In a hot New York weekend

New England's smushed-togetherness lends itself well to quick weekend trips. So last Saturday we roused ourselves at 6 in the morning and drove to New York City. An old friend and co-worker and her husband were gracious enough to host us in their Manhattan-sized apartment.

I almost forgot how tiny those one-bedrooms are! It's now been 10 years since I lived in New York and now the 'home' feeling has really faded. I'm over it. I'll always enjoy visiting, but I'm grateful for the pace of a smaller city like Boston.

With little preparation we headed out. First stop: Heartland Brewery for lunch. We talked them into letting us do a full flight of 9 beers (note the extra glasses in the middle). One outstanding brew was the Quad - 10 grains, 10 hops, 10%.

Next up: The MoMA. Excellent stuff. We probably spent a little too long there, since by the 3rd hour or so, my brain wasn't registering things as much. I might take a little virtual tour at Google Art Project to remind myself everything I saw.

One thing about New York that baffles me is the rate at which restaurants open up and close down. So it was with blind faith that we took a bus 70 blocks down to 2nd St. and 2nd Ave. to go to a French-Russian restaurant I remembered from eons ago. All I remembered about the place was the strange combo of ethnicities and the beautiful ceiling - painted black, layered with white Christmas lights, and then fake palm fronds over that gave the impression of being under a jungle canopy at night.

In any case, Anyway Cafe, was there, open and delicious. (And they served Lithuanian beer!)

The rest of evening was a little awkward as we decided one thing after another was too expensive $15 art house films, $25 jazz clubs, $5 bad beers. We eventually settled in at the Blind Tiger which had an astounding 30 excellent beers on tap.

Sunday we all made the necessary stop over at Veselka, an old Ukranian Diner I worked to graveyard shift at in college. I forewent brunch and got the vegetarian deluxe platter of pirogies, kasha, borscht, stuffed cabbage and a latka. As good as I remembered.

We wandered across Manhattan the rest of the day - Chelsea Brewing Company, Chelsea Market, High Line park, the Natural History Museum. It was almost too much for some weekend, but still, I didn't feel rushed.

We ended our weekend with a trip to another old stomping ground from college the Daryl Roth Theater. We were lucky enough to get 1/2 tickets to the new De La Guarda show: Fuerza Bruta. 6 years after working there, I only remembered one of the staff. But the big black box theater, the lights, the water, it all was the same. Letting loose in that show 4 times a week during college, was certainly better than any therapy I could have had.

That's what New York is for: a little let loose, eat exotic, walk about, culture-filled weekend therapy session. And I feel great.

I'm on a BOAT!

I freaked out a bit when the GPS led us right to a ferry! We tried to steer around Lake Champlain and I finally got the GPS to take us over Bridge Road.

Well, turn out Bridge Road doesn't exist - its a ferry. Turns out the ferry is free and 'leaving right now.' We drive on and sail out. Chris is a bit skeptical at first.

But we ended up loving the ride. We were off in New York, back on the back-roads on to the next stop.

Well-Read Weekend #4

Well this weekend I'm in New York, and doing more social things like hanging out at a friend's house and making mac and cheese for them and playing Wii instead of reading.  I love traveling, but I've been on the road for a week now and sometimes, even when in an exciting place like NYC, you just want to turn on the television and east some mac and cheese.  I once spent an entire weekend in Paris and the only museum I went to was the Catacombs.  My friend and I spent the day cooking a big dinner for her 6 room mates and then played Risk in French.

And it was great.  Today I'm resolving to get out of the house and with my current budget I'm going to be limited to doing  as much free stuff as possible.  I'll make an exception for Veselka, my old Ukranian diner I used to wait the graveyard shift at freshman year.  Then I'm off to dance in Grand Central Station.  But there's one thing you definitely need to catch when in NYC: art.  Here's a new edition of a book I loved back when I lived in NYC, was poor and looking for culture:

Public Art New York by Jenifer Phifer

Some of the best art in New York is not hanging on the walls in the Met--it's in the streets (and bars and lobbies) of New York.  I picked up an older version of this book in the library and spent a week wandering through the nooks and crannies of NYC to find great art.  

Bank and hotel owners were once great patrons of the art.  Architects of apartment buildings were fans of surrealism.  This book is a great way to find about 2 centuries of art that are mosaics laid into the hotel lobbies and paintings hanging in bars.  It also has some great background and history on how the art got there.   You'll feel a little funny staring up at an Alexander Calder mobile in the Chase Bank as business people rush around you, but you'll also feel a little like you know a secret they don't know.  

Some of my favorites:

A Picasso sculpture in an apartment complex in NoHo

A Maxfield Parish in the St. Regis Hotel Bar

  Framing Union Station in the 14th St. Subway

All absolutely free!  Enjoy!

Paht-holes

I actually saw a work men's crew filling in a pothole today on my main road in my neighborhood.  "Hey there!  Watch the paht-hole!" they cautioned as I crossed by on my commute.

I feel like potholes are the thing that cantankerous city-dwellers always complain about and never get fixed.  In New York City they certainly didn't fix them.  Most walkers never would notice since they're easy enough to see and walk around, except of course when they filled with rain water, but as a biker in New York you notice.   And especially when you're riding a 50's cruiser bike through midtown with an old-school basket holding your CD collection on the way to a gig.  And most definitely when you're a driver (though potholes paled in comparison to jaywalkers, one-way streets and cabbies).

Potholes are part of New York's charm.  It adds to the grittiness that New Yorkers love and see slipping away as 42nd street is Disnefied and Alphabet City is more and more Sesame Street friendly.  Ask a New Yorker why potholes don't get fixed and they'd probably tell you to love it or leave it.

But Boston tries to win you over.  Paving pot holes, genuinely apologetic voices from the train conductor when the train is late, countless community gardens, a dozen public ice rinks and folks that excuse themselves when they squeeze themselves next to you on the train.  I love it.  Have I become soft?  Jaded by the self-absorption of all the other cities I've lived in (probably deserved, I admit) and tired of the perfection of LA and the perceived-perfection of grit in NYC?  The laissez faire of everything in Miami?  The self-important politicos of DC?

Is it time for me to settle down?  I think I could not have picked a better place.  Boston is a city that actually wants you.  Their population has shrunk over the last century and the state laments the potential loss of a representative in congress this year.  So many things are meant for sharing here--the gardens, co-ops, large multi-bedroom apartments, zip cars, neighborhood associations. 

And with the disappearance of potholes in my neighborhood, I might just be getting a little comfy.