We went to the cinema.
We saw Despicable Me. It was in 3D.
It was VERY funny… The best bit was when the little yellow fella who was the same shrunk. He was really small, though not as small as an ant though, and he squeaked. I liked it when the man went into outer space.
I am having a really nice time. I am excited. We’re going on the camper van today.
Also I lost my tooth in the front. It is a top tooth. The tooth fairy gave me a dollar, which was kind of her.
Love Eve.
Tuesday 27 July 2010
Finding William Wells Brown
Staying with Geoff and Sherry isn’t just a moment to catch up with mates, enjoy generous hospitality, some stunning beers at Pazzo’s... I give you Rogue Hazlenut Brown and Kentucky Bourbon Barrel, (a process recycling old whisky barrells…) or to revisit familiar conversations and begin new ones, and enjoy some wonderful, stimulating company. It was also a moment to experience Kentucky life in Lexington’s East End.
The East End has a familiar catalogue of concerns that confront its residents. 40% unemployment, crime, crack dealers dealing openly on the streets, gangs and guns, pimps and prostitution, becoming a drive through neighbourhood. There are huge issues here… race, economics, education, health care… isolation, alienation, alcohol, violence. It’s a hard context to live in.
While distant politicians and policy makers may get round to debating ‘what to do’, may dream up their own top-down responses to grinding poverty (and while bloggers blog), the stories leak out of people living in Lexington's East End getting on with it. Finding ways to resist the advanced erosion of public services and resources and nurture relationships, growing confidence, capacity, opportunity.
When Sherry mentioned she had a neighbourhood association meeting coming up on the Thursday evening of our visit, Rach’ and I immediately offered to come along too. With Geoff on childcare duties, we set off.
Neighbourhood Association meetings have a familiar feel. Despite great intentions meetings often feel designed to confuse – with formality, process, acronyms and jargon locking out the stranger, or sending you to sleep. Our loyalty to Sherry heightened my tolerance levels. I was curious to see how residents were working with the professionals and vice-versa.
The meeting kicked off with welcomes, and a briefing from the police, a young white officer, with opportunity for comments on crime and police responses. Knowing looks are exchanged as familiar streets, people, groups and behaviour are all clocked. Questions are asked about specific groups of young people – is it anti social behaviour or just hanging out?
A discussion starts hosted by a local community organisation that with government funding has purchased a plot of land in the area. Feels familiar - lots of jargon and warm words about process, empowerment, choice, listening, process, engaging – about how the land could be used. However when the furrowed audience throws up questions, it becomes clearer only that this isn’t a blank canvas after all. Actually, this organisation has ideas, criteria and a template. Is this really about listening and working up ideas – or is it really a type of consultation? The expectations shift across faces in the room and ambitions are checked.
The site of the associations meeting is a new school and community centre surrounded by lots of new housing – some huge apartments, and large stone buildings. It’s all a massive contrast to the familiar weatherboard housing dominating the neighbourhood. This is an attempt at social engineering – a mix of housing tenure. However the houses haven’t sold, the rich aren’t moving in and vast numbers remain empty. For those that do arrive, the questions is how can the association provide welcome?
I counted 23 attending – with a few paid workers. Of the 18 residents 15 were women, 5 were blokes – at the grassroots the matriarchy rule in this part of town as elsewhere. After the meeting one grandmother explains that the association had come about from residents, deciding to reboot their older resident organization (the old glory days long gone). They had decided to rename themselves after William Wells Brown – a Lexington born slave and abolitionist. Wells Brown had escaped captivity, fled on the Underground Railroad to the north and eventually reinvented himself as a writer, (travelling to the UK, living in Aylesbury and hanging out with Charles Dickens).
Despite the everyday content for discussion, the real challenge and struggle, there is a consistency from people – a clear sense of warmth and pride in the place and the stories.
As the meeting closes the Director of the centre informs us she’d noticed someone outside taking photo’s of the building. It turns out the photographer is an academic researching the life of William Wells Brown for an official biography due in 2014. The building our meeting is in the plush new community centre next to the new William Wells Brown School – and the final destination for a professor undertaking years of research. The group invites him in and listen enthralled.
A spontaneous summary of William Wells Brown provided by the Prof’ is inspiring. After all the business, you can feel the room lift. Wells Brown is increasingly regarded as the most significant 19th century African American writer. For these East End residents it's not academic, this is the man and vision the new William Wells Brown Neighbourhood Association draws inspiration from today – a key figure for the community rediscovered and a rich source of significance and pride. A great moment to be in on.
The East End has a familiar catalogue of concerns that confront its residents. 40% unemployment, crime, crack dealers dealing openly on the streets, gangs and guns, pimps and prostitution, becoming a drive through neighbourhood. There are huge issues here… race, economics, education, health care… isolation, alienation, alcohol, violence. It’s a hard context to live in.
While distant politicians and policy makers may get round to debating ‘what to do’, may dream up their own top-down responses to grinding poverty (and while bloggers blog), the stories leak out of people living in Lexington's East End getting on with it. Finding ways to resist the advanced erosion of public services and resources and nurture relationships, growing confidence, capacity, opportunity.
When Sherry mentioned she had a neighbourhood association meeting coming up on the Thursday evening of our visit, Rach’ and I immediately offered to come along too. With Geoff on childcare duties, we set off.
Neighbourhood Association meetings have a familiar feel. Despite great intentions meetings often feel designed to confuse – with formality, process, acronyms and jargon locking out the stranger, or sending you to sleep. Our loyalty to Sherry heightened my tolerance levels. I was curious to see how residents were working with the professionals and vice-versa.
The meeting kicked off with welcomes, and a briefing from the police, a young white officer, with opportunity for comments on crime and police responses. Knowing looks are exchanged as familiar streets, people, groups and behaviour are all clocked. Questions are asked about specific groups of young people – is it anti social behaviour or just hanging out?
A discussion starts hosted by a local community organisation that with government funding has purchased a plot of land in the area. Feels familiar - lots of jargon and warm words about process, empowerment, choice, listening, process, engaging – about how the land could be used. However when the furrowed audience throws up questions, it becomes clearer only that this isn’t a blank canvas after all. Actually, this organisation has ideas, criteria and a template. Is this really about listening and working up ideas – or is it really a type of consultation? The expectations shift across faces in the room and ambitions are checked.
The site of the associations meeting is a new school and community centre surrounded by lots of new housing – some huge apartments, and large stone buildings. It’s all a massive contrast to the familiar weatherboard housing dominating the neighbourhood. This is an attempt at social engineering – a mix of housing tenure. However the houses haven’t sold, the rich aren’t moving in and vast numbers remain empty. For those that do arrive, the questions is how can the association provide welcome?
I counted 23 attending – with a few paid workers. Of the 18 residents 15 were women, 5 were blokes – at the grassroots the matriarchy rule in this part of town as elsewhere. After the meeting one grandmother explains that the association had come about from residents, deciding to reboot their older resident organization (the old glory days long gone). They had decided to rename themselves after William Wells Brown – a Lexington born slave and abolitionist. Wells Brown had escaped captivity, fled on the Underground Railroad to the north and eventually reinvented himself as a writer, (travelling to the UK, living in Aylesbury and hanging out with Charles Dickens).
Despite the everyday content for discussion, the real challenge and struggle, there is a consistency from people – a clear sense of warmth and pride in the place and the stories.
As the meeting closes the Director of the centre informs us she’d noticed someone outside taking photo’s of the building. It turns out the photographer is an academic researching the life of William Wells Brown for an official biography due in 2014. The building our meeting is in the plush new community centre next to the new William Wells Brown School – and the final destination for a professor undertaking years of research. The group invites him in and listen enthralled.
A spontaneous summary of William Wells Brown provided by the Prof’ is inspiring. After all the business, you can feel the room lift. Wells Brown is increasingly regarded as the most significant 19th century African American writer. For these East End residents it's not academic, this is the man and vision the new William Wells Brown Neighbourhood Association draws inspiration from today – a key figure for the community rediscovered and a rich source of significance and pride. A great moment to be in on.
Monday 26 July 2010
Home to Lexington
Lexington - world famous for 4 things: horses, tobacco, bourbon and the Maddocks!
At last. After a 10 year wait, the Maddock house. A beautiful home, with enviable room, colours we all agree on and a garden full of fresh veg and fruit, labours of back breaking loving care. Set on the corner of a large junction (everything in America is large), it is a good place for passers by to wave in at the kitchen, and locals to collect left bags of veg’ building connections, networks and friendships. After the madness of the last few weeks it feels like we`ve come home. We're grateful to Thad and Felice moving out, enabling us to spread ourselves between two rooms.
It's hot. AC on all the time. No chance to wander the streets much on foot alas, rather dash from car to cooled buildings or hot bike rides. Generous friends lend the extra car seats needed, and we get a taste of Middle America: bookshops, restaurants, farmers markets, swimming, villages and a great funky arts café called East 3rd Street.
I finally get to a yoga class, with Sherry and Jess at the YMCA. Struggled through in a mirrored room, very conscious that what I thought my body was doing, and what it looked like were two very different things! E the instructor was in her 50s and in impossibly great shape. Not only could she do all the moves, get her breathing right, but she also talked all the way through it! Respect.
A highlight for Jess was the triumph of persuading Rachel, Sherry and Rebecca to see Twilight - Eclipse. We cycled to the beautiful old movie theatre in the city, to find we've muddled times - and no Edward. With a quick Google we discover another showing in 20 mins.. but a cycle and drive away. Needless to say, a power cycle and nifty drive later we get there in time - only $4/ ticket! The only disappointment for Jess was Sherry's recruitment to Team Jacob…
At last. After a 10 year wait, the Maddock house. A beautiful home, with enviable room, colours we all agree on and a garden full of fresh veg and fruit, labours of back breaking loving care. Set on the corner of a large junction (everything in America is large), it is a good place for passers by to wave in at the kitchen, and locals to collect left bags of veg’ building connections, networks and friendships. After the madness of the last few weeks it feels like we`ve come home. We're grateful to Thad and Felice moving out, enabling us to spread ourselves between two rooms.
It's hot. AC on all the time. No chance to wander the streets much on foot alas, rather dash from car to cooled buildings or hot bike rides. Generous friends lend the extra car seats needed, and we get a taste of Middle America: bookshops, restaurants, farmers markets, swimming, villages and a great funky arts café called East 3rd Street.
I finally get to a yoga class, with Sherry and Jess at the YMCA. Struggled through in a mirrored room, very conscious that what I thought my body was doing, and what it looked like were two very different things! E the instructor was in her 50s and in impossibly great shape. Not only could she do all the moves, get her breathing right, but she also talked all the way through it! Respect.
A highlight for Jess was the triumph of persuading Rachel, Sherry and Rebecca to see Twilight - Eclipse. We cycled to the beautiful old movie theatre in the city, to find we've muddled times - and no Edward. With a quick Google we discover another showing in 20 mins.. but a cycle and drive away. Needless to say, a power cycle and nifty drive later we get there in time - only $4/ ticket! The only disappointment for Jess was Sherry's recruitment to Team Jacob…
Sunday 25 July 2010
Saturday 24 July 2010
Friday 23 July 2010
Sleepless... in New York, Lexington, San Fran...
Jess’ and I had popped out during the fag end of our brief New York stopover, for a quick nip around Time Square. Amongst the buzz and blare, Time Square was the place we wanted time to stand still. At Rocky’s an old time coffee bar we talked through our New York moments picking at fries and a muffin, clinging on to the final moments of our visit.
Up at 5am for an early departure and collected by an oversized Chinese taxi driver, we were soon hurtling sleepy heads through the commuter rush. It’s traveling at breakneck speed bounding across busy traffic lanes, through red lights with a sound track of honking horns that your consciousness is raised, and you notice your carriage is a cracked bundle of broken glass, bumps, dents and smashed wing mirror and a sound track of violent talk radio, hammering and thumps.
Somehow we made it and caught the flight south to Charlotte (an airport with country music and rocking chairs for transferring travelers to rest a while) and then north on to Lexington Kentucky. The flying thing takes a bit of getting used to… 26,000 feet, 36,000 feet, at 500 mph, strapped into a metal tube pumped with flammable gas… Something continually screams at you ‘this is not right – don’t do it’. But we do – and it works. Sure enough we arrive into Lexington finally rendezvousing with Isaac, Sherry and Geoff Maddock.
We’ve known Geoff from a previous visit to Melbourne in the 90’s and great hospitality from the wonderful Maddock Clan. Since then we’d enjoyed regular visits to the UK from Geoff who moved to Kentucky studying at Asbury and settling in Lexington. This was finally a time to meet on home turf. Sherry and Geoff have helped establish Communality – a missional community. We were looking forward to catching up and for a moment, digging into a slice of Kentucky life.
But this is old news and you know all this... You'll have maybe clocked Geoff's full batch of wonderful snaps at http://www.flickr.com/photos/geoffandsherry - every brilliant picture telling a tale.
Frankly our tidy narrative is shot to bits - we're all over the place.
Actually, we're at the wonderful Dakota Hotel in San Francisco right now, having enjoyed a first full day of west coast delights. Everyone's knackered and asleep.
Rach' is next up - with some Lexington thoughts. What a great time - without a moment to blog. That's not to say that this isn't a great time, because I'm blogging - just feels like there's a moment to pick up the thread... More soon.
Up at 5am for an early departure and collected by an oversized Chinese taxi driver, we were soon hurtling sleepy heads through the commuter rush. It’s traveling at breakneck speed bounding across busy traffic lanes, through red lights with a sound track of honking horns that your consciousness is raised, and you notice your carriage is a cracked bundle of broken glass, bumps, dents and smashed wing mirror and a sound track of violent talk radio, hammering and thumps.
Somehow we made it and caught the flight south to Charlotte (an airport with country music and rocking chairs for transferring travelers to rest a while) and then north on to Lexington Kentucky. The flying thing takes a bit of getting used to… 26,000 feet, 36,000 feet, at 500 mph, strapped into a metal tube pumped with flammable gas… Something continually screams at you ‘this is not right – don’t do it’. But we do – and it works. Sure enough we arrive into Lexington finally rendezvousing with Isaac, Sherry and Geoff Maddock.
We’ve known Geoff from a previous visit to Melbourne in the 90’s and great hospitality from the wonderful Maddock Clan. Since then we’d enjoyed regular visits to the UK from Geoff who moved to Kentucky studying at Asbury and settling in Lexington. This was finally a time to meet on home turf. Sherry and Geoff have helped establish Communality – a missional community. We were looking forward to catching up and for a moment, digging into a slice of Kentucky life.
But this is old news and you know all this... You'll have maybe clocked Geoff's full batch of wonderful snaps at http://www.flickr.com/photos/geoffandsherry - every brilliant picture telling a tale.
Frankly our tidy narrative is shot to bits - we're all over the place.
Actually, we're at the wonderful Dakota Hotel in San Francisco right now, having enjoyed a first full day of west coast delights. Everyone's knackered and asleep.
Rach' is next up - with some Lexington thoughts. What a great time - without a moment to blog. That's not to say that this isn't a great time, because I'm blogging - just feels like there's a moment to pick up the thread... More soon.
Friday 16 July 2010
Synthetic Gorilla
Tuesday 13th July
Another balmy morning. We head off to find the `red stairs` to meet Hope and her band, at 42nd Street Broadway. Concerned about missing them, we grab cream cheese bagels and end up in Duffy Square early. Never heard of it before, but it`s actually more than what I expected Times Square to be. The stairs are hard to miss. 40 of them 30m high, and seat the visitor in the best spot to view the 16 or so enormous screens. Toyota must have paid the most. Our favourite screen by far is the one where you see yourself.. like in the TV shops, except this screen is 150m squared! Fun to find Hope again. Quick chat. Plan to meet at Christmas when she`s over.
Fulfill Jessie`s dream to visit the M and M Mecca. Marvel at the inflated prices and the obscene amount of colourings. Now time for the big one. The ESB. We queue, but not for long. Glossy 1930s décor, feels sophisticated and a loved space – let down a tad by the synthetic gorilla we have a snap with. Paid an extra $60 to go the top - 102nd, once in a lifetime and all that. Wait. Queue. Corner. Queue. Tense excitement. Another lift to the 86th - and there it was - the greatest downpour, and most expensive shower to date! We could only see a misty 4 blocks in any direction, a few flashes of lightning and a poor guy repeating, `the storm is approaching`, into his walkie – talkie.
Another queue. More waiting. Up. The 102nd was now a hoot. Zero visibility..we all laughed, with squeals of delight when a faint gap in the clouds emerged. With a refused request to run down the stairs, we glided down in the elevator, with no evidence to show we had been there at all.
All that standing around had built up our appetites, so we nipped into a hot/cold buffet place, that sold food by the weight. A clever solution for all that food piling in the salad bar at Pizza Hut. Our plate scores in weight order were: J A M R E.
Replete for savoury, we headed for the Serendipity ice cream parlour, as of the film. With wrong directions we ended up at Union Square and a bagpiper. A generous passer by took pity on us, and googled - confirmed our mistake and recommended Max Brenners instead. Wow! Willy Wonka eat your heart out! The smell, the look, the anticipation.. the tastes did not disappoint. The girls each had `hot chocolates to create moustaches` - and we shared a fondue between us, involving various fruit homemade cakes, marshmallows and a miniature marshmallow burner on the table. With fitting music for occasion (eg Sweetest Thing by U2, Englishman in New York by Sting..) we smiled as we took it all in, and felt increasingly sick. We wished our dads were here. They would have loved it! Leave slightly sticky and somewhat slower.
Now for a long march to West 10th Avenue for my big dream visit – the Highline. Stop to buy drink and find a rest room for
Andy who`s already in the wars with chaffing and blisters. Eve`s tetchy now too. Reach scrubbed up cobbles and 1930`s warehouses. Pass McQueen and Macartney shops. The latter being the only designer whose both parents are known names by the children. And me for that matter. This place is new-old, and has a taste of new trendy London. It is towered by the disused freight railroad, rescued by locals from demolition, and had it`s opening featured on Radio 4 last October. No disappointment here. Serene, creative, peaceful, thoughtful.. bliss. Filled with people reading, thinking, and doing a fashion shoot, we saunter along between plantings and art and find a view of Liberty, but cut the journey short due exhausted children and a need to revisit past haunts for new shots.
A block away, en route to the Subway, in a small park, 4 timely sprays of water drench a compass floor. All in. It refreshes, revives, rejuvenates and loosens the chocolate off Eve’s dress. We walk away dripping, and attracting stares.
Back Downtown via dirty platforms, we see a cross made of broken girders and the 9/11 Remembrance Museum. The focus is on rebuild and finding life beyond. I wonder what the firefighters in the Sicko film make of it. It’s 7pm. Downtown is hungry and going home. We stagger to the red cube for a rerun photo shoot! The females then hop off to Borders (yes there is one) while the male in the pack, replaces deleted shots of Wall St and the surrounding area.
Fast train to Harlem in the front carriage with the driver, hunting for ghost stations, ignoring the queer looks we attract due to `touristness` quote Jess.
Harlem at dusk, 9pm. We must look an odd bunch. The only whites on the street, bedraggled, creased and sunkissed with a trailing Dad snapping any forgotten sights. A guy at the main junction enquires our business – we end up sharing Cockney Rhyming Slang. It feels like he gives us permission to continue. Stand by Aretha’s plaque again and salute the Apollo. Plod to Old Navy, by which time Eve has constructed a complicated treasure hunt for which only I can be in her gang. However Millie needs help to hunt for a Birthday T-shirt, and Charlie (Jess insists) wants advice on skirts. Eve implodes. The doormen crosses himself in dismay and my mother`s guilt hides behind the grinning mannequins. Andy is reprimanded for snapping in a shop again.
Home on the Express. We don’t need to talk as much on stations. We know what we’re doing. Along with familiar corners it makes it feel more like home. Eve and I are desperate for the “restroom” we skip ahead, past the New York Times building, `our` deli on the corner, and into Mahattan Broadway Hotel 273 W38th 8th Ave.
Shower. Bed. Eve.
Shower. Pack. Bed. Millie.
Shower. Pack. Check in online. Pack. Check $/£. Pack. Bed. Me.
Andy and Jess adventure into the night, but that’s another story.
Having a great time.
Wish you were here.
Rachel x
Another balmy morning. We head off to find the `red stairs` to meet Hope and her band, at 42nd Street Broadway. Concerned about missing them, we grab cream cheese bagels and end up in Duffy Square early. Never heard of it before, but it`s actually more than what I expected Times Square to be. The stairs are hard to miss. 40 of them 30m high, and seat the visitor in the best spot to view the 16 or so enormous screens. Toyota must have paid the most. Our favourite screen by far is the one where you see yourself.. like in the TV shops, except this screen is 150m squared! Fun to find Hope again. Quick chat. Plan to meet at Christmas when she`s over.
Fulfill Jessie`s dream to visit the M and M Mecca. Marvel at the inflated prices and the obscene amount of colourings. Now time for the big one. The ESB. We queue, but not for long. Glossy 1930s décor, feels sophisticated and a loved space – let down a tad by the synthetic gorilla we have a snap with. Paid an extra $60 to go the top - 102nd, once in a lifetime and all that. Wait. Queue. Corner. Queue. Tense excitement. Another lift to the 86th - and there it was - the greatest downpour, and most expensive shower to date! We could only see a misty 4 blocks in any direction, a few flashes of lightning and a poor guy repeating, `the storm is approaching`, into his walkie – talkie.
Another queue. More waiting. Up. The 102nd was now a hoot. Zero visibility..we all laughed, with squeals of delight when a faint gap in the clouds emerged. With a refused request to run down the stairs, we glided down in the elevator, with no evidence to show we had been there at all.
All that standing around had built up our appetites, so we nipped into a hot/cold buffet place, that sold food by the weight. A clever solution for all that food piling in the salad bar at Pizza Hut. Our plate scores in weight order were: J A M R E.
Replete for savoury, we headed for the Serendipity ice cream parlour, as of the film. With wrong directions we ended up at Union Square and a bagpiper. A generous passer by took pity on us, and googled - confirmed our mistake and recommended Max Brenners instead. Wow! Willy Wonka eat your heart out! The smell, the look, the anticipation.. the tastes did not disappoint. The girls each had `hot chocolates to create moustaches` - and we shared a fondue between us, involving various fruit homemade cakes, marshmallows and a miniature marshmallow burner on the table. With fitting music for occasion (eg Sweetest Thing by U2, Englishman in New York by Sting..) we smiled as we took it all in, and felt increasingly sick. We wished our dads were here. They would have loved it! Leave slightly sticky and somewhat slower.
Now for a long march to West 10th Avenue for my big dream visit – the Highline. Stop to buy drink and find a rest room for
Andy who`s already in the wars with chaffing and blisters. Eve`s tetchy now too. Reach scrubbed up cobbles and 1930`s warehouses. Pass McQueen and Macartney shops. The latter being the only designer whose both parents are known names by the children. And me for that matter. This place is new-old, and has a taste of new trendy London. It is towered by the disused freight railroad, rescued by locals from demolition, and had it`s opening featured on Radio 4 last October. No disappointment here. Serene, creative, peaceful, thoughtful.. bliss. Filled with people reading, thinking, and doing a fashion shoot, we saunter along between plantings and art and find a view of Liberty, but cut the journey short due exhausted children and a need to revisit past haunts for new shots.
A block away, en route to the Subway, in a small park, 4 timely sprays of water drench a compass floor. All in. It refreshes, revives, rejuvenates and loosens the chocolate off Eve’s dress. We walk away dripping, and attracting stares.
Back Downtown via dirty platforms, we see a cross made of broken girders and the 9/11 Remembrance Museum. The focus is on rebuild and finding life beyond. I wonder what the firefighters in the Sicko film make of it. It’s 7pm. Downtown is hungry and going home. We stagger to the red cube for a rerun photo shoot! The females then hop off to Borders (yes there is one) while the male in the pack, replaces deleted shots of Wall St and the surrounding area.
Fast train to Harlem in the front carriage with the driver, hunting for ghost stations, ignoring the queer looks we attract due to `touristness` quote Jess.
Harlem at dusk, 9pm. We must look an odd bunch. The only whites on the street, bedraggled, creased and sunkissed with a trailing Dad snapping any forgotten sights. A guy at the main junction enquires our business – we end up sharing Cockney Rhyming Slang. It feels like he gives us permission to continue. Stand by Aretha’s plaque again and salute the Apollo. Plod to Old Navy, by which time Eve has constructed a complicated treasure hunt for which only I can be in her gang. However Millie needs help to hunt for a Birthday T-shirt, and Charlie (Jess insists) wants advice on skirts. Eve implodes. The doormen crosses himself in dismay and my mother`s guilt hides behind the grinning mannequins. Andy is reprimanded for snapping in a shop again.
Home on the Express. We don’t need to talk as much on stations. We know what we’re doing. Along with familiar corners it makes it feel more like home. Eve and I are desperate for the “restroom” we skip ahead, past the New York Times building, `our` deli on the corner, and into Mahattan Broadway Hotel 273 W38th 8th Ave.
Shower. Bed. Eve.
Shower. Pack. Bed. Millie.
Shower. Pack. Check in online. Pack. Check $/£. Pack. Bed. Me.
Andy and Jess adventure into the night, but that’s another story.
Having a great time.
Wish you were here.
Rachel x
Words... And Pictures...
We're now in Kentucky, enjoying the hospitality of Issac, Sherry and Geoff Maddock. Fantastic! We're finally landing. We'll set up a Flickr account soon but in the mean time enjoy these beautiful pictures on Geoff and Sherry's Flickr page. Go to http://www.flickr.com/photos/geoffandsherry/
All is good... Rach' will update soon with some final New York stories...
All is good... Rach' will update soon with some final New York stories...
Forgetting New York
As we tumbled clothes into rucksacks and somehow caught the late night Saturday plane arriving in New York early Sunday morning I fatally thought my ration of clothes and toothpaste – stuff for 5 day’s would see me through our 3 days / 4 nights in Manhattan. However, July and Augusts combination of heat and humidity means even when it’s dry in New York you’re wet, drenched in your own perspiration and the sweat of other New Yorkers as they squelch past, on their way to work…
An early start Monday – we’re still running by London time, so a 6am surface, for an 8.30am departure is now routine – and it’s a walk to the subway on 8th Avenue and 34th West. If the address makes absolutely no sense join the club. Despite Rach’ and I explaining to each other again and again the genius of the New York grid map system, (think vertical avenues and numbered streets) we spent most of our day setting off in the wrong direction, arriving at a mistaken destination, and then looking perplexed, pouring over a once pristine map borrowed from Katherine. So we made it to Greenwich Village, with its tree-lined avenues, densely packed rows of 19th century housing, and the occasional family town house. We passed 7th Avenue and 11th Street and a cascading mix of coloured ceramic tiles attached to fencing, a moving memorial to those lost and missing in the Twin Towers. We took photos and spark a potted history of Bush, 9/11 and American foreign policy as we ambled the sidewalk. Eventually (recommended by a passing local) we stumble into Morandi on Waverly Place and a posh Italian breakfast – a sort of beautiful, rustic charm, a perfect boiled egg and cheese and garlic soldiers all sculptured and placed – it didn’t fill me up.
If Sunday was Harlem and Central Park, Monday would take us through Downtown and back out through Upper East Side. We spin down and up the Subway, and while on the platform Jess captures a stunning image (on our new Canon Digital SLR camera) of a Lone Commuter, standing isolated on the platform opposite, in the photo trapped between carriages as a train blurs past. We eventually reach the Staten Island Ferry terminal and catch the ferry there and back, imagining that first glimpse of America and Liberty (smaller than you think) after a much longer ocean voyage. We took pictures. A bite to eat and a detour via the National Museum of the American Indian (tip – do the main entrance not the side door…) then the Financial District, Ground Zero, Wall Street, and impossibly tall buildings of concrete, brick, terracotta and glass. Whether you’ve visited NYC or not, its a memory, a fixed point in your head – tucked away in TV clips, movies, photo’s and pictures. So, places like Wall Street and Ground Zero ignite memories and we found ourselves retelling stories – from Starsky and Hutch to mysterious Jumpers and the horror of September 11th.
On route we canter through China Town’s jammed streets and detour off into the over crowded food markets. It’s a mix of zoo and macabre torture house, with the crates of live king prawn, lobster, crabs, and in a dark pool of water at the bottom of a large bucket, eyes staring up, blinking – the giant frogs. Visibly shocked Jess’, Millie and Eve began to plan escapes, but it feels hopeless, the frogs uninterested and oblivious to it all, unconvinced by these young liberators.
From Staten Island we walked a couple of miles in all, navigating umpteen blocks in the sweltering heat. Rach’ in her spotty New York dress, Jess’ into a stride – not quite believing we’re in America, Millie snapping photos, and Eve negotiating another ‘go on your soldiers’ (shoulder ride). Water is pouring off us, my Converse are falling apart, blisters are popping and the inside leg is raw, chaffing badly. On the brink of giving up we finally reached the Tenement Museum. The entrance includes a little shop so the young ones revive and disappear amongst the piles of stuff. We watched a video and did the Fourth floor tour – the Moore Family – a heartrending story of Irish immigration, swill, milk, dodgy Democrats, Irish superstition and Catholicism.
If you visit New York you must clock the jaw-dropping Strand Bookshop – 18 miles of bookshelves, frankly it’s a day out all on its own. We lingered at the Strand on our journey home. Then, drenched in the humid air, (am now all blistered and chaffed to bits, walking like its been 30 years on a saddle...) we reach Chelsea (passing that Hotel Dylan Thomas stayed in) and disaster strikes.
Ask Jess’ and she’ll tell you it was all an accident. Having already borrowed the new camera and familiarizing herself with this brilliant bit of kit, she pressed a button to reformat the memory disk. In a moment everything is gone. Images from Hackney to Harlem documenting detail right through to this dark, damp moment – all deleted in less than a second. The impact is impossible. Jess is gutted. I’m appalled. I’m furious. I’m summarizing… I’m missing out detail. Our storm rages through the subway as we reach the hotel, where calm eventually descends.
Someone wrote that if during an event you focus all the time on taking video and photo’s, then eventually your memory just recalls the images of video and photo’s. Thankfully only two days of stunning unique moments were lost. And even now we have the memories – of brilliant moments and shared stories. Maybe – just maybe (I keep telling myself – half disbelieving) our memories of those two days in New York will be more resilient for it, in part sustained by one moment we won’t forget.
More to follow – we’re liking this – we’re looking at updating an occasional blog page.
An early start Monday – we’re still running by London time, so a 6am surface, for an 8.30am departure is now routine – and it’s a walk to the subway on 8th Avenue and 34th West. If the address makes absolutely no sense join the club. Despite Rach’ and I explaining to each other again and again the genius of the New York grid map system, (think vertical avenues and numbered streets) we spent most of our day setting off in the wrong direction, arriving at a mistaken destination, and then looking perplexed, pouring over a once pristine map borrowed from Katherine. So we made it to Greenwich Village, with its tree-lined avenues, densely packed rows of 19th century housing, and the occasional family town house. We passed 7th Avenue and 11th Street and a cascading mix of coloured ceramic tiles attached to fencing, a moving memorial to those lost and missing in the Twin Towers. We took photos and spark a potted history of Bush, 9/11 and American foreign policy as we ambled the sidewalk. Eventually (recommended by a passing local) we stumble into Morandi on Waverly Place and a posh Italian breakfast – a sort of beautiful, rustic charm, a perfect boiled egg and cheese and garlic soldiers all sculptured and placed – it didn’t fill me up.
If Sunday was Harlem and Central Park, Monday would take us through Downtown and back out through Upper East Side. We spin down and up the Subway, and while on the platform Jess captures a stunning image (on our new Canon Digital SLR camera) of a Lone Commuter, standing isolated on the platform opposite, in the photo trapped between carriages as a train blurs past. We eventually reach the Staten Island Ferry terminal and catch the ferry there and back, imagining that first glimpse of America and Liberty (smaller than you think) after a much longer ocean voyage. We took pictures. A bite to eat and a detour via the National Museum of the American Indian (tip – do the main entrance not the side door…) then the Financial District, Ground Zero, Wall Street, and impossibly tall buildings of concrete, brick, terracotta and glass. Whether you’ve visited NYC or not, its a memory, a fixed point in your head – tucked away in TV clips, movies, photo’s and pictures. So, places like Wall Street and Ground Zero ignite memories and we found ourselves retelling stories – from Starsky and Hutch to mysterious Jumpers and the horror of September 11th.
On route we canter through China Town’s jammed streets and detour off into the over crowded food markets. It’s a mix of zoo and macabre torture house, with the crates of live king prawn, lobster, crabs, and in a dark pool of water at the bottom of a large bucket, eyes staring up, blinking – the giant frogs. Visibly shocked Jess’, Millie and Eve began to plan escapes, but it feels hopeless, the frogs uninterested and oblivious to it all, unconvinced by these young liberators.
From Staten Island we walked a couple of miles in all, navigating umpteen blocks in the sweltering heat. Rach’ in her spotty New York dress, Jess’ into a stride – not quite believing we’re in America, Millie snapping photos, and Eve negotiating another ‘go on your soldiers’ (shoulder ride). Water is pouring off us, my Converse are falling apart, blisters are popping and the inside leg is raw, chaffing badly. On the brink of giving up we finally reached the Tenement Museum. The entrance includes a little shop so the young ones revive and disappear amongst the piles of stuff. We watched a video and did the Fourth floor tour – the Moore Family – a heartrending story of Irish immigration, swill, milk, dodgy Democrats, Irish superstition and Catholicism.
If you visit New York you must clock the jaw-dropping Strand Bookshop – 18 miles of bookshelves, frankly it’s a day out all on its own. We lingered at the Strand on our journey home. Then, drenched in the humid air, (am now all blistered and chaffed to bits, walking like its been 30 years on a saddle...) we reach Chelsea (passing that Hotel Dylan Thomas stayed in) and disaster strikes.
Ask Jess’ and she’ll tell you it was all an accident. Having already borrowed the new camera and familiarizing herself with this brilliant bit of kit, she pressed a button to reformat the memory disk. In a moment everything is gone. Images from Hackney to Harlem documenting detail right through to this dark, damp moment – all deleted in less than a second. The impact is impossible. Jess is gutted. I’m appalled. I’m furious. I’m summarizing… I’m missing out detail. Our storm rages through the subway as we reach the hotel, where calm eventually descends.
Someone wrote that if during an event you focus all the time on taking video and photo’s, then eventually your memory just recalls the images of video and photo’s. Thankfully only two days of stunning unique moments were lost. And even now we have the memories – of brilliant moments and shared stories. Maybe – just maybe (I keep telling myself – half disbelieving) our memories of those two days in New York will be more resilient for it, in part sustained by one moment we won’t forget.
More to follow – we’re liking this – we’re looking at updating an occasional blog page.
Hope in Harlem
Howdy!
We landed safely with various mishaps like Eve holding a high temperature and me leaving the declaration form behind on the plane; only having a Spanish version to fill in at customs. Ola! Chocolate tea and mustard wasn`t enough to detain us, so we were let through to find a steaming 0100 NYC. Yellow cabs don`t do 5 travellers, so we headed for the bus stop, only to be rescued by a Dudley Moore look a like angel. He had a vehicle for 8 and an orange swinging perpex cross on his mirror. At last on the road to the lights.. except that we went round the other terminals looking for a further 3 people to fill the van! With an extra two, we were grateful for a speeding Dudley to whizz us there quick.
The Manhattan Broadway is everything we had hoped for, and more. The 3 Cs: Cheap, Clean and Central. So central in fact. My dream had been to wake up early and go for a run. With 4 hours under my belt and a burning Eve now cooled and journal writing in the bathroom, I left. NYC 0730 Sunday morning. It felt like I was on the set for Vanilla Sky. We are in the garment area.. probably old Jewish with the odd forgotten synagogue here and there. Shabby, tired and a bit grotty really.But in a couple of blocks and I`m on 5th avenue. Wow! Long sweeping elegant and full of the pricey shops. With no map it feels like I head South, but in fact it`s North to Bryant Park a rennovated Square like the hundreds in London. We later find that all the grass in New York is laid down in Central Park. With Times Square a little further down I decide to save it for later and head South on the 5th. Soaking it all in and being assured I have right of way by a sympathetic and bemused man, I just keep running. A few blocks on I laugh out loud as I spot the form of Hannah`s fridge magnet ahead. It`s breath taking and makes me cry. I realise that we`ve actually done it. We made it here, and here I am in front of the Flat Iron Building! Soon I realise than in the deserted junction, I am not alone. Lone figures are spotted on the tops of roofs. I did know but had forgotten, Antony Gormley`s army of standing figures looking down at the empty roads. I had seen them on the Thames years ago, but it feels more poignant here. I turn back down a seedier Broadway. If it`s the red light district then it`s tiny. On home. I`m only away for 35 minutes. Call into the corner shop for an Earl Grey and 2 toasted cream cheese bagels, and give my last dollar to a guy on our doorstep who `has a birthday` today.
Andy and Jess are not ready to surface yet, so Millie , Eve and I head out to find Times Square. Eve soon counts 101 taxis, Millie is embarassed with my singing and we are surrounded by Mary Poppins PR. Amused by a string of decorated mannequins on Broadway we made our way back intigued by a row of 8 food shops each from a different country.
To skip ahead , we all shared a brunch on Broadway and head down to the Subway for the Natural History Museum. Waiting 30 minutes for a train that doesn`t run on a Sunday, we got an Express train by mistake and ended up in Harlem. Dehydrating we jumped off in search of liquid. Harlem has a buzz we felt at home with. But with a packed schedule time was short. ` We have 10 minutes in Harlem, what should we do?` I asked the sales guy. `The Appollo!` So off we went in blistering heat, 200m down to the place where Ella, Aretha, Michael, Quincy and more nurtured careers, and souls were fed. It felt like a pilgrimage. Acute sense of the awesome. Bump into the $1 birthday guy from earlier and wish him a good day. 2 JWs offered the Watch Tower on the corner. I refused but agreed to have some scripture. Daniel, about the kingdom of God. Then to the Apollo. A shiney jewel in a dusty street. It`s closed alas. So we look at brass plaques on the floor celebrating our heros. I take my new glasses off for the photo, facing the big doors and next to Franklin`s name. Then it happens. The doors burst open and a young woman runs out, calling Jessie`s name. They look at each other in disbelief and embrace. It`s Hope. Hope and Jess were at Rushmore together until Hope moved to Trinidad 4 years ago. She is playing sax on tour in her school jazz band. It was such an impossible encounter.. we are still dumbfounded! We hope to meet up again, but with with our planning it won`t happen quite as smoothly!
On to the Museum we inspect the entrance hall, then escape to some green in Central Park. It really is enormous. We cross the Rambles to paddle in a stream, watch some World Cup Final in the opulent Boat House, climb on burning Alice in Wonderland and play ball. Near the Met a card seller tells Andy where the Strand, the best second hand book shop is, and we buy Huckleberry Finn from him. The Met is big but expensive, and I refuse to pay more than $5 dollars for the 45 minutes we have left. Voluntary donations are accepted but not expected. Having a growing frustration at being charged for everything, I didn`t mind the Paddington stare!
We missed the heavy rain so came out into a steamy 5th Ave. Madison Ave, Park Ave, Lexington Ave.. doughnuts, train to Grand Central. Wow! More Fisher King moments. Sense of direction confused again in busy streets and passed by a beeping car with 3 billowing Spanish flags. So they did it after all! Smoothy bar for pizza and drinks to be eaten in Bryant Square. Beautiful flowers, cheeky birds and seizing legs. All pretty bushed. Head home with memories to pocket. So many!
All have cold showers and crash one by one. Collect an Earl for Andy, and water for the fridge, from the korean corner shop where a rapper is getting on their nerves. This is only day 1. Can hear mum saying to pace it! But it`s so hard not to drink the place in. Millie has already announced she is having her honeymoon here, and the list lengthens of all we want to do ( M and M shop for Jess is the newest addition).
Odd how it`s possible to sleep with a groaning air con unit in the corner. Must go and try again.
Having a great time.
Wish you were here.
Rachel x
We landed safely with various mishaps like Eve holding a high temperature and me leaving the declaration form behind on the plane; only having a Spanish version to fill in at customs. Ola! Chocolate tea and mustard wasn`t enough to detain us, so we were let through to find a steaming 0100 NYC. Yellow cabs don`t do 5 travellers, so we headed for the bus stop, only to be rescued by a Dudley Moore look a like angel. He had a vehicle for 8 and an orange swinging perpex cross on his mirror. At last on the road to the lights.. except that we went round the other terminals looking for a further 3 people to fill the van! With an extra two, we were grateful for a speeding Dudley to whizz us there quick.
The Manhattan Broadway is everything we had hoped for, and more. The 3 Cs: Cheap, Clean and Central. So central in fact. My dream had been to wake up early and go for a run. With 4 hours under my belt and a burning Eve now cooled and journal writing in the bathroom, I left. NYC 0730 Sunday morning. It felt like I was on the set for Vanilla Sky. We are in the garment area.. probably old Jewish with the odd forgotten synagogue here and there. Shabby, tired and a bit grotty really.But in a couple of blocks and I`m on 5th avenue. Wow! Long sweeping elegant and full of the pricey shops. With no map it feels like I head South, but in fact it`s North to Bryant Park a rennovated Square like the hundreds in London. We later find that all the grass in New York is laid down in Central Park. With Times Square a little further down I decide to save it for later and head South on the 5th. Soaking it all in and being assured I have right of way by a sympathetic and bemused man, I just keep running. A few blocks on I laugh out loud as I spot the form of Hannah`s fridge magnet ahead. It`s breath taking and makes me cry. I realise that we`ve actually done it. We made it here, and here I am in front of the Flat Iron Building! Soon I realise than in the deserted junction, I am not alone. Lone figures are spotted on the tops of roofs. I did know but had forgotten, Antony Gormley`s army of standing figures looking down at the empty roads. I had seen them on the Thames years ago, but it feels more poignant here. I turn back down a seedier Broadway. If it`s the red light district then it`s tiny. On home. I`m only away for 35 minutes. Call into the corner shop for an Earl Grey and 2 toasted cream cheese bagels, and give my last dollar to a guy on our doorstep who `has a birthday` today.
Andy and Jess are not ready to surface yet, so Millie , Eve and I head out to find Times Square. Eve soon counts 101 taxis, Millie is embarassed with my singing and we are surrounded by Mary Poppins PR. Amused by a string of decorated mannequins on Broadway we made our way back intigued by a row of 8 food shops each from a different country.
To skip ahead , we all shared a brunch on Broadway and head down to the Subway for the Natural History Museum. Waiting 30 minutes for a train that doesn`t run on a Sunday, we got an Express train by mistake and ended up in Harlem. Dehydrating we jumped off in search of liquid. Harlem has a buzz we felt at home with. But with a packed schedule time was short. ` We have 10 minutes in Harlem, what should we do?` I asked the sales guy. `The Appollo!` So off we went in blistering heat, 200m down to the place where Ella, Aretha, Michael, Quincy and more nurtured careers, and souls were fed. It felt like a pilgrimage. Acute sense of the awesome. Bump into the $1 birthday guy from earlier and wish him a good day. 2 JWs offered the Watch Tower on the corner. I refused but agreed to have some scripture. Daniel, about the kingdom of God. Then to the Apollo. A shiney jewel in a dusty street. It`s closed alas. So we look at brass plaques on the floor celebrating our heros. I take my new glasses off for the photo, facing the big doors and next to Franklin`s name. Then it happens. The doors burst open and a young woman runs out, calling Jessie`s name. They look at each other in disbelief and embrace. It`s Hope. Hope and Jess were at Rushmore together until Hope moved to Trinidad 4 years ago. She is playing sax on tour in her school jazz band. It was such an impossible encounter.. we are still dumbfounded! We hope to meet up again, but with with our planning it won`t happen quite as smoothly!
On to the Museum we inspect the entrance hall, then escape to some green in Central Park. It really is enormous. We cross the Rambles to paddle in a stream, watch some World Cup Final in the opulent Boat House, climb on burning Alice in Wonderland and play ball. Near the Met a card seller tells Andy where the Strand, the best second hand book shop is, and we buy Huckleberry Finn from him. The Met is big but expensive, and I refuse to pay more than $5 dollars for the 45 minutes we have left. Voluntary donations are accepted but not expected. Having a growing frustration at being charged for everything, I didn`t mind the Paddington stare!
We missed the heavy rain so came out into a steamy 5th Ave. Madison Ave, Park Ave, Lexington Ave.. doughnuts, train to Grand Central. Wow! More Fisher King moments. Sense of direction confused again in busy streets and passed by a beeping car with 3 billowing Spanish flags. So they did it after all! Smoothy bar for pizza and drinks to be eaten in Bryant Square. Beautiful flowers, cheeky birds and seizing legs. All pretty bushed. Head home with memories to pocket. So many!
All have cold showers and crash one by one. Collect an Earl for Andy, and water for the fridge, from the korean corner shop where a rapper is getting on their nerves. This is only day 1. Can hear mum saying to pace it! But it`s so hard not to drink the place in. Millie has already announced she is having her honeymoon here, and the list lengthens of all we want to do ( M and M shop for Jess is the newest addition).
Odd how it`s possible to sleep with a groaning air con unit in the corner. Must go and try again.
Having a great time.
Wish you were here.
Rachel x
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