Monday, December 28, 2009

Becoming SoHa’ans


Well, it took us a while to write here. There is a lot of stuff that has happened – if only this could work as an excuse for us and not make it even worse that we haven’t written. Well.

Meanwhile the impressive golden-sunny New York’s autumn turned into a rainy winter with its frigid winds and gray lack of light. Nothing pleasing indeed. But if you are a bit patient it can still surprise you with a pretty day, from time to time. Even with a snow storm or lovely walks trough the fields of Central Park covered by purely white duvet.

Another important change has been that we moved to a new apartment; to a new area and I guess to a whole new ambiance of our life in NYC. When we finally decided that we do not want to stay in the overwhelming flat at the Upper East Side, the owner informed us that she wants to move back to her place, so our moving out became clear and determined. The question was where to go. So with a lot of suspicion, traumatic memories of previous flat huntings we started the game. The area of research was quite limited with the decision to move closer to the Columbia University and to the West Side Manhattan. Although the main reason was our limited budget (especially limited for Manhattan prices). The unique area affordable and suitable for us became Harlem/Morningside and we visited there a few flats. The beginning was of course stressful: questions about our security numbers (as foreigner “visitors” we don’t have them), strange meetings with real estate agents that never appear or who give misleading information and all the deal with the American taxes, tips, fees that are (almost) never included in the prices written down. But about two weeks later we discovered that to find a new flat is actually easier than to find a good place to print photos!

First we fell in love with the photos of this apartment and couldn’t stand to wait a week or so to see it, then during two days we couldn’t stop asking ourselves will the owners accept our application. Finally we started to move in on Thanksgiving Day. It is a brownstone town house from the nineties of the nineteenth century – from the beginning of the Harlem urbanization boom. One of these townhouses that you probably know from romantic comedies: four floors, three windows on each floor, walkup stairs directly from the sidewalk or through a tiny front yard a bit lower than the street level (our case) and obviously a plasterwork in milk chocolate color with decorative black iron cornice. The first two floors are occupied by owner’s family (cool, eco-enthusiastic couple with baby twins), on the next two floors there are small flats for rent, two on each. Really cozy and quiet (if not one of our neighbors – a “talkative” type) with a classy super tight and arduous staircase. We moved on the top floor, on the street side, windows facing north but with a view to a row of the same kind of townhouses as ours and above them a large skyscape cut by plane traffic to the LaGuardia airport. If not already enough Newyorkish, in addition we have here this kind of a daylight that I found essential for Manhattan – almost never direct sunlight but variously colored air over city roofs line and below it constant game of light reflection of windows’ mirrors, of shadows and its pale light done by colors and surfaces of walls, trees, billboards and so on. And when there is sunlight it’s just this kaleidoscopic light game, always impressing and surprising with its effect.

Of course as soon as we came here with the first bags we found the first downsides of our new home. It was empty, what gave a nice relief after the overcrowded place in Upper East - filled with Victorian roses, plates and pretty small tables of the owner. Here we have just a unique open space, a nice hardwood floor, one uncovered brick wall, fresh white painting, new but classical New York style bathroom (as in the film Annie Hall!), small kitchenette and the best of all – three big windows not covered with trellis or filled with an ugly box of air conditioner. But we also discovered that it was pretty chilly and that there is this old smell of animals and cigarettes and you really can do nothing about it. The nice looking old iron heater starts to go on only when the temperature in the owners apartment falls below 21C and usually it’s a bit warmer at theirs. In addition we were disappointed that this heater doesn’t work in the “European” way just by staying worm… naturally it must also make noise and split steam.

During the long weekend of Thanksgiving we succeeded to bring our stuff one trip after another. We collected quite a lot already at that time. As you can imagine there was a lot of fun and sweat, trips by city bus with our findings from the street (chairs and paintings) with our jasmine bush and broken suitcases. As we fulfilled the flat with our cardboards, papers and so on the emptiness of it became problematic. So there were of course trips to IKEA in Brooklyn and to Target in Bronx for some needful objects (like curtains, extra heater or lamps..) but after having spent a few days on the floor surrounded by the hills of stuff and a few nights spent on the air mattress we started a real, full time hunt on the Craigslist and mainly on the Manhattan streets for some suitable furniture. It’s great that you can find so easily nice stuff here, maybe the before Christmas time was also a good season for it, and finally we got all what we needed. The funniest was probably the adventure with the sofa-bed which we found by Craigslist. We picked it up from a nice American-Dutch couple, from thirtieth floor flat in a fancy building in the West Central Park area. First we got for free the huge plastic bags (we hoped to succeed to put the sofa’s mattress in it) from C-town (one of the cheapest supermarkets), then we got by metro to the sofa’s owners place. At the place, nicely chatting with the sofa’s owners we disassembled the sofa as much as it was possible. Fortunately it was possible to roll the mattress tightly enough to put it into the bags. We came down with an elevator and caught the cab. The frame was of course too big for a yellow taxi, so we left it there by the doormen’s room and drove home with “the essential part”. Then, when we got it upstairs, by frugality we just walked back for the rest. And with it we walked back home along the Central Park. Luckily it was a sunny day and even the walk with the frame was pleasant. I don’t need to tell you how happy we are now about our sofa, do I? But the furnishing is still in progress, it’s just no more full time job. The most recently found chair for example is stubbornly falling apart, so there is the question: try to fix it or.. look for a new one?

L.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Fire island had more amazing sights than the blog could take...


Take off



We wanted to see the ocean already during the small "election day" break, but as a good worker/student I of course got ill during the break. The flew didn't last long, so we got to have that take off last weekend. We were supposed to wake up early on Saturday morning, but as we got two German guys to visit us, we didn't go until Sunday. Saturday night we spent in a bar in East Village, listening to the music from NuBlu jazz festival. There was even a drum player who had recorded with Miles Davis in the 70's... Oh well, that's another story.

But on Sunday morning we woke up, took the subway to LIRR (Long Island Rail Road) at Penn Station. By the train we ended up at the Bayshore station from where we walked a mile or so to the ferry that would take us to Fire Island. Yeii, we would see the waves! We also got a really sun shiny day. Because I was a bit afraid I would not stay healthy, I was dressed in a winter jacket (the so called Michelin jacket).

Oh boy, we forgot the noisy Manhattan streets as soon as the ferry took off. It was so refreshing to breath the ocean air! Of course I was also excited about all the furry passengers on the boat, as much eager to get on the beach as I was. There was e.g. Cleo the wheaten terrier. The rest of the passengers were quite white, upper middle or even higher class people that had/rented/visited the houses on the beach.


When the boat arrived, we walked on the Atlantic side of the beach. By crossing the island we passed many funny looking houses someone had constructed there. In the summer time the island is apparently crowded: families and young people that come in groups to party. On the shore the houses were really fancy - the architects have done their best to constuct those beach houses.


We just walked on the beach, enjoyed the sun and made a collection of shells. We also had a picnic there. Unfortunately the animals that I normally so much like caused us a little headache: as we were eating, suddenly a big golden retriever showed up. I saw it was looking at our sandwiches and told him: "NO!". So s/he decided to grab one really quickly and as doing so threw some sand on our lunch. As I ran after it, I heard the owner screaming "Oh I'm so sorry!"... Well, the dog looked like s/he has done it some times. I wonder who had let it do so.


As I'm writing this text now I can still remember the salty ocean air. Changing the scene once in a while does you good. It's also good to know that there is something more here than just the big city.

We try to find a new apartment here. Please cross your fingers so that you'll have a place to sleep in when you come visit us! ;)

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

All Souls’ Day experience





It was fabulous to experience the Halloween but the day after there was All Saints’ Day and I was about to visit the cemetery. And NYC surprised me with that once more. Finding a graveyard is not such an easy deal as you would think (you know, comparing with the European metropolises). At Manhattan there is almost none of them besides some small churchyards, and I was looking for something big, with famous habitants, nice sculptures and atmosphere (Pere Lachaise, Powązki, Hietaniemi..). There is of course something like that – the Greenwoods cemetery in Brooklyn which in nineteenth century was the most popular tourist attraction of the US. Even more visited than Niagara Falls, can you imagine!? Well, at the epoch. Because today the most fascinating thing about Greenwoods is how it came to be so forgotten and abandoned place.

First it was not easy to find that it exists, then how to get there. I must say that waking up after Halloween night was not painless. But when we finally did it and after one hour in the metro when we ended up in front of the cemetery gate it was already closed and before we found another one which should be open longer it got dimmer and of course it was also closed. Well we had about a one hour walk along the graveyard’s fence. Quite scenic walk after all: from one side the English garden style graveyard with its idealized views, from another the postindustrial area of railroads, magazines and tracks' parking going down to the Brooklyn harbor. And in addition the view to the Manhattan sky towers and harbor and Liberty Statue on the skyline. The next day was the All Souls’ Day and I was decided to come back. And it was worth of it.

The day was cool but sunny and in the sharp grip of littoral air all redness yellowness gold rosiness and dying greenness seemed just about to explode. The yard is huge, I spent there more than five hours and didn’t succeed to visit all parts of it. Situated on the hills of Brooklyn with surprising views to downtown made even stronger impression than Central Park. It’s not a grave city with strict lines of stones and narrow paths between. It is a park with artificial lakes and waterfalls, with grottos, monumental stairs, squares with fountains. And at the same time a pretty rich botanic garden with collection of old and rare trees bushes and so on. And the graves, well they are just scattered all around blending with the landscape, sometimes dominating it, marking, emphasizing its idealistic and symbolic meanings, another times simply lost and abandoned in the domain of woods. Therefore the depth impression of this amazing place was done by the coexistence of this beautiful idealized and artificial landscape, so strongly and with such a big effort done to comfort still alive visitors, with their absolute absence. During the time which I spent there I met only five or six persons walking around. In the middle of Brooklyn! After really looking for it I found maybe ten graves with marks of someone’s care and visits. And without any tourists, photographers, impressions’ seekers… I was really shocked and so exited. To find yourself as a discoverer in NYC and then keep it alive during several minutes, hours (!) it was something. Irony of all this situation, like a silent laughter of a death. Like in Poussin’s Arcadia that humorously lost or get rid of ignorant shepherds. And in this finally empty paradise of memory only the regular work of gardeners, of quite big group of gardeners that makes the emptiness of the garden just more visible.

As it probably was easy to foresee after the walks on the Styx side, at some point I arrived to the other shore. In the middle of charming English style garden with its Antic temples, obelisks, columns and marble cradles I found a strange looking, business center like building. Set in the mountainside, almost invisible with its glass and steely walls shows up only its roof pyramid. Inside several flours connected by comfortable stairs and elevators. Hardwood floor and soft carpets. In every corner stylish sofa. Gentile music comes from hidden speakers. The landscape comes in through glass walls. On the other ones there are marble and granitic plaques with names, dates and so on. The new cemetery looks like a reception in a good quality hotel. And when I sat down there, on one of the sofas and looked around I somehow felt as I really wait for a room.

What an All Souls’.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Halloween special








People started decorating their doorways already weeks before the last Saturday of October. It crossed our minds that in this neighborhood of ours it even might be that they pay someone to do the decorations for them – they looked so professionally done. And when the Halloween day came, we could see that not only the decorations of houses were well done but people had really put energy and time in decorating themselves. There were witches, cartoon characters, politicians, musicians, clowns, cats, vampires, small police- or firemen walking on the streets.

The exciting atmosphere of the day was visible all day but when we entered the metro to go to the Greenwich Village Halloween parade it really started to grow. Sitting in the metro, my Venice mask on (L was kind of a phantom of the opera), on the other side Captain Hook and an angel, on the left a vivid bee I couldn’t help sighing that this is something big, a happening that unites lots of the people in New York City and it made myself think that I live (and also take part) in their community.

When the fully blocked subway arrived at Spring Street station we scrambled out and started looking for the beginning of the parade. When we found it we had to wait for about an hour for the parade to start off. At first it was depressing that we couldn’t move: I was supposed to take pictures for my photography course and now there was just a big bunch of excited people standing close to each other. It also started raining cats and dogs and we were soaking wet by the time we left the parade. But before the parade started, I was obliged to take pictures of people from very close range. And we noticed that in fact those were the best pictures of the night. And how people liked to pose! It seemed they were all dressed up just for being seen, and of course the parade was for that.

When the parade finally started we felt comfortable of being free to move and see all the different costumes and pass by the different bands that were making the music for the parade. We saw dancing and incredibly well done costumes. But as the rain didn’t stop we walked quite quickly to the end of the parade. All in all, we still had a party to attend.

The party took place in Brooklyn and on those blocks there were several industrial buildings. Luckily someone had had an idea of turning those buildings into concert and party places. We had heard about this “Last Masquerade” party from a friend. Apparently someone else had also heard about it: when we arrived after having changed and dried clothes at home, the line for the entrance of the party was about 300 meters. But as we were really curious about it, we decided to stay.

Of course when we would have been the next ones to go in, we were told that there would be an hour’s door shut. “Too crowded inside” the doorman shouted. Well the building, although looking like a big building, had taken quite many people inside…

As we had heard that the party uses several buildings in the neighborhood, we walked some blocks to find the other locations. We found one of them and surprisingly we got in without even paying the 20 dollars entrance fee! It looked pretty artistic inside with the video projections and gold-painted branches of trees. On the roof there were live bands playing and one of them really got our legs shaking. I don’t know the name but here’s a picture of the singer.

We spent an hour at the party and then found our way to the metro. Metro travel was still interesting with all the tired Halloween characters, like Cruella deVille leaning on one of the Dalmatians…

Funnily, the next day when we started our trip to the cemetery, I was pleased to see that people were once more looking normal.

E

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

dry water and soft air

Water from the faucet smells like a swimming pool. You can get used to it even when you drink it, but it can sometimes surprise you when you take a glass of water or open the shower. With shower there is also something else. You cannot control the stream force. You are not supposed to use both of your hands so there is only one cock and it gives you the possibility to decide if you want to open or not, and then the temperature. And that's all. So simple.
Yesterday we found out next surprising feature of our flat. Apparently the heating season began because in the morning our so far silent and inconspicuous radiator woke us up by loud spit of hot air, and repeated it once in a while. Nice.
Before I leave the apartement there is one more challenge, with which I still can't cope. When I'm about to leave I have this habit that I look out from the window to check the weather. I'm used to decide what to put on me by looking what the pedestrians wear. And from here you can see quite a lot of them. The problem is just that there are always some of them only in t-shirts and shorts, in summer dresses, in sandals, and then just beside them the others in winter coats, hats and so on without mentioning all those how are in between. The weather forecast doesn't help either with all those fahrenheits and miles per hour. So usually I wear too much, but recognize it after a few hundred meters of biking when I'm already totally sweaty. Or then not enough, and that I discover freezing too far away from home.
Yes, but when I finally succeed to go out it's fine. I really like the place. The air is very soft and pleasant, even when there is a cool or wet wind. There is noticeable proximity of the rivers and the ocean is somewhere near with its fishy mood. And there are all those strange shadows and refractions and reflexes on the walls and the streets. Smells, voices and noices, quite often unpleasant but well. With the pedestrians and passers-through I have still this feeling of new place, that I cannot imagine their life, what they will do in three hours or how they woke up last morning. Of course in the places where I'm used to, I don't know about them either but I have this maybe dangerous facility to imagine. Or even better I'm so used to those people that I don't need to imagine. I can recognize their smell, their clothes, their directions. Here it's still a new place, and in addition it seems that here is more diversity than usually is.
One thing that makes this place surprisingly familiar are the plane-trees. There are plenty of them in parks, on the streets and in house yards. They made the splendid alleies with rhythmical line of fanciful columns and spectacular sunshade full of gold and greenish spots. On the narrow one-way streets between amazingly tall brick walls they seem to share out more of the light then of shadow with their illuminated yellowish treetop. There are also shadowy acacias with their funny sprined pod under the branches, oaks and the others well known to me. I don't know why plane-trees made the biggest effect. And why I feel so cozy with them, a bit defiantly to all strangeness. Parisian nostalgia? Or just light?

L

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Floria Tosca on my mind



It's now been almost a week since we went to see Tosca in Metropolitan opera. Today L showed me a Maria Callas version on Youtube and now "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore" ('I lived for art, I lived for love') is in my mind constantly.

So let's go back in time to Tuesday. I had read the summary of the Puccini's opera just before leaving the house. It seemed to me that the plot is, well, not too complicated to follow. I was expecting a love/criminal story with of course the Finnish star in the main role, Karita Mattila as Tosca, of whom the posters have taken over the billboards in the entire city of NY.

As we arrived to the opera, my toes all crushed by my new shoes, I was feeling curious but not overexcited by the upcoming event (I've always wondered what is it that makes ladies cry in the opera, at least the ladies in films). The critics have blamed the director of the opera, Luc Bondy, of having made the stage and settings look cold and too lame for a big opera like this... Hmm, I found, as the show started, that there was nothing bothering me. Because when the music started, it didn't need anything to be added! I hope the strong emotions evoked by the singing of Mattila didn't have anything to do with patriotisme. Maybe not, because I wasn't the only one to adore it.

So as the opera continued, I melt. The arias were really beautiful and well sung. The jealousy, the murder and the despair were credibly played in all it's dramatization. The final scene even caused me some kind of an after shock, so I was a bit dizzy leaving the seat. The only thing I didn't like in the evening, were the long intermissions. Opera is apparently not only the place to listen to music but also to meet people. Or drink or spend time in a restroom. Or whatever people do on so long pauses. With all that time I got bored and noticed that the new shoes not only caused me ache but also wholes in my tights.

Luckily the performance was so good that I forgot all the discomfort. Instead, "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore" doesn't seem to leave me even after one week. I'm really happy about seing Tosca here.

E

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

another homeboy

king Jagiełło - the gardener in CP

Sunday, October 4, 2009

first of October

I'm here since 4 days, E since a bit longer, lets say one month. E is already more or less settled, I'm new. Enthusiastic, ridiculous. I didn't saw too much, any touristic places beside biking down Broadway and Times Square or some paths in CP. But I'm impressed even when I go to the closest grocery. Well I'm excited. And there is so many things everywhere around and they all try to attract me. Apparently with a good effect.
Thursday I met the first Polish. On the Broadway and 111th street. An ageless lady with a remarkable composition of ribbons on her head. She was standing on a walkway damning and blessing the pedestrians: I wish your legs will burn in the eternal fire of Hell, shall your asses go straight to the most wet part of Heaven and so on. She asked also for the distruction of the Columbia University and other institutions nearby. Of course she didn't forget about blaming all passers-by for the degeneration of the world. And all that in a really impressive Polish, mixing the biblical and krebstone dicourse with a kind of dadaist poetics and a lot of succesfull bitter invocations. A Polish witch. Welcome on board!
Yesterday looking for a store (mysteriously become evanescent) we found out that our neighborhood is, or at least was at some point, the "little Hungary". Good to know. To celebrate that we made an investment in a Hungarian bakery. Surprisingly big investment but after all the cherry and cheese strudels were enough gorgeous for their price.
L