Tuesday, January 27, 2009

DC 0.5

On the way to the Capital.

The day started gloriously sunny, as usual, but soon thickened into an English greyness, which is unusual in these parts.

I woke up with a painful lower back for no obvious reason, so I called a taxi to come take me to Penn Station, rather than fighting with stairs and anyway, my suitcase was too heavy for me even at 100%.

The train was quiet, comfortable, peaceful, clean, and felt very safe. The other passengers refrained from talking on the phone, some slept, some stared out the window, did work, read, or listened to their iPods. It almost felt as though I had the car to myself.

There is something retro about the design of the diesel cars, and very similar to American Airlines - both shiny metal tubes with red, white, and blue stripes down the middle. In fact, it did feel like a plane more than a train because there was no clackety clack, it just flew along the track. The interior was very airline-like too, though the seats were the softest I've ever sat in, anywhere. Three and a half hours sitting and I forgot I even had a bum, they were that comfy.

We passed through about 4 states, stopped at two airports, and made stops along the way in New Jersey; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Wilmington, Delaware; Baltimore, Maryland; and finally Washington, D.C.

This is what I saw:


The Chesapeake Bay off the Maryland coast.
An abandoned power station near Philadelphia.
Every station we stopped at had a sign that pointed to Boston one way and Washington the other, well I wonder which way I was going?


First I did the crossword in the Amtrak Arrive magazine, then I read it. Gordon Ramsay was being interviewed, and I never knew he was actually nice to people in real life. Then I flipped through the railway version of the Sky Mall magazine. There are things in those magazines you never knew you needed and you go through all the phases of wanting them, envisioning them in the house you will have one day, talking yourself out of it, and then forgetting about them all until the next time you travel and pick up the evil magazine in the back of the seat.

The parts of Philly and Baltimore I saw from the train look like Harlem or the Bronx did 20 years ago: abandoned lots, burnt out boarded up rowhouses, and so on, but this is only following on the boarded up factories and steel plants. They both seem to have more graffiti than NYC. The graffiti cops, having done their job up in Noo Yawk, need to move down there now. You can see the new attempts at revitalization, like many cities nowadays. You know, riverside warehouse condos, etc.

The odd thing about Baltimore is that, even though it is in Maryland,
which is part of the South, it feels like a northern town. And indeed
it did seem as though it is on the border. Maybe this is why these
states (Md, Va, DC) are known as the mid-Atlantic states, because of
the dichotomy between North and South here.

The further south we went, industry began to fall away and it felt less gritty. In Maryland there were extensive swathes of fields, just fields, winding roads along winding rivers, belts of trees, some white picket fence villages, two cows, scattered homesteads, docks on water, and boats. When you live in a city you forget that it is still possible to leave a tract of land unused...

Finally we pulled into Union Station and I got on the Metro to Dupont Circle where my hostess CC picked me up and dropped me off at the house before heading back to work. It was very nice of her to do that.

I am staying in Glover Park, near Georgetown, in one of the cutest houses I have ever stepped foot in. It looks small from the front, but it goes on forever at the back, where the front two levels expands into four because it's built into a hill.

I met the dog Carlye (a thinker with a tail of iron), and the cats Carrot (a silent socializer) and Melly (a talkative recluse).
Carrots looooves me. He purred and slept all over my sweaters all afternoon, then he moved on to my laptop sleeve, followed by my scarf. I had to shove him off so I could put it on to go out later, but at least it was all warmed up for me :)




So as I said, the place is so cute, I can't not show you!

It's very Arts & Crafts, built in the 1920s, much like our old house in London in many ways, even down to the leaded windows and glass doorknobs. But there is a lot more warm wood here. I was pleased to note that the doors are original, as is much of the cabinetry outside the kitchen, and even the floors, which do not creak one bit. Also, there are so many rooms and nooks and crannies - larges spaces mixed with small. But no space too small. I have my own floor in what would normally be the basement although there is a balcony.


This is a proper old marble washstand with modern plumbing.



My bedroom with the bathroom attached. Spot the cat?



The hearth and...spot the cat?



The bed surrounded by stained glass.



The guest living room adjoining the bedroom. To the right are stairs up to the main level (kitchen, dining room, parlor).




A screened balcony off the guest living room. To the left, a laundry room as well as stairs to the sub-basement which again is not really a basement because it too overlooks the neighborhood.




Looking inside from the balcony. It's like an outdoor room.


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I picked a good week to visit. The region is bracing for its first (very late) snowstorm of the season on Tuesday. Yes, a full inch (2.54 cm) of snow - bringing the city nearly to a halt. NY has had much more than this and just keeps going. But they're all excited down here about their inch of snow.

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In the evening, I followed my nose to the Whole Foods we'd passed in the car on the way to the house. The people look normal down here so far and less "inbred" than generational city dwellers tend to do. Probably because they're all from somewhere else, other cities, other coasts, and small towns all across America. In this area especially, the streets seem lined with dollhouses and dollhouse street lamps. There is also a kind of Southern-cum-English (but not London) feel to it.

More tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Scouting Trip

On Monday, I'm off to Washington, D.C. for a week to explore the city, look at housing, and hopefully go to an interview or two.

But - no matter what happens, I am moving there in a couple of weeks! Probably on Valentine's Day...

...Hopefully into a big sunny room in a townhouse, with window seats, a wall of closets, and my own bathroom...

Stay tuned.

I've arranged to stay in a pretty house in Georgetown owned by a nice couple with a dog and a cat - in a room kind of similar to the one I will be looking at, actually, but with the addition of a private attached living room.

Packing boxes and moving again scares me! I've moved 4 times in the past two years. This is ridiculous. I must find a home now, so wherever I settle in the coming month has to be right, because I am not planning on moving again for a long time.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

USA

I love this country.

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This was supposed to be a proper blog but I got busy and distracted, and now I'm falling asleep.

More to come tomorrow!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

The memories

I had this whole blog planned about how my roomie had food poisoning yesterday but how at first we thought it was norovirus (stomach flu), so I wiped everything down with bleach or alcohol...

But then I rarely post without photos now, so I was browsing my collection looking for the one of the baldacchino at St Peter's Basilica to share. Came across one of my parents, Ruth and Oliver.



Staring at this image, their smiles, their eyes, remembering how they were together, I burst into tears that would not stop. Maybe will happen every so often, just when I think I'm over it. God knows what my mother feels in her lonely hours. Her eyes are always sad now, even when she's smiling.

This was their last photo "together", at the wedding of the son of an old family friend. Nobody yet knew they had been divorced for months. Neither of them had yet even broken the habit of holding hands. My dad is the best hand-holder in the world. She used to talk about the first time he held her hand, and the electric thrill that went up her arm and made her heart jump. It was real! I've felt it too.

My father could never be near my mother without reaching for her. It's like they needed each other. I will never, ever forget...the day he walked out it was so sudden and unexpected. As he turned to leave, my mother reached out for his sleeve, in a gesture of helplessness and desperation, a side of her I'd never seen...For the rest of that day, I was mute. My poor mother for some reason made me help her wash my car while a thunderstorm approached. I suppose that was better than sitting inside thinking about it. She spoke to me, and I would not make a sound.

That day she lost every bit of confidence and trust he had nurtured in her since her first marriage had ended. But then so did I. We've both had to start from scratch. I moved away to London so I made slightly more progress over that first year. I will never forget the day I began to see things in color again, as though my eyes had just opened to the world around me, but she was still stuck with the house and the memories so she went to the gym every day, working out the negativity and the pain. To this day neither of us are quite what we once were. Like a couple of broken vases that have been glued back together but don't stand quite as straight as they once did.

People tell me, I was an adult and it should not have affected me. That it happened and I should just forget about it. They can't understand what it's like to be an only child and an extra sensitive person (as my mother says, "still waters run deep"). My parents and I were everything to each other. The end of their marriage caused me to question my very existence. My foundation was shattered and the source from which I drew my strength had shriveled up. And there were no brothers or sisters to share the pain with me.

My parents suited each other so much - in looks, height, intellect, and personality. They even aged at the same (slow) rate. They had struck such a balance together and even though this was the second marriage for them (the first being disastrous mistakes) the D-word was anathema to our minds. They had found their One. All my friends wanted to grow up to find love like theirs.

My mum managed the money and my dad managed the rest. He always told her, "Don't worry about it, hon, I'll take care of it". And he did. Now she struggles to learn how to do things she never needed to do before. Although she was an ambitious and feisty career woman when they met, he would not abandon his pursuit. In the end, she put it
all aside to have me and dedicate her whole being to marriage and family. She seemed born to be a wife and mother and he seemed born to be a provider.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. She's a middle child and he's a youngest. She is bossy, he is rebellious, and both of them are stubborn. But when they argued and he'd flounce out for a drive, he'd always come back and hold her and say he's sorry, and that she's right of course. Now that I am older of course I have identified little things to look out for, to avoid, or to aim for in my own marriage one day...But what they had was as close to perfection as I've seen a couple achieve.

My father was the most affectionate, warm-hearted, positive, generous, loving, intelligent, creative, and handy man I have ever known. I hate how I always use the past tense. He is still alive, but I haven't seen him in over two years, and I miss him. I miss his blue-green eyes with the hazel freckles that change in every light. His perfect laugh, how he throws his head back and how his eyes become more blue as his cheeks turn red. His soft warm hands enveloping my little ones. His strong heart beat, the sound of safety and security. I still like to hear his warm and vibrant voice on the phone, especially when I get voice-hugs. But he never really talks about himself anymore. It's like catching crumbs. He makes me do all the talking, but when I need it, I am amazed at how much positive encouragement and advice he gives. He could almost be a life coach.

He has done everything, so now I know where I get that from. At school he wanted to be a physicist, and his bookshelves attest to this, but he was also good with his hands - he made copper bowls and a wood stool with a woven seat, things that are so strong they will outlast even me. At home, he made me a rocking chair, a train on wheels, and when I went to university he made me a dainty shelf for my cosmetics and wrote on the back of it. Before making it in oil & gas, he danced, modelled, met actors and artists and people with noble titles; worked in electronics, even on the early Concorde and other mysterious projects.

He's the kind of man who wouldn't waste time in dryness. Let me explain: No matter how old I was (and I left home at 25) I couldn't pass him more than a certain number of times without a "come here" and a lovely huggle and a big kiss on my forehead. If I was standing around waiting for something in the microwave, the last 7 seconds would not be wasted - those were to be taken up in a hug if he was nearby. Even when I have my own family one day, I bet I will still want a Daddy hug. Then again, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to plant a butterfly kiss on his cheek. And when this song came out, we owned it.


When I was in my late teens, I had to tell him that when we went to the mall, he couldn't hold my hand any more. He was so disappointed. I'll always be his baby. He still really only calls me that. When I was little he once told me, "You can get married one day one one condition." "What's that, Daddy?" "You still let me call you baba." "OK, Daddy."

But gooey stuff aside, my father made me funny. I would go home on the weekends and he and I would bounce off each other like a comedy duo. My mum would laugh till her eyes watered. Charged up with all this wit and energy, I would go back to university and spend the week making my friends laugh too. I still have a sense of humor, but the sparkle is something I seem to have lost. I miss the laughter and the inside jokes. And I miss the love notes and drawings he would scribble on Post Its as he ate his breakfast before work, one for me on my placemat, and one for mum on hers.

Growing up, to hear my daddy say, "I love you." was the most thrilling thing beside that wonderful glowing look he would give, the look only a father can give his baby daughter - a look of molten pride. And a grin. His grin is contagious, it splits his face in two.

I also miss the look of pure adoration he would bestow on my mother. We used to call them eye-beams. When he eye-beamed at her, she would eye-beam back with her big eyes, and she'd look so chuffed, and her bottom lip might tremble with the joy, which would make him laugh. She used to tell me that when he came home from work and she heard the car door close, her heart would flutter. And when she baked his special breakfast buns for him every week, she would tell me, "I love your father so much, the love is just pouring out of my heart into these buns." He would always feel that when he ate them.

And all this he left...

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Aveda Day

I would venture to guess that it is definitely midwinter. You see what I did there?

We've had a number of days near freezing, and the past week has been below freezing. Yesterday it went all the way up to 42F/5C and people were wearing sweaters and jackets. I was hot in mine. I went out to get some more substantial winter gloves than the ones I have now. The current cold snap blew in last night with winds that rounded the corner and shook the house - and my bed with me in it.


Ralph Lauren - no surprise there, as I am a proper RL girl. Eye-catching gold buttons (I love buttons don't you know?) with cuffs of finest suede. But the lining is not thick enough to keep my fingers from aching and the sensitive nerve in my left ring finger from shooting pains when the temps go below a certain point.
By the way, that's my flannel winter sheet set underneath. Honestly, the preparation you need to live in these cold places! I have never needed to own so many types of clothing and textiles as I do now.




Ugg - definite surprise there and probably the last brand I ever imagined owning. I hate their skanky boots (with a passion) but I spent an hour evaluating hundreds of gloves and these came out on top with the padded cashmere lining and a little extra space above each fingertip creates a bubble of warmth. I love how buttery soft the leather is, and found out it's because they are deerskin. Wow.
One question, though: When do Australians need to wear gloves?


So today it was a frigid 21F/-6C and I ventured out to get a haircut - it had gone totally wild.
Normally my Aveda is in SoHo between Prince and Houston streets, but it's being renovated, so the staff are camping out at the Aveda Institute in Greenwich Village, only a few blocks over. The place is huge at 4,000 square feet, with high ceilings, saturated with light, with stations well-spaced out. The decor is like Thai Arizona, with cacti and succulents scattered about on shelves and in clusters on the floor, and many forms of antique Thai wood carvings hanging from the ceiling, mirrors and decorative pieces on various wall areas, some marble lotus bowls on the reception desk, and even golden temple bells in the window.

What I love about Aveda is ... everything. Sometimes, you really get what you pay for.
  1. You arrive and change into a luxurious silky black kimono.
  2. Once you're in the chair, the first thing your stylist does is give an honest to goodness shoulder, neck and upper arm massage. (I always have tense shoulders.)
  3. Earrings, rings, and watch go into a little olive wood bowl.
  4. The assistant washes your hair and gives a scalp massage, and whatever specialized treatment you need (I had a moisture infusion).
  5. Back in your seat, you have a cup of herbal tea.
  6. Your stylist offers a choice of aromatherapy oils for another little head massage.
  7. A cape goes on over the kimono, THEN you get a haircut...
  8. ...and a rinse, so you don't have to wash it when you get home.
  9. Right around the time the stylist brings out the blowdryer, balms and pomades, another assistant comes round with a hot towel for your hands, and some enriching lotion for a hearty hand massage.
  10. A final brush down for stray hairs and you're off.
I try to limit this to once every two months, but for under $100 it is so worth it. And surprisingly, costs only a little more than the salon where we used to live in The Woodlands. Slight comfort there.

Despite the subarctic temperatures (and the annoying wet eyes and runny nose they give me), I went on a little walking adventure. I took the subway from Greenwich Village to Chinatown and went to a little dim sum place near the dental office where I used to work ;)

I had 3 types of steamed dumpling: duck, shrimp and chive, and crab. They were quite pretty too, and one set was green. It was only after I'd eaten them - inhaled them rather - that I realized I had forgotten to take a photo for you.

I like the condiments they provided: one dish of ground onion, garlic and ginger, another of vinegar and chili oil, and another of dried shredded smoked duck in chili oil. I mixed them together and slathered it all over my dumplings :)

Then I decided to try tiny fried whitefish seasoned with salt, onion, and chili - you know, what the Chinese takeaways usually sprinkle on fried chicken wings or fried squid. The whitefish were absolutely tiny with little black specks for eyes.

On the way to Canal Street for the train home, I walked through Federal Plaza, which you are familiar with from previous photos. I took in the quietness around City Hall, the courthouses, and the federal and municipal buildings in the dark and cold.


First hasty shot without flash



Took more time to frame the shot and used flash (but couldn't wait to get my gloves back on)

Which one do you prefer?

P.S. It may snow Thursday, and temps are set to drop further, with the high on Friday at 14F (-10C). How can it be colder than it is now???

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Gallivant III: Coney Island to Brooklyn Bridge

The last day of Jason's visit.

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But first I have to tell you about the best instance of self-queueing that I have ever seen.  The other evening walking to 86th Street, here in Bay Ridge, I saw a line stretching for half a block and wondered what they were waiting for.  They were queueing for a bus that wasn't there yet.  I crossed the road laughing.  So, Matt, the Brits have competition!  

Indeed, I noticed that the last time I took a bus here, there was a small queue.  Getting onto the bus I braced myself as usual, prepared to have the people behind ending up on the bus in front of me (never figured out how that happens).  I was pleasantly surprised as I climbed the stairs to discover I had retained my place.  Felt quite civilized.

In London, the crowd sort of mills about and when the bus comes it's a slow but sure free for all as a glob of humanity attempts to climb on at approximately the same time.

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The last morning was a slow one.  Chris made scrambled eggs with tortillas, and then after we'd left, we kicked ourselves for forgotting to pack some of the oatmeal cookies we'd baked the night before.  In this freezing weather you get hollow in no time.  Without flour we had improvised with some Bisquick mix and Quaker oats, and we made cookies to go with our cocktails.  Chris measured the ingredients, Jason whipped the mix, and I volunteered at the wrong time - to stir as Chris added the oats, man that was some stiff stirring, so Jason took over again, and I spooned the mix onto the baking trays.  They were very good.  I made sure to leave them in the oven beyond the estimated time to get a bit brown and crispy :)

Anyway, the boys carried my bags back to Brooklyn, we retied our shoelaces, and headed a few stops north on the R so we could catch the N down to Coney Island.  The Intrepid Sea Air and Space Museum, we can do another time.  




They were arguing last year about Astroland, the old theme park at Coney Island: Chris insisted it was closed, and Jason insisted it was open, and I agreed.  Chris and I were supposed to go there before he started his job, but we ran out of time. Then, in August, it did close suddenly, and many rides were auctioned off.  So we went to see it before any more changes take place.

N Train terminus at Coney Island


"Let me turn your cup around so you can see the name."  As though the signs above his head don't already show it.



Who are they kidding, sure the menu is huge, but everyone goes for the dogs.  Corn dogs, hot dogs, chili dogs, cheese dogs, you name it, they got it.


My camera had been hijacked for a few minutes, so there's me in the corner


Lurid Lomo colors of a bunch of flowers on the fence of Astroland.  Nobody wanted the park to close.

The legendary Wonder Wheel in Lomo style



Coney Island Boardwalk





Long shadows of a winter afternoon


A fake palm tree on the frigid beach


The 1950s-era Parachute Drop





In trying to fix it, he broke it more





The sun was setting fast


The legendary Cyclone is very old

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Temperatures were near freezing, but armed with hot chocolate we made our way across the Brooklyn Bridge.  It took just over half an hour to walk across the bridge to a subway outside Brooklyn City Hall.


Eerie arches of Brooklyn Bridge


Halfway to Brooklyn across the Hudson River

The Manhattan Bridge to the north as seen from the Brooklyn Bridge



Pier 17 and South Street Seaport to the south


Looking back towards Manhattan


Manhattan from the Brooklyn Bridge

In Brooklyn, I parted with them and wished Jason all the best in his flight test later this month.  

Then I went home and came down with a cold a couple of days later!  But it was worth it.  All in all it had been a great few days with truly good friends.

THE END

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Gallivant II: The UN and BBQ

Third day of Jason's visit to NYC.

In terms of experience, this was the best day!  What did we do?

Hold on tight because there are a lot of photos, and I know you all like those!  
:-)

Chris suggested that I sleep "under the stars" which was what Vera did when she stayed with him.  That is, on the (comfy but very narrow so no turning for fear of falling off) sofa with the blinds open.  There is a wall of windows looking out to Manhattan and no matter how often I visit, I never tire of snapping photos.

The sun rose at 7 am sporting all sorts of lovely colors.  It was impossible to sleep after that, with the light, and the reminder that I was missing so many pretty pictures, so finally at 7.30 I jumped up, took a pic, then closed the blinds and slept again until 9.30 when Chris marched in and opened them back up and put on the heating.  Which meant it was time to get up.

The sun was a little higher by 7.30, so only the Empire State Building was pink.  Nice touch.




Of course the view is much closer in real life, but photos never show the full visual in-your-face impact of such things...*sigh*.

We ate porridge for breakfast and because there were three of us it took 3 hours to get ready.  

While waiting for the bathroom, we played the addictive Japanese game Katamari Damashii in which you, a little prince, have to collect into a rolling ball all sorts of random things from insects to hairdryers to people, according to your size ("the earth is full of things") so the king can recreate the stars, which he destroyed on a drinking spree.  Oh my lord, I think they were smoking mushrooms when they designed that game.  The King of All Cosmos with his psychedelic barrel head and his rainbow yawn ("I feel a swoon coming on") is only the start of it ("BA-NA-NA").  The music is awesome, and the parts where the king talks to you has music that reminds me of A Clockwork Orange.

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We went to Battery Park, where Chris hunted high and low for the cruise we went on when the gang came over from Houston in August, to no avail.  Meantime Jason and I took pictures of the waterfront, where we could see Jersey and the Statue of Liberty.  You saw those pics in the summer so I won't repeat them.

The following is one of my favorites out of the entire batch.  I approached to take a shot of this seagull at rest on a pier in front of the USCG building, but the bird was suspicious of my pointing lens, so after eyeing me sideways for a second he unfurled his wings.  I snapped immediately, and was pleasantly surprised to see what I'd captured:



With no water tours available, we opted to try the free Staten Island Ferry, but as we looked at our watches and noted it was already 2 pm and we wanted to see both the Intrepid Sea Air and Space Museum AND the United Nations, we decided to drop the ferry and get moving.

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We took the subway to Times Square and from there needed to catch the bus that has the Intrepid on its western terminal and the UN on its eastern. This was my assignment - to get us to the Intrepid which was not far away.  However, in reading the bus maps, my eyes only saw "UN".  I totally forgot we needed the Intrepid and we ended up at the UN further away.  In the end, this was just as well because we booked into the last tour of the day.

When you enter the United Nations, you are no longer on US soil.  Isn't this an amazing concept?  Likewise, in London, when you enter the US Embassy, you are no longer on UK soil.  I find this endlessly fascinating.  Also, the statue of JFK in London is standing on a little piece of American soil.

Olivia, tangent.
Back to the UN.  

Piccies galore (pun?) for your viewing pleasure:

It might be 1960s brutal governmental architecture, but it sure makes for good photos.




I ran the following photo through the Russian Lomo effect.  I think it really suits the modernist glass and concrete:




On our way to the visitor's entrance, we passed this section, which I believe may house the circular Security Council chamber. It certainly looks like a bomb shelter, doesn't it? It is usually part of the tour but is closed for the next 5 years for refurbishment.



We waited in a long line for the airport-style security screening, but it moved quickly.  Meantime, another Lomo style pic.  This is one of many 
Sfera con Sfera sculptures by Arnaldo Pomodoro found all over the world.  I first saw one in the courtyard of the Vatican museum.  Another was damaged outside the World Trade Center and now sits in Battery Park, a warped golden egg.





Right inside the entrance there is a
Foucault Pendulum, another UN object found worldwide.  I've seen the two in the science museums in London and Houston, and the original at the Pantheon in Paris, of course.

As for the squiggly blue paintings, Chris claims he was trying to tell me (but I wasn't listening) that this painting goes - *sigh* seemingly like everything else here - all over the world.  Not sure how and can't be bothered to find out right now, but I believe him because he doesn't forget a thing.  Neither does Jason.  My cousin tells me I have Alzheimer's, I'm so forgetful, but Jason and Chris are like having a walking diary.  Just like how I'm Vanessa's walking encyclopedia, well, if there's an entry I'm missing I can just ask one of them.  And Jason will be able to recite verbatim any one of our hilarious conversations a year from now.  Did I mention, they were still making me laugh too much?


Incidentally, speaking of things going all round the world, there is a huuuuuuge Flemish tapestry in one of the open spaces outside the General Assembly.  Our guide told us that if unravelled, the yarn would circle once around the globe.  Something that hangs on one wall in the UN could do that!?!?!  Boggles the mind.


This is the wall of UN Secretary-Generals.  There have been only 8 since 1946, starting with Trygve Lie of Norway.  The first one I remember in my lifetime was Boutros Boutros-Ghali but Kofi Annan served for much longer.  Which one do you remember first?  

If you were to look closely, they would look like pointillist paintings.  This is because they are carpets - prayer carpets, in fact:


Chris:  "Oh my God, I look so much like Ban Ki-moon!"



Jason took this photo downstairs.  His comment:  "Yep.  Good enough for government":




Early in our tour, we were encouraged to glance over a wall filled with modern tapestries depicting the tenets of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.  I could relate every one of them to a human condition or to an historical origin, but I shall put that aside for now.  They are all very noble ideals, but the UN has neither the power nor the resources to enforce them.  If every nation in the world had a constitution based on this document, we would probably be living as close to Utopia as this world is likely to accomplish, human nature aside.  [Can someone please improve that sentence for me?  I don't like the wording.]  If I remember correctly from school, Eleanor Roosevelt had a hand in the development of this document, and it reminds me very much of the US Constitution and Bill of Rights.  Take a look at them - what do you think?



The UN General Assembly:


A center of great power and proclamations.

After exiting the Assembly, we were shown a variety of sumptuous objects in glass cases, gifted to the UN by the governments of assorted countries over the years.  A 300-pound ivory carving from China (given a few years before the ban on ivory trade came into effect).  Golden filligree temple box/bells from Malaysia.  A scale model of the King's barge from Thailand. An abstract brass representation of New York City from the King of Sweden.  And so on.  I wish I had taken a photo of the Soviet-looking tapestry in flaming colors on one of the walls.  (The tapestry in this collage is not it.)






Does this not look to you like an abstract flailing man?  Does it perhaps represent the abundant flailing that undoubtedly goes on within these walls?  I am sure it stands for something completely different, but we were being escorted out of the tour area by this time to hand over our badges, and I was snapping at random.





The next one is a bit tricky.  It was dark when we went outside, but we were able to take some interesting photos.  I like the stark lines in this one, but mostly I was thrilled that Venus was bright enough to send some light through my camera lens, and here you see it:




It had been an eventful and exciting day, though probably not as prolific as we'd intended.  And we were hungry.  So we walked westward into town in search of dinner.  

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On our route along 42nd street we saw some perfect art deco office buildings, like the terra cotta Chanin Building - a real gem - and the New York Daily News Building, complete with globe, where Clark Kent worked in Superman.  Later on we came across some brass plaques lining the sidewalk, depicting these and other landmark buildings in the area.

I've never seen a city with as many artistic brass plaques in the sidewalks as NYC.  Earlier in the day when we were downtown on lower Broadway or "The Canyon of Heroes", we noted the commemoration of each ticker tape parade since 1886 is actually set in brass letters on black granite at regular intervals on the sidewalk.



Luxury department store chain Lord & Taylor in its Christmas finery. To think I used to shop there once upon a time!



The Empire State Building on its Christmas light schedule.


Sorry, that was another tangent.  

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Chris's original idea had been dinner at Chevy's Mexican on Times Square, but when a few blocks south of there we passed some Korean BBQs, I made a decision.  This was also on the list, but as the next day would be Jason's last in town, I decided that Texans should never come to NYC to eat some mediocre so-called Tex-Mex when they can get the real thing at home.  So I suggested we pick a Korean place - right now.  Chris remembered that he'd met some friends once at an out-of-the-way place last year round there, and they had all enjoyed it.  I remember I was supposed to go but couldn't because I was at my cousin's place.  We circled a couple of blocks and found it surprisingly quickly.

I can honestly say it was one of the best meals of 2008.  I am no fan of beef, and the last time I ate some it made me unhappy, though it's usually ok as a burger.  As a result of this dinner, I have resolved that the only time I eat unground beef will be at a Korean BBQ.  The tender cuts of angus beef were just perfect.


Beef has just been placed on the gas-fired copper grill. There is my cold saki and a glass of blackberry wine.  We are sitting trying not to demolish the plates of seasoned nori (seaweed), kim chi (spicy cabbage pickle), bean sprouts, and daikon (radish), which were to be wrapped in the lettuce leaves along with the beef.  I drool just thinking about all of the wonderful fragrant food and aromatic delicacies, and how happy your stomach can be without carbohydrates.

We did have starters.  The beef was so outstanding, though, that I can't remember what they were.  Steamed dumplings?  And a complementary plate of something battered?


Jason doesn't usually like to be photographed, and regarding a photo of the three of us, he kept saying, "Eh, we'll do it tomorrow" at which I knew it wouldn't happen.  I noticed that Jason was always quick to jump out of frame, but Chris was not, which is funny because he usually whines about being photographed - he certainly did in London last year.  Still, he appears a few more times in my frames.  On Facebook, Chris pointed out that we never did take that pic of the three of us, and Jason said he'll just have to come back sometime so we can take it. Most of my friends stopped reading this blog when I moved to Facebook, so I can say all sorts of things about them here and they won't be embarrassed!


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We decided we were going to get drunk at home.  Ever since I can remember, we've failed at this - yes, at university - therefore I have never seen any of my Houston friends drunk.

So we put on our jammies, drank Grey Goose vodka (impressive!) with cranberry juice, and settled in.  In the end, we each had only one glass.  I know, what?!

I battled valiantly with my eyelids for a while, but fell asleep during the last half hour of Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull.

I loved how every time Jason brushed his teeth, he came out of the bathroom to talk to us unintelligibly, or Chris walked around in the morning tucking in his shirt and asking me if he should get a pinstripe suit.  This is what happens with people you've known for 10 years.