Winter is coming

We had the first smattering of snow last weekend. My wife had been anticipating, wishing for and dreaming of the official start of winter (never mind the 30 degrees temperatures and deathly chill of the wind hitting your bones). Experiencing the change of seasons is something new to both of us and while we were both here to usher in the cold last year the transition came so smoothly this time. The temperature had been steadily dropping until we were happily spending our weekends cocooned in the warmth of our apartment, sneaking out into the cold for brisk reminders that yes we do live in the North and watching the dog's beard blow back into a triangle of fur as we press into the wind.

It is an altogethor different winter experience in the south. Last year the snow and cold and soul sucking darkness seemed to appear as if from no where. I would leave for the cold shores of Jersey City each morning to wrap myself in programming and web service documentation before escaping back home to the cold and darkness. It felt like much of my day was spent in an envelope of darkness but this year has been altogether different.

We've both been in and about the city throughout nature's turning point instead of trapped inside cube walls and office buildings. Having a job that allows for an outside life this year has allowed me to notice and appreciate the world changing around me.

Of the three beings in the house our dog has taken to the changing seasons the best. She flops about joyously and tugs to catch dogs far ahead whenever we leave the house. While not unusual for a dog to be happy to escape den I can almost make out a smile on her face as she shimmies up to random street occupants.

Merry Christmas Everyone.

Attack of a younger generation

I have heard my share of horror stories about the masses of shoppers attacking stores in the days after thanksgiving. Like many people I dare not leave the safety of home during these days of consumerism, cocooning with ease into the heavy warmth of extra blanket layers while I watch the crazies gathering outside my window. My dog struggles to gain the best window viewing perch and growls at the people below. And while she occasionally growls on a normal day I choose to believe that there is real meaning behind her menacing looks on Black Friday, she can sense things I can't even begin to understand and this is her best way to tell us to bolt the doors and huddle around the tv.

She did fail to mention the army of strollers and backpacked children that filled our streets on Wednesday. So when we left the apartment that night for an early dinner at one of the neighborhood haunts (Viand Cafe/Diner) I was entirely unprepared for the crowds. Children were grasping balloons and light sabers in one hand while their parents led them through the maze of the Upper West Side. The normally relaxed Wednesday night dinner crowd was extending out the door of our diner and we headed down the street to the quicker Chipotle to grab some to go and head home to safety.

My wife had experience with this crowd last year. As we were still getting used to this neighborhood and making good use of vacation time to explore the streets ourselves, she got trapped amidst this same army heading towards the Natural History Museum, just one short block away from our humble home and "secret" location where the Macy's Parade balloons are blown up. Unknown the her every child in the city is beamed into the blocks surrounding the museum to watch the Nickolodean characters appear in front of the museum. Late at night I snuck over to the 77th and Columbus and from my position behind police barriers snapped quick photos of the balloons waiting outside.

So while we knew what events and blocks to avoid each of us was unprepared for the exodus of strollers from the museum into the restaurants near us. Once home this year we threw open the windows and enjoyed our view from five stories up. The city unfolding beneath us was one of anticipation and joy. It was hard to believe the rumors of poor economic days with the hustle of activity below us.

As midnight approached we hung by the windows anticipating the floats to come down Amsterdam to take their place around the museum as well. It was like our windows were given a sneak peak of the morning's fun and we enjoyed it as much this year as we had when accidently getting caught in the parade last year.

The actual event of Thanksgiving went smoothly. Moist turkey breasts sat next to baked sweet potatoes and homemade maple pecan butter tucked next to sweet italian sausage stuffing. In about an hour we prepared a meal fit for kings and then downed some red wine while sneaking bits of cooking supplies to the dog. Now I get a year of food recovery to anticipate next year's feast. Bring it on.

Squirrels of questionable moral character

Most days around lunch time I can be found in Washington Square park, taking in the sites of whatever book I am lost in that day and doing my best to ignore the world spinning around me. Parks, and this one in particular, are great places to get lost in. Leaves fall in your path, couples cuddle underneath trees, musicians you think too talented to be playing in a park serenade you with impromptu jazz, and people generally leave you alone. Add in the recent discovery of the city's lone Chick Fil A in one of the dorms surrounding the park and if it's not snowing/sleeting/freezing outside I'll probably be eating my ever so gourmet food on one of the city's finest benches, ignoring the hustle of my real life.

As I said the people here tend to leave you be anywhere and demand that you do the same towards them. You won't hear any "Howdy"s or head nods walking down the streets but instead a mass of people doing their best to pretend the other millions don't exist. So it is no shock that in a park, in a sanctuary of quite the only human's pestering you is the NYU grad student protesting a combination of national/international/local events that "need your urgent attention."

The people will leave you be, but the animals will not. It started about a month ago. I was sitting on the edge oblivious to the world outside my book and my sandwhich when a squirrel climbed the bench to peak in my water bottle, knocking the thing off its perch. This time the animal quickly scooted away to a safe distance before taking up a position to stare at me and my food.

Last week the squirrels, having obviously taken a cue from Venetian pigeons, mistook me for one of the crazies who regularly feeds them. I've seen these mysterious people whistling their way through the eastern side of the park, dispensing peanuts to all around. They cut a disturbingly loud path when one is trying to maintain being lost. Having sat on the bench with a lunchable and a fruit smoothy I am not sure where the squirrels saw the resemblence, but a pack tiny beggers appeared shortly after I sat, some inching forward between glances at my grocery bag. The fearless rodent on my right climbed the bench next to me and sat staring, in a pose much like my dog does when begging for pizza. I didn't pay it too much attention until the next one came even closer and sniffed at my now empty bag before fleeing when I turned towards it.

All of this I could have understood. They had wanted food but had still run with fear as if rumor of my bb gun toting Texas self had spread north. But then a third squirell climbed up and sniffed my hand, leaving only after several moments of sniffing confirmed the food was safely locked away in my belly. I tossed whatever crumbs were left in the box to the side and thought that would be it, but the movement only served to ignite their passion for food. Before I had finished sipping at a water bottle the last squirrel had climbed up my leg and paused in my lap, sniffing furiously for peanuts or turkey or whatever feast it may hold.

It left only when the familiar shreik of the crazy squirrel feeding lady approached. In true New Yorker fashion she gave me a dirty look as she passed.

All the things you can do

I am always a bit amazed by the crowds in central park. People seem to be moving in packs, bouncing from one activity to the next while taking in the sights and sounds of the city's best resource. I don't think I have hid my admiration for every variety of greenery the city has to offer and especially all the wonders of tourist heaven better known as central park. Only recently I confided to my wife that had we lived in any other part of the city, away from the beauty of the park and the river, I might have dragged her back to Texas and never looked back. There is something oddly comforting about all the nature that you can find a couple blocks away from the house and it has been a place that kept me sane during the early months of culture shock and adjusting to city living.

Taking all of that into consideration it might be a tad odd that I find myself in the all too comfortable position of the couch tourist. It's Saturday morning and the postman just woke me up to deliver my newest toy and I was acting surprisingly unready to tackle the shining sun and cool chill of fall that await me outside the building. We had planned to tackle the wilderness of Brooklyn and take in the sites of Prospect Park but fear kept us on the Upper West Side. Not fear of the hip people living in their picturesque brownstones in Park Slope and carving up the street with dogs and strollers, but a fear that we would again miss a chance to check off another "things to do while we live 10 feet from the park" checklist.

Hastily compiled while we were still living on an air mattress in our studio apartment, the list ranged from eat hotdogs at Grey's Papaya ( a must do for any big apple tourist) to take in the view from the Empire State Building at night ( still a much longer line that you might anticipate). After some convincing I abandoned the comfort of the couch and we took a jaunt through the park to cross and recross items of the list. Witness a wedding in the park? Saw at least two today complete with street performers as the band. Celebrity Sightings? Managed to see Alex Rodriguez riding a bike around the inner loop. Have a picnic in the park? We braved the crowds of locals and tourists to grab hamburgers at the Boathouse Cafe.

All of that was great and fun and reminiscient of many past trips to the park. Today we added to the activity list by renting a boat and paddling our way around the pond on the west side of the park. If your lucky enough to get there before noon the crowds will be manageable and boats can be had without a wait. For the low price of 10 dollars an hour I had the privelege of rowing a boat for the prettiest lady in the park. It doesn't cost anything extra to pretend race the other boats around you and we wondered aloud about the consequences of ramming the other boats we shared the pond with. Misdemeanor arrest aside (I'm just kidding mom) it was a great way to spend a few hours, and I only regretted not bringing along a picnic while we parked in the cool shade of the trees and enjoyed the views of nature and city only the park can offer.

The best burger in the city

I just watched an entire episode of How I Met Your Mother devoted to the grail like search for the best burger in the New York. Marshall so eloquently described his quest to find his long lost love, the perfect burger joint, sampled once when lost in the city and never found again despite years of lusting. It was a sad tale, not because of the years he lost without the dietary treasure of good burger, but because he had the place all wrong.

A couple weeks back my wife and I went to a party in jersey (shudder). Another Manhattanite said his favorite thing about living in the city was that every person living there is convinced that the best burger joint, coffee shop, pizza place, flower shop, Starbucks, etc are all located within a two block radius of their apartment. It doesn't matter the neighborhood or intersection you pick, the local citizenry will be outraged that you haven't tried 'the best' whatever in town.

That is why I after living here for a year and a half it didn't shock me to hear that Marshall and Regis Philbin had the burger place all wrong. This is something I have indeed done extensive research in, exhausting the possibilities of the diners and haunts surrounding 79th and Amsterdam. I've dragged my wife to EJ's and the Westside Brewery and a host of other options within short walk of our place. We stood in line at the Shake Shack for 20 minutes without moving before realizing the place was closing in a hour and we were too far from the front (a fact which disqualifies the Shack in my opinion). I've sampled sweet potato fries and onion rings and slopped down buckets of grease in the name of finding the perfect burger.

I can tell you with complete sincerity that while there are many burgers in this city up to the task of filling a belly none does the job quite as well the restaurant closest to my front door. Situated nn the corner of 79th and Amsterdam and part of the Hotel Lucerne is a nice French restaurant named NiceMatin. The breakfast served is as fantastic as the service is lousy and on weekend mornings the uptown brunch brigades fill the restaurant and sidewalk. But if you can be tempted to come back after dark when the brunch crowd has left please try the 'Five Napkin Burger.' For the hauty price of seventeen dollars a plate you can sample the burger topped with carmelized onions plated next to a picture perfect pile of delicous pommes frites.

I will concede that the price is a tad steep for backyard grill type food but it is well worth it at least once. I believe and mantain that each visitor to my neck of the city should try it, if for no other reason than to call me a fool and tout up their own neighborhood restaurant.

EDIT: The Shake Shack just opened on 77th and Columbus. This post is rendered moot and irresponsible. 

A photogs dream city

I often torture my wife with assertations that she married a trendsetter, despite my lack of realy style evidencing how untrue this might be. I'll point out my penchant for closely cut shaved haircuts dating back to a botched cut my sophmore year in high school. Shortly after that a host of celebrities could be seen sporting my look all over the world. In college I grew a beard out one summer, a gloriously dirty and unkept look that again seemed to inspire my fellow humans to match my look. A pessimist might point out that I really only shave my head out of laziness or that beards are hardly a new idea to the world but I am neither a pessimist or a realist so I'll continue to nudge my wife and smile everytime I see someone wearing the "homeless man look" as another relative put it.

Where am I going with this? Is there a point to this rambling or do I just like sharing my delusions of granduer with whatever poor souls might stumble upon this blog? I really just wanted to point out that I sometimes do notice the trends going on around me, that even though I was recently spotted wearing a Mickey Mouse t shirt all over the city I am not unaware of what goes on around me.

A new trend has arrived and although I can not take credit for its start I will still actively participate. I may have mentioned how intimidatingly beautiful the city looked during the spring and how much of that greatness stuck around for the summer. The city has been in bloom and in full color and like so many of my fellow citizens I have looked on it with the eye of an amateur photographer. I take in the rays of a sunset falling over Verdi Square while snacking on Gray's Papaya and I can't help but frame a picture in my mind.

In fact everywhere you look cameras are hanging from necks and people are snapping pictures with increaslingly larger and expensive looking lenses. Having lived in the city for a year I am still not above taking a camera along for a trip through the park, a stroll around the museum or hopefully some day for a food inspired run for hot dogs (got to capture that Verdi Square sunset). After a day of touristing the first thing we usually do is hook up the camera and scroll through our prizes searching for the day's best shot. (Speaking of increasingly large lenses anyone looking for a good Christmas gift for me need look no further than the Nikkor 50m lens with 1.8f.)

I do believe that inside every American lies the heart of a professional photog. Each day on the streets I see plenty of these people attempting to realize that dream, and after I shuffle past and curse them for "being in everyone's way" I can't help but wonder if they are getting a shot that I have missed. Just like I am set on chronicling our days in Manhattan in this blog (which for the most part has been a largely unsuccessful effort) my wife and I inted to record as many images of the city as possible before the rising real estate prices force us into the burbs. Please keep your eye out for some of our work in a magazine or television near you.

EDITORS NOTE: I do realize sarcasm is not an emotion easily translated from written word. Please accept my apologies if any of my horde of readers found me lacking humility in claiming to be a trendsetter. I am fully aware of how untrue this may be.

With the best of intentions

Despite my intentions to the contrary I find myself again in the unwanted place of not having updated this place in sometime. I am sure the angry hordes of loyal readers are anxious to know the inner details of my life since we last checked in so here goes my best attempt at filling in the last month or so. I did alot of stuff. And for the most part I enjoyed doing that stuff.

Call me boring or incapable of imaginative description or more truly just lazy but I haven't found the energy write much lately and that trend shall continue today. On my part I do come armed with an excuse for this lack of description, just like Forrest Gump I have spent a great deal of time running lately. Some months ago I set a goal which I never would have considered so difficult or life consuming, to run a marathon before I was 30 and if at all possible do it this summer at the end of September. As any normal person might imagine this takes a good deal of effort and willpower and occassionally a wife that elbows you awake in the morning. The good news is that I am almost done and have been somewhat successful in my training. The bad news is that it sucked up most of my time during one of the more enjoyable times of the year to be in the city. So many free activities missed or passed by while I planned my weekends and mornings around the dreaded 'long runs.' Come this September 27th I hope it all pays off and I am able to finish and if not then I will scratch the marathon from my bucket list forever.


I did want to highlight a couple particularly awesome events that I was able to attend this summer. The city and parks put on some fantastic free events throughout the season, encouraging everyone to fill up parks and boat basins and occasionally car free streets with partying and celebration of whatever form may please you. After a couple weeks of pleading Shelby was able to convince this lazy bum (not my words) to head over to Riverside for a free movie in the park.

At 70th there is a pier stretching into the Hudson normally filled with joggers or yogaist or some sort of free entertainment. Once a week this summer they filled the pier with chairs and blasted an election themed movie over speakers loud enough to hear far down the river. After being reminded why I hate John Travolta (Primary Colors) we came back the next week to enjoy some movie about Watergate. The next week we watched August Rush in Central Park. This may be my geek side but I absolutely loved that movie and seeing the conclusion as the characters race together in Central Park in the movie location was a cool thing indeed.

Seeing Empty

Last summer I heard rumors but didn't quite feel it, this mass exodus from the Upper West Side more glamorous destinations. In our hurry to settle in to the new surroundings we never noticed that steady increase in strollers and puppies filling our sidewalks (and fueling the anger of the always angry taxi drivers in the streets as well) as the summer neared it's end.

Yesterday I wasn't the only person shocked by the noticeable difference in foot traffic. For most of a block the lady just in front of me complained far too loudly into her cell phone that New York seemed desolate to her. For now I am going to write the empty streets down to a three day weekend and people heading home for vacation, but I am starting to think there may be something to the theory of Uptowner's fleeing to the Hamptoms for the summer. Or to Connecticut, or upstate, or any one of a host of summer options with less tourist or less heat or whatever else pisses you off daily in the streets of the city.

Of course the lucky few of us who remained for the long weekend are left enjoying our window views, currently displaying large amounts of rain with ominous looking clouds on the horizon. Living in Texas I never paid quite as much attention to weather as here. If it was hot or rainy or ominous look, well it was only those things from the distance of my apartment to my car or my car to the restaurant. Yet here when it rains the subways bubble with people and water, both jostling for the little amounts of space that remain free. And while I love living without the money sucking environment killing car, each day as I enter the office my clothes are more and more sweat filled.

For now I'll be happy to enjoy the temporary lack of jostling as I get on the 1 train. Once my money does come in I'll be looking for good summer homes with the rest of you.

Going away

I am back after spending the past week lost in a world of greenery and grapes, with row after row of perfectly manicured vines tucked into every parcel of free space. For one long day we were tucked into our own tiny parcels of space in airports and airplanes, enjoying the freedom of thought that comes with no responsibility. The flight out was uneventful, which still counts as a good thing in air travel, and we passed it watching the inflight movie and gossiping about the week ahead. Google maps safely guided us out of San Francisco International and into the mountains and vines and wonderful views of Napa, in spite of my lack of recent driving experience.

Napa itself seemed a completely different world. I wasn’t expecting the stretching skyline of Manhattan or the jostling crowds of any major city but the striking contrast of picturesque green vines against the bare tile floors of the airport we just left was simply beautiful. The house my parents rented was just as stunning, with pool and sprawling deck obviously plucked from one of my dreams. My wife can tell you that I often indulge her with fantasies of a freeloader lifestyle with little of the worries and responsibilities that come with real life. In that house I was picturing days spent toiling amongst the vines and evenings of good food and drink. Like any good dream I put all the realities of backbreaking labor and expensive mortgage payments out of my mind. For this week I would indulge my fantasies and appetites.

The first night was a mix of exploring the grounds (just a tad bigger than our studio apartment J ) and trying to fit as much of my mom’s lasagna as humanly possible into my belly. It set a perfect example for the week to come where we sampled fancy wines and toured aging vineyards and set about to enjoy ourselves in all aspects. At home we dip into the wine cellars every couple weeks but I can’t make any great claim to wine knowledge. I often find myself lost in the aisles of Beacon Wines, trying desperately to pick out the best wine possible to go with hotdogs. The rows of Napa wines have always seemed a tad intimidating as I frequently reached for the familiar fruity taste of German Rieslings.

For this trip our wine touring came complete with chauffeured limo to allow for maximum enjoyment of each vineyards’ sampling. Once arrived we would stomp through another ocean of greenery to the bar and let the host show off their expansive knowledge of the region, and while the speeches and lectures were certainly entertaining the main course of wine was quite naturally the best part of each tasting.

Without boring you with the details I’ll just say that the rest of stay in Napa was a blur of food, wine and quality time with the family. My wife and I made good use of the pool and I even managed to find time one morning for a long run nearby the closest rows of vines. I was a little sad to leave the house after several days of enjoying the ability to walk from my bedroom straight onto the poolside patio.

For the second part of our week on the left coast my wife and I separated from the rest of my family and took in a few days in San Francisco. We were both a tad too eager to compare the city by the bay to the city back home and arrived early in the morning to get in two full days of touring before the submitting to the pain of travel from west coast to east.

We walked through streets and hills, took in tourist areas despite my aversion to Times Square back home, and tried to get a good picture of the city in the few days we had. I even subjected us to In and Out Burger after my statement the previous week that it was ‘just another burger joint’ caused a mild panic at the office. All things considered I enjoyed the city but couldn’t help but feel it lacked that energy and spark that people love about New York. Maybe we are rushing to judgment, or more than likely we were both just tired and ready to get back home, but we left San Francisco eager to get back to the normalcy that filled the Upper West Side.

The Park

Last year we enjoyed one the summer's first long walks around The Great Lawn in Central Park. Between trees and picnics lies one of the park's lonely wide open spaces: 6 or 7 softball fields stretching over perfectly manicured grass. The teams vary in shape and size from 10 year old girls to beer guzzling men well past their prime but a spectator can always find entertainment. On weekends the grass is abuzz with families dining on homemade sandwhiches while their kids play chase and tag and all of childhood's best games. The scene looks like it was pulled straight out of a J Crew catalog and it quickly became one of very favorite places to walk and talk and take in the sunlight.

On that first walk around the space we strolled right into a queue of families lining halfway around the grass from a large wooden stadium that somehow fits in amongst all the trees. They were waiting for one of Central Park's summer wonders, Shakespeare in the Park. My first thought was that each of them were bloody crazy, standing in the often unbearable heat of the summer sweating away the day in wait of a play.

This year when my wife persistently suggested we do the same I am sure a look of terror filled my face. While I often mouth off about the silly Yankees complaining about their 90 degree summer heat I am less than eager to join their ranks waiting underneath the sun. But luck was on our side as this year, just rounding out our first full year in the city, is the first in which a selection of tickets are offered online. For the few us unwilling to queue up with the rest of the city's Shakespeare patrons an option now exists. Not that I have ever been a fan of London's finest export. Cliff Notes are the closest I ever came to reading one of the plays but only a loon passes up a chance for free entertainment.

After leaving work we met my sister for some of Gray's Papaya's finest cuisine and headed over to the park just in time to smile at the quickly forming line and collect our online tickets. A short stroll around the softball players and they let us in to the wooden theater. I spent my normal pre play minutes sifting through the Playbill articles and trying to figure out just how long Hamlet is (the answer is quite long, we left well into the night).

For a free play the atmosphere is quite a bit of fun, as a large stadium enveloping a well lit stage is the last thing you would expect to find in the ocean of trees that make up Central Park. I went expecting to find burned out college actors who missed their chance at the Broadway plays and was deeply surprised by the quality of Actors. Sam Waterstone of Law and Order fame filled out the cast along with a host of other recognizable faces. Every aspect was first class and I still cannot puzzle out how they do it without charging. Despite my previous assurances that I could not enjoy 3 hours of theeing and thowing I left my seats grinning stupidly at the end. It was quite a bit of fun.

Coney Island

Early in the week a campaign was begun. The extended weekend was edging forward and my wife made herself intent to get out and do something with the extra time. The house was buzzing about making the short trip to Coney Island and preparations were under way to plot our course and schedule several days in advance. Please don't let me casual manner imply that I didn't want to go, as was quite anxious to see what a Yankee qualified as an amusement park. I just wasn't as anxious as others in this two person household to wake up early.

In fact early upon our move to the Upper West Side we spent a good deal of time compiling an official looking list of the touristy things we both wanted to do. Riding the Cyclone had a prominent spot on that list, even as we quickly began crossing off some of the easier events to attend. Here we were some months later and my wife's plan to take Brooklyn's beaches was sounding pretty perfect. So we woke up early yesterday, or early for us on a weekend (Read between 9 and 10 here). The dog safely secured and each of us safely bathed in layers of sun tan lotion, we set off for Brooklyn, this time intentionally.

The subway ride itself wasn't bad at all and we arrived at the Coney Island station about an hour later. I could just make out the tops of the roller coaster between buildings before we pulled into the last stop. My imaginary readers won't be surprised that the first thing we did was head to World Famous Nathan's for a burger and corn dogs. The food was not half bad. I could almost picture myself pounding back hotdogs there while a crowd of thousands cheered me and that crazy Japanese eater on, although the single burger itself was filling enough.

Most of the day was spent arm in arm strolling along the boardwalk. Every few seconds we stopped and snapped a photo or two. We framed pictures of hot dog stands and fisherman, boardwalks extending into the ocean and ferris wheels set against the beach. Nearly everywhere we walked were too tan men and women bathing under the sun's instense glow. One family had setup makeshift soccer goals out of garbage cans, their game bordered on one side by the inbound tide. The sights were quite a constrast to the rising metal of buildings in Manhattan.

The real fun was coming from just inside the carnival. Kids with goofy grins were waiting for merry go rounds and miniature roller coasters. From the top of the Wonder Wheel we could see the ocean stretching out before us. The weather again was excellent, the temperature hovered between 60 and 70 for most of the day. I had a goofy grin on my face from the top of the ride, thinking of the 100 degree summers back in Texas.

The park reminded both of us of the traveling carnivals that take up residence in mall parking lots throughout the south. The only real difference here was the Cyclone, one of the reasons I had wanted to come to Coney Island in the first place. Standing on the edge of the park it didn't look much like the roller coasters of my youth. It was tiny and felt almost like a toy beside my memory of the Rattler from Fiesta Texas. There wasn't even a line to help build up the anticipation over the course of an hour's wait.

The ride eased out as most rides do, building the apprehension for that first big drop that provides most of a ride's excitement in a normal park. However once this first drop finished I was screaming with pleasure. There was a second drop, and then another followed by many more in rapid succession. The supposedly tiny wooden structure hid beneath it a maze of twists and turns. Clutching my cap tightly in one fist I was laughing obnoxiously throughout the entire ride. The cart pulled back into the station and I was left with a boyish grin to cap off the day's excitement. The whole trip had been calming and fun. It has me dreaming of roller coasters again.

Eating Grand Central

Last week we had the chance to dine at Grand Central Station. The sun had temporarily taken leave and left us with a city enveloped in darkness and rain. It is rare that we get a visitor up here as most of our family and friends live in the south, but naturally the one day we do the forecast was dark, gloomy and without hope of sunlight. We met up at the Yale Club, an uncomfortably stuffy hotel/conference center before braving the rain to take the short walk to Grand Central.

Naturally the only times I have been to the train station are to eat, but stepping inside amongst the trample of commuters and out of town travelers the view is quite breathtaking. I like to step aside and while pretending that I am pondering something of great importance sneak silent glances about the cavernous ticket room. I don't think it would be possible to create a greater contrast to the cities' other train station (Penn Station). The dirt and darkness and randomly arranged hobos are all replaced here. The subway like feeling is definitely gone as the ceiling here stretches out high above, an ocean of blue paint covered with constellations.

But enough about the fancy atmosphere and general feeling that you are in a glitzy mall and not in fact sitting in the cities' largest monument to mass transportation. That feeling, by the way, is gone the minute you hear someone pushing their way through the crowds and muttering under their breath about tourists just loud enough for everyone to hear. No the important thing about Grand Central is the food.

There are bakeries and a market and several upscale restaurants quite out of my price range covering the main floor. But take the stairs down and you walk out into a slew of kitchens. The easy mistake to make is heading right to the Mexican food place. The first time we ate here I followed my Texas belly towards the sound of people laughing over overpriced margaritas and scooping up large amounts of salsa. It was a huge mistake, repeated many times throughout the city as each time I leave puzzling over the lack of good Mexican food in a city so large.

This time my wife rightfully overruled me and steered us past the host of other stalls all artfully displaying their samples to a pizza place in the corner. The room was loud and the people were packed around the bar and it seemed just about perfect. The waitress even managed not to sneer at my order of 'just pepperoni.' The food held up as well. And while good pizza is probably within a two blocks of any spot in Manhattan, this was more than the easy subway ride there.

After dinner I subtly applied some peer pressure to make sure we finished the meal in the correct fashion, with dessert of course. We quickly grabbed some cheesecakes before heading home and taking in a few drinks at the irish pub on the corner. It was a good night worth repeating (hint hint if you want to visit us).

Randomness

I have on idea what kind of wacky event just took place around the corner. I kept seeing people walking towards me with tulips in hand and goofy smiles on their faces. A more intuitive person might have suspected beer was responsible, but alas that is not me. Girls in little red pants were collectively peddling a beer train contraption for Amstel Light onto 79th from Amsterdam. Behind the platform was a a tiny army of shiny red bikes with Amstel Light flags on them. I don't where they were going or what someone might do with a giant platform of kegs that had to be manually peddled by 10 people, but I wish I did know.

A Street Fair

A few weeks after moving here we noticed a New York oddity. Cluttered amongst the normal street vendors were row after row of tented stores peddling wares on Columbus Avenue. They appeared to stretch 6 to 8 blocks in each direction although we quickly discovered the same vendors were repeated every 2 blocks or so.

My wife came in from walking the dog that morning and nudged me awake to tell me that something strange was going on down the street. Neither of us had ever heard of such a thing and it was exciting and abnormal and we weren't satisfied until each of us had examined nearly every stall present. A years supply of socks was on sale right next to stalks of roasted corn and pitas. The aromas of the food waifed throughout the street and we walked and sampled our way down the street. It was quite a site for the two of us, both new to New York and not sure what to expect of our new surroundings. We came home with a full belly, a scarf for my wife, and a t shirt proclaiming our new zip code and "Upper West Side" that has since been relegated to work out fodder.

You can imagine how surprised we were to discover the exact same fair taking place the next weekend on Amsterdam, and again the following weekend in the Financial District. The initial stroll down the street was a welcome sight that quickly turned to angst over the cluttered sidewalks each weekend.

Last year's weekend street fairs covering every avenue of the upper west side have since been replaced. For each of the past few weekends we've seen but not sampled the lightly colored tents along Museum of Natural History's sidewalks while walking our dog. This summer the stalls more closely resemble the arts and crafts fairs my mother and sister enjoyed so much during my youth. Artists are selling every variety of painted items with nicely framed photographs from all across the country. For a few dollars you choose between origami flowers and stamp accessories or head down a bit to sample some gingerbread.

At Christmas time there was a similar array parked for nearly a month in the southwest corner of Central Park, only the tents were made with freshly painted red wood. We bought a glass blown ornament and a some painted scenes of New York monuments to take back home to Texas as gifts. The tightly bound aisles were filled with a mass of people nudging their way through, trying to take in every possible gift and knick knack and yesterday was much of the same. We let the dog guide us through the maze of people before heading over the park for a short morning walk.

Spring Has Arrived

This is our first experience with spring, a season that had gone unnoticed for the first 24 years of my life. I had lived through Texas spring, usually a week long period of rain before the sun is out in full force and attempting to bake me alive every time I dare leave the inside. That however did not prepare me for what nature had in store for my eyes.

It is one thing to slowly notice the return of color to trees and the flowers just beginning to open, but the first signs of the city in bloom make for a powerful sight. Oddly enough I think the nature of city living forces me to take notice even more, as every time I walk to work or the movies or more likely Emack and Bolios Ice Cream Shop, I skip by freshly planted tulips and a rainbow of other wildlife taking root in every inch of dirt the sidewalks spare.

The parks have been the biggest surprise. As if the junior beer belly that took resident upon my body shortly after leaving school wasn't enough reason to exercise, every corner of the parks are filled with pink, yellow and white trees. The leaves spray beneath the canopy like a rainbow colored bed for the brave souls sleeping beneath the shade.

Last weekend I took a jog along the river and these painted leaves were everywhere. It was a strange experience for this Texan, and a bit distracting from my normal jogging habits of pretending I am in a race with every other jogger in sight. At the 79th street boat basin an horde of boats were on display. Appallingly expensive yachts larger than my parents 2 story home were parked next to the full time residents that appear to be made of dark green plywood. Both owners were out grilling and grinning and enjoying the season in general.

Adventures in Subway Riding

Thoughts of the gloriously bright sun overhead and springs unfolding of the cities flowers were enchanting. We were quite caught up in this dream, and visions of ourselves relaxing beneath the shade and watching the sun bounce off the water were part of what convinced us to head our for a walk, that and the inner guilt I so often feel after stuffing myself righteously the night before on pork dumplings.

Our path was to battery park city, rumored to be a different kind of city within a city although the clutter of babies and dogs each group had in tow made it feel like a more expensive version of the upper west side upon arrival. The streets were clean and the river views were spectacular. In place of bees and insects the park was swarming with people. There were people exercising and people kissing and many more people like myself, taking pictures and generally finding a way to disturb the paths of everyone else as we stared through the viewfinder.

The views of new jersey were quite similar to the views from new jersey, and if one is inclined to enjoy the sight of many tall buildings rising into the air togethor through the smoky haze of pollution then this is the place for you. Personally I was there to see the first signs of spring and experience another peice of this crazy city. Battery Park City for its part was pretty much everything I had previously heard. Sunlight careened off the windows of buildings stretching into the sky, with the cookie cutter shops on the ground levels that one can find in your average mall. I liked it, but it didn't quite feel like Manhattan to me. While Starbucks are everywhere in the city, I have grown quite fond of the striking contrast between corporate shops and the corner deli, independent restaurant and maze of clothing stores that seem to be everywhere else I walk.

We took in the sights and and snapped pictures up and down the promenade, slowly making our way towards the staten island ferry and the long winding lines of visitors waiting for statue of liberty tickets. The whole walk was enjoyable and stress free, stopping once to pick up sandwhiches which we ate in view of giant tour sail boats sloping their way up the hudson.

Of course setting out to enjoy the city on a long walk assumes you are competent enough to actually get to the the starting point, a test we came up quite short on. The 2 train which normally runs express but often runs local on weekends had been switched to the 5 although using the same track, and wasnt running below 14th street. The N and R lines were also rerouted across the Manhattan Bridge and skipping many stops, naturally including our ultimate destination. If that line of reasoning was too confusing to follow then you have experienced my exact emotion upon realizing our train was heading over the bridge and into Brooklyn, despite reassurances from the electronic map detailing the upcoming stops that contradicted this.

After a few mumbled curses towards the conductor who speaks too quietly to hear above the buzz of conversation filling most busy subway lines, we found a map and plotted an escape back to our island. The contradicting calmness of the river was a welcome sight once we finally arrived.

The Ballet

Although she will probably deny this, every time we pass Lincoln Center my wife looks wistfully at the shining white buildings and sighs. I have been playing my role as dutiful husband and encouraging her to get us tickets to some of the cities more cultured affairs, because while we may often deny it going to these artsy performances is a fun experience. At Christmas time they put a tree to rival Rockefeller Center, and in fitting with the surroundings covered it with white lights. We sat around the fountain and watched the kids playing tag while older more elegantly dressed people hurried to make it on time. It was quite a sight to say the least and living so close to the buildings we pass by them quite often on our way down broadway. Regretfully we hadn't even attempted to get tickets yet, and the sight was a near constant reminder that sometime we should skip the movie theater just once.

Last night my wife went by the tkts booth for the first time since we arrived in the city and managed to purchase orchestra level tickets to the Kirov Ballet at the New York City Center (at half price). We both rushed home after work and fulfilled our required chores of dog walking and park running before heading back out with a half eaten pop tart in hand. I must admit I hadn't put much thought to what proper ballet attire is, so we put on some comfortable slacks and a dress (for her not me thank you) and started walking towards 55th and 7th avenue.

With time to spare we arrived to see the mass of people milling about outside the front door. For every couple dressed in tuxedos and top hats there was another in the timeless classic jeans and tshirt. Walking in I could hear all manner of dialects and many conversations in what I assumed was Russian. The security force was quite a spectical, all in matching suits and oddly colored jackets, not a man under 80 in the whole group. On the way to our seats two members of this elite taskforce stopped us to see our ticket, looking me over head to toe with a practiced and concerned eye before allowing us to pass down the aisle.

The hall was probably ninety percent full as the curtain went down, the russian couple to the left of us shouting back 'Da' to the stage as one of the performers began a dance by asking a question in Russian. The actual performance itself was less entertaining than the spectacle surrounding our trip to the show. The twirling and leaps are all rather impressive but within several minutes of each act my mind wandered with boredom. I mentally placed the tall limber dancers on a basketball court and debated myself how their athletic abilities might translate.

My inner monologue reached no conclusion before the act finished and I joined the crowd in clapping for what felt like 10 minutes. The performers would join hands and smile to each other, obviously pleased with themselves before rushing forward for each to take a turn bowing to the clapping crowd. In between acts it felt like we had the whole stage to ourselves, as much of the audience piled out the back for what I guessed was a smoke and a drink. Neither of us could figure out the reason for so long a break between dances, as some 30 minutes would pass by before the crowds returned as I gazed longily at the couple several rows behind us with the forsight to bring a book. We tried to talk in hushed tones as something felt oddly wrong about carrying on a normal conversation in a place that just minutes before had been deathly silent as the dancers performed.

After three acts and a series of odd music and strange experimental dancing the show was at last over, and we quickly exited with the crack security staff now holding open the doors. It was a nice feeling to know that we could get some culture, and an even better feeling to realize the stage deli was just around the corner. I don't think there are many places in the world you can pound back sandwhiches the size of your face and discuss the ballet. It was kind of fun although my vote for the next play is still Monty Python's Spamalot.

A Series Begins

Oddly enough there is something quite soothing about writing a blog post. I know that is an amazing piece of logic I just threw your way, that expressing ones innermost thoughts could be good for your. All the hordes of my imaginary readers will just have to get used to such obvious statements coming from me. This whole writing thing has been kind of nice, and the contentment that comes from finishing a piece is quite nice indeed. It's like my very own therapist at serious price reduction and I don't even have to bitch about any real problems to get some use out of it. Not long ago in the midst of the reckless abandon that accompanied each day of our planning to move I started writing. Just little pieces of fiction at first, stories of oddly enough consultants who hated their jobs. It wasn't really an experiment so much as a way to kill time and somehow this time killing morphed into a full on hobby, with aspirations of improvement and even a few submission rejection letters. And even as my enjoyment grew for putting thoughts on paper (or more accurately on to the computer) there was a nagging in the back of my mind that all of these exercises lacked focus, lacked a solid reason to continue to produce. I watched self imposed deadlines for short stories pass with ease, and just as easily blogs begun with the best of intentions receive no posts for months at a time. And so recently I had a thought for this space, a list of thoughts actually. As my fondness for this city and this life continues to expand I fear that I will look back and remember only the general feelings and not the details. I had experience in this actually, viewing the memories of my summer abroad during college now only through the fuzzy haze of time passed. From that fear was born a list and hopefully from this list will come well composed stories and heartfelt remembrances of what it was really like to move here. I want to detail all the hope and excitement and the near constant fear of the unknown that accompanied us here to the Upper West Side. Here is the list, to be covered over the next few months in this humble space. Imaginary readers feel free to mock and laugh at your own peril.

The List:
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- a decision to move
- apartment hunting
- first impressions (or holy shit I live in ny now!)
- meeting the neighbors (or the entrance of larry)
- cheap dates (at grey's papaya and buttercup bakery)
- a dog friendly neighborhood
- pick up games in riverside park
- a trip to the garden (MSG)
- getting some culture (the met and natural history musuem)
- christmas trees at rockefeller center
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- thoughtless commuting (or riding the subway in amused silence)
- more culture (seeing an off broadway play)
- relaxing in central park
- the best views in the city (jogging at the reservoir)
- some visitors arrive
- the 79th street boat basin
- a heaping of bad food (or finding our regular restaurants)
- a shop on every corner (wine in the city)
- street festivals
- a gourmet feast (thanksgiving in the city)
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- my city is on the tele
- christmas visiting
- urban picnics (chinese food, the fairway, and zabars)
- fantasy real estate shopping
- little italy (or finally discovering good food)
- i won the super bowl
- reasons to hate times square
- job hunting in the big apple
- the perfect upper west side block
- going to the movies (loews, angelika, paris theater)
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- a local bookstore chain (barnes and nobles and the strand)
- recruiting for Big4 at nyu
- an adjustment in weather
- a hunt for good mexican food (landing in the west village)
- our first anniversary
- the sunday 1230 church choir
- sunday brunch, a time honored tradition
- the ivy league (colombia)
- constant changing of city
- march madness and quitting Big4

On Deciding to Move

I wish there were a list of where people made big decisions. We were sitting in the schlotsky's parking lot, not your typical spot for coming to a life altering decision. It was a regular weekday meal, meaning quite a bit of food was eaten and just as much time was spent bitching about work. My wife's requested transfer to the London office had been turned down and between visions of pissing on her senior managers grave we somehow managed to come out with a list of the world's cities we imagined cool enough for us to live in. This is what you do when living in Dallas and not a fraternity alum: you sit back and imagine all the places you would rather live than there. Zurich and London and Munich and Vienna and a host of other European jewels were ticked off until either my wife or I giddly proclaimed "I've always secretly wanted to live in New York." I don't think anything could have stopped us after that and in a way it was kind of natural for the younger generation to dream of bigger and better things and to place ourselves in Manhattan while doing them. After that fateful evening pounding back gigantic sandwhiches we were entranced by the possibilities, spending our hours on craigslist and city forums plotting the move. I don't regret it yet, although I could go for a big ass sandwhich about now.

A Blog Neglected

I haven't read any formal rules for blogging but it is assumed that any period of several months (or more) of neglecting to post is reason enough to declassify the writer as a blogger. Not that I ever considered myself a blogger anyways, what with my whopping three total posts here, but I do seem to remember some grand plans for this place. I dream of a clean user interface and some witty reports of city living but you (my non existent audience) are left to read nothing for months. After quickly changing a few colors the vision of a clean, visible UI currently looks like a modified Irish flag. I apologize for none of my blogging failures but instead hold onto the hope that I can motivate myself into producing a steady stream of thoughtful prose. What has happened in these past three months? Well the short answer is alot. Both my wife and I have shiny new jobs to show off to the masses, although mine does not start for another month. We are both giddy and excited and hopeful and experiencing exactly the range of emotions you would expect for two consultants moving on to more stable jobs. In short succession both sides of our family visited and while attempting to show off the city we live in I was quite surprised by how attached I have become to the city. I still attach the clause 'but we'll have to move before having kids' whenever I describe living here to someone else. But more and more my thoughts drift to (gasp) a future in or around the city, where once I had always assumed this move was decidely less than permanent. On that note I have know idea what the future will hold but I have resolved myself to write something about it here. If I become neglectful again please give me a good kicking.

A Lovely Lady

A few years back I was home from school on Christmas break, enjoying the freedom of having no responsibilities and generally being a nuisance wherever I could. I was sleeping in to the wee hours of the afternoon and tossing the idea around of driving to Colorado a week before school and checking out the law school. It must have been the idea of having a lawyer son that pushed my dad into action, because one night he came home from work and told me he had set me up for a date with a coworker's neice. It has been a great ride since that first tentative date at Dave and Busters coming to a head when we married last January 27th, and every minute I spend with her is a blessing. Thank God for meddling relatives.

Thoughtless Commuting

Surprisingly one of the easiest adjustments I made was learning to live without a car. People ask if it is difficult to get places, if I miss the freedom of driving, if I feel trapped in the city with no easy manner for escape? No, not really. Like many others I loathed the daily struggle with traffic each day. I would scream and laugh and inch my way forward and arrive at work pissed off at the whole city. I was never one to anticipate a drive, my wife and I almost begging each other to take the wheel on trips of varying distance. A quick pop in to the dry cleaners or the grocery store or the increasingly rare trips to the gym were ok, but any hint of traffic jams or monotonous highway driving were sure to ruin a pleasant mood.

Living in the country's largest triumph of public transportation has been spoiling, to say the least. Each morning I stand amongst the flood of workers, peering down subway tunnels as we wait and pushing our way into cramped quarters. Arms are intermixed like a game of twister in the morning commute, feeling out poles and doors for a place to steady oneself. And despite how uncormfortable this could be it is unbothering. Each day I sit or stand with a book in tow and attempt to lose myself in the fiction. Between Peter Mayle and Richard Russo and the host of authors I have been reading lately there has been little chance to pause for worry. The time passes by and in about the same time as my previous commute I arrive, close up my book and start the day. Evenings are about the same, with heavy doses of people watching mixed in for good measure.

The Starting of a Blog

I have been poised to write this blog for sometime. For whatever reasons various peices of life aligned to keep me from it, and to focus the few moments I have for writing on other stories and other subjects. My wife and I have been in the city for 6 months now, half a year of eating and walking and observing on the upper west side. I can't say that I will ever be at ease here, but there is an unspoken beauty about the city. It's a subtle feeling that you overlook at first, overpowered by constant changing thoughts of "Oh my God what am I doing here?" and "I think I just saw Some Minor Celebrity!" The feeling builds inside and then one day I am walking through the park discussing the finer points of navigating Times Square tourist and panhandler obstacles. (Shuffle your feet!) And I've thought maybe I should write something about this crazy culture we are experiencing. I don't know if it needs stating here but I enjoy writing, at least in the free wheeling write whatever I feel like and it matters not if it makes sense or reads well manner. Someday I have hopes of writing something others might find worthy of reading or dare I dream it publishing. As I type this between glances over my shoulder at work to ensure I am not caught out, I know those dreams are far away. For now I can't pass up the opportunity to write about these experiences feeling out the city, however terrible my prose may be. I don't want to look back and remember with the heavy haze of years passed what it was like to live as a stranger in a strange land. So I have my challenge for this space, to record all the drama and going ons and what have yous of living in Gotham, and the experiences that come with it. And hopefully in taking up this challenge I will free the my inner novelist. I guess we'll find out.