The fibreglass jockeys weren't standing sentry on West 52nd Street last night, as I approached the iconic 21 Club. For the briefest of moments, I was worried the place had closed and was annoyed at myself for not checking earlier. But on closer inspection, I realised that the owners must care about the welfare of the famous jockeys as much as locals do, particularly in the cold weather and heavy snow. Because sure enough, as I got up to the front door, I was almost eye-to-eye with the smiling jockey figures, lined up in their stripey outfits on the other side of the wrought-iron fence. All was right with the world once more.
The last time I came to this gorgeous Club I was with Mum & Dad. Was that really in 2011? Time sure has flown. Last night, I was on my own (at least initially), and I extricated my work pants from inside my rubber snow boots as I chatted amiably to the doorman outside. Once indoors, the silver-haired maitre d' welcomed me to the Club, helped me check my coat, and ushered me to the front bar and onto a lofty, red leather-clad barstool.
To my left, a pair of young businessmen, engaged in some sort of friendly but pointed one-upmanship. Their dirty martinis sat largely untouched. Pity.
To my right, an affable old gent wearing a cravat. Or was it an ascot? Do I even know the difference? No matter his neckwear, the man stood at the bar, slowly working his way through a dozen natural oysters washed down with an ice-cold beer. The barmen bantered with the old man every time they wandered past him; the old man's eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows. It was clear he was enjoying himself a good deal.
The bar menu at the 21 Club lends itself to repeat visits. There are so many tempting options - not just for beverages, but for tasty snacks to pair with them. For my pre-theatre beverage I chose a glass of Sancerre, which turned out to be a very tasty option.
As I sipped my drink and tried not to look alone, I watched the old man out the corner of my eye. He wasn't like the businessmen that surrounded him - bantering loudly with other patrons, and back-slapping one other in an over-zealous (and decidedly fake) manner. Instead he savoured his oysters and beer quietly, waiting patiently for the barmen to return so he could trade zingers with them. That the old man remained standing suggested to me that he was just pit-stopping, not making a night of things. A bit of nourishment for the stomach and the soul, before returning home for the evening. I approved.
Then the loud ladies from Chicago wandered in, and the mood of the bar changed. The slimey businesmen down the end surrendered two seats for them. Gallant, perhaps - or not. Obligingly the ladies smiled and fluttered their eyelids, calling the young barmen by name and coyly seeking suggestions for wine ("sweet, but not too sweet, you know"). Such a familiar pantomime - everyone played their parts beautifully.
Depositing the twelfth empty oyster shell back on its plate, the old man drained his beer and paid his bill. "Be careful now, and watch out for this one," he said.
"Do you mean him or me?" I asked, gesturing to the barman.
"Both. You're young rascals, I can tell" he replied, and winked at me on his way out the door.
Takes one to know one, I'll wager.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Sunday, June 09, 2013
A grape-filled getaway
When Westo, Kitty, Sharlo and I set off on our road trip on Friday evening, the storm was coming in and a steady rain had already started to fall. And what should have been a 2 hour drive to Cutchogue on the North Fork of Long Island turned into a nearly 4-hour crawl. Through what became rather torrential rain, we limped into town and onto the gravelly driveway of this adorable home. Naturally given the weather, the darkness, and our collective state of mind, we couldn't fully appreciate the beauty of this place until the next morning but still, we enjoyed some wine, pizza, and salad before turning in and sleeping like the dead.
When Saturday morning arrived, it had taken Friday's awful weather with it and in its place, we had blue sky and sunshine. I was as happy as a clam, though not quite sure what to do with so much living space. Flat floors! An island kitchen! Comfy couches! It was all so new, yet so familiar at the same time!
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| Spacious kitchen! |
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| Super comfy couches! |
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| A lovely place to dine! |
We sat on rocking chairs on the porch and contemplated heading out for breakfast. The rental house kitchen had a coffee maker but no coffee (tragedy), so I was pretty much ready to plunge caffeine straight into my vein when about 90 minutes later, we pulled into the neighbouring town of Mattituck.
We'd chosen to have breakfast at a delightful little place called Love Lane Kitchen, by all accounts a very popular spot for weekend breakfasts, and favourably-reviewed online. Their coffee certainly hit the spot and given that we were facing a day of grape grazing along the North Fork vineyards, I fortified my stomach with a delicious Breakfast Bowl - roasted potatoes, topped with pepperjack cheese, two poached eggs, guacamole, and spicy salsa. Plus a side of bacon, because I was being serious about this. So delicious and really hearty. Just the ticket. After breakfast we took a stroll up the Main Street and we did a quick lap around the Bookhampton store, where I was very pleased to pick up the new Dan Brown book in hardcover.
By the time we got home and pulled into our driveway, Driver Dennis was waiting for us. Sharlo had been clever enough to book Driver Dennis to take us around to wineries for a few hours on Saturday afternoon. Dennis had recently retired after 33 years teaching elementary school in the area. We got the impression that he knew pretty much everyone in town. So we piled into Driver Dennis' big car and off we went to take full advantage of his local knowledge and sobriety.
Our first stop was Bedell and it was a very impressive winery. See how impressed we look?
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| Me, Westo, Kitty, and Sharlo holding up Bedell's Bar |
The tasting menu was about $20 each I think, but the guy taking care of us let us have a freebie taste of the merlot that they served at President Obama's inauguration (or a similar vintage anyway). I liked it very much, but I didn't buy it. I did join their wine club though, and walked away with $60 worth of wine for about $25. I was pretty happy with that, and we set ourselves a cracking pace.
The next stop was Lenz, not too far down the road. This time at the cellar door we were taken care of by a rather young man in a tight white tshirt. I can't remember what wines we had, even at the time. I believe he described some of them as masculine, and others as androgynous - which was unusual. But we listened intently, quaffed eagerly, and walked out with several more bottles under our arms. Again, very proud.
I think at this point, Driver Dennis was starting to wonder what he'd gotten himself into. We were not raucous by any means, but we certainly did our bit for the Long Island economy.
Pulling into Osprey's Dominion, I remember thinking it was a very majestic name and promised great things. Sadly we were a little let down. In contrast to the other wineries we'd visited, where we had individual attention and were steered through the tasting menus, this time we were pretty much left to our own devices. And no good can come of that, surely! Kitty and I took quite a shine to some spiced wine, admittedly a bizarre choice for summery weather, but we resolved to buy a bottle each, and keep it for Thanksgiving. I also bought a bottle of their Meritage, though in the absence of tasting notes I just remember I liked it but have no idea why.
Given that the place didn't kick goals as we'd hoped it would, we wanted to find another place that would love us like the others. Driver Dennis knew what to do and put his foot to the floor, stopping only when he got us safely to Sparkling Pointe, a winery celebrated for its bubbly goodness. The tasting room was bright, spacious, and spotless. It led us out onto a decking area overlooking the vineyards and in the afternoon sunshine, we were terribly happy. The afternoon had been redeemed. We sat outdoors and enjoyed a bubbly tasting menu each, accompanied by some delicious local goat cheese, served on a frosted slate slab, so the cheese wouldn't melt. Ingenious. Again, we walked out with yet more bottles clinking.
Originally we'd wanted Driver Dennis to take us to one last winery for the day, but by this point in the afternoon we were pretty much done. So instead, we asked Driver Dennis to take us back to our rented house and there we zonked out for a couple of hours.
Fresh from our nap, we all rallied and headed out to dinner at Touch of Venice, a very cute little Italian restaurant nearby. None of us could quite face wine with our meal, so it was cocktails and coffee alongside. Still an excellent combination and we were well fed. Sleepytime came shortly after though, no question about it!
By Sunday morning, I could feel the heat in the air and again, the sky was clear and blue. Cutchogue is a very peaceful place - the sounds of nature. No jackhammers, no car horns...so different to our normal habitat!
We cleaned up the house, piled all our suitcases and wines into the car, and we set off for home. But on the way, we stopped off to visit the town of Greenport. The houses, churches, shops (many of which were 'shoppes') were just gorgeous. The residents are terribly house-proud and all the gardens are well-kept, with green lawns, healthy trees, and flourishing flowerbeds as far as the eye can see. And Greenport makes lovely use of its waterfront location - as we found out during lunch at Claudio's Clam Bar. I couldn't resist the cajun shrimp to start and the lobster roll for my main course. All washed down with a crisp, ice-cold beer. And the breeze coming off the water just added to the easy-going atmosphere.
Our commute back to Manhattan was very smooth - and probably only took us the two-and-a-bit hours it was supposed to. I had made a playlist for our journey. I thought that 180+ songs was probably a bit excessive, but nobody seemed to mind and it was fun to rock out to songs we all knew well, with no lost radio stations or DJ chatter in between.
I had such a wonderful time this weekend, getting away from it all and relaxing with Westo, Sharlo, and Kitty. I think we travelled so well and I hope this is just the first of many mini-breaks together. We will all probably need this week to detox, but then we'll be back in fine form and can do it all again another day.
Friday, May 17, 2013
How's the serenity?
If it were up to me, this is the position in which I would spend my entire
And so it was that I booked myself on a private, half-day tour of Bangkok today. I wasn't stupid about it though because I chose a company that would pick me up at my hotel, in an air-conditioned car, and shuttle me around, not requiring me to wait in any lines at temples and attractions. Gold star for preparation.
When I came downstairs for breakfast it was already 4,000 degrees Celcius and about the same percentage humidity. Continuing my theme of inappropriate dressing, I was wearing a black flowing skirt, and a hot pink tshirt. Naturally when I entered the hotel restaurant this morning, there was about 30 Thai tour guides there too - all wearing hot pink tshirts, and either black skirts or pants. Tremendously awkward. I piled up my plate with dragon fruit, papaya, watermelon and pineapple (all of which I have come to adore here) and I chose a quiet seat off to the side, to feast.
At 8:00am, my tour guide showed up. A friendly, smiling lady of about 50 years of age, she showed me out to the car, driven by a younger guy of about 30 (her son, maybe?), and for a nanosecond I wondered if I should have told someone where I was going today. Would I ever be seen again? Would Liam Neeson come to save me?
But as the car door slammed, I realised it was too late to turn back and so I just settled in for the ride. You can see a brief collection of my tour photos here. Here's a heads up: I'm not actually in any of these photos. I figure if you can imagine a fat, sweaty, red-faced swamp monster, you don't need a photo of one.
Our first stop was Wat Pho, a Buddhist temple and home to the truly impressive Reclining Buddha. My guide (whose name I forgot almost the instant that she introduced herself) talked briefly about Buddha, and showed me statues of his different attitudes (see a description of them here). I didn't know it at the time, but I was born on a Thursday, so if I were Buddhist I could offer particular prayers to the Meditating Buddha (Paang Nung Samadhi). The description of my Thursday Buddha is:
Paang Nung Samadhi in a sitting pose is a reminder of the classic posture for meditation. The full lotus with both soles upward and visible, the hands resting in the lap, right above left with all fingers extended, palms upward. In this position, some meditators feel the body is receptive to energy entering through the top of the head and through the open palms.You definitely need to look up your Buddha now. And at Wat Pho, when you place your lit incense in front of your particular Buddha, and you offer up your prayers and bow three times, you then get to place three little pieces of gold leaf on the statue. You can just put the gold leaf anywhere, or you can place it on the parts of the Buddha that correspond to any aches or pains you might be feeling. Given the heat and humidity, I put my bits of gold leaf on the Buddha's forehead and eyes. Once inside the temple, I was struck by the majesty of the Reclining Buddha, whose photo you can see at the top here. The soles of his feet are inlaid with intricate carvings and mother of pearl. Beautiful. Oh and incidentally, Wat Pho is also known as the birthplace of Thai massage, and they offer a 7-day massage course here. Even in the name of research I refused to slacken my no-touch policy, so if you want to know more about the touchy-feely stuff, you'll have to come to Bangkok yourself.
Back in the car, with the blessed air-con blasting, we defied death in Bangkok traffic and my guide pointed out Ministry buildings, Royal memorabilia, and various relics of old-school Thailand.
Before long we pulled up at The Grand Palace, which was built in 1782 and is not just a royal residence but also the site for the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. We spent much of our time walking around the exterior of the Palace and looking at the mural panels that depict the Ramayana, an epic that tells the story of Rama (an avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu), whose wife Sita is abducted by Ravan, the king of what is now Sri Lanka. The mural panels are all hand-painted and the imaginative characters, both human and mythical, explore human values, moral transformation, and universal harmony. Yes, I read the pamphlet.
Back in the car, my guide asked if I wanted to go to buy some jewelry or get some clothes made. I declined both offers, but she said it was good to relax and not be so rushed all the time. And so I found myself being stalked by a jewelry wholesaler, and a tailor wielding a tape measure and six pattern books, and I was getting more huffy by the minute. This was not the tour I'd signed up for. When I laid down the law with the shop owners, and told them I was not interested in shopping today, they all but threw me out of their stores. It was pretty impressive. But my guide quickly got the picture that I was not likely to be the very embodiment of serenity any time soon, and we set off again.
Our final stop was Sukhothai Traimit, or the Temple of the Golden Buddha, in Bangkok's Chinatown district. You have to be a bit of a mountain goat to get to the top of the Temple - the steep steps out the front bake in the hot Bangkok sun. Fortunately my tour guide bribed the security guard, who let us use the elevator. I am not sure what the Buddha says about bribery. Perhaps in 4,000 degree heat and humidity, even he can look the other way. In any case, I had recovered from my huffiness and unwelcome jewelry/clothing side trip and happily rode the elevator to the top floor. Before us serenely sat the world's largest Golden Buddha. At 15 feet high and 12.5 feet in diameter, the statue weighs 5.5 tons and is over 700 years old. It actually used to be covered in plaster, and the precious gold underneath was only discovered during building renovations when the outer plaster was chipped. Classic!
It was actually really relaxing being in the final temple of the day but by the time we left and started weaving back to the hotel through stop-start traffic, it was almost 1pm and I was pretty much done. The tour guide shared the back seat with me on the way back to the hotel and even though I liked her, I still half expected her to chloroform me. Maybe I should stop watching movies.
When we got back to the hotel and I paid for the tour (plus a little extra), and I was really glad that I made the effort to get out and about today. Plus I know that a lion (singha) is a good luck animal in Thailand, so I will enjoy the namesake beer all the more. Now that's my kind of afternoon serenity.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Getting to know you, getting to feel free and easy
I've just finished a day and half of a big meeting at the UN Conference Centre in Bangkok. As we were pulling into the driveway on Day 1, I panicked when I realised I hadn't brought my UN pass from New York with me. Then just as quickly, I remembered I was actually here as a visitor, not as a staff member - and relief washed over me. The Conference Centre was pretty quiet too; a distinct change from the bustling UN Headquarters building I've come to know well. Sure there is plenty of traffic around the building outside, but then again there's plenty of traffic everywhere here.
My meeting was hosted by the Royal Thai Government and UN Economic & Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (UNESCAP), with some support from our Government and from the World Bank. I met some really lovely people over these last couple of days, and I got to work with a girl from our office who is based in Cambodia and who is so much fun. She has been to a lot of UNESCAP meetings before and they run slightly differently to the ones I've attended in New York, so I relied on her expertise and pretty much rode her coat tails for two days. I don't think she minded though, particularly not when I volunteered to draft the official report of our visit. I figured that was only fair.
I am quite enjoying the hospitality of our hotel too - we're at The Royal Princess which is a terribly apt name, given the standard of accommodation I like. The other meeting delegates are also staying here because we managed to get a group booking, and it's only about 10 minutes drive from the UN building so it is very convenient. The buffet breakfast has been really nice too. I didn't think I'd get organised enough to have time for breakfast every day (since I can never seem to manage it in New York), but I've been quite good at that too. In fact, I have been awake at around 5am each morning, well before my alarm. It was just anxiety I guess. Now that the meeting is over I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby, but I can't get too comfy because I'm doing tourist things all day Friday, and early Saturday morning, before my flight back to NYC on Saturday evening. No rest for the wicked.
Mind you, I almost didn't make it that far this afternoon. I thought it would be good to find a Diet Coke salesman somewhere close to the hotel. I can get Diet Coke in the hotel bar, but I just thought it might be good to get some fresh air or society, and go for a bit of a walk. That said, there isn't much around here to see, and all the street signs are in Thai, which hardly helps. But late the other day, I did spot a 711 around the corner from the hotel, and I knew they'd be able to hook me up with some fizzy goodness.
I made my way to the pedestrian crossing and waited. And I waited. I could see the 711 from where i stood. It was so close, so tantalizingly close. And yet, the traffic refused to stop for me. There were short lulls in traffic where I could have made it at least halfway across the road, but I didn't have a hope in Hades of getting the full way over. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a Thai man appeared and reached into a bucket hanging off the street light pole next to me. He pulled out a piece of wood with a coloured flag on the end. He held the flag aloft with one hand and gingerly stepped out into traffic, daring the tuk-tuks and motorbikes to run him down. With his back to the traffic, he reached out his other arm to me and began beckoning me across the street. Nothing got lost in translation as I shuffled across the road spluttering praises at my hero. When we were safely across, my traffic monitor neatly deposited the traffic flag in an empty bucket attached to the street light pole. He put his hands together in a prayer position and bowed deeply to me. I was too busy thanking effusively and clumsily that I neglected to return the gesture. And before I could remedy it, he was gone.
Four cans of Diet Coke successfully purchased, I made my way back to the pedestrian crossing to return to the hotel. Fortunately I could see a lady across the street, getting ready to march across the road. She was clutching a coloured flag on a stick, waving it badly (and somewhat threateningly) at the cars as they sped by, so I knew she was well-versed in how to navigate busy Bangkok streets. I waited until she had begun to forge a way across and I shuffled over with her. Admittedly I did nearly get cleaned up by a rogue tuk-tuk, and then again by an ambulance coming the other direcction, but those near-misses were just that.
Safe in the air-conditioned comfort of my room, Diet Coke cans chilling in the minibar, I am a happy girl. An early night ahead, and looking forward to my private half-day tour of Bangkok tomorrow.
My meeting was hosted by the Royal Thai Government and UN Economic & Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (UNESCAP), with some support from our Government and from the World Bank. I met some really lovely people over these last couple of days, and I got to work with a girl from our office who is based in Cambodia and who is so much fun. She has been to a lot of UNESCAP meetings before and they run slightly differently to the ones I've attended in New York, so I relied on her expertise and pretty much rode her coat tails for two days. I don't think she minded though, particularly not when I volunteered to draft the official report of our visit. I figured that was only fair.
I am quite enjoying the hospitality of our hotel too - we're at The Royal Princess which is a terribly apt name, given the standard of accommodation I like. The other meeting delegates are also staying here because we managed to get a group booking, and it's only about 10 minutes drive from the UN building so it is very convenient. The buffet breakfast has been really nice too. I didn't think I'd get organised enough to have time for breakfast every day (since I can never seem to manage it in New York), but I've been quite good at that too. In fact, I have been awake at around 5am each morning, well before my alarm. It was just anxiety I guess. Now that the meeting is over I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby, but I can't get too comfy because I'm doing tourist things all day Friday, and early Saturday morning, before my flight back to NYC on Saturday evening. No rest for the wicked.
Mind you, I almost didn't make it that far this afternoon. I thought it would be good to find a Diet Coke salesman somewhere close to the hotel. I can get Diet Coke in the hotel bar, but I just thought it might be good to get some fresh air or society, and go for a bit of a walk. That said, there isn't much around here to see, and all the street signs are in Thai, which hardly helps. But late the other day, I did spot a 711 around the corner from the hotel, and I knew they'd be able to hook me up with some fizzy goodness.
I made my way to the pedestrian crossing and waited. And I waited. I could see the 711 from where i stood. It was so close, so tantalizingly close. And yet, the traffic refused to stop for me. There were short lulls in traffic where I could have made it at least halfway across the road, but I didn't have a hope in Hades of getting the full way over. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a Thai man appeared and reached into a bucket hanging off the street light pole next to me. He pulled out a piece of wood with a coloured flag on the end. He held the flag aloft with one hand and gingerly stepped out into traffic, daring the tuk-tuks and motorbikes to run him down. With his back to the traffic, he reached out his other arm to me and began beckoning me across the street. Nothing got lost in translation as I shuffled across the road spluttering praises at my hero. When we were safely across, my traffic monitor neatly deposited the traffic flag in an empty bucket attached to the street light pole. He put his hands together in a prayer position and bowed deeply to me. I was too busy thanking effusively and clumsily that I neglected to return the gesture. And before I could remedy it, he was gone.
Four cans of Diet Coke successfully purchased, I made my way back to the pedestrian crossing to return to the hotel. Fortunately I could see a lady across the street, getting ready to march across the road. She was clutching a coloured flag on a stick, waving it badly (and somewhat threateningly) at the cars as they sped by, so I knew she was well-versed in how to navigate busy Bangkok streets. I waited until she had begun to forge a way across and I shuffled over with her. Admittedly I did nearly get cleaned up by a rogue tuk-tuk, and then again by an ambulance coming the other direcction, but those near-misses were just that.
Safe in the air-conditioned comfort of my room, Diet Coke cans chilling in the minibar, I am a happy girl. An early night ahead, and looking forward to my private half-day tour of Bangkok tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Tropical discomfort
Jetlag woke me up at 4am and I immediately regretted not bringing my melatonin tablets to Bangkok with me. I don't even remember how I found out about those magic pills, but they work wonders to counter the tossing-and-turning effects of jetlag and lull you back into a non-habit-forming dreamland. Since I had neglected to pack them, I got myself out of bed and played around online for a while, before fatigue got the better of me and I crawled back into bed for a few more hours. I got up in time for a conference call with work and then pulled myself together in time for breakfast in the hotel restaurant.
I seriously did not pack properly for this trip. For one thing, it is so oppressively hot and humid here. I think part of me always knew this would be the case, but I just didn't pack well enough for it. For instance, why the hell didn't I bring any summer dresses with me? And why did I think work pants and a Gap tank top would look good on me, after nearly 5 months of frigid New York temperatures?! I should have faked tanned.
Let's face it, the Thai women who work in this hotel are stunning. They have model-like bodies and their skin and hair don't show any signs of living in a humid environment. How do they do this?! How can I ride the elevator six floors to the lobby and look like I've crawled out of a South American jungle?! There is no justice. And the hotel staff are so lovely. Their English is about as good as my Thai, but we are making do with hand gestures and lots of smiling.
My hotel is lovely though and I uploaded a couple of photos here (more to come). The hotel pool looks great but of course I did not bring my bathers. I haven't put them on in several years and I never even seriously considered packing them anyway. I have a red two-piece bikini and even typing that made me laugh out loud. Then again, the pool also has some closed-in cabanas, and a poolside snack and cocktail menu. Now that's what I call incentives!
For the rest of today though I'm going to be preparing for the next two days of meetings. My job is to write Australia's report of this meeting, and while that's a big responsibility for me, I fortunately have a couple of people on standby to proof-read it before it gets submitted. It does of course mean I have to pay close attention and capture all the pertinent things that get discussed over the next two days. Let's hope the Conference rooms air conditioner is fully operational, and we can find a Diet Coke vending machine before things get underway. More news to follow.
I seriously did not pack properly for this trip. For one thing, it is so oppressively hot and humid here. I think part of me always knew this would be the case, but I just didn't pack well enough for it. For instance, why the hell didn't I bring any summer dresses with me? And why did I think work pants and a Gap tank top would look good on me, after nearly 5 months of frigid New York temperatures?! I should have faked tanned.
Let's face it, the Thai women who work in this hotel are stunning. They have model-like bodies and their skin and hair don't show any signs of living in a humid environment. How do they do this?! How can I ride the elevator six floors to the lobby and look like I've crawled out of a South American jungle?! There is no justice. And the hotel staff are so lovely. Their English is about as good as my Thai, but we are making do with hand gestures and lots of smiling.
My hotel is lovely though and I uploaded a couple of photos here (more to come). The hotel pool looks great but of course I did not bring my bathers. I haven't put them on in several years and I never even seriously considered packing them anyway. I have a red two-piece bikini and even typing that made me laugh out loud. Then again, the pool also has some closed-in cabanas, and a poolside snack and cocktail menu. Now that's what I call incentives!
For the rest of today though I'm going to be preparing for the next two days of meetings. My job is to write Australia's report of this meeting, and while that's a big responsibility for me, I fortunately have a couple of people on standby to proof-read it before it gets submitted. It does of course mean I have to pay close attention and capture all the pertinent things that get discussed over the next two days. Let's hope the Conference rooms air conditioner is fully operational, and we can find a Diet Coke vending machine before things get underway. More news to follow.
Monday, May 13, 2013
A blonde in Bangkok
It's 9:38pm on a Monday evening and outside my hotel room, the air in Bangkok is deathly still. Little wonder really; it's too hot and humid to move anyway. I know this because I have taken refuge in my air-conditioned room, and I'm staring down into the hotel carpark, watching tourists come and go, fanning themselves with brochures they have obviously found in the lobby.
This is my first trip to Thailand, and I'm here for work - which is a lovely treat really, let's be honest. I even got to fly business class, on Emirates - so you mustn't feel sorry for me. Even in my jet-lagged state, when I feel like a human humidifier, I really did get spoilt rotten.
Sunday morning I was up early to make the final travel preparations. I've only ever flown business class once before, and that was on QANTAS, and I have no recollection what I wore that day. So I was struck with a bit of panic about how one is supposed to dress when one travels on Emirates business class. I settled on a knee-length black jersey dress, with a long black jersey cardigan over the top, with a pair of black wedged heels. On reflection, I probably looked like I was going to a funeral at 37,000 feet. But at the time I felt it was appropriate.
The airline organised a chauffeur-driven car pickup for me at 8.20am and I was downstairs to greet it on time. There was no traffic to JFK so our journey was a smooth one. Even at the airport the crowds were down, which just meant I had the fast-track into the Emirates lounge to kill some time. I've started reading "Cloud Atlas" and I kept one eyeball on that and the other on "Meet the Press", or some such current affairs show. Before long we were boarding and I snuggled into my little capsule-seat on the upper deck of the A380.
Now I am well aware you've probably rolled your eyes a couple of times already. I know how obnoxious this all sounds - chauffeured vehicles, airport lounges, business class tickets. But this never, ever happens to me normally. So when it does, I lap it up. Yes, I did have Veuve Clicquot the entire way to Dubai. Yes, I did put the seat down to a mattress bed and watch a ridiculous number of movies back-to-back. Yes, I did lay flat and sleep for at least 5 hours before overheating and waking up to the flight attendant staring at me to see if I needed more Veuve. And I declined his offer, deciding instead to enjoy a glass in the bar. On the plane. In my black jersey ensemble, with bed hair to boot.
We arrived in Dubai about 90 minutes behind schedule, meaning I had to leg it through the transit lounge and pretty much run to the other end of the airport to make the connection. But make it I did, and when I was finally on the airport bus to get to the plane, I got my first proper look at Dubai. What a contrast to places I've seen so far. Not as many date palms, for one thing. Did I really expect Dubai to be all palm trees and oases? Probably. But Dubai (or the airport at least) had this haze over it - like a fine layer of ash or sand or something. Not much green, not much activity. Then again, I suppose it was still early in the day.
Boarding my flight to Bangkok, it wasn't until we got above Dubai that I really got to appreciate its sprawl. I saw a couple of mosques with their pointy minarets, but so much of the city I could see was flat, low-slung, and seriously sprawling. The hotels, shopping malls and fancy restaurants must be off the flight path I guess. My flight attendant friend en route to Bangkok tried to ply me with a lot of Moet & Chandon, but I was wise to his scheme and fell asleep before it came to fruition. That will teach him to mess with an old lady. Moet and the last installment of the Twilight movie saga are the best sleeping pills you can find.
When we landed in Bangkok I made my way to immigration and believe it or not, actually ran into a lady I had met in March in New York. We had worked together on the World Down Syndrome Day Conference, and blow me down if she's not here for the same meeting as me this week! What a small world. And we're staying at the same hotel, so we kept each other company waiting for our luggage and then we shared my hotel car (which was one hour late, but I will complain about that another time). When we finally got checked in, the hotel treated us to a complimentary welcome drink that consisted of lemon juice, pineapple juice, and "green syrup" (which was not absinthe, although I was seeking something similarly potent). I could have stayed on that barstool for hours but my black jersey outfit was beginning to feel like a second skin and I had started to repulse myself. Bed time was declared.
And so my story ends where it began - in my air conditioned hotel room in Bangkok. My meetings don't officially start until Wednesday, so I've got tomorrow to prepare (and I have a bit of that to do actually). A complimentary fruit bowl in my hotel room suggests a healthy morning snack tomorrow, which should get me as far as the breakfast buffet in the lobby. And I suspect that will be a welcome relief, because I think it's going to be 39C and 4,000% humidity. All week.
This is my first trip to Thailand, and I'm here for work - which is a lovely treat really, let's be honest. I even got to fly business class, on Emirates - so you mustn't feel sorry for me. Even in my jet-lagged state, when I feel like a human humidifier, I really did get spoilt rotten.
Sunday morning I was up early to make the final travel preparations. I've only ever flown business class once before, and that was on QANTAS, and I have no recollection what I wore that day. So I was struck with a bit of panic about how one is supposed to dress when one travels on Emirates business class. I settled on a knee-length black jersey dress, with a long black jersey cardigan over the top, with a pair of black wedged heels. On reflection, I probably looked like I was going to a funeral at 37,000 feet. But at the time I felt it was appropriate.
The airline organised a chauffeur-driven car pickup for me at 8.20am and I was downstairs to greet it on time. There was no traffic to JFK so our journey was a smooth one. Even at the airport the crowds were down, which just meant I had the fast-track into the Emirates lounge to kill some time. I've started reading "Cloud Atlas" and I kept one eyeball on that and the other on "Meet the Press", or some such current affairs show. Before long we were boarding and I snuggled into my little capsule-seat on the upper deck of the A380.
Now I am well aware you've probably rolled your eyes a couple of times already. I know how obnoxious this all sounds - chauffeured vehicles, airport lounges, business class tickets. But this never, ever happens to me normally. So when it does, I lap it up. Yes, I did have Veuve Clicquot the entire way to Dubai. Yes, I did put the seat down to a mattress bed and watch a ridiculous number of movies back-to-back. Yes, I did lay flat and sleep for at least 5 hours before overheating and waking up to the flight attendant staring at me to see if I needed more Veuve. And I declined his offer, deciding instead to enjoy a glass in the bar. On the plane. In my black jersey ensemble, with bed hair to boot.
We arrived in Dubai about 90 minutes behind schedule, meaning I had to leg it through the transit lounge and pretty much run to the other end of the airport to make the connection. But make it I did, and when I was finally on the airport bus to get to the plane, I got my first proper look at Dubai. What a contrast to places I've seen so far. Not as many date palms, for one thing. Did I really expect Dubai to be all palm trees and oases? Probably. But Dubai (or the airport at least) had this haze over it - like a fine layer of ash or sand or something. Not much green, not much activity. Then again, I suppose it was still early in the day.
Boarding my flight to Bangkok, it wasn't until we got above Dubai that I really got to appreciate its sprawl. I saw a couple of mosques with their pointy minarets, but so much of the city I could see was flat, low-slung, and seriously sprawling. The hotels, shopping malls and fancy restaurants must be off the flight path I guess. My flight attendant friend en route to Bangkok tried to ply me with a lot of Moet & Chandon, but I was wise to his scheme and fell asleep before it came to fruition. That will teach him to mess with an old lady. Moet and the last installment of the Twilight movie saga are the best sleeping pills you can find.
When we landed in Bangkok I made my way to immigration and believe it or not, actually ran into a lady I had met in March in New York. We had worked together on the World Down Syndrome Day Conference, and blow me down if she's not here for the same meeting as me this week! What a small world. And we're staying at the same hotel, so we kept each other company waiting for our luggage and then we shared my hotel car (which was one hour late, but I will complain about that another time). When we finally got checked in, the hotel treated us to a complimentary welcome drink that consisted of lemon juice, pineapple juice, and "green syrup" (which was not absinthe, although I was seeking something similarly potent). I could have stayed on that barstool for hours but my black jersey outfit was beginning to feel like a second skin and I had started to repulse myself. Bed time was declared.
And so my story ends where it began - in my air conditioned hotel room in Bangkok. My meetings don't officially start until Wednesday, so I've got tomorrow to prepare (and I have a bit of that to do actually). A complimentary fruit bowl in my hotel room suggests a healthy morning snack tomorrow, which should get me as far as the breakfast buffet in the lobby. And I suspect that will be a welcome relief, because I think it's going to be 39C and 4,000% humidity. All week.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Reputation analysis
When I first moved here two years ago, I read that New Yorkers tend to be creatures of habit; favouring a lifestyle within their 5-7 block radius. At first I scoffed at that but it's totally true. I mean if I really think about, in this city you'll rarely (if ever) find an apartment that's not within immediate vicinity of a supermarket, a laundry, transport options, a doctor, a pub - all the basics that you'd really ever need within an easy walking distance.
But there comes a point when you've got to wonder if you're becoming just a little bit too predictable. Case in point, when we venture out for some after-work drinks. We rarely, if ever, plan on where we're going. Even when the elevator hits the ground floor and the doors open, we still spend those few anxious minutes staring at each other, and then off into space, trying to think about where we want to go. And it's all a pantomime in the end, because we usually end up going to the same two or three places. "If I have to walk more than two blocks, it's too far," is often something you'll hear us say.
That may sound precious but it's really not, because the good thing about working in Midtown Manhattan of course is that we are totally spoiled for choice within a two block radius. If we want Mexican, Italian, Asian, German, American, pub grub - it's all right there on our doorstep. And if we really wanted to branch out, there's a subway station right there to whisk us somewhere else on the island, and with connections off-island too.
Judging by my credit card statement, there are a number of stand-out favourites that warrant our regular patronage: Lcl at the newly-refurbished Westin Grand Central; Osteria Laguna (where I pretty much have the menu memorised); the lovely Patsy's Pizzeria (which closed by my old apartment and reopened right by work...SCORE!); the Mexican staple of Sinigual and the Latin/Asian fusion place Zengo (where I still haven't tried the margarita, even though the restaurant keeps emailing me invitations to join their tequila club). Then there's the glamorous yet also probably hideous Campbell Apartment hidden away in Grand Central Station; the oompah Bavarian goodness at the crazy Hofbrau Bierhaus (which I'm surprised hasn't killed me for real); and the heady wine and amazing charred peppers at La Fonda Del Sol (plus they have Pedro Ximenez on the menu there and that makes me happy, always).
No wonder I'm slow off the mark exploring my new neighbourhood - I'm too busy (lazy?) to venture too far from work. But with all that choice so close by, would you complain?
But there comes a point when you've got to wonder if you're becoming just a little bit too predictable. Case in point, when we venture out for some after-work drinks. We rarely, if ever, plan on where we're going. Even when the elevator hits the ground floor and the doors open, we still spend those few anxious minutes staring at each other, and then off into space, trying to think about where we want to go. And it's all a pantomime in the end, because we usually end up going to the same two or three places. "If I have to walk more than two blocks, it's too far," is often something you'll hear us say.
That may sound precious but it's really not, because the good thing about working in Midtown Manhattan of course is that we are totally spoiled for choice within a two block radius. If we want Mexican, Italian, Asian, German, American, pub grub - it's all right there on our doorstep. And if we really wanted to branch out, there's a subway station right there to whisk us somewhere else on the island, and with connections off-island too.
Judging by my credit card statement, there are a number of stand-out favourites that warrant our regular patronage: Lcl at the newly-refurbished Westin Grand Central; Osteria Laguna (where I pretty much have the menu memorised); the lovely Patsy's Pizzeria (which closed by my old apartment and reopened right by work...SCORE!); the Mexican staple of Sinigual and the Latin/Asian fusion place Zengo (where I still haven't tried the margarita, even though the restaurant keeps emailing me invitations to join their tequila club). Then there's the glamorous yet also probably hideous Campbell Apartment hidden away in Grand Central Station; the oompah Bavarian goodness at the crazy Hofbrau Bierhaus (which I'm surprised hasn't killed me for real); and the heady wine and amazing charred peppers at La Fonda Del Sol (plus they have Pedro Ximenez on the menu there and that makes me happy, always).
No wonder I'm slow off the mark exploring my new neighbourhood - I'm too busy (lazy?) to venture too far from work. But with all that choice so close by, would you complain?
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Abs-olutely Abs-ent
There are two things about today that I can hardly believe: 1) that I haven't written anything on this blog since Thanksgiving; and 2) that it has literally been a year since I completed the New York City half-marathon.
So much has happened since we last met here and I've no idea where to start. So let's do this recap thing in reverse order, shall we? I think that might be easier in the long run and besides, if you know me at all you're well aware that my stories never come out chronologically. So let's see here.
I'm back at Pilates, after an awfully long hiatus. To say I'm out of condition would be the biggest understatement I'd ever made - and that's saying something. But to make sure I ease back into my fitness properly, I signed up for four weeks of one-on-one Pilates lessons. The trainers I have picked for my month-long torture are so lovely, and terribly forgiving. I spend the hour alternately praying for muscle memory to kick in, and a swift death (for me, not the trainer). My neck and shoulders have been so sore lately that I thought these classes would be a good way to iron me out. But I'm sad to say they aren't working for that. In fact, the whole of my body is in crippling pain for days after the classes, thanks to the fact that muscle memory is a totally crock in my case. But hey, head to toe body pain seems to be taking my mind off the neck and shoulders soreness, so perhaps that's something? Anyway we're two classes down with two to go. It's nice to know my abs were still under that comfy padding somewhere - and with each class and exercise, they are making their presence known, even though they aren't as cooperative as they used to be.
I think my neck and shoulders are sore because I'm sleeping funny these days. Not in a headstand or something silly like that, but who knows - it's just weird. I went as far as to buy some memory foam pillows the other day, thinking that they would improve the quality of my sleep. I get the feeling that these pillows are made for NASA astronauts or something - or certainly someone with a more advanced University education than mine. There seems to be a right way up and a wrong way up for these pillows, and unless you hit the sweet spot exactly right, you're in for hours of restlessness. Trust me to buy the world's only complicated pillows. But I'm now toying with the idea of buying a memory foam mattress topper, reasoning that if I cocoon myself in memory foam I might just have half the chance at getting a good night's sleep. I wonder if Amazon sells memory foam pyjamas? Might get my Google on and see.
I visited Chicago the other weekend, and you know what that does to my constitution. It is so nice to get back to a place where I still feel at home, where things and people are so familiar to me. I did step out of my comfort zone a little bit and spent a few hours at the Elizabeth Arden Red Door day spa. Admittedly it required a substantial relaxation of my no-touch policy, but it was worth it. Plus I was the youngest woman in there by about 20 years, and that always helps. Exploring Andersonville and some delicious restaurants and even back down to my old neighbourhood for Sunday Showtunes with friends new and old gave me a wonderful and relaxing extra-long weekend.
It was also nice to have a break from thinking about my new studio apartment in New York. I love my new neighbourhood but as everybody knows I'm just not into the home-decorating "thing". If I could leave my apartment beige for the duration of my lease, I totally would. And certainly when I moved in the place was very depressing and a sad, blank canvas. But I have done my best (with limited interest) to spruce it up. It is by no means finished of course but it is at least habitable now and perfect just for me. What is even more perfect is my proximity to everything. Chelsea is great for my transport to work (or anywhere else I might like to go), and I can see the Empire State Building from the top of my street - not all of it, mind you, but it's totally there. Plus I have a great little tapas bar literally next door to my building, and many other dining options besides.
I have also lapsed into a much different New York lifestyle than I had before. For one thing, I send my laundry out to be done these days. Only across the street, but still. It's hard to look strangers in the eye when you know they've washed your underwear. ARGH it has been a stumbling block, and one I'm still not totally convinced I'm over. Maybe I have thought too much about this stuff, and maybe this is why my neck and shoulders are sore? Possibly. Plus I am only using my oven for storage these days. I've lived in the new place for 6 weeks already and I haven't turned my oven or stove on once. And you know I love to cook. But there's just no need anymore. With tapas right there, or Thai just there, or pizza over there, or Middle Eastern up the road, the motivation to cook for myself just isn't there. Told you, total New York lifestyle. But at least I know that in the laundry and oven stakes, I'm not alone. So many people here live like this and so I'm getting on board with that.
And so on the one-year anniversary of the NYC Half-Marathon, it's clear that so much has changed for me - physically, socially, geographically. But I still love it here. There is nothing about New York that makes me bored or tired or even grouchy - certainly not enough to consider moving somewhere else just yet. And moving into a bachelorette pad has had its growing pains and challenges. But it has dragged me out of a comfort zone and into a new neighbourhood I never dreamed I'd get to live in. All good things so far, and surely more to come.
So much has happened since we last met here and I've no idea where to start. So let's do this recap thing in reverse order, shall we? I think that might be easier in the long run and besides, if you know me at all you're well aware that my stories never come out chronologically. So let's see here.
I'm back at Pilates, after an awfully long hiatus. To say I'm out of condition would be the biggest understatement I'd ever made - and that's saying something. But to make sure I ease back into my fitness properly, I signed up for four weeks of one-on-one Pilates lessons. The trainers I have picked for my month-long torture are so lovely, and terribly forgiving. I spend the hour alternately praying for muscle memory to kick in, and a swift death (for me, not the trainer). My neck and shoulders have been so sore lately that I thought these classes would be a good way to iron me out. But I'm sad to say they aren't working for that. In fact, the whole of my body is in crippling pain for days after the classes, thanks to the fact that muscle memory is a totally crock in my case. But hey, head to toe body pain seems to be taking my mind off the neck and shoulders soreness, so perhaps that's something? Anyway we're two classes down with two to go. It's nice to know my abs were still under that comfy padding somewhere - and with each class and exercise, they are making their presence known, even though they aren't as cooperative as they used to be.
I think my neck and shoulders are sore because I'm sleeping funny these days. Not in a headstand or something silly like that, but who knows - it's just weird. I went as far as to buy some memory foam pillows the other day, thinking that they would improve the quality of my sleep. I get the feeling that these pillows are made for NASA astronauts or something - or certainly someone with a more advanced University education than mine. There seems to be a right way up and a wrong way up for these pillows, and unless you hit the sweet spot exactly right, you're in for hours of restlessness. Trust me to buy the world's only complicated pillows. But I'm now toying with the idea of buying a memory foam mattress topper, reasoning that if I cocoon myself in memory foam I might just have half the chance at getting a good night's sleep. I wonder if Amazon sells memory foam pyjamas? Might get my Google on and see.
I visited Chicago the other weekend, and you know what that does to my constitution. It is so nice to get back to a place where I still feel at home, where things and people are so familiar to me. I did step out of my comfort zone a little bit and spent a few hours at the Elizabeth Arden Red Door day spa. Admittedly it required a substantial relaxation of my no-touch policy, but it was worth it. Plus I was the youngest woman in there by about 20 years, and that always helps. Exploring Andersonville and some delicious restaurants and even back down to my old neighbourhood for Sunday Showtunes with friends new and old gave me a wonderful and relaxing extra-long weekend.
It was also nice to have a break from thinking about my new studio apartment in New York. I love my new neighbourhood but as everybody knows I'm just not into the home-decorating "thing". If I could leave my apartment beige for the duration of my lease, I totally would. And certainly when I moved in the place was very depressing and a sad, blank canvas. But I have done my best (with limited interest) to spruce it up. It is by no means finished of course but it is at least habitable now and perfect just for me. What is even more perfect is my proximity to everything. Chelsea is great for my transport to work (or anywhere else I might like to go), and I can see the Empire State Building from the top of my street - not all of it, mind you, but it's totally there. Plus I have a great little tapas bar literally next door to my building, and many other dining options besides.
I have also lapsed into a much different New York lifestyle than I had before. For one thing, I send my laundry out to be done these days. Only across the street, but still. It's hard to look strangers in the eye when you know they've washed your underwear. ARGH it has been a stumbling block, and one I'm still not totally convinced I'm over. Maybe I have thought too much about this stuff, and maybe this is why my neck and shoulders are sore? Possibly. Plus I am only using my oven for storage these days. I've lived in the new place for 6 weeks already and I haven't turned my oven or stove on once. And you know I love to cook. But there's just no need anymore. With tapas right there, or Thai just there, or pizza over there, or Middle Eastern up the road, the motivation to cook for myself just isn't there. Told you, total New York lifestyle. But at least I know that in the laundry and oven stakes, I'm not alone. So many people here live like this and so I'm getting on board with that.
And so on the one-year anniversary of the NYC Half-Marathon, it's clear that so much has changed for me - physically, socially, geographically. But I still love it here. There is nothing about New York that makes me bored or tired or even grouchy - certainly not enough to consider moving somewhere else just yet. And moving into a bachelorette pad has had its growing pains and challenges. But it has dragged me out of a comfort zone and into a new neighbourhood I never dreamed I'd get to live in. All good things so far, and surely more to come.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Giving Thanks
Apparently the last time I updated this website I was still without heat or hot water, washing my hair over the sink and improvising other ways to keep warm (heat pads on the bottom of my socks and such). Well things are well and truly back to normal now and I resolve to never take a flushing toilet or heating vent for granted again.
The weather has warmed up a little now too - we haven't had any more freakish slush/snow and the temperatures have been bearable (and typical for this time of year). It's a good thing too because it meant I could get a jump start on planning for Thanksgiving.
Looking at the calendar, I see that this year marked the 7th year since I first celebrated Turkey Day. I gave a handy recap of all my past Thanksgivings last year, so I won't bore them with you here.
This year was a bit special though because for actual Thanksgiving Day (Thursday) I had managed to get into a volunteering slot at the Bowery Mission, one of the oldest (if not the oldest) shelters in NYC. I had tried to get in to volunteer last year, but the slots filled up so quickly so I missed out. This year I got my act together and signed up for the morning shift. My work colleagues stepped up to the plate and helped me gather toiletries and warm winter coats to donate to the Mission. Did you know that everyone that comes to Thanksgiving Day lunch leaves with a new coat? That's got to be about 500 new coats, distributed on just one day. Incredible. So anyway I had big plans that I'd be in a massive kitchen, wearing a hairnet and prepping vegetables for a huge Thanksgiving feast. As it turns out, I was one of about 40 volunteers in the 9am-11am shift, on waitressing and food service duty. The Mission has much more of a religious bent than I was expecting (lots of Jesus talk and "God loves me" affirmations). But there are also a lot of lost souls who come to the Mission to find comfort, and who am I to judge whether that comfort comes from warm food or Scripture!
We had a short induction lecture at the start of our volunteer shift, where we learned about the number of mouths the Missions feeds every year, the number of pounds of food that are donated each year, and the number of articles of clothing that are distributed. The scale of the operation is terribly impressive and so by the time the warm-up lecture was done, I was pumped to get started. We all got a bright red apron to wear and before I knew it, I had some latex gloves on, an empty dinner plate in my hand, and I was making my way along the lunch buffet, piling up the turkey, mashed potatoes and all the trimmings. With plates piled high with hot food, the volunteers stood in line and waited to process into the chapel, where tables of 10 had been set up around the room, all filled with people needing a tasty meal. The chapel ceilings were high and the walls decorated with beautiful artwork. At the front of hte chapel, a soloist was singing beautiful gospel hymns - a lovely accompaniment to the lunch service.
Under the watchful eye of Mission staff, the volunteers were shepherded into the chapel and distributed their plates of food, then returned to the kitchen to get another plate. In the first brunch shift that we did, there would have been about 120 people in the chapel. I gave plates of food to two ancient Chinese ladies, both of whom grabbed my arm and wished me the most hearty Happy Thanksgiving. I also had to give my plate to a man who had put his head on the table and was grabbing a bit of a nap. I wasn't sure whether I should wake him up, but his table companion did it for me. A sharp elbow to the ribs snapped the guy out of it, and it gratefully took his lunch plate from me. The first brunch service finished and we swung into action to ready the room for the next service. We wiped down tables, reset the cutlery and cups, and swept the floor.
The volunteers disappeared back to the kitchen so Mission staff could bring in the next group of diners. We heard that the second brunch service was not a scheduled one - but there had been so much demand for service, the Mission didn't want to turn anyone away. And so it was that we readied ourselves to serve another 120 people. This time around, I switched with a couple of young kids who were volunteering with their family. I was assigned "mixed vegetables and gravy" duty. With one hand I ladled generous portions of mixed veggies on the plate, and then with the other hand I ladled steamy, tasty gravy all over the top of the plate. As the young kids came back to the kitchen to refill their plates, they were telling me stories about the people they'd met in there. Like me, they had been surprised that families had come in together - grandparents, parents, and little kids. I hadn't expected to see young kids at the Mission - I really did think it was just a place that men went. But it was good that the volunteering kids were really engaged in the exercise and the mood in the kitchen was upbeat and friendly.
By the time I left the Mission it was around midday, and I had been given more "God Bless Yous" that I had heard in a long time. But it was all okay because despite my initial concerns, I ended up having a really good time at the volunteering. It felt good to be able to provide a hot meal to someone who obviously needed it. And on such a traditional day, it was impressive that the Bowery Mission did not skip any corners at all. The lunch plates had all the usual fixings - and as everyone left, they were even given a slice of pumpkin pie. How's that for completing the meal?
The rest of my Turkey Day was spent at home, doing a quick spring clean in readiness for Cousin Ems, who arrived from Dubai. We ate some pizza at my place, caught up a bit on the gossip, and then fell quickly asleep.
Friday morning we got up early and ran some errands before having our own (belated) Thanksgiving lunch.
I wimped out again this year and chose the "heat and eat" meal option, but it was quite the feast. I was very lucky to have two special guests this year - Ems (for her first Thanksgiving ever) and Fish from work. A delicious turkey breast, dinner rolls, cranberry sauce, and gravy come standard, and then I had to choose my sides and dessert. I selected brown-sugar roasted veggies, sauteed kale & garlic, and mashed sweet potato. Dessert was a fruit of the forest pie, with vanilla ice cream. Just in case that wasn't enough food, I mashed my own potatoes, and roasted some baby carrots alongside. I needn't have bothered - there was so much food that we didn't eat it all. Fish kicked in a delicious bottle of Piper-Heidsieck, which complemented the meal beautifully.
Ems had to leave at about 4.30pm to get back to the airport and fly home. Me and Fish kicked on for a couple of hours before she too disappeared, and I threw the dirty plates into the dishwasher and then threw myself on the couch. With one eye open, I enjoyed my Thanksgiving tradition of watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", but I also laughed along with "Overboard" - which I had not seen in aaaaages. Classic!
By the time Saturday rolled around I had no real idea what day it was. All these days off had thrown me, I think. The day itself was rather quiet - I luxuriated in my pyjamas for a disgusting amount of time, and then left the house to dine at Union Square Cafe with Westo. I'm going to have to visit this place repeatedly, as the menu is amazing and has so many temptations. After dinner we then headed way uptown for some drinks at the very cool Hi-Life lounge on the Upper West Side. And we rounded out our evening with a late screening of "Anna Karenina". I enjoyed the film but my favourite part was definitely the costuming - such beautiful outfits. Sigh.
I'm at the stage of my long weekend where I could really use a couple more days off. You know how that happens? Weird. Sadly it's back to work for everyone tomorrow. I don't feel that I overdid things too much this weekend, so I can still wear pants with buttons and I don't need to find excuses to wear my trackpants to work (phew!). But that doesn't mean that I won't be counting down the hours until home time so I can put them back on. I'm only human after all.
The weather has warmed up a little now too - we haven't had any more freakish slush/snow and the temperatures have been bearable (and typical for this time of year). It's a good thing too because it meant I could get a jump start on planning for Thanksgiving.
Looking at the calendar, I see that this year marked the 7th year since I first celebrated Turkey Day. I gave a handy recap of all my past Thanksgivings last year, so I won't bore them with you here.
This year was a bit special though because for actual Thanksgiving Day (Thursday) I had managed to get into a volunteering slot at the Bowery Mission, one of the oldest (if not the oldest) shelters in NYC. I had tried to get in to volunteer last year, but the slots filled up so quickly so I missed out. This year I got my act together and signed up for the morning shift. My work colleagues stepped up to the plate and helped me gather toiletries and warm winter coats to donate to the Mission. Did you know that everyone that comes to Thanksgiving Day lunch leaves with a new coat? That's got to be about 500 new coats, distributed on just one day. Incredible. So anyway I had big plans that I'd be in a massive kitchen, wearing a hairnet and prepping vegetables for a huge Thanksgiving feast. As it turns out, I was one of about 40 volunteers in the 9am-11am shift, on waitressing and food service duty. The Mission has much more of a religious bent than I was expecting (lots of Jesus talk and "God loves me" affirmations). But there are also a lot of lost souls who come to the Mission to find comfort, and who am I to judge whether that comfort comes from warm food or Scripture!
We had a short induction lecture at the start of our volunteer shift, where we learned about the number of mouths the Missions feeds every year, the number of pounds of food that are donated each year, and the number of articles of clothing that are distributed. The scale of the operation is terribly impressive and so by the time the warm-up lecture was done, I was pumped to get started. We all got a bright red apron to wear and before I knew it, I had some latex gloves on, an empty dinner plate in my hand, and I was making my way along the lunch buffet, piling up the turkey, mashed potatoes and all the trimmings. With plates piled high with hot food, the volunteers stood in line and waited to process into the chapel, where tables of 10 had been set up around the room, all filled with people needing a tasty meal. The chapel ceilings were high and the walls decorated with beautiful artwork. At the front of hte chapel, a soloist was singing beautiful gospel hymns - a lovely accompaniment to the lunch service.
Under the watchful eye of Mission staff, the volunteers were shepherded into the chapel and distributed their plates of food, then returned to the kitchen to get another plate. In the first brunch shift that we did, there would have been about 120 people in the chapel. I gave plates of food to two ancient Chinese ladies, both of whom grabbed my arm and wished me the most hearty Happy Thanksgiving. I also had to give my plate to a man who had put his head on the table and was grabbing a bit of a nap. I wasn't sure whether I should wake him up, but his table companion did it for me. A sharp elbow to the ribs snapped the guy out of it, and it gratefully took his lunch plate from me. The first brunch service finished and we swung into action to ready the room for the next service. We wiped down tables, reset the cutlery and cups, and swept the floor.
The volunteers disappeared back to the kitchen so Mission staff could bring in the next group of diners. We heard that the second brunch service was not a scheduled one - but there had been so much demand for service, the Mission didn't want to turn anyone away. And so it was that we readied ourselves to serve another 120 people. This time around, I switched with a couple of young kids who were volunteering with their family. I was assigned "mixed vegetables and gravy" duty. With one hand I ladled generous portions of mixed veggies on the plate, and then with the other hand I ladled steamy, tasty gravy all over the top of the plate. As the young kids came back to the kitchen to refill their plates, they were telling me stories about the people they'd met in there. Like me, they had been surprised that families had come in together - grandparents, parents, and little kids. I hadn't expected to see young kids at the Mission - I really did think it was just a place that men went. But it was good that the volunteering kids were really engaged in the exercise and the mood in the kitchen was upbeat and friendly.
By the time I left the Mission it was around midday, and I had been given more "God Bless Yous" that I had heard in a long time. But it was all okay because despite my initial concerns, I ended up having a really good time at the volunteering. It felt good to be able to provide a hot meal to someone who obviously needed it. And on such a traditional day, it was impressive that the Bowery Mission did not skip any corners at all. The lunch plates had all the usual fixings - and as everyone left, they were even given a slice of pumpkin pie. How's that for completing the meal?
The rest of my Turkey Day was spent at home, doing a quick spring clean in readiness for Cousin Ems, who arrived from Dubai. We ate some pizza at my place, caught up a bit on the gossip, and then fell quickly asleep.
Friday morning we got up early and ran some errands before having our own (belated) Thanksgiving lunch.
I wimped out again this year and chose the "heat and eat" meal option, but it was quite the feast. I was very lucky to have two special guests this year - Ems (for her first Thanksgiving ever) and Fish from work. A delicious turkey breast, dinner rolls, cranberry sauce, and gravy come standard, and then I had to choose my sides and dessert. I selected brown-sugar roasted veggies, sauteed kale & garlic, and mashed sweet potato. Dessert was a fruit of the forest pie, with vanilla ice cream. Just in case that wasn't enough food, I mashed my own potatoes, and roasted some baby carrots alongside. I needn't have bothered - there was so much food that we didn't eat it all. Fish kicked in a delicious bottle of Piper-Heidsieck, which complemented the meal beautifully.
Ems had to leave at about 4.30pm to get back to the airport and fly home. Me and Fish kicked on for a couple of hours before she too disappeared, and I threw the dirty plates into the dishwasher and then threw myself on the couch. With one eye open, I enjoyed my Thanksgiving tradition of watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", but I also laughed along with "Overboard" - which I had not seen in aaaaages. Classic!
By the time Saturday rolled around I had no real idea what day it was. All these days off had thrown me, I think. The day itself was rather quiet - I luxuriated in my pyjamas for a disgusting amount of time, and then left the house to dine at Union Square Cafe with Westo. I'm going to have to visit this place repeatedly, as the menu is amazing and has so many temptations. After dinner we then headed way uptown for some drinks at the very cool Hi-Life lounge on the Upper West Side. And we rounded out our evening with a late screening of "Anna Karenina". I enjoyed the film but my favourite part was definitely the costuming - such beautiful outfits. Sigh.
I'm at the stage of my long weekend where I could really use a couple more days off. You know how that happens? Weird. Sadly it's back to work for everyone tomorrow. I don't feel that I overdid things too much this weekend, so I can still wear pants with buttons and I don't need to find excuses to wear my trackpants to work (phew!). But that doesn't mean that I won't be counting down the hours until home time so I can put them back on. I'm only human after all.
Monday, November 05, 2012
McGyver Moments
My apartment still doesn't have heat or hot water, but the notice in the lobby today suggests we'll be back to normal by Friday, if not earlier. So far I'm coping OK with the service interruption but talk to me on Wednesday and we'll see.
I made an attempt at a cold shower on Sunday morning. Not my best idea. I am such a baby when it comes to bathing in icy cold water. There is nothing refreshing or restorative about it. I got my hair a little bit wet and had brain freeze. Then my toes froze and I had to get back into my pyjamas.
I'm trying really hard not to be precious about all this, but I made the mistake of looking at the weather forecast for this week. Early on we're expecting top temps of 10 degrees (Celcius) during the day, falling to 7 degrees for the latter part of the week. I couldn't bring myself to look at the night time temps. Chilly or what?! So it's about coping the best way I can.
My mood improved exponentially on Sunday morning when I got groceries delivered. Ordering online meant I didn't have to be depressed by post-apocalyptic empty shelving in the stores closest to my house. I didn't have to resort to evaporated milk (or worse, no milk at all). I got fresh bananas, bagels, vanilla yoghurt, hummus, and an assortment of seriously healthy produce. Now I'm not stupid. I know what's going to happen; it will all just sit in my fridge and rot because I'm too bone lazy to cook for myself, but the point is I actually got it all and for the briefest of moments, I was happy again.
And for Sunday afternoon I was able to enjoy several steamy cups of Nespresso coffee, and a couple of Twinings teas. I cocooned myself in a fluffy red blanket, my face poking out like a little babuskha, just far enough to see my computer screen and watch some episodes of "Game of Thrones". Side note, how awesome is that show? I know I am late to the party here, but I got totally waylaid by "True Blood" and "Homeland". But I'm here now, so let's rejoice.
Finally at about 6pm, having sat around in my pyjamas and bed hair all day, I had repulsed myself for long enough. I pulled myself together, and had a go at washing my hair over the bath. Channelling McGyver himself, I boiled the kettle, diluted the scalding hot water enough to be bearable, and bent forward. I even managed to get water ON my head first time! It was quite the success and as I lathered the shampoo, I was feeling quite chuffed. I only had enough water left in the kettle to do a half-assed rinse. But a quick refill with the cold tap rinsed the rest of the suds off and I was left with clean, pretty-smelling hair once more. But I didn't stop there. I even went so far as to do a proper blowdry AND applied styling product. McGyver had fluffy, styled hair too remember! Every bit of effort counts.
I know that when our heating finally does get turned on, it's going to be like the Sahara in our apartment. And I know I'll complain. But for now, the very prospect of that is divine to me. And being able to hang out under a scalding showerhead with the bathroom radio blaring just sounds like heaven.
Will Friday ever get here?!
I made an attempt at a cold shower on Sunday morning. Not my best idea. I am such a baby when it comes to bathing in icy cold water. There is nothing refreshing or restorative about it. I got my hair a little bit wet and had brain freeze. Then my toes froze and I had to get back into my pyjamas.
I'm trying really hard not to be precious about all this, but I made the mistake of looking at the weather forecast for this week. Early on we're expecting top temps of 10 degrees (Celcius) during the day, falling to 7 degrees for the latter part of the week. I couldn't bring myself to look at the night time temps. Chilly or what?! So it's about coping the best way I can.
My mood improved exponentially on Sunday morning when I got groceries delivered. Ordering online meant I didn't have to be depressed by post-apocalyptic empty shelving in the stores closest to my house. I didn't have to resort to evaporated milk (or worse, no milk at all). I got fresh bananas, bagels, vanilla yoghurt, hummus, and an assortment of seriously healthy produce. Now I'm not stupid. I know what's going to happen; it will all just sit in my fridge and rot because I'm too bone lazy to cook for myself, but the point is I actually got it all and for the briefest of moments, I was happy again.
And for Sunday afternoon I was able to enjoy several steamy cups of Nespresso coffee, and a couple of Twinings teas. I cocooned myself in a fluffy red blanket, my face poking out like a little babuskha, just far enough to see my computer screen and watch some episodes of "Game of Thrones". Side note, how awesome is that show? I know I am late to the party here, but I got totally waylaid by "True Blood" and "Homeland". But I'm here now, so let's rejoice.
Finally at about 6pm, having sat around in my pyjamas and bed hair all day, I had repulsed myself for long enough. I pulled myself together, and had a go at washing my hair over the bath. Channelling McGyver himself, I boiled the kettle, diluted the scalding hot water enough to be bearable, and bent forward. I even managed to get water ON my head first time! It was quite the success and as I lathered the shampoo, I was feeling quite chuffed. I only had enough water left in the kettle to do a half-assed rinse. But a quick refill with the cold tap rinsed the rest of the suds off and I was left with clean, pretty-smelling hair once more. But I didn't stop there. I even went so far as to do a proper blowdry AND applied styling product. McGyver had fluffy, styled hair too remember! Every bit of effort counts.
I know that when our heating finally does get turned on, it's going to be like the Sahara in our apartment. And I know I'll complain. But for now, the very prospect of that is divine to me. And being able to hang out under a scalding showerhead with the bathroom radio blaring just sounds like heaven.
Will Friday ever get here?!
Saturday, November 03, 2012
Let there be light!
no power | power
Originally uploaded by Vitaliy P..
Over the past few days I have been staying in touch with the doormen in my building, eager for any news about the return of our heat, electricity and water. This morning the news came that warmed my heart. The power had been restored!
I packed up my belongings and thanked Sharlo profusely for being such a good samaritan and putting up with me this week. Piling into a cab, the driver told me how he'd had to wait in line for gas that morning....FOR TWO HOURS! And even then, he was only allowed to fill up his car with 30 gallons. I don't know how much that is, but I remember saying a silent prayer that it was enough to get me home.
Turns out we were fine and before long I was back in the blessed elevator, and safe and sound on the 15th floor once more.
It wasn't until I got back upstairs that I learned what the doorman had NOT mentioned: we were still out of hot water, and the toilets still weren't flushing. ICKY.
I did the only thing I could think of to do. I set off in search of pantry basics, to restock the fridge and freezer, and (most of all), for some milk so I could make a wonderful, heartwarming Nespresso coffee. I literally searched four different stores in my area - includes two pharmacies and a supermarket - but the shelves were bare. No milk, indeed no dairy of any kind, was to be found. It was quite frightening actually. Not in an oh-shit-society-is-crumbling sort of way, but more in the sense of when-is-life-going-to-get-back-to-normal way. I ended up just getting a filtered coffee from the little Italian deli on the corner and I even got one for the doorman (cause that's how I roll). As average as the coffee tasted, it warmed me right down to my toes.
A couple of minutes ago, building maintenance showed up to turn on the water pressure to the toilets. That flushing sound has never been so sweet to my ears, let me tell you!
Now I'm well aware that to some people, I probably sound like an asshole princess for complaining about my situation. But I'm well aware that this momentary inconvenience is NOTHING on what other people have suffered. I know how lucky I am, trust me on that.
But this slow return to normal life suggests to me that New York City is finally starting to get back on its feet. The rebuild will take time, and for some people the wounds will never heal. But with every service that gets restored; every light bulb that blinks back to life; and every toilet that flushes, we get a stark reminder of the resilience of a great city and its proud residents.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Rocktober Shocktober
As I sit here on Halloween, rejoicing that I don't have to trick-or-treat or go to any parties (costumed or otherwise), I can reflect on what has been a really surreal month.
When October started, I was really anxious and excited about the UN Security Council vote on 18 October. We had been talking about "the campaign" ever since my first day at work, though it had been a priority for years before I even arrived. Energy levels were high, and the anticipation was palpable. As UN Leaders' Week got into full swing, we hosted visits to New York by the Prime Minister, Foreign Minister, Parliamentary Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and their respective delegations. Timetables had to be kept straight, programs had to be managed seamslessly - it was an all-hands-on-deck affair and we were all strangers to sleep.
Before we knew it, Vote Day had arrived and we were all given jobs to do. Even though everyone had been working crazy hours and we were all exhausted, we all had just enough puff left to want the day to go over well. As the General Assembly hall filled up, we all pitched in to help. We did what we were asked to do, and then we waited with baited breath to see how the dice would fall. When the President of the General Assembly read out the vote tally for the first round and we realised that Australia had won - and won decisively - we were in total shock. Then that gave way to elation and excitement. I was sitting in the gallery with my colleagues and despite my firm no-touch policy, we hugged and smiled. And we collectively breathed out for the first time in a long time. It was really a wonderful day. The first champagne cork popped not long after that, followed by so many others. Needless to say, the weekend was somewhat of a write-off.
I didn't visit the General Assembly Hall for a few weeks after that. Indeed it wasn't until last Monday - UN Day - that I headed back. This time, I had tickets to the UN Day concert, hosted by Stevie Wonder and friends. Yep, THAT Stevie Wonder. I'm not sure I would have bought tickets to a Stevie Wonder concert, but I was curious about how they would stage the concert inside the GA Hall. I had seen Beyonce peform there in August for World Humanitarian Day and I just had to be a part of this latest musical spectacular. And the show really was great. Streamed live on the internet, and recorded by the BET network (for screening in February 2013), the show was non-stop entertainment. Stevie Wonder is very good live, and his supporting acts were equally good - except for the woeful Korean all-girl band. That was just weird. Can you believe that one of the MCs was Theo Huxtable from "The Cosby Show"? He hasn't changed a bit! It was great.
The week ended with some cocktails on the rooftop of the Library Hotel, and a Saturday excursion to Broadway to see the adorable production of "The Heiress" (hello Matthew from "Downtown Abbey" woohoo!).
Sunday dawned and I watched the news stories about the approaching hurricane. I remember being a little concerned at the size of the storm front, and the projected devastation. With K out of town, I made sure I had enough filtered water in the fridge, and cans of soup in the cupboard - just in case stores would be closed (or worse, the delivery guys would be off duty). That may sound flippant to you, but I honestly never thought my building would be as affected as it turned out to be.
If you look on a New York disaster map, my apartment building is in Zone B and that is the "evacuation likely" section. I guess on Sunday afternoon they must have revised the zones a bit, because at about 3pm the NYPD drove down my street, yelling into a megaphone that we had been upgraded to Zone A, the "mandatory evacuation" area. I had only just had a giant pizza delivered. Can you believe the timing?! Here I was thinking I'd be able to live off the pizza for days, and now I was being told to gather up my belongings and do the skedaddle.
My lovely friend Sharlo lives on the Upper East Side, almost sixty blocks north of me, and she offered me asylum straight away. So I packed a couple of bags, plus the pizza and a bottle of wine, and headed up to her place. Four off-duty cabs refused to pick me up and instead left me stranded on the street, before one good samaritan finally stopped and drove me away from my place. I had no idea what condition I'd find it in once the storm passed by.
Sunday night passed without incident, despite the fact we were glued to CNN and watching the storm inch ever closer to the eastern seaboard. By the time Monday dawned, and the UN and my office declared they would be closed, we hunkered down in the apartment and tried hard to fathom the destruction were seeing on the TV screen. Originally Sandy was supposed to hit New York around 8pm but that was later brought forward to 6pm. We listened intently to NY's Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Cuomo as they hosted press conference after press conference, updating residents on what to expect and how best to cope. I was particularly impressed with New Jersey's Governor Chris Christie, who took a very no-nonsense approach to the storm and put pesky news reporters back in their places quick-smart. The public information was very impressive.
Everybody has seen the news footage and photos of the total devastation that followed. Not a single New York borough was spared Sandy's wrath. I was truly lucky to have Sharlo as my good samaritan and friend through this process. We have full power where we are - the water is hot, the toilets flush. Life continues without interruption. South of 39th Street in Manhattan, it is a different story. In my apartment, the power and water is off and the corridors and stairwells are the very definition of 'pitch black'. Traffic lights are out, so the NYPD traffic cops are working overtime. The subways are all obviously out of action, and taxis are doing a roaring trade. Bus service is limited but at least it's coming back to life too. The city looks much more crowded than usual, as tourists and locals alike are forced above-ground to walk everywhere and assess the carnage. Downed trees, littered streets, seaweed on cars - it has all been very strange.
It's hard to believe that all this excitement has happened in one little month. I'm almost too afraid to ask what November will bring.
When October started, I was really anxious and excited about the UN Security Council vote on 18 October. We had been talking about "the campaign" ever since my first day at work, though it had been a priority for years before I even arrived. Energy levels were high, and the anticipation was palpable. As UN Leaders' Week got into full swing, we hosted visits to New York by the Prime Minister, Foreign Minister, Parliamentary Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and their respective delegations. Timetables had to be kept straight, programs had to be managed seamslessly - it was an all-hands-on-deck affair and we were all strangers to sleep.
Before we knew it, Vote Day had arrived and we were all given jobs to do. Even though everyone had been working crazy hours and we were all exhausted, we all had just enough puff left to want the day to go over well. As the General Assembly hall filled up, we all pitched in to help. We did what we were asked to do, and then we waited with baited breath to see how the dice would fall. When the President of the General Assembly read out the vote tally for the first round and we realised that Australia had won - and won decisively - we were in total shock. Then that gave way to elation and excitement. I was sitting in the gallery with my colleagues and despite my firm no-touch policy, we hugged and smiled. And we collectively breathed out for the first time in a long time. It was really a wonderful day. The first champagne cork popped not long after that, followed by so many others. Needless to say, the weekend was somewhat of a write-off.
I didn't visit the General Assembly Hall for a few weeks after that. Indeed it wasn't until last Monday - UN Day - that I headed back. This time, I had tickets to the UN Day concert, hosted by Stevie Wonder and friends. Yep, THAT Stevie Wonder. I'm not sure I would have bought tickets to a Stevie Wonder concert, but I was curious about how they would stage the concert inside the GA Hall. I had seen Beyonce peform there in August for World Humanitarian Day and I just had to be a part of this latest musical spectacular. And the show really was great. Streamed live on the internet, and recorded by the BET network (for screening in February 2013), the show was non-stop entertainment. Stevie Wonder is very good live, and his supporting acts were equally good - except for the woeful Korean all-girl band. That was just weird. Can you believe that one of the MCs was Theo Huxtable from "The Cosby Show"? He hasn't changed a bit! It was great.
The week ended with some cocktails on the rooftop of the Library Hotel, and a Saturday excursion to Broadway to see the adorable production of "The Heiress" (hello Matthew from "Downtown Abbey" woohoo!).
Sunday dawned and I watched the news stories about the approaching hurricane. I remember being a little concerned at the size of the storm front, and the projected devastation. With K out of town, I made sure I had enough filtered water in the fridge, and cans of soup in the cupboard - just in case stores would be closed (or worse, the delivery guys would be off duty). That may sound flippant to you, but I honestly never thought my building would be as affected as it turned out to be.
If you look on a New York disaster map, my apartment building is in Zone B and that is the "evacuation likely" section. I guess on Sunday afternoon they must have revised the zones a bit, because at about 3pm the NYPD drove down my street, yelling into a megaphone that we had been upgraded to Zone A, the "mandatory evacuation" area. I had only just had a giant pizza delivered. Can you believe the timing?! Here I was thinking I'd be able to live off the pizza for days, and now I was being told to gather up my belongings and do the skedaddle.
My lovely friend Sharlo lives on the Upper East Side, almost sixty blocks north of me, and she offered me asylum straight away. So I packed a couple of bags, plus the pizza and a bottle of wine, and headed up to her place. Four off-duty cabs refused to pick me up and instead left me stranded on the street, before one good samaritan finally stopped and drove me away from my place. I had no idea what condition I'd find it in once the storm passed by.
Sunday night passed without incident, despite the fact we were glued to CNN and watching the storm inch ever closer to the eastern seaboard. By the time Monday dawned, and the UN and my office declared they would be closed, we hunkered down in the apartment and tried hard to fathom the destruction were seeing on the TV screen. Originally Sandy was supposed to hit New York around 8pm but that was later brought forward to 6pm. We listened intently to NY's Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Cuomo as they hosted press conference after press conference, updating residents on what to expect and how best to cope. I was particularly impressed with New Jersey's Governor Chris Christie, who took a very no-nonsense approach to the storm and put pesky news reporters back in their places quick-smart. The public information was very impressive.
Everybody has seen the news footage and photos of the total devastation that followed. Not a single New York borough was spared Sandy's wrath. I was truly lucky to have Sharlo as my good samaritan and friend through this process. We have full power where we are - the water is hot, the toilets flush. Life continues without interruption. South of 39th Street in Manhattan, it is a different story. In my apartment, the power and water is off and the corridors and stairwells are the very definition of 'pitch black'. Traffic lights are out, so the NYPD traffic cops are working overtime. The subways are all obviously out of action, and taxis are doing a roaring trade. Bus service is limited but at least it's coming back to life too. The city looks much more crowded than usual, as tourists and locals alike are forced above-ground to walk everywhere and assess the carnage. Downed trees, littered streets, seaweed on cars - it has all been very strange.
It's hard to believe that all this excitement has happened in one little month. I'm almost too afraid to ask what November will bring.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
When nature doesn't come so naturally
There is something to be said for impetuosity - particularly when someone is impetuous on your behalf, and you just allow yourself to get caught up in the whirlwind. Such was my weekend away from Manhattan, the plans for which were only cemented late Thursday night. Nothing like making a late entrance, hey?
There I was 2.30pm on Friday afternoon, leaving the office with Sharlo and we met up with The Great Dane, who had booked a rental car (with GPS) and had the road trip all organised. We were headed for a beautiful house just outside of Front Royal in Virginia. A good friend of The Rodster at work had agreed to host the first of his many farewell parties, and a bunch of the Rodster's friends (including The Great Dane) were headed for VA to kick off the celebrations.
The weekend got off to a VERY slow start, because it took us nearly 2 hours just to get of Manhattan! We were crawling at a snail's pace all the way to the Holland Tunnel (and then through it), but even once we were on the other side, the bumper-to-bumper traffic extended through New Jersey. It was excruciating! But soon enough we were on the open roads and cruising through Pennsylvania, into West Virginia, and then - at a little before midnight - we finally arrived at our destination.
It was hard to tell what J's house really looked like when we arrived - it was just too dark to appreciate how picturesque her property is, and what a stunning outlook it enjoys. So we just settled down inside and drank beer after beer, relaxing into the start of the weekend. Some more house guests arrived about 40 minutes after us, and a few more beers were consumed, before we all gave up for the night and retired to bed.
Saturday morning we were all up early. J had scheduled breakfast service between 8-9am, which was an excellent way to get us kickstarted for what turned out to be a MASSIVE day out. I was up in time for breakfast and had a lovely hot shower to get my blood pumping properly. The beers from the night before set up residence in my frontal lobe so I wasn't feeling the best; but the hot coffee and home-made oatmeal did the trick. Despite the frosty cold, I sat out on J's verandah and gazed over the road to the Fox Meadow winery, and the sheer expanse of beautiful trees beyond, only a taste of the majestic Shenandoah National Park, not far from J's front door. Some of the trees had started to turn a soft yellow and orange colour, while some stubbornly remained green (at least for now). The effect of hills and hills of such beautiful and diverse colour is instantly calming.
Before long, me and Sharlo and been able to negotiate a ride with a couple of other Aussies and an American friend, who were also staying at J's house, and we set off for our day. First stop was the famous Apple House, an institution in the area. We stocked up on the much-celebrated apple donuts, but also grabbed some pumpkin ones - just to taste. They were both pretty yummy, I have to say.
Further down the road we came to Front Royal, and helped to celebrate the Fall Festival. We called into the Visitor's Centre to get our bearings, but then wandered down the community market on Main Street and looked at the jewelry, handicrafts and local foods on sale. We walked down Chester Street and explored Balthis House, which has the proud title of being the oldest house on the oldest street in Front Royal. A little way down the street is the Warren Rifles Confederate Museum, and of course we went through that too. As far as gift shops go, the Confederate Museum was sadly lacking the tacky merchandise I usually enjoy. That said, it had more than its fair share of historical literature; pro-Virginia materials; and brochures on anything you ever wanted to know about the US Civil War but were afraid to ask.
Judging by the camouflage hunting jackets and pants being sported around the Fall Festival, residents of Front Royal are outdoorsy types. They are also proud Republicans, happy to stake political signs in their front yards declaring allegiance to the Romney-Ryan campaign. But the Front Royal residents I met over the weekend are also hugely family-oriented, with fantastic southern accents and friendly manners to boot. They can also smoke a mean BBQ pulled pork sandwich, which I enjoyed immensely as I sat by the gazebo and listened to a guitar band entertaining the crowd.
Having ticked the cultural boxes of downtown Front Royal, we were happy to spend the rest of our afternoon playing tourist and injecting some money into the local economy. And so it was that we ended up at Rappahannock Cellars for a delicious tasting. It was there that I learned that Virginia is well-known for its Viognier and its Cabernet Franc, so I have stored that knowledge away in my brain for the next time I find myself at a bottle shop with no idea what wine to buy. I walked away from Rappahannock with several bottles of wine, clinking happily together in the boot of the rental car. But we weren't quite done yet. We drove back to J's house and walked across the main road to Fox Meadow winery, where I was a little less happy with the wines I tasted, but stoked with the food/wine pairing format of the tasting itself. And you seriously cannot fault the view that Fox Meadow enjoys. "Stunning" hardly does it justice. There is something really lovely about spending a Saturday afternoon enjoying a glass of wine with still-warm baguettes, slathered in spicy Virginia plum chutney and topped with thin slices of Vermont horseradish cheese.
Back across the road we went for dinner and Farewell Party v1.0 with the Rodster, his wife, and a bunch of their friends. We had a huge BBQ spread with all the salads and dessert trimmings you could think of. The cold had started to creep in so we all tried to stay warm, but before long we were back inside for the karaoke party. I had stopped drinking at the winery, so I was well-qualified to play Karaoke DJ and encourage the sing-alongs, but by that stage the crowd didn't need much prompting.
It was great to wake up this morning feeling bright and chipper. It was just a shame that the weather didn't match my mood - it was very crisp but also very overcast this morning. We seemed to have all the good weather luck yesterday. But despite the grey skies, the air at J's house was so fresh and clean. It felt really good to breathe it all in deeply. But spells are made to be broken and in an effort to get ahead of the Sunday traffic, we left J's house at a little before 11am.
It was weird to have the weekend be over so quickly, but I think I surprised myself at how easily I relaxed once I got out of Manhattan. I love nature, but I don't often go off in search of it all the time. We were saying how in future, we need to make more plans to go away on weekends, even if it's just an hour down the road - just an excuse to get out and spend our Saturday doing something much more soul-satisfying than laundry or groceries. Here's hoping we can stick to that plan.
There I was 2.30pm on Friday afternoon, leaving the office with Sharlo and we met up with The Great Dane, who had booked a rental car (with GPS) and had the road trip all organised. We were headed for a beautiful house just outside of Front Royal in Virginia. A good friend of The Rodster at work had agreed to host the first of his many farewell parties, and a bunch of the Rodster's friends (including The Great Dane) were headed for VA to kick off the celebrations.
The weekend got off to a VERY slow start, because it took us nearly 2 hours just to get of Manhattan! We were crawling at a snail's pace all the way to the Holland Tunnel (and then through it), but even once we were on the other side, the bumper-to-bumper traffic extended through New Jersey. It was excruciating! But soon enough we were on the open roads and cruising through Pennsylvania, into West Virginia, and then - at a little before midnight - we finally arrived at our destination.
It was hard to tell what J's house really looked like when we arrived - it was just too dark to appreciate how picturesque her property is, and what a stunning outlook it enjoys. So we just settled down inside and drank beer after beer, relaxing into the start of the weekend. Some more house guests arrived about 40 minutes after us, and a few more beers were consumed, before we all gave up for the night and retired to bed.
Saturday morning we were all up early. J had scheduled breakfast service between 8-9am, which was an excellent way to get us kickstarted for what turned out to be a MASSIVE day out. I was up in time for breakfast and had a lovely hot shower to get my blood pumping properly. The beers from the night before set up residence in my frontal lobe so I wasn't feeling the best; but the hot coffee and home-made oatmeal did the trick. Despite the frosty cold, I sat out on J's verandah and gazed over the road to the Fox Meadow winery, and the sheer expanse of beautiful trees beyond, only a taste of the majestic Shenandoah National Park, not far from J's front door. Some of the trees had started to turn a soft yellow and orange colour, while some stubbornly remained green (at least for now). The effect of hills and hills of such beautiful and diverse colour is instantly calming.
Before long, me and Sharlo and been able to negotiate a ride with a couple of other Aussies and an American friend, who were also staying at J's house, and we set off for our day. First stop was the famous Apple House, an institution in the area. We stocked up on the much-celebrated apple donuts, but also grabbed some pumpkin ones - just to taste. They were both pretty yummy, I have to say.
Further down the road we came to Front Royal, and helped to celebrate the Fall Festival. We called into the Visitor's Centre to get our bearings, but then wandered down the community market on Main Street and looked at the jewelry, handicrafts and local foods on sale. We walked down Chester Street and explored Balthis House, which has the proud title of being the oldest house on the oldest street in Front Royal. A little way down the street is the Warren Rifles Confederate Museum, and of course we went through that too. As far as gift shops go, the Confederate Museum was sadly lacking the tacky merchandise I usually enjoy. That said, it had more than its fair share of historical literature; pro-Virginia materials; and brochures on anything you ever wanted to know about the US Civil War but were afraid to ask.
Judging by the camouflage hunting jackets and pants being sported around the Fall Festival, residents of Front Royal are outdoorsy types. They are also proud Republicans, happy to stake political signs in their front yards declaring allegiance to the Romney-Ryan campaign. But the Front Royal residents I met over the weekend are also hugely family-oriented, with fantastic southern accents and friendly manners to boot. They can also smoke a mean BBQ pulled pork sandwich, which I enjoyed immensely as I sat by the gazebo and listened to a guitar band entertaining the crowd.
Having ticked the cultural boxes of downtown Front Royal, we were happy to spend the rest of our afternoon playing tourist and injecting some money into the local economy. And so it was that we ended up at Rappahannock Cellars for a delicious tasting. It was there that I learned that Virginia is well-known for its Viognier and its Cabernet Franc, so I have stored that knowledge away in my brain for the next time I find myself at a bottle shop with no idea what wine to buy. I walked away from Rappahannock with several bottles of wine, clinking happily together in the boot of the rental car. But we weren't quite done yet. We drove back to J's house and walked across the main road to Fox Meadow winery, where I was a little less happy with the wines I tasted, but stoked with the food/wine pairing format of the tasting itself. And you seriously cannot fault the view that Fox Meadow enjoys. "Stunning" hardly does it justice. There is something really lovely about spending a Saturday afternoon enjoying a glass of wine with still-warm baguettes, slathered in spicy Virginia plum chutney and topped with thin slices of Vermont horseradish cheese.
Back across the road we went for dinner and Farewell Party v1.0 with the Rodster, his wife, and a bunch of their friends. We had a huge BBQ spread with all the salads and dessert trimmings you could think of. The cold had started to creep in so we all tried to stay warm, but before long we were back inside for the karaoke party. I had stopped drinking at the winery, so I was well-qualified to play Karaoke DJ and encourage the sing-alongs, but by that stage the crowd didn't need much prompting.
It was great to wake up this morning feeling bright and chipper. It was just a shame that the weather didn't match my mood - it was very crisp but also very overcast this morning. We seemed to have all the good weather luck yesterday. But despite the grey skies, the air at J's house was so fresh and clean. It felt really good to breathe it all in deeply. But spells are made to be broken and in an effort to get ahead of the Sunday traffic, we left J's house at a little before 11am.
It was weird to have the weekend be over so quickly, but I think I surprised myself at how easily I relaxed once I got out of Manhattan. I love nature, but I don't often go off in search of it all the time. We were saying how in future, we need to make more plans to go away on weekends, even if it's just an hour down the road - just an excuse to get out and spend our Saturday doing something much more soul-satisfying than laundry or groceries. Here's hoping we can stick to that plan.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
The wacky starts
The UN General Assembly is upon us and it seems that the whole UN community has been burning the midnight oil to prepare for a massive influx of world leaders, senior officials, and their entourages. My office has not been spared this, but things have come together and we're ready to roll.
But if you've been paying any attention at all, you'll know that even in normal circumstances I am no stranger to crazy-ass dreams. And so you can just imagine what acid trips my subconscious takes when I haven't been sleeping well for days at a time. Allow me to present Exhibit A (aka, last night's dream):
But if you've been paying any attention at all, you'll know that even in normal circumstances I am no stranger to crazy-ass dreams. And so you can just imagine what acid trips my subconscious takes when I haven't been sleeping well for days at a time. Allow me to present Exhibit A (aka, last night's dream):
So I was on the bus back in Adelaide. Lost, as usual. I can't remember where I was supposed to be headed, but I know in my dream I was nowhere near it. A lady comes to sit down next to me - about my age. Tall, and with a crazy mop of brown-black hair. She has recognised me, and I start to worry because I have no idea who she is. Slowly but surely we piece it together and she is a girl from my high school, who I literally have not clapped eyes on since we graduated (*cough cough* number of years ago).
She tells me how thrilled her parents would be to see me again and would I come to her place and have dinner? Since she seemed to know where she was going, and I clearly did not, I accepted.
I turn up at her place and my Dad is there waiting for me (am I telepathic now?). He looks just as anxious as I do, and yet we go inside my school mate's HUGE house. It's an ancient Queenslander-style home, with sweeping verandahs all around the property and large swinging screen doors, left open to let the gorgeous cross-breeze through. The wooden floorboards are all in original condition and the house is stunning. Dad and me make appropriate remarks of admiration as we take the tour.
Then my aunt is there, standing alongside a giant white-haired woman, who may or may not be crazy. She is certainly mute, and she is so tall that she renders my aunt tiny in comparison. My aunt isn't at all surprised to see me or my Dad there, but she doesn't talk to us. She spends all her time fussing over the white-haired giant lady.
My school friend takes me and my Dad outside to see the backyard. The place is INSANE. Firstly there's a really deep pool, filled with what looks like mangroves. A dark mass moves quickly under the water, and my friend's Dad strips off to his shorts and dives in. "He's fishing for barramundi," my friend says, as if this happens all the time "we'll have it for dinner". Of course. As her dad catches farmed barra with his bare hands, overhead a few family friends are surfing on the surface of the water, with the aid of a (clearly) self-made wave generator. My friend tells me that the combination of the mangrove plants and the surfing helps to aerate the water and the barra grow big and fat.
I turned around to see my aunt had (for some reason) put on her nurse's uniform - she is indeed a nurse in the real world, so this is the only part of the dream that made sense. Only all of a sudden, my aunt had a tight, white perm hairdo even though she was still the same age as always. She had taken white-haired giant lady by the hand and was guiding her back into the house, presumably for a nap or medication (both of which sounded pretty good to me). I turned back to tell my Dad what I'd seen, and my Grandma was there, assuring me she'd tackle this and find out once and for all why my aunt was working so hard on what was supposed to be her day off. Where did Grandma even come from?!
Clearly this didn't bother me enough to investigate further, because I directed my gaze back down the garden I noticed ears of corn, and a couple of dirty children assuming the unenviable task of picking them. Who grows corn AND farms barra AND has capacity for surfing, all in their backyard? I guess the same people who own a pair of albino meerkats, because at that point in the dream, two gorgeous little critters ran out of the cornfield and stared right up at me, before dashing off again.Then I woke up. I mean, seriously. What the?! There is so much in here, I don't think any dream dictionary in the world would be able to handle it. Best to just cast it off into the "WOAH, CRAZY" pile (where so many of my other dreams have gone to die). I suspect that as this madcap week rolls on, there is likely to be more adventures brewing in my subconscious. I just hope they don't involve barra or corn. It's never fair to dream about food. That's like teasing or something.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Here is my city - in a glass, on a plate, on the stage
So I prattled on in the last post about the Disability conference we'd been having this week and all the various side-events we'd either been hosting or attending. Well on Friday night I went along to the last of my official engagements - a reception hosted by UNICEF. The Head of Australia's delegation delivered a speech at the event, and then it was just a couple of glasses of wine and some mingling to work through.
Well wouldn't you know it, just as the speeches were about to start, I turn around to scan the room and see the smiling face of Kricco, a friend of mine I met in London. Small world, no? Kricco was grinning and waving at me, so I grinned and waved back at her - and through crazy facial expressions and a bit of charades, we managed to convey the plans to catch up once the official proceedings were over.
Kricco now works for Lumos, an international non-government organisation chaired by JK Rowling. As part of her work, Kricco travels a lot - largely through Moldova and Bulgaria (of all places) but the stories that she shared with me were inspiring and frustrating in equal measure. Mixed in of course, were hilarious stories of language barriers, scary eastern European restaurant menus, and hotel rooms that time had forgotten. When these stories are delivered in Kricco's fantastic Liverpudlian accent, they somehow just get funnier.
On Friday night I showed Kricco the gorgeous Campbell Apartment, where the cocktails flowed and the hostess took good care of us. After that it was a late, alfresco dinner in Bryant Park, sitting right alongside the garden bed, people-watching and catching up. I suspect this is where all my mosquito bites came from.
Come Saturday morning, I could avoid laundry no longer. What followed was several hours of to-ing and fro-ing down the hallway to get clothes, sheets, and towels all spick and span. This hard work was punctuated by episodes of "Fringe", obviously.
By Saturday night, Kricco had finished Day 2 of her UNICEF workshop and we were ready to hit the town again. We met up at Wild Edibles, a great oyster bar/restaurant close to my house. The fact I might be crushing on the waiter there is not the point. What really matters is the fact that we enjoyed delicious oysters from the American Northwest, followed by vongole pasta for Kricco and lobster rigatoni for me. Crisp, light lagers washed it all down. It was delicious.
But dinner wasn't really allowed to settle because I wasn't quite done showing NY off yet. I dragged Kricco into a cab and down to Greenwich Village to Cafe Wha. I've mentioned this place once before - when me, Westo and Kittykat fronted up there to dance the night away. This time, because there were only two of us, we got sandwiched into a small table off stage right, but we still had a great view of the band. This is important, because several of them are HOT. And great musicians...whatever.
The Soul Man did not disappoint - he belted out the hits and strutted his stuff across the stage, demonstrating his 'soul walk' for everyone, and even trying to get some guy from the audience to do it too. Oh how we laughed! And that was just for the warm up because when the band finally started, the crowd went off! We all sang and clapped, and me and Kricco both remarked at how you could tell we were in an American audience. Conservative Aussie and British crowds would have taken much longer to get into the spirit. But we were Americans for the night - whooping it up, singing along with Janis Joplin, the Rolling Stones, and even Bob Marley. When the guy got up to start singing Gypsy Kings, of course I joined in. My resounding chorus of "Bamboleo" certainly needs some work. But I found a karaoke version here, so maybe I can get some rehearsals in before I go back. PS, those karaoke words are NOTHING like what I have been singing all these years.
When the band finished their first set, we were invited to stay back for the second, but by then we were ready to call it a night. I managed to get us a cab in record time and before I knew it, we were back at Kricco's hotel saying our goodbyes before her (very) early morning flight back home.
I know I cheated a bit this time, showing Kricco some of my favourite places in New York, rather than taking chances on new spots. But I guess you have favourite places for a reason - and really, Kricco was such an easygoing and obliging guest, she didn't mind me dragging her from one end of the island to another. Wines, beers, food, and music - can you ever go wrong with combinations like that? Looking forward to Kricco's next visit here for sure!
Well wouldn't you know it, just as the speeches were about to start, I turn around to scan the room and see the smiling face of Kricco, a friend of mine I met in London. Small world, no? Kricco was grinning and waving at me, so I grinned and waved back at her - and through crazy facial expressions and a bit of charades, we managed to convey the plans to catch up once the official proceedings were over.
Kricco now works for Lumos, an international non-government organisation chaired by JK Rowling. As part of her work, Kricco travels a lot - largely through Moldova and Bulgaria (of all places) but the stories that she shared with me were inspiring and frustrating in equal measure. Mixed in of course, were hilarious stories of language barriers, scary eastern European restaurant menus, and hotel rooms that time had forgotten. When these stories are delivered in Kricco's fantastic Liverpudlian accent, they somehow just get funnier.
On Friday night I showed Kricco the gorgeous Campbell Apartment, where the cocktails flowed and the hostess took good care of us. After that it was a late, alfresco dinner in Bryant Park, sitting right alongside the garden bed, people-watching and catching up. I suspect this is where all my mosquito bites came from.
Come Saturday morning, I could avoid laundry no longer. What followed was several hours of to-ing and fro-ing down the hallway to get clothes, sheets, and towels all spick and span. This hard work was punctuated by episodes of "Fringe", obviously.
By Saturday night, Kricco had finished Day 2 of her UNICEF workshop and we were ready to hit the town again. We met up at Wild Edibles, a great oyster bar/restaurant close to my house. The fact I might be crushing on the waiter there is not the point. What really matters is the fact that we enjoyed delicious oysters from the American Northwest, followed by vongole pasta for Kricco and lobster rigatoni for me. Crisp, light lagers washed it all down. It was delicious.
But dinner wasn't really allowed to settle because I wasn't quite done showing NY off yet. I dragged Kricco into a cab and down to Greenwich Village to Cafe Wha. I've mentioned this place once before - when me, Westo and Kittykat fronted up there to dance the night away. This time, because there were only two of us, we got sandwiched into a small table off stage right, but we still had a great view of the band. This is important, because several of them are HOT. And great musicians...whatever.
The Soul Man did not disappoint - he belted out the hits and strutted his stuff across the stage, demonstrating his 'soul walk' for everyone, and even trying to get some guy from the audience to do it too. Oh how we laughed! And that was just for the warm up because when the band finally started, the crowd went off! We all sang and clapped, and me and Kricco both remarked at how you could tell we were in an American audience. Conservative Aussie and British crowds would have taken much longer to get into the spirit. But we were Americans for the night - whooping it up, singing along with Janis Joplin, the Rolling Stones, and even Bob Marley. When the guy got up to start singing Gypsy Kings, of course I joined in. My resounding chorus of "Bamboleo" certainly needs some work. But I found a karaoke version here, so maybe I can get some rehearsals in before I go back. PS, those karaoke words are NOTHING like what I have been singing all these years.
When the band finished their first set, we were invited to stay back for the second, but by then we were ready to call it a night. I managed to get us a cab in record time and before I knew it, we were back at Kricco's hotel saying our goodbyes before her (very) early morning flight back home.
I know I cheated a bit this time, showing Kricco some of my favourite places in New York, rather than taking chances on new spots. But I guess you have favourite places for a reason - and really, Kricco was such an easygoing and obliging guest, she didn't mind me dragging her from one end of the island to another. Wines, beers, food, and music - can you ever go wrong with combinations like that? Looking forward to Kricco's next visit here for sure!
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Was I ever away?
I seem to have the jetlag under control now, except I am still waking up before my alarm every morning. It's not too bad but I have to admit, it's starting to catch up with me. I have already decided that I will be in bed at 8.30pm tonight. I may take my laptop and Season 4 of "Fringe" with me, but I'll be there.
This week has been a pretty busy one and sometimes it feels like I never even went on leave.
Occupying much of my time this week is the Conference of States Parties to the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Yes, it's definitely a mouthful, so everyone's been calling COSP or CRPD. I wasn't involved much last year, but this time I've been fortunate to oversee - and attend - our side-events and hear representatives from other countries (Governments as well as civil society groups) talk about how we might improve systems and services to enrich the lives and livelihoods of people living with disabilities. Australia also delivered its national statement yesterday - you can read it here. We really are doing some impressive things on the domestic front, and we are equally active internationally - helping people of all ages in so many countries, and especially in the Asia Pacific.
The theme of this year's Conference is about making the UN Convention work for women and children. Out of all the things I've heard and learned so far, one thing that really stuck with me came out of the event we ran with UNICEF yesterday, on the subject of inclusive education. The panel talked about the need to accommodate students with physical impairments in the classroom (making room for wheelchairs, adjusting classroom tools for students who need learning aids etc). But then the discussion turned to the topic of accommodating students ith intellectual disabilities. One of our panellists (the Dean of Education at Syracuse University) said that he fundamentally disagreed with the notion of suggesting that a student has an intellectual disability at all. He said that we have no way of knowing how another person's brain does - or doesn't - work, or what they're really thinking, or what their potential might be. So how can we say for sure that a student is intellectually impaired, when perhaps they just haven't been given the opportunity to demonstrate what they can do?
The panel and audience generally accepted that not all students learn as quickly as their peers, or they might need concepts explained to them in a different way, but he said that's the teacher's job to make sense of these things - to work out the lay of the land in their classroom. He said it was the teacher's job to advocate for his/her students and help them realise their own potential while the students are in their care. Quite a powerful profession, don't you think?
Now Dr. Biklen wasn't suggesting for a second that this is easy, and everyone in the audience seemed to know that he was talking about an ideal world, where money was no object and teachers had the time and resources to devote personal attention to each and every child in their care. But looking past all that, what I think Dr. Biklen was driving at was that teachers need to start assuming responsibility for the intellectual nourishment of their students. It seemed to me he expects teachers to really step up to the plate (professionally and personally) and think outside the box when they have to. I dunno, I just thought that was a really powerful reminder of how important teachers are, and the truly life-changing role they can play in a student's life. So yeah, that struck a chord. But I'm rambling, I know. Hmm. Can we move on to less serious stuff now?
Once the wrap-up from yesterday's side events was done, I went to NoLita and helped out at a wine tasting event being hosted by some of my colleagues. The wine tasting was held at a gorgeous, hole-in-the-wall Australian bar called Eight Mile Creek. They have Coopers beers, kids - not to mention a gorgeous little outdoor deck/beer garden area in which to enjoy them. Eureka! Now that I know this bar is there, I think it might become a bit of a favourite. It's not close to where I live, but I feel it will be worth the commute. Plus they are right next door to some of the yummiest Italian food in the city. How could I refuse, right?!
The bar put on some great catering last night and we were able to introduce our international colleagues to kangaroo. For many, this was the first time they'd ever tasted roo meat. The first platter of skewers were apparently a bit tough, but the second plate was more tender and, by all accounts, tasty. I was talking to our friends from Norway and Chile about kangaroo and it turns out that the TV series "Skippy" actually screened in those countries way back in the day. I never knew that, it was classic! No wonder it takes a bit of arm-twisting to get foreigners to eat roo. They've been conditioned to believe that our little marsupials are fluffy crime-fighters and beloved family members, not something you cook medium-rare and slather with BBQ sauce. Fortunately our Norweigan and Chilean chums were able to ignore the fact they were eating Skippy, and they declared the roo to be delish. Most excellent result!
This week has been a pretty busy one and sometimes it feels like I never even went on leave.
Occupying much of my time this week is the Conference of States Parties to the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Yes, it's definitely a mouthful, so everyone's been calling COSP or CRPD. I wasn't involved much last year, but this time I've been fortunate to oversee - and attend - our side-events and hear representatives from other countries (Governments as well as civil society groups) talk about how we might improve systems and services to enrich the lives and livelihoods of people living with disabilities. Australia also delivered its national statement yesterday - you can read it here. We really are doing some impressive things on the domestic front, and we are equally active internationally - helping people of all ages in so many countries, and especially in the Asia Pacific.
The theme of this year's Conference is about making the UN Convention work for women and children. Out of all the things I've heard and learned so far, one thing that really stuck with me came out of the event we ran with UNICEF yesterday, on the subject of inclusive education. The panel talked about the need to accommodate students with physical impairments in the classroom (making room for wheelchairs, adjusting classroom tools for students who need learning aids etc). But then the discussion turned to the topic of accommodating students ith intellectual disabilities. One of our panellists (the Dean of Education at Syracuse University) said that he fundamentally disagreed with the notion of suggesting that a student has an intellectual disability at all. He said that we have no way of knowing how another person's brain does - or doesn't - work, or what they're really thinking, or what their potential might be. So how can we say for sure that a student is intellectually impaired, when perhaps they just haven't been given the opportunity to demonstrate what they can do?
The panel and audience generally accepted that not all students learn as quickly as their peers, or they might need concepts explained to them in a different way, but he said that's the teacher's job to make sense of these things - to work out the lay of the land in their classroom. He said it was the teacher's job to advocate for his/her students and help them realise their own potential while the students are in their care. Quite a powerful profession, don't you think?
Now Dr. Biklen wasn't suggesting for a second that this is easy, and everyone in the audience seemed to know that he was talking about an ideal world, where money was no object and teachers had the time and resources to devote personal attention to each and every child in their care. But looking past all that, what I think Dr. Biklen was driving at was that teachers need to start assuming responsibility for the intellectual nourishment of their students. It seemed to me he expects teachers to really step up to the plate (professionally and personally) and think outside the box when they have to. I dunno, I just thought that was a really powerful reminder of how important teachers are, and the truly life-changing role they can play in a student's life. So yeah, that struck a chord. But I'm rambling, I know. Hmm. Can we move on to less serious stuff now?
Once the wrap-up from yesterday's side events was done, I went to NoLita and helped out at a wine tasting event being hosted by some of my colleagues. The wine tasting was held at a gorgeous, hole-in-the-wall Australian bar called Eight Mile Creek. They have Coopers beers, kids - not to mention a gorgeous little outdoor deck/beer garden area in which to enjoy them. Eureka! Now that I know this bar is there, I think it might become a bit of a favourite. It's not close to where I live, but I feel it will be worth the commute. Plus they are right next door to some of the yummiest Italian food in the city. How could I refuse, right?!
The bar put on some great catering last night and we were able to introduce our international colleagues to kangaroo. For many, this was the first time they'd ever tasted roo meat. The first platter of skewers were apparently a bit tough, but the second plate was more tender and, by all accounts, tasty. I was talking to our friends from Norway and Chile about kangaroo and it turns out that the TV series "Skippy" actually screened in those countries way back in the day. I never knew that, it was classic! No wonder it takes a bit of arm-twisting to get foreigners to eat roo. They've been conditioned to believe that our little marsupials are fluffy crime-fighters and beloved family members, not something you cook medium-rare and slather with BBQ sauce. Fortunately our Norweigan and Chilean chums were able to ignore the fact they were eating Skippy, and they declared the roo to be delish. Most excellent result!
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Walking miles in my shoes
"Wait, you've gone past it!" I wailed, as the taxi driver zoomed over 7th Avenue, away from the Sheraton Hotel. I was supposed to be meeting my cousin Em-train early(ish) in the morning and for once, I actually knew where I was going. It was just a shame that the same couldn't be said for my taxi driver. But he screeched to a halt in the middle of 53rd Street traffic. Throwing money into the front seat and hurling myself out of the car, I dashed back across the pedestrian lights. As I did so, splotches of steamy rain fell on my head. Running late, humidity, AND rain? This was tremendous.
But I needn't have worried cause everything ended well. Seeing Em-train again was fantastic, but as always it reminded me how overdue I am for a date with the treadmill. She looks great - skinny as a rake, long and shiny hair. And for someone who alleged to be jet-lagged, you'd never know it. I guess after nearly 5 years as a globe-trotting flight attendant, she's learned to hide it well. If she wasn't family I'd probably have to hate her :)
We jumped in a taxi and drove in bumper-to-bumper traffic through Times Square, down to Chelsea Market. Fortified by coffees from Ninth Street Espresso and a shared lamington from Tuckshop (for old time's sake), we caught up on the gossip and stories over the year since we had last seen each other. It was fascinating to hear the stories of the exotic destinations that Em-train has visited on her travels. Even if she's just on a short layover, she does her best to get out and see the city she's in, and gives a good verbal snapshot of each one. After our chat yesterday, I don't mind admitting that some cities I previously had near the top of my must-see list have slipped down a couple of places.
Catching up is hungry and thirsty work, so we headed into the Meatpacking District for brunch at Macelleria. I'd never been here before, but I liked the sound of the brunch menu online. We were the only ones in the restaurant yesterday morning, but there was something peaceful about sitting in a quiet venue, whose front windows were flung open to let in the sunlight and cool breeze. More celebrated as a steakhouse (with a wine cellar built in the 17th Century), it was perhaps unusual - but lucky for us - that Macelleria also offers a hearty and diverse brunch menu. Em-train chose the baked eggs while I very much enjoyed my Sicilian egg toast - almost like the Aussie version of a toad-in-the-hole, but topped with crunchy, blanched asparagus and a drizzle of truffle oil. Delish.
It was a good thing that we filled up on tasty food, because what followed was a long walk through the West Village, Washington Square Park, Soho (with a stop in Fanelli Cafe), down Broadway, into Chinatown, past the restaurants and vintage stores in Little Italy, a fill-up of fancy hipster pour-over coffee at the bar alongside the Randolph on Broome, and then we continued up Bowery into Union Square. As the grey stormclouds rolled in and plunged the city into premature darkness, we spent way longer than normal waiting for a cab. But just as the sky opened up, our Turkish taxi driver came to the rescue. Now that's what I call perfect timing. PHEW!
I was so grateful to Em-train for getting me out into the fresh air yesterday and even though I had blisters on my heels afterwards, I wouldn't have traded the day for anything. It was so great to see my cousin doing so well and with such positive plans for the coming months in her life and career. I was also grateful to Em-train for allowing me to drag her around the city streets aimlessly - not everyone would be content with such an ambling, pedestrian road trip!
As I collapsed into bed like a nana at 9.15pm (another raging Saturday night in the City!), I had to spare a thought for poor Em-train, who was getting ready for a 13-hour, chock-full flight back to Dubai. I certainly couldn't have managed it - but I have total confidence that she did.
But I needn't have worried cause everything ended well. Seeing Em-train again was fantastic, but as always it reminded me how overdue I am for a date with the treadmill. She looks great - skinny as a rake, long and shiny hair. And for someone who alleged to be jet-lagged, you'd never know it. I guess after nearly 5 years as a globe-trotting flight attendant, she's learned to hide it well. If she wasn't family I'd probably have to hate her :)
We jumped in a taxi and drove in bumper-to-bumper traffic through Times Square, down to Chelsea Market. Fortified by coffees from Ninth Street Espresso and a shared lamington from Tuckshop (for old time's sake), we caught up on the gossip and stories over the year since we had last seen each other. It was fascinating to hear the stories of the exotic destinations that Em-train has visited on her travels. Even if she's just on a short layover, she does her best to get out and see the city she's in, and gives a good verbal snapshot of each one. After our chat yesterday, I don't mind admitting that some cities I previously had near the top of my must-see list have slipped down a couple of places.
Catching up is hungry and thirsty work, so we headed into the Meatpacking District for brunch at Macelleria. I'd never been here before, but I liked the sound of the brunch menu online. We were the only ones in the restaurant yesterday morning, but there was something peaceful about sitting in a quiet venue, whose front windows were flung open to let in the sunlight and cool breeze. More celebrated as a steakhouse (with a wine cellar built in the 17th Century), it was perhaps unusual - but lucky for us - that Macelleria also offers a hearty and diverse brunch menu. Em-train chose the baked eggs while I very much enjoyed my Sicilian egg toast - almost like the Aussie version of a toad-in-the-hole, but topped with crunchy, blanched asparagus and a drizzle of truffle oil. Delish.
It was a good thing that we filled up on tasty food, because what followed was a long walk through the West Village, Washington Square Park, Soho (with a stop in Fanelli Cafe), down Broadway, into Chinatown, past the restaurants and vintage stores in Little Italy, a fill-up of fancy hipster pour-over coffee at the bar alongside the Randolph on Broome, and then we continued up Bowery into Union Square. As the grey stormclouds rolled in and plunged the city into premature darkness, we spent way longer than normal waiting for a cab. But just as the sky opened up, our Turkish taxi driver came to the rescue. Now that's what I call perfect timing. PHEW!
I was so grateful to Em-train for getting me out into the fresh air yesterday and even though I had blisters on my heels afterwards, I wouldn't have traded the day for anything. It was so great to see my cousin doing so well and with such positive plans for the coming months in her life and career. I was also grateful to Em-train for allowing me to drag her around the city streets aimlessly - not everyone would be content with such an ambling, pedestrian road trip!
As I collapsed into bed like a nana at 9.15pm (another raging Saturday night in the City!), I had to spare a thought for poor Em-train, who was getting ready for a 13-hour, chock-full flight back to Dubai. I certainly couldn't have managed it - but I have total confidence that she did.
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