gossip Girl and Hipster Boy friends, I resolved that I wanted to see the whole city and to see it with as few preconceived ideas as possible.
My strategy?
Systematically walking the length of every street in Manhattan. I know this isn't necessarily the way to authentically experience the city. I know it's overkill. And I know it is probably too big a project for me to finish, but I'm excited.
My rules for exploration?
• Don't be afraid to take pictures and look like a tourist.
• Look up!
• Write down the interesting places I want to visit later.
• Record sights and smells and sounds of each street
• Pray for the city as I walk.
I also like the idea of eating something on each walk. I originally thought I would eat something on each street, but that seemed like a bit much. I'd prefer not to carry extra weight over all the miles I will be walking.
Anyway, I hope to have some adventures, see some sights, and take some ground while I'm at it. Hope you enjoy the show.
Gossip Girl--She's a Blake Lively wannabe who thinks Brooklyn is for roaches and poor people. Chelsea? She would never go there! It's full of dirty hipsters. Plus, it's below 23rd Street. Gossip Girl wants to live the Upper East Side life, just like the cast of Gossip Girl (and the family she nannies for), and she refuses to see any part of New York that doesn't fit into such a picture.
Hipster Boy? He only listens to Sufjan Stevens, lives in Williamsburg, and scorns the filthy rich capitalist pigs who live in a fake Manhattan world. He doesn't believe in going uptown farther than Union Square, and thinks that the real New Yorkers are those who wear plaid shirts and have poor hygiene. Like Gossip Girl, he refuses to see any part of the city that doesn't fit into his picture.
Feeling frustrated with both my Gossip Girl and Hipster Boy friends, I resolved that I wanted to see the whole city and to see it with as few preconceived ideas as possible.
My strategy?
Systematically walking the length of every street in Manhattan. I know this isn't necessarily the way to authentically experience the city. I know it's overkill. And I know it is probably too big a project for me to finish, but I'm excited.
My rules for exploration?
• Don't be afraid to take pictures and look like a tourist.
• Look up!
• Write down the interesting places I want to visit later.
• Record sights and smells and sounds of each street
• Pray for the city as I walk.
I also like the idea of eating something on each walk. I originally thought I would eat something on each street, but that seemed like a bit much. I'd prefer not to carry extra weight over all the miles I will be walking.
Anyway, I hope to have some adventures, see some sights, and take some ground while I'm at it. Hope you enjoy the show.
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