Thirteenth Visitors

Toni mentioned that we attended a house concert last Friday in the East Village. The performers were Fats Kaplin and his wife, Kristi Rose. I have been dealing with them for ten years or so as Village Records stocked all of their CDs as they were issued, including their new Christmas CD coming in a week or so. But this was the first time we had ever met in person. Fats is an extremely talented multi-instrumentalist and Kristi is equally talented as a vocalist. You may not know them by name but if you click on those links you might find that you have an album or two that they were on. They once lived in New York but about twelve years ago they moved to Nashville where Fats has steady work as a session musician and tour gigs. He plays pedal steel guitar, accordion, violin, guitar, and loads of other instruments.

They were here for the whole week looking up old friends and checking out old haunts. On Wednesday we arranged to have lunch together at a deli across from my apartment. It turned out that we had much more in common than just our taste and interest in music. I discovered that Kristi, like me, was born to a Canadian mother and she has been looking into getting her Canadian citizenship restored just as I have. That is quite an interesting coincidence.

Transportation Adaptation

Toni takes the wheel today:

Highlighted in our lives this week has been transportation. Now that we have lived here for almost seven months, our current brag is how we haven’t driven a car for that long and how happy that makes us. We are not kidding or exaggerating here. First, we have considerably reduced our carbon foot print, second, public transportation and cabs are economical and third, we can have a drink or two without endangering other beings. As we have grown accustomed to this lifestyle change, our courage to take more and more complex routes has increased.

As of this past week I now commute along with the throngs of other train passengers to my new job populating a website for the International Trademark Association in Midtown. I leave the apartment at 8:30, enter the subway station that is steps away from the front of our apartment building. After no more than a two minute wait, I board the B or D train and two stops later I am beneath Bryant Park. Up a flight of stairs, a two minute walk down an echoing hallway filled with the sounds of a busker playing classical accordion, and down another flight of stairs leading to the 7 train. One short stop later, I disembark and walk to the end of the platform, up a flight of stairs, then up an escalator, and find myself at 42nd Street and 3rd Avenue directly across the entrance of the Chrysler Building. I cross 3rd Avenue and walk one door south to my building and ride the elevator up to the 10th floor and I am at my desk by 8:50. I find this routine less stressful than driving on the interstate or parking a car.

We attended two small concerts this weekend far from our neighborhood. Friday night’s venue was in the East Village at a private apartment on East 8th Street for a house concert. Since it was on the East side, I did not want to backtrack from work, so instead of reversing the morning’s route, I got on the 6 Train. This required some trekking down unfamiliar corridors packed with commuters rushing home. Diligently following the signs without error, I boarded the train and five stops later debarked onto the South side of 14th Street at Union Square. Walking a half a block east I boarded the 14D crosstown bus, taking care not to board the 14A. The bus, packed with commuters and lodged in rush-hour traffic, required patience. It stopped at every avenue and then finally turned onto Avenue C putting me just a block from our agreed meeting place to have dinner before the show. I entered the Royale restaurant and ordered a Brooklyn Lager which felt really good after the 45 minute commute and waited for Bill. I made it at our appointed time, but Bill was not so lucky.

Meanwhile the scene switches to Bill:

I left the apartment a little more than an hour before meeting time. I went directly to the M7 bus stop, got in position, then I went to get my Metrocard in hand. It was not in its usual spot. I frantically flipped through every part of my wallet but I knew immediately that it was fruitless to continue, all I had was an old card with twenty cents left on it. Toni was going to throw it away but I kept it figuring I could put more money on it if needed. There was no time to go back to the apartment. Okay, think! I can use money but the bus won’t take paper…only coins. So I went into the restaurant there, Rosie O’Grady’s, to try to get some change but it was Happy Hour on a Friday and I couldn’t even get an employee to make eye contact with me. Okay, screw it, I would just spring for a cab. I went back out to the sidewalk and looked up the avenue just as the bus came barreling down to the stop. I impulsively just hopped in as the door opened and put my depleted card in the slot thinking perhaps the driver wouldn’t notice. It popped back like normal but the driver said, “That’s no good.” I said, “Oh sh…” and stood there for a second before the driver said, “Oh, just sit down.” I thought that worked pretty well. But I still had to transfer to another bus and I didn’t think I could pull that stunt again. It was easy to do once because I really didn’t know what would happen when I put the card in but to do it a second time would require me to act surprised and I didn’t think I could fake that.

After getting dropped off at the next bus stop I glanced around for a likely spot to get change for the fare. There was a DVD store right there with the door propped open and it didn’t look busy at all. I went in and noticed that only the front ten feet or so was a regular DVD store. The rest of the place was all adult films with signs hanging above all the aisles with categories a bit like a grocery store. I definitely did not want to make a purchase to get change. It took a second or two to figure out where the cashier was. He was seated in this boxed in area that was about four feet higher than the floor level. Apparently he also served as security from his perch. As I laid out my plight and my request I felt somewhat like I was in a courtroom approaching the judge in his lofty bench with my hat in hand. It took a little extra explanation but once the cashier finally understood he was sympathetic and gave me the change I needed. I quickly returned to my spot on the sidewalk, got my bus and wound up being just a few minutes late.

I have truly enjoyed learning to adapt to all the differences of living in Manhattan but perhaps none as much as learning the ins and outs of New York transportation. Old dogs learning new tricks.

We were this close to Lanois

And now back to Toni:

The next day we wanted to see an artist who we have admired for over twenty-five years, but have never had the opportunity to see live. Daniel Lanois, a Canadian musician and producer (best known for his work with U2), was playing a free 30 minute acoustic set at the Rockwood Music Hall on Allen Street, a half block south of Houston on the Lower East Side. If we didn’t get there at 5:00, we could miss the whole show, so we set out by bus at 3:30. We caught the M57 going cross-town at 57th and 6th Avenue. Again, it stopped at every Avenue and was caught in typical NYC crosstown traffic so the trip to 2nd Avenue took more time than we had allotted. As the minutes drew nearer I grew more and more anxious that the appointed time would not be reached. We transferred to a second bus that would take us down Second Avenue and drop us off at Allen and Houston, but not without more delay. We started to board the bus, but the driver would’t let us and our fellow travelers on board because we had not obtained a ticket at the kiosk. What the hell was that?? We turned to the left and there were new machines where you place your bus card into them, and a select bus ticket prints out. It turned out this change just took effect and was only on this one bus route. So this was not only new to us but to everyone else boarding with us. We did this but it made us miss the bus, but within a minute another bus pulled up. We showed our printouts to the driver and came aboard. This ride down the avenue was a little faster and we arrived at the Rockwood with just five minutes before show time, but never fear the band was still 10 minutes late.

My anxiety was as usual a waste of energy, but next time I have vowed to take the F train like Madonna if I am going to that part of town again.

Madonna was recently seen taking the subway here

Twelfth Visitors

Batting cleanup in our recent flurry of visitors was Jeff Meiring. He is a distant cousin originally from Ohio but currently living in Washington DC with the Department of Homeland Security. How distant a cousin? He is my third cousin once removed which means that our common ancestors are my third great grandparents who were born near the beginning of the 1800s in Prussia. We have corresponded since about 1990 first by snail mail and later by email. We were both researching our family trees at the time and Jeff came across a query of mine at the county genealogical society in his county in Ohio. Over the years we have exchanged and shared loads of family information and old photographs. But we had never met face to face before Saturday.

He and his partner were here for a lecture the following day and we made arrangements to meet up in the Village for drinks and a meal. Jeff surprised me with some recently found family photos that I had never seen. They were really nice studio shots of three direct ancestors from around 1870, quite a find.


Franz Joseph Meiring and Catharine (Schoen) Meiring about 1870

I learned a lot of things about Jeff but by far the most impressive was that he has either fostered or adopted nine twelve year olds. At that age these are kids who are “unplaceable” and he took them in as a single parent. I am sure he could write a book or at least be a guest on Oprah or something. We had a great time with Jeff and his friends and we showed them a couple of places in the Village that aren’t found on most tourist guides.

Now I think our calendar is open until the beginning of December when we have another wave of visitors.

Let Me Take You Down

I am sure everyone heard that October 9th would have been John Lennon’s 70th birthday. As many times that I have been in Central Park I have never been to “Strawberry Fields”, the section that has been made into a memorial to Lennon, almost directly across the avenue from the Dakota entrance where he was murdered. I just didn’t want to deal with that bad memory even after nearly thirty years.


But that Saturday was different and I made plans to spend much of the day at the park he loved so much. I thought I would head in the direction of the memorial and just see how close I could get. It was a beautiful sunny day so I was prepared for a crowd.

Around noon I entered the park from the west side at 72nd Street and immediately saw all the vendors set up selling anything with his name or image on it. Just past that was a brass quartet playing Beatles songs and a two man crew interviewing and video recording fans. A little further in the park was the memorial and there was a small crowd around it. I took my time and as someone moved away I inched up until I was only about three rows of people away from the center.

Everyone was singing along with an impromptu group who were playing all variety of instruments from the edge of the circle. By this time the circle was already nearly full of flowers, candles, photos, and apples. The crowd would only part for a muscian to get in or out of the first circle. It was a non-stop singalong with an ever expanding group of fans and musicians. In all I was there for about three hours and I couldn’t tell you how many songs were sung during that period. All Beatles’ songs whether or not they were Lennon ones were played as were lots of his solo songs. It was all unstructured and spontaneous with no one in charge or organizing anything. It made me think of an outdoor church service and nobody needed the hymnal books because they knew all the songs. There was an incredible mix of people, all ages, little kids and teenagers singing along with all the oldsters. Between songs I heard a multitude of languages spoken as well, a modern day Tower of Babel, but with the universal language of the Beatles words and music. While I was there the crowd grew to a couple thousand I would guess.


I had kind of hoped to get close enough to get a photo of the Imagine Memorial mosaic but the inner circle of people just wasn’t showing any sign of budging. So instead I took this picture of the sky directly above the memorial. That seemed appropriate as the church ceiling. As John sang, “…above us only sky…”.

Peace.

Oysters And Cloisters

Toni writes today:

Two outings with the Vossmans were particularly fun for me. First, Bill and I were able to spend Thursday afternoon with them between their visit to the MoMA in the morning and taking in the Billy Elliott musical that night. One of the places we visited was a place I had wanted to go since we arrived in the City….the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station.


After traversing the corridors of the main level, we went to the lower level into the restaurant. It’s not fancy, just a plain old 1950s diner with a twist. Like the rest of Grand Central Station, The Oyster Bar seems to be frozen in time. In fact the restaurant has been located there since the station opened. The ceiling is a collection of archways clad in yellow subway tiles and the arch shapes are reminiscent of an old wine cellar. To one side is a colonial style dining area with checkered table cloths, in the middle are three huge u-shaped counters, and to the left is a long marble soda fountain type counter that serves as the raw/cocktail bar. After opting to sit at the bar we were able to see the staff shuck, cook, and cold prep the oyster offerings. The handwritten menu board on the back wall of the bar had an enormous variety of oysters to choose from.

I got four raw oysters from Washington State and they were heaven. One was so big I had to cut it into three bites. They were so fresh I couldn’t believe they came from across the country instead of from Long Island. This was my second oyster experience and was much better than the first time I had them in Midtown. These were fresher and more satisfying. I didn’t realize just how much fun I would have eating oysters. I am now addicted to their lure. Fortunately, Bill found a place called “The Ten Bells” on the Lower East Side that offers more for the money. Looking forward to trying that out next time we are in that area of town.

Saturday I was up early, and I joined Roger and Betsy on a trip to the Cloisters. We all had studied maps to get there and concluded the best game plan was to take the nearest subway up North, then the bus. We embarked the A train at 57th and 8th Avenue, Columbus Circle, and got off at 190th Street nearly to the northern tip of the island. To our surprise when emerged from the subway we were right at the entrance of the park where the Cloisters are located, no bus transfer or complex directions were needed after all.

photograph pending

First, we were able to tour the cute little two story gatehouse which is rarely open to the public. Then we walked the main building though the beautiful perennial gardens. The weather was perfect. Along the walk we saw the Hudson River with outstanding views of the George Washington Bridge. We were taking our time with every detail as we eventually arrived at the main building of the Cloisters. Since the building was actually disassembled in from several abbeys in Europe and then brought over reassembled piece by piece, we felt like we had been transported to Italy instead of being in the northern tip of Manhattan. Inside there are expansive stone rooms, outdoor courtyard gardens, and balconies overlooking the Hudson. The Unicorn Tapestries are divine, the highlight of the medieval artifact collection.

photograph pending

We decided to walk down to the café just inside the park entrance for some lunch. To our dismay there was a 40 minute wait and no outdoor seating due to a wedding party. We then asked a local for restaurant suggestions. We were directed to go straight ahead out of the park, past the subway station and we would see a little three block retail area. It was the cutest neighborhood with old, well kept apartment buildings, the Mother Cabrini Shrine and High School, four grocery stores, and many little eateries. Roger’s good eye spotted our place to eat, Bleu Evolution. We were able to sit outside in an enclosed back patio and enjoy a fabulous, inexpensive lunch. The service was good and once again like the places we frequent in the Village, free drinks were given without fanfare to show appreciation. A block further down was another little subway station and in minutes we were back to the center of the bustling metropolis of Midtown.

Eleventh Visitors

On the Brooklyn Bridge

Just four days after the Bollingers arrived we had our next visitors. Our very good friends from Lake Quivira, Roger and Betsy Vossman, were here for a long weekend…Wednesday to Monday. Betsy may be familiar to a couple of you as she taught grade school at Saint Pius X in Mission several years ago. I know she taught a couple of my cousins. Some of you may also know them through Saint Joseph parish.

I won’t try to describe everything we did together but here are a couple of highlights.

On Friday afternoon we caught up with them near City Hall as they were touring lower Manhattan. From there we walked the raised pedestrian section on the Brooklyn Bridge. It was a bright and sunny day so we were treated to commanding views of the Manhattan skyline, the East River traffic, and the Statue of Liberty. Oh, and of course the bridge itself from a totally different vantage point. It is surprising how many walkers and bikers were on the bridge. It was as busy as any sidewalk in Midtown. The walk is a mile each way including the approaches.

From there we wound around through Chinatown and ended up in Little Italy. This is now nothing but nonstop restaurants and each one has a barker/maître d’ on the sidewalk trying to snag patrons in an aggressive yet friendly manner. We randomly picked a restaurant and were whisked to our table as if we were going to change our minds and try to get away. This briefly gave me concern about the quality and the price but my worries quickly evaporated. We were treated royally, the fare was all home-made and we went away quite content.

Sunday morning we met everyone at Maison for brunch and after said our final farewells to the Bollingers. Later that afternoon we went to another classical guitar concert at the Roger Smith Hotel. This time the performer was a young woman from Bogotá, Columbia named, Irene Gómez. The hotel presents a classical guitar concert once a month. It is an intimate setting and wine and cheese is provided. This is quite a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon and I was glad the Vossmans wanted to share it with us when there are so many things to do in New York.

I think Roger and Betsy made the most of their trip. They went to Top of the Rock, The Circle Line boat tour, The Museum of Modern Art, The Cloisters, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Central Park, Bryant Park, Ground Zero, Greenwich Village, The New York Public Library, Mass at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, ate street food from a Halal cart, Thai food in Hell’s Kitchen, went to the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station, enjoyed an adult beverage at Sardi’s, rode a pedicab, and saw two Broadway musicals!! They will need another vacation to rest up after this.

It has been great having so many friends visit us while living in New York. Each time it is like a vacation for us and we always wind up doing or seeing something new for us as well. We have now passed the six month mark on our year here. Whether or not we will stay on for a second year or head for our next destination remains to be seen.

Their final appearance on Broadway

Tenth Visitors

We have been pretty quiet lately and you might be wondering if we are still here. We have been very busy with guests since October 2nd. That Saturday our friends from Switzerland, Jürg and Hanny Bollinger, arrived in Manhattan for a week long stay. Jürg has been a mail order customer of Village Records for fifteen years and he almost always ordered by phone so we got to know one another since he orders nearly every month. On our first trip to Europe five years ago Jürg picked us up at the airport in Zurich and we spent the weekend at their home and got a great tour of their village, Neuhausen, and some of the nearby villages. So this was a reunion of sorts.

They had booked a room at the Manhattan at Times Square which is very convenient at just a block from us on 7th Avenue. We greeted them at our apartment for snacks and wine. They brought us some wonderful chocolates, biscuits, and cheese from their canton in Switzerland and we had to sample a little bit before we took a quick stroll around the neighborhood and then off to dinner on 9th Avenue. They were naturally tired after the long flight and called it a night but they hit the city hard and strong the rest of the week. During their stay they were at the observation decks of both Top of the Rock and Empire State, took the Circle Line boat tour, walked the Brooklyn Bridge, toured Greenwich Village, Battery Park, Staten Island Ferry, the Museum of Modern Art, took a day trip to Pennsylvania to see a friend, an overnight trip to New Jersey to see another friend, and more.

Monday evening the four of us went to a small concert in the East Village, Rod Picott and Amanda Shires. Rod has written many songs with Slaid Cleaves who has been fairly successful. Rod and Amanda record together and separately and they both deserve to be better known. There were only twelve in the audience counting us but it was great and they didn’t seem to mind the lack of a crowd and gave an enthusiastic performance.

After the show we went around the corner to perhaps the most famous deli in New York, Katz’s Delicatessen. This is where the famous restaurant scene from “When Harry Met Sally” was filmed. The ordering and paying system there has to be unique. When you enter you are required to take a large ticket at the door. One long side of the restaurant is actually the kitchen/grill with a high counter. There is one cook for each category of food and you order directly from him to assemble your meal. The guy making sandwiches takes your ticket and marks the price on it and hands it back to you to take to the French fry guy or whatever else you want. On your way out you go by the cashier who tallies your ticket. I don’t know but it seems inside out. For the more traditional types there is a section with waiters. My Philly cheesesteak sandwich practically melted in my mouth.

We had a great time visiting with the Bollingers over their stay in NYC and we agreed to get together again in five years…that will involve a return to Switzerland.