Monday, May 26, 2014
Memorial Weekend Monday - Fun in Prospect Park
And the Memorial Weekend fun continues...
The morning light greets us and by noon, it is 84 degrees. Even though I just showered, I am soon sticky and eager to find a shady spot in the park where I am hosting a picnic. Ai and I stop for groceries at the corner store and walk the 15 blocks to Prospect Park. It is bustling with families and couples, but we find a spot beneath a large oak tree and settle onto our blankets as we await our friends.
We are soon joined by Yuki, Nah, Cedric, Jared, Betsy, Janusz, Gary, Scott, Gary, Rebecca and Ryan.
Food, drink, laughter and conversation flows freely and easily among us all, some of whom are meeting one another for the first time. In the heat of the day and after a few mimosas, I lay down on the cool fabric of a blanket, close my eyes and am lulled to sleep, soothed by the voices of these New Yorkers who were once strangers to me, but who are now my friends. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the ease with which I am welcomed back into the heart of New York City.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Meet Gary
Walking by the brownstone where I used to live, a man is sitting on the stoop playing a harmonica. I introduce myself and meet Gary, who just happens to be living in "my" room. Gary spends part of his time in New York City and the rest of the year in Brazil...
Memorial Weekend - Sunday Fun in The Bronx
On Sunday, I made the trek from Brooklyn to The Bronx via a two-hour subway ride to spend the day with my friend Sandrina and her family. I met Sandrina in November, 2012, sitting next to her on the subway as she journeyed home after work and I was taking the 6 train to the very last stop to explore The Bronx. We struck up a conversation and became fast friends...
Arriving into The Bronx, with the sun soaring high in the sky and temperatures at 80 degrees, I enjoyed a Hawaiian shaved ice treat while waiting for them to pick me up from the subway station.
Greeted with large hugs and an air conditioned car, Socrate, Sandrina, Anthony, Keila, Jessia, Poofy and their friends from Boston made me feel so welcome in their home which sits nestled next to Pelham Bay, with a view of the Bay and the harbor.
We feasted on dish after delicious dish of Sandrina's traditional Albanian creations, while enjoying Socrate's homemade champagne and wine, followed by dessert and coffee. As the sun began to set, we took a ride in their boat, and soaked in the beautiful display of red, pink, blue and purple light over Pelham Bay, with Manhattan's skyscrapers fading off in the distance and the lights of the bridges reflecting in the water.
As I pack my things to leave, with Sandrina and Socrates driving me back to the subway station to journey back to Brooklyn, I am gifted with a bottle of Socrate's champagne and a bottle of wine. I am humbled and in love with these wonderful hosts!
Arriving into The Bronx, with the sun soaring high in the sky and temperatures at 80 degrees, I enjoyed a Hawaiian shaved ice treat while waiting for them to pick me up from the subway station.
Greeted with large hugs and an air conditioned car, Socrate, Sandrina, Anthony, Keila, Jessia, Poofy and their friends from Boston made me feel so welcome in their home which sits nestled next to Pelham Bay, with a view of the Bay and the harbor.
We feasted on dish after delicious dish of Sandrina's traditional Albanian creations, while enjoying Socrate's homemade champagne and wine, followed by dessert and coffee. As the sun began to set, we took a ride in their boat, and soaked in the beautiful display of red, pink, blue and purple light over Pelham Bay, with Manhattan's skyscrapers fading off in the distance and the lights of the bridges reflecting in the water.
As I pack my things to leave, with Sandrina and Socrates driving me back to the subway station to journey back to Brooklyn, I am gifted with a bottle of Socrate's champagne and a bottle of wine. I am humbled and in love with these wonderful hosts!
Saturday, May 24, 2014
A Little Taste of Japan
Ai treats her boyfriend Keith and me to a traditional Japanese dinner, followed by music on the guitar, lessons she is taking from Keith.
Brooklyn Fleas!
I make a lazy, languid morning walk from my area of Brooklyn to 7th Avenue, where I am meeting Cedric to browse the flea markets. The day is cool with rain forecasted and I delight in the cooler temperatures that offer a reprieve from the heat that kicks my butt!
I love flea markets but always struggle with going to these large ones here in the city. Inevitably, I am smitten with something that is usually too large to take back with me to Alaska. Today, a beautiful, wooden trunk catches my eye and all I can do is drool. Cedric and I soothe my heartache with corn on the cob and fresh, chewy, distracting donuts...
Friday, May 23, 2014
Art Genocide
For years, empty warehouses in Long Island City, Queens served as canvas for graffiti artists from around the world. I visited this area numerous times when I lived here, talking to artists and photographing their beautiful and unique works of art.
This winter, the owners of the warehouses whitewashed the entire area, preparing to renovate the buildings into high rise apartments. Block after block, thick, broad brush strokes of white are slashed across layers and layers of color. Chipped paint curls back from the recesses of walls and splashes of paint, a rainbow of life, remain strewn across the sidewalk.
Every now and then, a faint outline of a face or a figure, a finger poking out beneath the stark whiteness, a tree branch jutting forward across the wall, is all that remains of an area that was once so alive and rich, a prism of endless color and energy.
The white walls leave me breathless and sad, feeling empty and betrayed.
Perhaps a more open owner might have capitalized on the value of marketing "art apartments", where every day, the facade of the building you live in changes, a canvas for creativity. But alas, now all that remains of the thousands of artists who spent thousands of hours sharing their passions and talents, are streaks of white slashed hastily over what were incredible works of art.
Seeing the destruction first hand, even writing this now, I feel angry and betrayed. I wish I had been here this winter when the walls were painted over, to stand witness to the art genocide.
I find a small stone that is dusted with blue paint. I pick it up, hold it in my hand and gently tuck it into my pocket. I will take this rock home with me and put it on my desk among other treasures I hold dear, a reminder that the beauty of 5 Pointz lives on within me.
This winter, the owners of the warehouses whitewashed the entire area, preparing to renovate the buildings into high rise apartments. Block after block, thick, broad brush strokes of white are slashed across layers and layers of color. Chipped paint curls back from the recesses of walls and splashes of paint, a rainbow of life, remain strewn across the sidewalk.
Every now and then, a faint outline of a face or a figure, a finger poking out beneath the stark whiteness, a tree branch jutting forward across the wall, is all that remains of an area that was once so alive and rich, a prism of endless color and energy.
The white walls leave me breathless and sad, feeling empty and betrayed.
Perhaps a more open owner might have capitalized on the value of marketing "art apartments", where every day, the facade of the building you live in changes, a canvas for creativity. But alas, now all that remains of the thousands of artists who spent thousands of hours sharing their passions and talents, are streaks of white slashed hastily over what were incredible works of art.
Seeing the destruction first hand, even writing this now, I feel angry and betrayed. I wish I had been here this winter when the walls were painted over, to stand witness to the art genocide.
I find a small stone that is dusted with blue paint. I pick it up, hold it in my hand and gently tuck it into my pocket. I will take this rock home with me and put it on my desk among other treasures I hold dear, a reminder that the beauty of 5 Pointz lives on within me.
Alaska Meets New York City, or Mutt and Jeff!
My friend Ai and I walked to the subway station together this morning. I was dressed in running shorts over top of leggings, a sweater beneath my bright orange rain jacket and feet nestled into my comfy runners, as I planned to walk Brooklyn in between visiting friends. Ai wore skinny jeans, a flouncy blouse and her toes were cramped into five inch high heels, as she prepared to ride the train into Manhattan to work.
Ai wore false eyelashes, lipstick and perfume. I wore anti-wrinkle eye cream, lipbalm and deodorant.
What a pair we are!
Ai wore false eyelashes, lipstick and perfume. I wore anti-wrinkle eye cream, lipbalm and deodorant.
What a pair we are!
It's a Small, Small World
Yesterday, three people boarded the A train and sat in the seats adjoining mine. Half listening to the conversations around me while I was reading, the word Alaska caught my attention and I tuned in. The woman of the trio was sharing a story about taking someone to the hospital in Alaska. This was followed by one of the young men commenting on Alaska's Elmendorf Air Force base.
Of course, being me, I interrupted their conversation and asked if they were from Alaska, to which one of the young men replied that they were, kind of, having lived there for a while years ago. When I told them that I am from Homer, they looked shocked, looked at one another and then announced that they had all lived in Homer at one point years ago. The two young men are brothers who live in New York City, one a nurse and one an actor and the woman was their mom who was visiting them from Chicago.
As we chatted and shared stories about life in Alaska and New York City, an older man in a seat across the aisle leaned in and told us that he fished the Homer Harbor for King crab in the 1970's.
From meeting New Yorker Rebecca on the streets of Manhattan and finding out that she had once worked at Alyeska, the ski village near Anchorage years ago to bumping in to a young man from Homer at the Brooklyn Flea last summer to volunteering after Hurricane Sandy and boarding a little orange schoolbus and sitting next to Jared who had planned to move to Homer a few summers prior to rent my neighbors cabin to meeting Chris, a fellow pilgrim from Edmonton, Alberta who was also walking the 500 mile Camino de Santiago in Spain and discovering that his coworker was one of my mom's childhood sweethearts, to signing up on an international PenPal site and corresponding with Ari from Switzerland who it turns out visited Homer last summer...
The more I travel, the more I'm reminded that it really is a small world after all~
Of course, being me, I interrupted their conversation and asked if they were from Alaska, to which one of the young men replied that they were, kind of, having lived there for a while years ago. When I told them that I am from Homer, they looked shocked, looked at one another and then announced that they had all lived in Homer at one point years ago. The two young men are brothers who live in New York City, one a nurse and one an actor and the woman was their mom who was visiting them from Chicago.
As we chatted and shared stories about life in Alaska and New York City, an older man in a seat across the aisle leaned in and told us that he fished the Homer Harbor for King crab in the 1970's.
From meeting New Yorker Rebecca on the streets of Manhattan and finding out that she had once worked at Alyeska, the ski village near Anchorage years ago to bumping in to a young man from Homer at the Brooklyn Flea last summer to volunteering after Hurricane Sandy and boarding a little orange schoolbus and sitting next to Jared who had planned to move to Homer a few summers prior to rent my neighbors cabin to meeting Chris, a fellow pilgrim from Edmonton, Alberta who was also walking the 500 mile Camino de Santiago in Spain and discovering that his coworker was one of my mom's childhood sweethearts, to signing up on an international PenPal site and corresponding with Ari from Switzerland who it turns out visited Homer last summer...
The more I travel, the more I'm reminded that it really is a small world after all~
Thursday, May 22, 2014
My New York City Read
Thanks to my friend Kevin for turning me on to this book. What a great read, especially as I wander the city by subway!
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
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