in the eye of the apple

Unlike absolutely every other place I've lived, returning to Portland is always exciting. As sad as I am to leave behind in New York food uneaten, alleyways untrodden, and creative street art unseen with my eager eyes, I rejoice to feel the reach of trees' beneedled arms welcoming me home.

Still, New York's smoky concrete siren-call remains in faint echoes at the edge of my hearing. There's something about the history and the sheer grandiosity of its parks meant to mimic and better Nature, its time-painted concrete, its contrast at every layer.

By golly, I'm prone to lists.

The story of our recent trip to New York is as follows. Got in to Newark around a quarter to 6am on Saturday morning. Took a cab to my cousin's house in Tribeca. It was foggy, close, and strangely warm out, and we chatted with the Nigerian driver while he swerved with high beams on and a horn substituting for turn signals. We arrived in about twenty minutes, a record I'm sure. And then we sat by the front door, waiting for the hour to turn decent enough to ring the doorbell. When we finally did, we hung out in the kitchen for a while catching up with my cousin and her husband before retiring to the basement guestroom for a nap.

After an hour of repose, Kelley, Hudson, Erik and I joined Jonathan and Zara for lunch at a cute little Italian restaurant. We left the place in a bit of a shambles from Hudson's food-tossing antics, and Erik & I walked up Canal, through Chinatown for a new pair of cheap sunglasses for me and an I NY t-shirt for a coworker, then up Broadway for a shoe-shop detour, and over to the Lower East Side for random shopping and snackery. For me, the highlights were MooShoes (where I bought a pair of green shoes and pet their four cats) and Cake Shop (where we had iced tea and I ate an enormous concoction of puffy chocolate cookies and whipped peanut butter frosting).

We decided to see a movie at our old favorite theater, the Sunshine, and Into the Wild was just about to start, so we went for it. It was long and cold. Afterwards we tried to go to the Kampuchea Noodle Bar, but the wait was too long, so we took a cab to where we thought 'Snice was, near our old West Village apartment. We walked around for a while before calling Julie for the address, and then when we got there it was closed. We ate at Ma Ma Buddha, which we had seen on the long walk, then walked back to Tribeca. We got in around 12:30am.

Sunday we got up late (10 or 10:30am-- still early PST!), ate bagels in the kitchen, and went to the park with the Gazdak family. We headed back to the house around 3pm to get ready for the wedding, stopping by Burritoville for a late lunch. Erik and I showed up at Battery Park Gardens at 5pm, which was actually an hour early, so we stood around trying to be useful and buying sangria from the outdoor bar. It was absolutely beautiful down there, at the very tip of Manhattan.

I don't think I can describe the wedding itself. Christina was radiating classic beauty with her calm demeanor, even having to keep her right hand elevated in a hot pink cast after lacerating two tendons, opening a wedding gift of a kitchen knife a week prior. Of course I chatted up Aton's date, the Natalie Portman look-alike. She said that she had gotten the acceptance email for law school in an internet cafe in Saharan Egypt, typing on a keyboard covered in sand. I also finally worked up the courage to tell Aaron Cometbus that I'm a fan, right when he was about to leave with the centerpiece.

Once the restaurant closed down, we went back to Amy and Miriam's hotel room and hung out til 3:30am. From there it was a beautiful walk back to my cousin's house in the sweet night air. I forgot how warm those humid summer nights remain, although it shouldn't have been quite so summery.

Monday morning was tough. Erik and I took our time getting up, then walked up to 'Snice for lunch. From there we went to NikeTown to check out the new running floor and test-run shoes in Central Park. It was a race after that to get to the airport, but we made it with five minutes to spare, which is just perfect for me.

And that was the trip. Short, sweet, and packed with memories of things I'll never see anywhere else.

bright lights

3:33 am. Back from the wedding. Don't feel drunk necessarily, silly drunk. Walked back from the after party, the hotel room of two bridesmaids. It's the only wedding I've been to that the bride and groom showed up after their expected roles.

I met Aaron Cometbus, which was... fanboyish. More on that tomorrow morning when I can think straight. I met some amazing people-- Sarah, the Natalie Portman look-alike, Sabrina the party-starter, and Amy, whom I knew for many years but didn't rank a chance from til tonight.

New York is amazing, is beautiful, is walking wherever. More on that later, hopefully.

Had my first cigarette in years after lusting for them. We'll see in the morning.

sleepy city

I can't believe how fast that was. We're sitting on the front stoop of my cousin's house, because it's 6:30am and just too early to rouse them. I guess that's my technically-southern polite streak.

The sun is rising through thick fog here in lower Manhattan. With a cut-off view of luxurious rooftop trees and spires of grand old buildings through the slow mist filter, this could be another time and place. It's quite sweet to be here before everything wakes up; yes, even New York City sleeps, especially down here in Tribeca.

a new york weekend

After work on Thursday I drove straight downtown. Anna had arranged a small gathering of running buddies for Sara's birthday (the big three-oh, as they say) at Henry's. Argh, the Brewery Blocks in Portland-- it's the Pearl reaching out to tentatively touch downtown. After walking through the main part of the restaurant and working through the tanned-body business-casual crowd of the bar, I went outside to call everyone I knew who might be there, to tell me where they were sitting. I went in to ask the hosts if they had reservations for Sara or Anna, and ended up accidentally finding the group when I went to try the back entrance to the bar. It was a very pleasant get-together seeing some people I haven't talked to in quite a while.

We broke early, and I still had time to clean, take out trash, plant the last of the seedlings I started in my basement, and water the yard. I did laundry, finally packed, and Julie took us to the airport.

I could give the transcript list of what we did in New York, here, but other people's lists are never as fascinating as one's own. I will say that we landed at JFK at 8:30am and took a cab in to Tribeca. Instead of taking a nap at my cousin Kelley's house after the sleepless flight, we showered and headed right out. We zigzagged everywhere below 34th Street, and didn't return til our dinner appointment.

As with Vancouver BC two weeks ago, we went to walk around. New York is a feeling that you breathe through your skin as you try to visually take in everything around you. Possibility everywhere in the sticky air made thicker with all of those people wearing articles of clothing whose origins you can't fathom, tiny apartments with lacquered-over hardwood details hidden above crumbling storefronts, bricks in tall buildings that may not exist because no one notices them.

Walking around New York is also vastly different depending on whether you're on a street or an avenue. Avenues are what you see in all of the photos and tourist brochures. They're wider than dreams and lined with big stores. They're like miles of red carpet, rolled out to lead to those famous skyscrapers. Streets are New York's secret. They're quiet and residential, charming in their quirky stoops and shop fronts. The air is lived-in. You can feel at home, walking a long crosstown block.

I think it was Saturday night when Erik and I were strolling one such street, maybe walking the dog (Julie's cousin Kim's, Berlin), and the wind picked up the scent of rain just hinting at breaking the edge off the humidity. The back of my mouth had a sudden tang, and I knew that my eyes were about to tear up. It was the breeze of my youth, early summers in Maryland. At that moment, I wanted to move back to New York, and in my desire I believed that I could make it work this time for Erik.

It was a beautiful moment, and then it was gone. We had a great time, too little of it spent with loved ones, and then a consumerism overload panic hit us early Sunday. Mine hit in the subterranean H&M on Broadway-- the low-- and resounded in the multi-story, glittering, white glassy vastness of a brand new Japanese tshirt chain store-- the high. After that we wandered, listless, and waited to leave. Returning to the quiet green backwaters of Portland never sounded so good.