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.