Big Apple cont'd: a 4-hour slice

Before I recount more of the NY trip, I must put in a plug for Dave Carroll and Sons of Maxwell. This recent article explains how Carroll's guitar was mishandled and broken by United Airlines employees, and this video is the creative means whereby he retaliated. I adore men who don't get mad, but get even.

~~~~~

A week ago today we were just finishing up a half-day tour of NY on our Travac bus with our Travac driver, our Travac guide accompanying us, but with a local guide calling the stops. Linda pointed out many landmarks along the way to our first stop: Central Park West & 72nd St., the same corner on which stands The Dakota, the apartment building that has housed many celebrities, including John Lennon.

In fact, Yoko Ono donated money to Central Park so that the section of it nearest The Dakota would serve as a memorial to Lennon. Within that section, designated Strawberry Fields, is the "Imagine" mosaic.

That's just a tiny slice of the park. There are also lakes, fountains (the one below's the Cherry Hill Fountain), and trees.

There are buildings, bridges, and ducks.

These buildings appeared in Ghostbusters. The bridge appeared in Highlander. The family of ducks is still waiting to be discovered.


There are plazas (Bethesda Terrace shown here), saxophonists named Rakim, and sometimes a handful of crazy Canucks who will dance on demand.

Additionally, there are lots of beautiful, intricate details to be found in the tunneled halls of the terrace structure.

We got back on the bus and circled the park, traveling up the Upper West Side, past Grant's Tomb, through Harlem and East or Spanish Harlem, down the Upper East Side, through Greenwich Village, past the one street of Little Italy that hasn't been crowded out by the expansion of Chinatown, through the Financial District to the World Trade Center Site. There was no shortage of fascinating things to see.

We made stops at Grand Central Terminal, St. Paul's Chapel at Ground Zero, and Battery Park.

The "cross" found at Ground Zero.

From that point onward, we were on our own. I'll let you digest this post before I cram the next one down your throats.

First Bite of the Big Apple

More like a few nibbles, really.

OK, so I figured out, or rather James figured out, why one memory stick refused to allow me to download photos from the camera to my computer. Turns out you can lock some of those memory sticks by sliding a wee little tab--analogous to the way you used to be able to lock 3 1/2" floppy disks with the little tab up in the top corner, if anyone remembers those.

I spent the entire afternoon yesterday posting to Facebook and putting captions under most of our New York photos. I've been thinking that it might be time to guess what my Flickr password might have been so that I store photos there and then access them via links here and on FB. (I notice that's what the tech-savvy bloggers do, i.e., Jer & Tan.) Oh, by the way, the credit (and copyright) for the bulk of the photos belongs to James, just so you know.

In the meantime, here goes. I'll start with some pictures of Times Square. We stayed in the Sheraton Manhattan, which was essentially just up the street and around the corner from here. The photo in the first column, second row shows the line-ups at TKTS, which is one of the locations from which people can purchase tickets for musicals and plays. Discounted tickets are available for select performances (generally not the newer shows, say Jersey Boys); a board in the vicinity lists that information.

Times Square was always busy whenever we walked through it. On every corner was a guy trying to sell us (a) tickets to a comedy club or (b) tickets to a double-decker bus sightseeing tour of the city. The majority of pedestrians really disappointed me: I thought this was The City that Never Sleeps, but you wouldn't have known it from the somnambulistic pace. Mind you, people of all ages were out at all hours. Some of the mothers in our group were especially perturbed by the multitudes of babies in strollers still out and about at midnight.

The 39 Steps is playing at the Helen Hayes Theatre. We obtained tickets that, although discounted at 50%, were still on the pricey side. But how often do we see a play? And how often do we see a play in New York? Exactly.

This was the scene as we waited in line to enter the venue.

I now regret not having at least set foot in the Hershey's or M&M stores in Times Square; however, my body thanks me for avoiding handfuls of calories and consequent break-outs. No doubt the trips to Starbucks--there's one on practically every corner--for mochas more than made up for it.

Next time: Friday, July 3 highlights.

New York, New York

Before I launch into the account of our recent adventure, I'd like to say, "Happy Birthday, Dad!" (I wanted to send you a postcard with those greetings, but nobody sells stamps in the USA on the July 4th weekend.)

As an early anniversary present to ourselves, James & I participated in a bus tour to the one and only New York City.

July 2: "Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today / I want to be a part of it..."

I might as well have just stayed out late to watch the fireworks, 'cause I don't think I got a wink of sleep all night. That occurs all too frequently when I'm about to travel. I really hate it, too, because I turn into Ms. Grumpy-Hyde. Not what you'd call starting off on the right foot. Sheesh.

Our buddy Dave picked us up and delivered us at the designated rendezvous point by 6:15am. The bus left at 7am, and we crossed the border approx. 2 hours later. Half an hour after that we were given a rest stop, and by 11:30am we stopped for lunch in Binghampton. Most of the group ate at the Cracker Barrel Old Country Store (also a restaurant), but James & I and another group of 3 chose Applebee's. Those three received their food first, but we two arrived back at the bus before anyone else, despite having taken a few minutes to poke around the Cracker Barrel store. Between the lunch stop and when the Manhattan skyline slid into view around 4pm, I read a bit, but mostly dozed until we were deposited at the front door of the Sheraton Manhattan. The driver took the bus back through the tunnel to New Jersey every evening, because there was nowhere for him to park in Manhattan.

At 5:30pm, any tour members who wanted to met up with our guide, Mauri, to go to TKTS, the ticket office for the shows. The musical we wanted (The Philanthropist with Matthew Broderick) was too new to offer discounted tickets. (And we were not prepared to pay top dollar, which could easily have run to $150 per person. Yowch.) On top of that, the line for plays was half as short as for musicals. All in all, we were quite pleased with our selection of 39 Steps: the performance was Monty Python meets Sound & Fury, and actors and props demonstrated versatility and the ability to multi-task. For example, a fireplace in one scene creatively converted into the front of a car in the next with a quick 180-degree turn. James quite enjoyed it. Truth be told, I was more enthralled with the clever, minimalist set design than the dialogue.

We'd wanted to eat supper before the show, but all the restaurants we stopped by had a 15-20 minute wait, so we grabbed a quick bite after the play at Sbarro in Times Square. Certainly not the most glamorous choice, but by that time we were really hungry and hordes of other theatre patrons were starting to emerge. The food was fine, like that of any other Sbarro I've ever eaten at, except that this franchise had a roomy lower level. Oh, and it sold water, bottled in Canada, in a very cool container; I should have either saved the bottle or taken a picture of it, but I didn't. We headed back through the throng of people to the hotel.

And so the morning and the evening were the first day.

NOTE: Photos will follow as soon as I find a way to make the camera cooperate.

Canada Day!

What an absolutely perfect day! Despite having gone to sleep after midnight, I woke up to the lovely "I'm hungry" howling of cat #1 at 8:30-ish. Despite not leaving the house until about 10am, we managed to get to Parliament Hill by about 11am. (We had intended to be there an hour earlier, but unlike my speedy husband, it takes me forever to get ready in the morning.) Despite the forecast for showers, it did not rain.

Every Canada Day, lots of streets downtown are blocked to vehicular traffic, so that many people rely on public transportation. We drove to the Baseline Park & Ride and rode the 95 to Slater & Bank. After picking our way around all the barricades and through the crowds, we caught the tail end(s) of the RCMP Musical Ride. I've heard it said that the olfactory sense is the most immediate for memory. Well, there's something about the smell of horses......it instantly takes me back to the Morris Stampede grounds. And the woman heedlessly smoking a cigarette two rows in front of us rendered the feeling that much more authentic. Once the clean-up crew had raked up the horse turds--"golden oranges of dung" Al Purdy describes them as in "The Cariboo Horses" (thank you & RIP, Dr. Helen Molitor, for including that particular poem on your English 4.126 syllabus; I recall that particular line gave you immense pleasure to speak aloud)--we plunked down our garbage bag and sat down for a picnic lunch as we waited for Prime Minister Harper and Governor General Jean to kick off the afternoon's celebrations.

For the next two hours we were entertained. The PM commenced with a speech in which there was a pause so the Snowbirds could fly through. Then the performers: first up, Sarah McLaclan. Next, some muscle-bound shirtless guy with amazing abs, because he grasped a pole with his arms and was suspended there, perpendicular to the pole! Then he proceeded to simulate walking up stairs, again still while suspended perpendicularly, followed by other cool moves. Now that's what I'd call a pole dance. (Celina, you would have been impressed.) The Snowbirds did more fly-bys. Alex Wells hoop danced. There were a number of others (see above link for the full roster). We saw some video greetings from troops in Afghanistan. The GG spoke about the importance of youth in the future of Canada. And then we disbanded--or tried to. Sometime during the VIPs' arrival, we were barricaded into the square that had been used for the musical ride. We had to wait maybe 15-20 minutes before security started letting us through. For the record, I do not like being trapped. To put it in perspective, however, the claustrophobia I felt at Bluesfest's White Stripes concert two years ago was a thousand times worse. Still, when I'm ready to go, I want out.

We got back to Baseline in reasonably quick fashion, headed home for an hour and a half, and then it was off to join Dave & Ci and Nicole for a BBQ at their place. We had a great time visiting, and 4 out of 5 individuals present wore red in honor of Canada Day.

Since we have to be up early tomorrow, we decided to skip the fireworks. Although we did take a walk down Chapman Mills at 10:30pm to see if we could glimpse the Barrhaven fireworks at Clarke Fields. We couldn't, but we did see a few backyard/park flares, and we heard the crackle-pops of many more we didn't see.

All in all, a most excellent day! Now let's see if the 4th of July can compare.

Oh, and Happy Anniversary to Shirley & Dave!

they grow up so fast

My parents helped me plant two tomato plants this year. I'm so excited that they're actually growing (the plants, not my parents, in case that wasn't clear), because I can't really boast a green thumb. I mean, I once killed a cactus. My Big Boy plant on the left--I've named it Eileen--has a bunch of blossoms, and I quickly ran to Canadian Tire last night before closing to purchase a tomato cage to help it with its scoliosis.

Tomato plants, June 12 (left) and June 26 (right)

As I was getting Eileen straightened out, I noticed that the Early Girl plant on the right already has two tiny green tomotoes! I can hardly wait until they ripen. I'm so tired of bland, store-bought tomatoes.

A lot is actually resting on these plants: if they work out for me, I may consider making a tiny plot with a few more vegetables for next year.

Lilacs, June 12 and Dahlias, June 26

I've also been quite pleased with my other plants. Above is the lilac tree that Minto provided last year. The flowers were a pale purple--a pleasant surprise, seeing that we'd been told it was a white lilac. I hope I cut them back properly after they finished blooming. I consulted a few Websites and with a wing & a prayer, the blossoms will return next year. After a shaky start, my dahlias have burst forth in buds.

Marigolds

My three pots of marigolds are happy, happy, happy. And I just cut back my dear pansies in the hope that they might humor me with an encore a few weeks down the road or if the weather takes a turn for the cooler.

you're only as old as you feel

Yesterday's local Metro contained an article about Ottawa's "Senior of the Year," Mary Kathleen Dafoe, who recently celebrated her 100th birthday. This is one remarkable woman.

the tale of two icons

Two pop culture icons in one day: Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. Gone.

It's hard for me to gauge exactly how much of an impact they had on me, personally; I'd guess slight, at best. Although both definitely figured in my peripheral vision.

Of Michael Jackson, I have not much more to say other than I found the 1980s Black version cool, he of the Thriller and Billie Jean music videos that aired on CBC's Video Hits in my formative high school years. Someone could have made a documentary: "Rosenort Collegiate: The Day Moonwalking gave Intramural Sports the Boot." Mockumentary, more like. That was the vintage Jackson. I didn't much care for Phantom of the Opera/Vampire Michael Jackson, who dangled babies over balconies, grabbed his crotch every other dance move, and was fond of pajama parties with young boys. Yep, the King of Pop turned into a mighty creepy spectre in his later years.

Farrah Fawcett, on the other hand. Is there anyone my age in North America who does not know who Farrah Fawcett is, she of the red swimsuit poster fame, the feathered blonde mane, the teeth? A classmate of mine once told me Farrah Fawcett had double the amount of teeth the average human being had--that would be twice 32, in case you're wondering (thank you, WikiAnswers). Google searches haven't confirmed or denied that rumor, although an archived People article from '92 confides that "Appearances notwithstanding, Donny Osmond had no more than the usual number of teeth." No word on the count in Farrah's mouth. Mind you, I did learn from sources that she sported an "affected smile" and breast implants. Well, who doesn't, right?

Like the author of this letter, I totally remember that when we girls played Charlie's Angels, everybody wanted to be Jill first. Kris next. Then Kelly. Last dibs: Sabrina. The Jills and Krises and Kellys consoled the Sabrinas of the world with the words, "You know, Sabrina's the brainiest one." Can you say "honorable mention"? We all knew that Charlie's Angels was not about brains. It was not about brawn. It was not about bikinis--well, OK, it was about bikinis. (It was the era of "jiggle TV," after all. Or one of the eras. Think Baywatch.) More importantly, however, it was about hair. Kate Jackson just didn't have it. And by it I mean the hair. (Side note: Sandra Bullock kind of reminds me of Kate Jackson.)

Two additional thoughts on FF. First, my parents' friends' daughter had a book in her personal library, via those highly revered Scholastic orders, which alleged that Lindsay Wagner had sparked Lee Majors's interest until Farrah Fawcett caught his eye. Again, I can't find online material to substantiate that. I suspect the author took great liberties, perhaps blurring the fictional Six Million Dollar Man/Bionic Woman romantic narrative with the real-life Fawcett/Majors tale. Or maybe the book never said that at all. Or I misread it. I was a guest, after all, so I was expected to play, not read my hosts' books. The agony of childhood responsibilities. (By the way, Lindsay Wagner recently celebrated her 60th birthday.)

Second, before it was known as Valley Pharmacy or Morris Super Variety, the Morris Drug Store sold O-Pee-Chee trading cards with bubblegum. They had a series devoted to Charlie's Angels. You can still find collections on ebay; I must've had about five #122 cards at one point. Now this is truly scary: an original, unopened pack. (I don't know what's more horrifying, the price of US$179.99 or the idea that someone might purchase it, open it, and chew the gum after all these years.)

Anyway, here's an article that I thought put FF's career into perspective. And here's a link to the pilot episode's opening backstory and credits.

Two icons of Generation X, my generation, gone.