Client umbrellas

Hi Mom,

The way to get around New York in the rain is with a client umbrella. These differ from the three dollar sort or even the bought at the department store sort, because these are huge and made to cover important people. You'll be able to pick them out right away as you walk down the street, because they often have a fancy double lip to allow for runoff, appear to be able to shield an entire infield were they to huddle together, and are made of a material that unflinchingly stands up to wind and sheets of sideways rain.

When you walk down the street with, say, a three dollar umbrella, the kind you get from a vendor kind enough to appear just as you've resigned yourself to spending the whole day at work soaking wet because you were too lazy to bring your other three dollar umbrella, you have no chance on the sidewalk. It's like having a Festiva in a field of SUVs. The big umbrellas pick their turf first, the little ones duck under and weave around.

I was running late for a meeting today and left my trusty, twice-used-n0t-yet-broken three dollar umbrella upstairs at work. Someone was kindly enough to loan me a client umbrella (I promised not to break it and hoped for the best). I've never felt so noticed on the New York City streets in my life. Now if I can just get one with a blinker on it for when I'm turning...

Love,
Karen

Mike

Hi Mom,

Got lost in Central Park this weekend while trying to cut straight across from east to west after drinks at the boathouse.

At least the park's large, so I have some excuse. The paths wind around, the trails turn suddenly, things like that. We wound up by a fishing pond, some really wooded areas, and what looked like an aquaduct. I love that after more than four years of living here, there are still new pieces of the park to explore. Might consider taking a map next time.

I was showing Mike around; he came down from Boston for the weekend. It was great having him visit. Among our other adventures: sushi, a beer garden, and brunch.

Plus sitting on Brad Belsky's roof drinking red wine.

I'd been trying to get Mike out here to visit for years. Now that he's seen how great the city is, hopefully it won't be too long before he's back. This place is kind of addictive. Oh, and he said to tell you hello!

Love,
Karen

donut, pickle, coffee

Hi Mom,

I ate the best peanut butter and jelly donut of my life today. Didn’t even know they made them. Glad they don’t make them too many more places. Then we went on to pickles. It was all part of a tour one of my friends arranged for her birthday—tasty things to eat and drink on the lower east side. There’s no shortage of said things, luckily, so we dropped in on a coffee place where they grind each cup separately, sending the beans through overhead tubes to make your very cup. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.

It rained at night, drowning out my plans to go both to an outdoor museum party and to a rooftop event in Brooklyn. It's amazing how much weather affects life when you walk almost everywhere.

Back to work tomorrow.

Love,
Karen

The dangers of string

Hi Mom,

Today I learned about the dangers of string. It looks docile enough, rolled on its large, clothesline-like spool, but do what I did today and it's something else entirely!

I turned on the vacuum cleaner, part of an initiative to find my floor before my guests arrive. It started whirring and wheezing and doing what a vacuum cleaner does. I think I began to hum, pleased at both my domesticity in that moment and how much better my room would smell when I was done. 

Suddenly the vacuum let out a different kind of cough. I looked down to find that somehow it had sucked up the end of the string; with every passing second, it was inhaling feet of the stuff like spaghetti. I couldn't stop staring. The spool was unraveling quickly, the vacuum mechanically pulling in more and more string. 

When I finished being amazed, I began the process of untangling it, and unraveling three and a half seconds of vacuum cleaner wonder from the brush. I moved the ball of string to the top of my dresser and began again. I was randomly reminded of how I used to stand on the corners of carpets so you could vacuum them without them rolling up. Room looks much cleaner now, by the way.

Love,

Karen

For me

Hi Mom,

Was at one of my favorite coffee shops, gazing adoringly at a drink on the bar I hadn't ordered. I sat sipping my lame iced tea--I like iced tea, but a cappuchino seemed like an even better idea this particular afternoon. Too late. I sat awash in beverage regret.

The woman making the drinks and I struck up a conversation about the different drinks, how funny it was waiting to see who came to get them, how sometimes they got abandoned there, inexplicably, just a few steps from where they were ordered.

I returned to drinking my iced tea, the taste of frothy milk in my head. I may have sighed.

"Hey," she called from the other side of the glass pastry case. "Take it, it's yours." I looked around to see who had been absentee on their beverage pickup. She was waving at me. "Drink it; if they come back, I'll make them another." I gleefully accepted the ceramic mugful of caffinated deliciousness.

Excellent New York moment.

Love,
Karen

Sandwiches

Hi Mom,

Current fascination: Vietnamese sandwiches. Saw this place on my way to the shwarma stand, was instantly intrigued, now very inspired. It's actually a spin-off of a Cambodian noodle shop I like downtown.

I've started spending $2.50 on their blood lemonade, much less the ish $8 for a sandwich. I know, I could buy a loaf of bread, quarter pound of swiss and some mustard for that price tag. Still, as the line snakes out the door and down the block, even eating lunch I feel like I'm part of something (possibly a group of people willing to pay exorbinant amounts of money for a roll with stuff stuck on it).

They had a special side dish involving some kind of root I had never heard of before in my life. I wondered aloud what it could be--thank you sandwich lines in NY, four people looked up from reading their New Yorkers or leaning against the door frames to tell me it was the center of a stalk of fennel. Learn something new every day.

Love,
Karen

More noise, eat pesto

Hi Mom,

Another great outdoors weekend here in the city that still doesn’t realize summer has struck. I’m delighted to report that the weather has stayed cool and crisp, at least, relatively speaking. I spent Friday night listening to the NY Philharmonic, with fireworks that got rained out (but sent us scurrying to a tapas shop, so not all bad there). Central Park, check.

Saturday was a stroll in Central Park, then the African music festival at Prospect Park. To top it off, my friend made homemade pesto for the afternoon of sitting in the sun. The breeze was perfect.

Then, not to let Sunday slip, I played Scrabble in the park. Ben and Sara have the super deluxe anniversary edition, which has wheels, drawers, and click-slots for all the letters. It’s a pretty glamorous board, aside from the fact that the tiles are the wrong color (black, with silver writing) and the double/triple word boxes are also off.

Love,

Karen

Markley Markley Markley

Hi Mom,

Nearly ten years after rooming blind as a freshman at U of M, I had drinks with my former roomie in celebration of her upcoming marriage to her college boyfriend. That’s pretty exciting stuff.

We went to a Belgian bar and people-watched out the front window, munched on a cone of fries and drank expensive beer. I got to meet Max, the man she’s marrying. Then, in a very New York fashion, we discussed farm shares (the coolest new way to get organic veggies at low prices) and apartments (she lives right near Union Square, the lucky kid).

We went to another bar, continuing the excursion from the village through Washington Square Park and up to Jack’s, which has some nice outdoor seating in a just-out-of-the-way spot. Blast from the past kind of night.

Love,
Karen

No free rides

Hi Mom,

I bought my new monthly metrocard today. They jacked the prices up again: unlimited's $89 now. In the summer I mostly walk, or--not on purpose--find myself in cabs. But I still buy the unlimited, because transit's very much a mindset.

When I don't have the unlimited, I stay close to home, or mostly only go places I can walk to in half an hour or less. I've tried outwitting the system several times, buying ten dollar cards and swearing I'll make them last. Those are the days I wind up using the whole thing in 12 hours. No way to win with this one, it seems.

On the bright side, card or not, I've been walking back and forth from work some, up across the park a lot, and, as you can see from all my previous posts, across bridges frequently. One day I'll get it right; like the perfect cinnamon roll recipe, I'll keep at it until I save whatever paltry sum it is by choosing the perfect combination of transportation to meet my travel needs.

Meanwhile, I'm still considering getting a bike!

Love,

Karen

Great Music

Hi Mom,

I took this picture of the Great Lawn so you could see it empty. Last night it was packed, no room to move. The New York Philharmonic was doing one of its free shows in Central Park, and I had rolled in early enough to get a seat (OK, I had to have someone save me one, but hey). The orchestra played Mozart’s Symphony No. 41, Jupiter and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, both of which I’ve played before.

Despite the fact that I didn’t turn out to be a prodigy on violin, and also the fact that it’s hard to practice in a New York apartment where the neighbors can hear you sneeze, I’m glad to know how to play an instrument. I think it gives me better perspective on just how long they had to practice to make it sound that good. Bonus: I can tell when the piece is done, as opposed to clapping between movements.

Had a drink before the concert with a friend, at a fancy bar that serves excellent happy hour specials and complicated mixed drinks. In the middle of our classy beverage moment, a small roach crawled out from under a napkin and paraded across the bar. The guy across the way looked up and asked if we were okay; we just paused our conversation and stared. The bartender gave us free drinks. Only in New York.

Love,
Karen

Bastille Day

Hi Mom,

Bastille Day doesn't seem terribly American. But like everything else in New York, it sure draws a crowd. I didn't even know they celebrated it here, but apparantly it's an annual thing down on Smith Street in Brookyn. It's not a neighborhood I have spent a lot of time in, but it has a real flavor about it.

I was down here at a bar last night, and found myself back in the area today on a several mile stroll up from Bay Ridge. It was recommended to me in passing yesterday, that I should stop by and see the street they close off to traffic and fill with sand for the occasion. They play a game that looks like bocce, which seems to be called petanque. And giant stands selling lamb sausage and chicken on french bread with fries pop up in abundance.

Needless to say, I'm full and well-walked out.

Love,
Karen

Gym Karen

Hi Mom,

I'm trying to learn how to use the gym. Sounds obvious, I know. Should just be run on treadmill, lift weights, tada. Turns out there is an entire method to the gym thing--a circuit of machines and exercises that divvy-ed up the right way make for a stronger, better me. Should I fail to follow the circuit, however, I will be wasting time and my muscles will become too accustomed to the process. In short, my arms will continue to look like Olive Oyl's.

Lots of people took weight training in middle school and learned all of this. I took one semester of general gym. Got hit with a dodgeball a few times and ran laps.

I still don't have the patience to go sweat in a cinderblock box with other sweaty people whereby at the end of the day you have run miles without leaving a two foot-wide space. Maybe I should find an intermural dodgeball league instead.

Love,
Karen

Dancing shoes

Hi Mom,

So I'm walking by the water tonight and there, under a gazebo, down by Pier 54 are about 20 couples dancing. The women are wearing short-heeled dancing shoes, the men whirling them around in step. You'd have loved it. Even the weather was nearly perfect. I ate fish and chips under what would have been stars if not for all of the light pollution.

Across the way, people are camped out on the concrete watching Iron Man as part of movies on the pier. Somehow the majority of them have managed to arrive before I could have, making it nearly impossible to find a seat. "Seat" is a relative term anyway, since it's more or less just asking people to shove over on their little slabs.

New York is a high density kind of place. My plan is to outwit them all and find a spot I can see from.

Love,

Karen

More sushi

Hi Mom,

Boy, this blog makes me look like a pig. But a happy and full one. Henry and I consumed an unreal amount of sushi today at Choshi, one of my favorite (reasonable) sushi places. We got the dragon roll, the spicy dragon roll, a zillion other rolls and then rolled out.

We hoofed it all the way down to St. Mark's Bookshop, a neat indie place in the East Village stuffed with rows of Chomsky and Che, in hopes of walking off some spicy sauce. I stared at their extensive, exotic travel section for way too long. I'm now thinking Peru for later this summer, perhaps an Inca trail if I can swing it. They throw all the countries at me at once in an overwhelming spread of Laos, Thailand, Argentina and Ireland. That's just to name a few. I'd still be gunning for Nepal if tickets didn't start at $1,495.

A lot of sushi, a walk through the city streets, and just the beginning of my night.

Love,

Karen

Vietnamese sandwiches

Hi Mom,

Since she got here from Cambodia, she has been a tried and true adventure buddy.

Soojung never blinked when I dropped a suitcase off at her house, stopped by to borrow her shower, or caught a nap on her “guest bed.”

She has been a partner in crime for midnight snacks, two a.m. dinners, and all night wanderings of the most New York sort. I don’t know how many artsy movies we’ve been the only people to think it’s a good idea to attend. Lots and lots of laughs. And good eats.

Her dad came and picked her up today—she’s headed home (back to Detroit) for greener pastures (no kidding) and less stinky streets. She left me her plastic shelving units, and a series of books that easily divide into those I will definitely read and those I would never read. I’ll hold it all for her until her (hopeful and summary) return.

This is the downside to living in a place people leave for other places. But on the bright side, almost everyone comes through New York again, somehow, sometime.

Love,
Karen

Bikes

Hi Mom,

Free Friday! Met Dalit for a bike ride (I borrowed her husband’s bike) across the Brooklyn Bridge. We sat by the water and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’ve been spending a lot of time down by water lately, but I guess this is the season for it.

The city’s rather replete with places to ride bikes, with a system of lanes specifically dedicated to the cause. They don’t tell you on the lane map that most of the time there are taxis or angry drivers parked in them, but in the end I guess it just adds to the adventure.

Did a lot of zooming around things and biking uphill—we passed one of Dalit’s cousins on the bridge, because New York can really sometimes be a small kind of town.

Can’t wait for you to come visit.

Love,
Karen

Fish taco

Hi Mom,

Tonight I walked the Williamsburg Bridge, which connects Manhattan's Lower East Side with Williamsburg in Brooklyn. It's a long 7,308 feet but a very nice stroll at sunset. I was coming back from an insanely good taco place Sarmad read about in the New York Times (and remembered from a year or so ago). He's a real food buff. They had excellent guacamole, and a lovely fish taco.

There's a whole street full of good things to eat, drink and otherwise out there in the midst of a neighborhood where you just wouldn't quite expect it. It's on the fringe of a few different communities but seemingly not part of any one, though I'm sure for real estate purposes they have renamed it something catchy with "hills" or "heights" in it.

An equally exciting find was a storefront along the way full of pinball machines. It's hard to find pinball these days, as people get more revved up about shooting games or racecar games. This place had managed to sustain six or seven classic machines. I hope I can find it again sometime and deposit a lifetime supply of quarters.

Anyway, now it's late and I've got work in the morning, so I guess I'll go to sleep.

Love,
Karen

Almost

Hi Mom,

Yesterday I saw a cupcake truck parked conspicuously three blocks from my office.

The treats truck is currently uptown, but a new pizza truck seems to have appeared, and I swear I saw a french roast truck two blocks down.

There's a kosher falafel truck and a pizza truck, and those are just the ones I pass while I look for lunch. Not to harp on the truck thing--I know I gave you the rundown a bit ago here-- but it really has been an explosion as of late.

The most recent of my truck-sightings was the sweets truck, which I researched just last night. I started thinking, I should try and freelance a piece on the truck-mania sweeping the city. So I started doodling around with a pitch, making lists of all the carts I'd seen and all the ways to follow them on Twitter (they all keep you up to date on where they are in real-time these days).

I woke up this morning and there it was -- a New York Times article on just that issue. So much for striking while the iron is hot. I guess I'll console myself with a cupcake. Or a brownie. And some pizza.

Love,
Karen