Other Journeys

March 23, 2019:

I have not written in a while because I have not 'travelled' in a while - though I did just return from our annual family holiday to Florida which was lovely. I did nothing (except for watching Christopher Robin) and...

Doing nothing often leads to the very best something. See #ChristopherRobin in theatres August 3. pic.twitter.com/LCxCLZAfNP

— Walt Disney Studios (@DisneyStudios) July 4, 2018

On the plane home, I was having the urge to write and be creative for the first time in ... years? I have a deep love of learning and chose to pursue my Masters of Education, hoping to explore some questions related to my teaching career. I was happily hired full-time this year for teaching and had to adjust my plans related to my Masters. I still enjoy the courses, but the schedule has been gruelling. Just before the March Break, I came to the realization that I have not have a break from work since September 2016 (when I enrolled in my program) where I wasn't required to complete homework or to research and it made me feel exhausted.

This week back has also been really hard. I've shared the experience of my sister's sudden death (here) in this blog as it constituted the end of my exchange to France, and I shared my experience of grieving (here) while taking my first solo trip since that trauma (and learning about my mental health).

So here we are. Today it has been 6 years since Meagan left. And I have been trying really hard this year to grow accustomed to all of the changes I've been experiencing. So this post is about that journey.

What has been challenging was the decision in November, after a summer where I rarely got to rest, to give up on my thesis and switch to a course-based program to complete my degree. I really liked me supervisor. I was really interested in my research topic. And I only managed to spend one week doing research throughout the summer. Once school started, it was not going to happen. I changed schools. A new staff and school community to adapt to and a new full-time schedule.

In December, I lost all of my research notes when someone stole my external hard drive (along with all of my photos since high school - thankfully I had printed out all my favourite travel photos to put in albums, but farewell to any photos that I had not printed or saved on Facebook), my running shoes with my orthotics in them and my iPod from 2007. So, not only was all the research I did lost, but I couldn't use it for my courses. The only saving grace was that I sent versions of my thesis to my supervisor that survive in email archives.

Also challenging was giving up weekly visits with Nicole's son to the library when my course started in January.

Though I adore my class, there are students struggling with a lot who have not been adequately supported by the system and are now 7 years into their school career. It has been a lot of personal time and a lot of pressure to advocate for them and to get them the support that they need. And now we can add the stress of possible job action in the face of massive cuts to education, especially in special education, where students like those I am trying to help get their support from. It's demoralizing.

I have been responsible as the President of my Rotary club for closing it down because of declining membership. I had to navigate Canada's tax laws concerning registered charities and play phone tag to learn that, despite institutional legend, we had not been incorporated since 1994. The customer service representative asked me questions about that time as if I wasn't 4 years old which made things awkward.

I have also been responsible for managing the back-end of a website for an organization that I love, but it has been very stressful because website upgrades cost a lot of money and I am not a web developer or even remotely qualified for this responsibility. I just happen to be the most qualified, currently, of our organization. I've had to limit my responsiveness in order to maintain my weekly responsibilities and to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

Beginning in April, I am going to have to put a hold on voice lessons  (my weekly pleasure activity) until July so that I can attempt to finish two courses at once.

I think the worst part has been feeling like I have to put everything on hold until a future date when I can feel the kind of balance I felt after counselling. The things I want to do personally and professionally and the people that are important to me keep getting sidelined for this degree. I have considered quitting my Masters. But the courses interest me and the discussions interest me and the people in my courses and their experiences interest me. Ultimately, I will try to finish, but it will take until next April (2020) and I will continue giving things up until then.

Maybe it's helping (or maybe not), but I created a list of the things I'd like to do after I'm finished. I think it mostly makes me annoyed at Instagrammers who come to the cafe where I am doing *work* and take videos of the cafe as if they have nothing to do but entertain followers. Stop rubbing it in my face that you could do anything on my list right now but instead you're worried about curating the perfect life!

And okay, like half of this is catching up on shows, but I would also do wholesome things like checking out Hamilton's waterfalls and volunteering. I would rejoin the Rotary/Rotaract family! Maybe I would return to swing dancing (which is another casualty of this Masters gristmill). I would definitely be reading Healing the Adult Sibling's Grieving Heart. Maybe I would learn all of BTS' choreography!

(Honestly, I am tempted to follow the advice in this song and not just the choreo: /Live however you want, it’s yours anyway/ Stop trying, it’s okay to lose/ Throw your hands up, scream, burn it up/ It’s on fire.)

BTS has been a high point in recent years. Becoming a fan led me to new friendships and a sense of belonging to the A(dorable) R(epresentative) M(Cs of) Y(outh) or ARMY; encouraged me to continue learning Korean; and introduced me to a new musical universe that collides with strange ways with the music I have loved forever.

Recommendations for RM - A thread

— ARMY tess 💜🇨🇦 MetLife 05.19.19 (@taeronto2013) March 14, 2019

And I know that Meg was screaming happily in the crowd with me when they came to Hamilton in September 2018. One of their special "inside" habits with fans is to say "Borahae" which means "I purple you". It's because they think that purple, as the last colour of the rainbow, shows how enduring their love for their fans is and vice versa. I connect because purple was Meg's favourite colour and our love is also forever. Also, she would love their body rolls. Just saying.

And their messages about self-love and stuff probably, too. She'll be screaming with me again in New Jersey in May 2019. When things have been especially difficult, mentally, this year, I have been comforted by them and encouraged to persevere.

Jimin's song Promise reminds me to accept both light and dark sides of my experience:

I say that it’s all fine
The truth is that’s a lie
...
I want you to be your light, baby
You should be your light
So you won’t hurt anymore, so you can smile more
I want you to be your night, baby
You could be your night
I’ll be honest with you tonight
...
Now promise me
Several times a day
Even if you feel that you are alone
Don’t throw yourself away

Hold on for a moment
Intertwine our pinkies
And promise me now

So I hold on to all the things I am grateful for.

In October, I was so happy to have Brittney (of the Australia-related travels in June/July 2012 fame, of the England for New Years in 2017 fame, and a friend I have cherished since high school) move in with me upon her return to Canada. It has filled a big need for having company that I enjoy on a regular basis. I'm so grateful for her.

There are some amazing people who I get to work (or play) with in various capacities who I feel close to and supported by. I am grateful for Kim, Rochelle, Arthur, Becky, Lisa, Celine, Nehal, Nancy, Kristy, Sarah, Matthew, Kim Erin, Kerry, Salwa and others (it's after midnight, so please forgive me if your name got lost in the swamp of my thoughts).

I wonder if it's related to getting older, but I also feel that I can comfortably reach out to friends I haven't seen in months and get together as if no time has passed. There is no awkwardness and we are just genuinely happy to fall into meaningful conversations. I'm grateful for Lauren, Gianluca, Emma, Heather, Alexandria, Talaira, Nicole, Danielle, Hattie, Chantal, Chris and others. Your conversations hold me up.

I also took the initiative last summer to use an app to find friends in this city. I love it here, but it is a big small town and many people that I meet have friends here already because they grew up here. I was lucky to meet Amanda who also loves Harry Potter and travelling and we do Zumba and other stuff together which I love. I'm so grateful for her, too.

I have an amazing trainer, Marco, who holds me accountable for coming to the gym and working hard. It is a bright spot in my week to be able to laugh while making my body stronger and it is a critical part of my mental health strategy. My students keep me active, too, but it is slightly less fun to work out with them.

I'm grateful to Sarah, my wonderful vocal coach and friend of 5 years, who takes care of me nearly every week. We're singing this song right now and crying a little at how beautiful it is:



I'm grateful to Dr. Goodfellow, the TMJ dentist who introduced me to Dr. Mohamed and Katrina to stop me from grinding my teeth in my sleep (which was actually a breathing/swallowing problem). They have relieved chronic pain and headaches I had been experiencing for at least a year and gave me hope that I can get restful sleep without a night guard (when other things like anxiety aren't interfering).

I'm grateful for my class who challenge me and inspire me and teach me to ask new questions. I'm grateful that they trust me and that their parents trust me. Together, we've done some pretty cool stuff and they have been willing to try new things with me, including role playing the House of Commons (most recently). I've been able to open up to all of my students about Meagan, usually long before I'm comfortable to do so with colleagues or new adults (but that has been generally easier after 6 years of practicing). This group has given me the opportunity to teach them about the importance of mourning and speaking your grief out loud.It's been difficult and also healing to do this with them, the same way that teaching Phantom of the Opera to a group of high school students and exploring Christine's grief was a healing experience during a teachers' college practicum in 2014.

I'm grateful that I will get to be a part of Heather's and Danielle's wedding celebrations (which will include another trip to the East Coast, hopefully also to encounter some new places and adventures). I'm (mostly) grateful that there are no Masters courses running in July and August so I will have a real break from all kinds of work. I'm grateful that I have a job where I get to make a difference to people and that I am respected and treated well by my colleagues and principal.

Most of all I'm grateful for my family who love me and who keep Meagan here by speaking her name. Andrea created a beautiful video that literally makes me cry every time.
Something I have learned about and have begun wanting is a rite for Meagan. Having a memorial dinner (Meagan's might consist of Joe Louis, apple sauce on toast, and rice krispie squares) or visiting a grave site or some other mourning rite that expresses outwardly the recurring pain I feel. This year, we will simply have dinner together as a family, but I will keep you posted.

Adventures in Kent

January 2, 2018:

In the near dark, we arrived in Denton which appeared to be a village of four or five houses and a pub at  a curve in the road in the midst of a forest. Our instructions were that the house where Brittney had agreed to cat-sit was "across the street" from the bus stop. So we were perplexed when we looked across the street and saw those same four or five houses.

Thankfully, Brittney had access to data and she managed to get in touch with the girl we would be taking over from who came out to meet us. She was bright and fun and gave us the in-depth tour of the house.

Once again, I had pictured this:

However, the house was bound to become a character in our stay there. We had to ensure that the windows were opened if we took a shower and then we had to squeegee the whole bathroom, we couldn't flush any toilet paper unless it was a number 2, the bathroom door could not be closer or we would be trapped inside, the heater sometimes cut out, and then the cat's food schedule and care ritual was pretty impressive on top of that.

After getting the grand tour of all the house's quirks, I went across the street to the pub to see if I could get take-away for dinner. When I entered there seemed to be a number of locals in front of the bar on the left side of the building, and to the right there was a fancy dining room. I approached the bar to ask about take away and did not clearly hear what the bartender asked me, so I said the standard Canadian "How are you?" She asked me to repeat myself, an expression of confusion crossing her features. I was not following the script. I said, loudly, "How are you?" She did not know how to answer. She said something like, "I'm good." Awkwardness. She asked, "Are you alright?" Standard British greeting. I felt as though I was being asked if I needed to be taken for therapy or to the hospital. I guess that's understandable considering I'd nearly shouted at her to overcome the confusion. I said, "Yes" and we both attempted to salvage the interaction through politeness and hesitancy. They couldn't do any of the vegetarian meals as take-away for some reason so I had to sit by myself in the pub - Brittney had brought some left-over soup as she was feeling ill. In the end, I survived and managed to eat a delicious risotto.

We benefitted from the fireplace once we figured out how to get a fire going (an hour later) on our first night, but we both slept terribly that night. I slept on a futon in the nook of one room - my legs and shoulder kept falling asleep because the floor was so hard and I overheated under the blankets that I was using as sheets and covers. Brittney had a similar experience in the bed which was very hard. We thought we'd try a different configuration the following night: she slept on the downstairs couch (where she overheated) and I slept in the hard bed (and woke up with pain in my shoulders all day). So the third night, we put the futon on top of the bed and had the least awful sleep possible given the conditions. In the meantime, we spent some time exploring.

January 3, 2018:


What I imagined Kent would be like:



It turned out to be me getting off the bus too early in Folkstone and having to walk for over 40 minutes without wifi or data to meet with Maddie (of the Lyon exchange fame) at the bus station. I assumed, wrongly, that Folkstone would be as small as Denton and that there may only be one bus stop. It should have occurred to me that my anticipated arrival time was still 12 minutes away and that I was meant to get off at the bus station, not a bus stop, but hindsight is 20/20 they say.

So I had a scenic tour of most of what Folkstone had to offer and saved myself by carefully reading and navigating a map posted on a gas station.

Who needs a knight in shining armour when you can have a map and your own brain!

Red cheeks, don't care. Weird hair, almost there.

Maddie hadn't received my desperate text message explaining my mistake, but she had waited for me anyway and we carried on as if this was the plan all along. She explained that the Veteran's Walkway I'd just climbed up (and was now climbing back down) was the work of locals who knit poppies each year in remembrance and compared it to the multi-million dollar archway that the mayor of the region had insisted on erecting (compensating?) for the purpose of attraction tourists. It was immediately obvious to me why Maddie and I had got on so well when we lived in Lyon.

We went to a delicious vegetarian cafe for lunch and walked around parts of the city. There was recently an art installation that happens every year so we checked out some of the installations that were chosen to stay, including one about gentrification which particularly resonated with me. Folkstone felt a lot like Hamilton in some respects. Most of the blue collar jobs in the port had become redundant because of the Chunnel and other methods of transport for trade, so there is increased poverty and homelessness, so the arts began to thrive and now Folkstone is being gentrified with Londoners buying second homes for their holidays, driving up housing prices and turning the town into a tourist destination. I couldn't help but be reminded of James St. N. and the development that has happened and is happening there because of the thriving arts scene.

I saw the Cliffs of Dover from a distance, and that seemed good enough to me. It was so windy that there were people out surfing which was extremely bizarre given the chill. We walked along the coast line and talked about Maddie's PhD research and different experiences that she'd had as a PhD student, and my Masters research and experiences teaching. We talked about mutual friends from Lyon that we'd both kept in touch with and the hours passed like minutes.

I did a quick grocery shop. Is it just me or do the British have a super strange language where "rude" means "innuendo" but they have no problem boldly putting the word "nuts" next to a word I initially thought said "sacks" so....

I made it back to Denton, thinking about how distance and time didn't seem to matter when it came to making good friends (rather than dwelling too long on the nuts & snacks issue), and Brittney and I made pasta for dinner before cozying up to watch K-drama in front of the fire.

Park Hyung Sik was keeping things toasty on-screen while we snuggled up with the blankets and our tea.

January 4, 2018:

Brittney's American PhD friend joined us for a day trip to Margate, which is a special town famous for its casinos and for the low-income housing on the waterfront.

It's also famous for a mysterious Shell Cave, which we decided to visit. Brittney and I didn't really know what it was, so we were a little shocked to find that it was somehow located in the middle of the city, rather than near the coast.

Was genuinely tempted to sing "Part of Your World" at the top of my lungs, but felt compassion for my companions and opted to spare them my self-indulgence.

We amused ourselves generating hypotheses about the origins and purpose of the cave and its shell patterns, determining that it might have been built by a man pining for his lost lover, or by a cult of women who worshiped nature (this seemed the most likely based on the prevalence of flower, heart, and uterus patterns we found throughout the cave).

This is 100% a uterus.

<3

We convened at the "Lighthouse Bar" which ranks as one of the top strangest experiences I've had as a customer. The bar was not heated and the bartender disappeared after serving us and did not return for the entirety of our stay. Unfortunately, we couldn't climb to the top of the lighthouse but we got to see the sun set as we discussed Russian, Chinese and US politics. My favourite! I even got some book recommendations.

January 5, 2018:

Realizing that although I had made the wise decision to book a late flight, we were not a simple 30-hour train ride away like we would have been in London and in order to get to Gatwick, I would need to leave Denton around 5am, we decided to spend the night back in Brittney's dorm. Buses don't even run that early through Denton. That morning after our first good sleep (see above), we packed up and caught the bus to Canterbury.

We went for a vegan lunch and took in some of the local sights, including Canterbury Cathedral.

I'm still not sure if this was a Catholic Church or a Church of England because it kept referring to the Pope but then didn't really seem Catholic in the end? I'm sure I could do a Wikipedia search, but I'm not really sure if I care that much. What was interesting was the stained glass, in particular. Most of it had to be protected during World War 2 bombings but a bunch of it was destroyed so there are some more modern artistic renderings there which made for interesting contrast. This wasn't necessarily newer but the photograph of the angel stained glass above resonated with me a lot. She looks like a girl on fire. Feminism! Hunger Games! All the things!

We had a wonderful sleep on the dorm beds (ironically) and we woke up bright and early to catch my trains and my flight. I was sad to say goodbye to my travel bestie. It's been over 10 years since our first trip together and I know there will be others. <3 I'm grateful to her for hosting me despite her current workload for her Masters.

Early morning view of London from a tube station.

Pip pip cheerio! (And welcome back to -23 degrees Celsius in Toronto!)

And a Warwick New Year

December 28 & 29th, 2017: Getting There

My plan had been to sleep through the overnight flight and to wake up somewhat prepared for the jetlag that inevitably awaited at the Gatwick Airport for me to crash and burn. The universe (or flight attendants?) had other plans.

Our flight left at 9:15pm from the Toronto Pearson airport, and although it would have been logical to do meal service in the "morning" closer to our arrival around 9am in England, Air Transat thought that it would be better to serve dinner at 10:30pm EST (or 3:30am GMT). Right. If anyone can explain to me why this happened, I'm very curious and would be happy to find out.

I put the "Do Not Disturb" sign up on my seat's screen device and had my eye cover on. The flight attendant shouted at the people in the seat's next to mine and made sure to bump into my shoulder at every occasion. I do my best to be gracious but it was well past my bedtime and I was already annoyed when I sat down and realized that seats are shrinking on flights - not horizontally but vertically. I could see every head in the rows ahead of me. It's like sitting back in grade school with desk in a row. On a flight costing over $1000, it would be great if we could maintain some semblance of privacy and if we were allowed to sleep!

Okay.

I feel better now.

There was joy on the other end of this special trip across the ocean, however.

I made my way uneventfully to the Marylebone train station where I was meeting Brittney (the purpose of my trip) and had time to sit down for a vegetarian breakfast at Gino's coffee bar. English breakfast is my ideal breakfast. It makes me so happy that it's taken for granted that brown beans and mushrooms will be included.

Even more joy awaited at the Warwick train station where Brittney and I met up with Hattie! It was the first time I had seen her since her visit to Canada in 2014. It's hard to believe that it was immediately before my first teaching job and that I am now in my fourth year as a teacher. (Throughout my trip, my Facebook memories kept recalling my trip to Scotland with Talaira during my exchange as having been 5 years ago. Freaky.)

This is the house used as the setting in The Holiday

I held out until 9pm before I needed to crash. Hattie's farmhouse was beautiful and enormous as it normally houses 4 couples and a baby. Dinner was wonderful as usual, and we even managed to sneak in a walk around the farmland just beyond her fence. It was a damp cold, but the walk was invigorating and the whole layout reminded me so much of The Holiday. The road to her house was a single lane, so if you suddenly came across runners or bikers or other vehicles, you had to quickly pull off to the side. Remind me never to volunteer to drive in the English countryside.

December 30, 2017: Cadbury World

Hattie had compiled some choices for our itinerary, promising it would not be as vigorous as Arthur's Normandy tour, and we were in consensus that we should visit Cadbury World.

This was an excellent choice. The history of the Cadbury brothers and the ethics they used to develop their business was pretty fascinating. As Quakers, they thought it was necessary to support the entire community, creating a healthy and supportive working environment for their employees. They essentially created the village of Bourneville to combat the growing problems related to poverty in Birmingham as a result of the industrial revolution.

They moved from the coffee/tea business into the chocolate business as a result of growing popularity among the upper classes at the time. They sort of skirted over the transatlantic slave trade and colonialism's role in procuring sugar and cacao beans for the production of their chocolate, but hey, that would be a downer, and this place was aiming to be the next Disneyland. They have even created 4D cinema productions where you get to live the experience of production from the bean to the chocolate bar. There are also characters called Chuckle Beans which would totally trip someone out if marijuana was legal in the UK. It was great fun.

Mondelēz purchased Cadbury as part of their acquisition of part of Kraft in 2012ish. Dairy Milk bars are one of the only mainstream chocolate bars that has Fair Trade certification, but only their pure milk chocolate bars have the logo. (Side note: I have emailed to enquire about this because I don't understand why they would go to the trouble of certifying their biggest product and not do so for their candy bars with almonds in them, etc.)

Always taking photos for my students.

In any case, we left with our arms full of Curly Wurly, Freddo, Wispa, Fudge, and Creme Egg bars which disappeared gradually over the next few days. New Year, New Self-Control, or something.

For dinner, we went into Stratford-upon-Avon and waved at Shakespeare's birthplace (JK it was too dark, so I don't know if we passed it or not, but I've read the plays so does it really matter if I see where he was born?). We had super delicious Indian food at Balti's Kitchen. Brittney and I devoured our korma curry and papadams. It was the perfect blend of sweet and spicy. The bonus was it was bring your own drinks. We all had to roll ourselves to the bowling alley where the music was much better than any skill demonstrated by our group. I got put on the "bumper" team and scored the highest score of my life. I barely even used the bumpers, probably! The other team had some competitive members who made us put the bumpers down when our score got too close to theirs....

December 31st, 2017:

Bright and early at 2pm, we went down for some "breakfast" of left-over korma and prepared for our big day out at Warwick Castle.

We laughed about each castle having its own claim to fame - Visby, Sweden has the most intact wall for a medieval city, the castle in Blarney has the Blarney Stone, the castle in Edinburgh is the inspiration for Harry Potter, and apparently Warwick is the most well-preserved medieval castle in Europe. We don't know how true any of these things are, especially as we learned that Warwick Castle had been purchased by the company that owns Madame Tussaud's when the family that owned it went too far into debt to be able to repair it.

New Year, New Me?

It was beautiful in any case and well worth the trip. Different parts had been constructed in different eras. Initially, it was an Anglo-Saxon stronghold made out of a wooden wall. Then William the Conqueror started establishing stone forts according to Norman architecture which introduced the stone structures at the top of the mound. Later, towers and walls were introduced by the Earls of Warwick and the statesrooms as well. This was a castle whose various owners helped determine the outcome of the War of the Roses (British Civil War) and which was abandoned by the Tudors. Hitler's Nazi Secretary was held prisoner here for a night. War was the predominant source of funding for this castle.

We saw a birds of prey show that was pretty spectacular and had some interesting tour experiences, but ultimately it was just good fun.

 

We returned home to dress ourselves up and get ready for a night of fondue, picture telephone, Auld Lang Syne, political discussions about Canada's decision to legalize marijuana, and Taboo. It was a blast and I can't share the details, but I can highly recommend any of the above for a stellar New Years Eve.

January 1, 2018:
We benefitted from crepes the next "morning" at around 2pm. Nutella and banana for me. Lemon and sugar for some. Butter and jam for Brittney (to amazed looks for some reason). Yum. I don't understand why these things are called pancakes in England though.

We said a fond farewell to Hattie with big hugs at the train station, hoping to make it to Canterbury before it got too dark. What a wonderful way to spend the holidays! 

Bad Tourists in Times Square

August 14, 2016:

We weren't really that "bad". But we completely abandoned our agenda for the day - which had included a more in-depth exploration of the boroughs downtown (China, SoHo, etc.) - and opted to go and watch "Bad Moms" in Times Square after brunch near the hostel at Crêpes on Columbus. The service wasn't the greatest - maybe we reeked too strongly of tourist? - but the food was delightful.

Ratatouille and poached eggs for me. More traditional brunch fare for Andrea.

Belgian chocolate crêpe for dessert? Don't mind if we do!

We managed to catch the Big Bus on its Uptown Loop near the hostel, so we avoided the sweatstorm of the subway for once, and we arrived in Times Square with only 15 minutes to get to the theatre. We realized that if we put up our umbrella, people coming the other direction would give us some space, so we motored through the tourists in Times Square and made it the AMC theatre just on time. The woman working at the register was so friendly and made sure we got the student discount (I had had the presence of mind to pack my student card - I am starting my Masters of Education after all) and we found spots in the theatre, making it in plenty of time to see the trailers.

We'd chosen our seats well. Sometimes the audience makes a movie - and although this movie was making it all on its own, our audience was doubled over and in tears laughing throughout the film, which it made it that much more enjoyable. And the women next to us could not contain themselves. We took a cue from them and enjoyed this film in a grand way. The air conditioning of the theatre was also a welcome change from our previous days' experiences.

We left the theatre on a high and weren't sure what to do with ourselves next. It was already getting a little late into the afternoon. We'd given ourselves permission to sleep in and shower before brunch, so we decided to check out the Chelsea Market. We took the Downtown Bus Loop and by the grace of some divinity, the temperature had cooled considerable and there was maybe even possibly wind where we sat on the top of the bus! The tour guide was not self-satisfied or self-indulgent! She was just funny and informative and seemed to care a lot about NYC. The tour was also much better from the top of the bus. We got to profit from views of the various buildings like the Flat Iron Building.

And the site of the first elevator in the world (which I recently learned is owned by Amancio Ortego who is/was richer than Bill Gates because he owns Zara and basically invented fast fashion). And this building which has some beautiful Spanish influence. It has been a while since this trip, so I'm sure there are NYC Natives who could tell you the story of this building - sadly, I've forgotten it. I just remember the designer was interesting and he lived in Spain and used the architecture there as inspiration for this building:

We learned that SoHo is so-called because it is SOuth of HOuston (pronounced How-ston). NoHo is therefore NOrth of HOuston. We learned that Chinatown is expanding rapidly and that Little Italy has basically moved to Brooklyn, but there is one or two blocks that still say "Little Italy" - it's there mostly for the benefit of tourists. Canal Street in Chinatown is the place to get souvenirs. We noted this information, but weren't sure if we were really interested in haggling in the heat. We finally got to glimpse the 9/11 Memorial which was beautiful and tasteful, and just as we started to make our way back up the island, the weather turned strange and we were pelted with furious water droplets coming in sideways at us. Our umbrellas were no use because the wind had picked up suddenly and the thunder was rolling somewhere in the distance. They brought out ponchos just as we made it to our stop in Chelsea. The weather made the idea of walking the Chelsea Highline unappealing so we hid out in the markets. It was a hipster wonderland.

Local artisans and shops for every interest! And food!! We did a once-through to see what there was, knowing that they would not be open very late on a Sunday, and then spent some time in shops that had peaked our interest. I found my NYC magnet - a fauvist rendition of the Statue of Liberty by a local artist (it even said "Made in NYC"!) - and we decided to eat at the Italian restaurant there called Giovanni Rana Pastificio & Cucina. It was out of price range, but it was so charming we couldn't say no. And at this point, we didn't think the bill would surprise us.

I ordered the Spinach & Ricotta Girasoli, Parmigiano Reggiano Basket. It was heavenly. The pasta actually came in a basket made from parmigiano cheese. Who thinks of that? And the bread was delicious. I feel bad because I have no memory of any of Andrea's meals. Mine were all so good, I had no time to pay attention to her choices. Also she probably ordered meat which I tend to just ignore now that I'm a year-old vegetarian. I think it was also delicious? It must have been. The pasta was made fresh. It was high class. The candelight cramped our Instagram style, but it was in the service of a super chill mood and a really nice ending to our NYC story. We ordered Vanilla Bomboloni, Nutella Chocolate for dessert on the servers recommendation and then rolled ourselves to the nearest subway station and cried tears of joy all the way back to our hostel.

August 15, 2016:

We booked the shuttle bus back to the airport and met our really chill bus driver who was listening to Steve Harvey's radio show when we first climbed in and then some friendly Aussies as the bus filled up. Hasta la vista, NYC! (Note: this is not real Spanish).

Would I go back? Yes. But not during Christmas. And not during the summer. Early spring or late fall seem like they would be ideal to avoid heat and the extra crowds. I would also try to book far enough in advance that I would be able to find decent lodgings for less than $1 trillion dollars. But most important, I wouldn't set any agenda. We had a lot of anxiety around using our NYC Tourist Pass (which was great) because it was so expensive, and we didn't want to spend any more money than we had to. In hindsight, we had the most fun when we abandoned an itinerary. We managed to do so much over the course of the weekend, which I think was necessary for a first trip, and now if we go back we can try to get more into the vibe of what it might be like to be a New Yorker, rather than being bad tourists.

Lady Liberty and All the Tourist Things

August 13, 2016:

"Lady Liberty and All the Tourist Things" is a new comic I'm writing starring TessAndrea - the greatest superhero team of all time, probably!

We were excited for the chance to escape the heat on the water of the Hudson River and taking the cruise around the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island turned out to be one of the more satisfying tourist activities we engaged in.

While we walked from the subway station near Times Square to the ferry terminal, we crossed paths with a number of homeless people, and the heat at the time was unbearable. According to the NYC Coalition for the Homeless, "In July 2016, there were 60,456 homeless people, including 15,156 homeless families with 23,425 homeless children, sleeping each night in the New York City municipal shelter system. Families comprise just over three-quarters of the homeless shelter population." One of the most heart-wrenching moments was seeing a child laid out on the hot pavement with his eyes closed. Our hearts were so broken, and we were stuck in the bind that I always feel as a person privileged by financial wealth. Do we give money or food to temporarily fix the problem? Or do we condemn the delivery of services meant to be provided by our tax dollars in the hopes that our criticisms will improve their delivery? In other words, do we respond to the individual humanity of the person confronting our comfort? Or do we look at this as a systemic problems and seek further reaching fixes? And what happens when the economic climate created by inherent imbalances in capitalism increase poverty and make it impossible for social services to keep up with the demand for services? I have no idea what solutions their might be to these questions and I am open to perspectives that might be more suited to answering them.

We waited a while to board the boat with Circle Line Cruises, part of NYC Tourist pass, but the breeze coming from the river was divine and before long we were sitting on the covered deck at the top, preparing to see Lady Liberty. She was a gift from the French after the French-American friendship was established during the American Revolution. Long live the Republic! We consumed our cheese and hummus sandwiches, apples, trail mix and juice boxes greedily as the tourists around us took trips to the canteen to buy overpriced junk food. We heard tons about the different piers and buildings along the harbour that I can't remember because it was not particularly interesting or relevant to anyone who isn't a NYC building afficianado, no doubt.

Eventually, we ventured out onto the lower deck to take in some of the views.

You can tell by the genuine smiles that we could feel the oppressive heat and that we were genuinely enjoying our ridiculous hipster photoshoot. So #instaready.

In order to pass the afternoon in relative comfort, we decided to take advantage of our Big Bus Tour pass and do the Uptown loop that we hadn't yet done, so we had an opportunity to learn about the ways that gentrification had resulted in vacant tenement buildings in the neighbours to the North of Central Park. Basically, every upper class group lived to the north of wherever everyone else was living in NYC throughout history. And so basically, as the population grew and more and more people started moving into the homes in the wealthy part of town, the wealthy continued moving north. Eventually, speculators tried to profit from this trend by building massive numbers of tenement buildings north of the Upper East Side and the Upper West Side, but they were unpleasantly surprised when the trend didn't continue, and the wealthy stayed where they were. The property owners now had huge investments that were essentially worthless, so they divided them up and sold them very cheaply to the poor - predominantly Black and Latino citizens. Harlem was one of these communities where the Apollo theatre is located - I geeked out a bit because every amazing jazz artist played there, including Duke Ellington.

Not sure how I feel about his "muses" being a bunch of naked women, but Duke Ellington is bae.

We learned that the Upper West Side, while still wealthy compared to many other parts of NYC, is more of a mixed bag socioeconomically. Our tour guide told us that this is the neighbourhood where he grew up, and that kids from all different classes mixed at school without clear lines drawn the way they are painted in shows like Gossip Girl which are set in the Upper East Side.

 

Our final destination on this tour was the Guggenheim Museum, another house of modern art. (Poor Andrea.)

Unfortunately, we didn't understand that the fancy swirly part of the museum is the special exhibit, not the permanent collection, so we trudged from section to section wondering when it would stop being art by the same artist. We'd had our fill of this person on the very top floor and the exhibit was tedious. By the time we found the permanent collection, Andrea was getting pretty miserable, and I was also tired. My appetite for modern art is insatiable (maybe this will be my character's super power?) but I convinced her to do a "speed round" tour with me so that I could see what there was to see. We walked across Central Park back to our hostel and found some restaurants on Amsterdam Ave. 

I had the greatest mac and cheese of my life at the Amsterdam Tavern. This is saying something. I recently told a new acquaintance at a wedding that at my own fictional future wedding, everyone would be served mac and cheese. It would be my last meal on death row. But I would request that it be made by the chef that works at this tavern because it was sublime. Andrea's food might have been good, too, but who cares?

Our final trek for the day was the Night Tour to Brooklyn to see the Manhattan Skyline. We made it to the starting point for the tour in Times Square with more than a half hour before the "final" tour. 

 

The smile of someone who is actually just extremely sweaty and mad.

The line was two blocks long. We waited forty minutes in the heat which seemed to amplify as the sun went down. Everyone in line was miserable. When we finally got within throwing distance of the next bus, we watched impatiently as people refused to get on the bus because they wanted to be on the top level. We just wanted to be in the air conditioning. There were claims that they had been told they couldn't get on until that point when we decided to just skip the line and get on. We were met with indignation, but we were beyond caring about strangers at this point. The bus was fogged up, so despite the brilliance of our tour guide who made the downtown make so much more sense to me, we couldn't see much at all. Our only photos of the skyline were blurs of lights, but we were sort of able to appreciate how beautiful it was. When we got back to Times Square, the thought of waiting in line to get to the top of the Empire State Building (which did not include a fast pass option) was unbearable so we went back to our hostel and to bed.