A Taste of New York City: The Elizabeth Baugh and Rachel Dozier Edition

Alright, let’s go with the first line from the U2 song: “In New York, freedom looks like too many choices,” and when it comes to food in the Big Apple, that’s definitely the case.  Luckily, Megan and I had help navigating through the many restaurant choices.  Elizabeth and Rachel (Megan’s friends) have lived in the city for about three months now, and during our adventure to NYC, our incredible hosts offered to take us around to all of their favorite places.  We had the New York City staples: bagels, pizza, and hot dogs…plus many calories more.  I have pictures of some of the meals, but not all. Sorry, guys!  Consider it a favor........you'll want it all. 

Day 1

Breakfast: A freshly baked cinnamon raisin bagel toasted and topped with a mound of delicious cream cheese from Bagels.  Yes, Bagels.  Because the waiting area in the bagel place is about the same width of a bathroom stall, we took our bagels to the eighth floor of the Marriot to sit in some comfy chairs next to a futuristic elevator, quite reminiscent of Charlie’s glass elevator.

Lunch: A juicy cheeseburger topped with special Shake Shack sauce, lettuce, tomato, mayo and served with crunchy golden brown fries.  This place is so popular that you literally have to elbow your way into a seat.  If you go to JMU, think D-Hall on Grilled Cheese Thursdays. 

Snack: At Serendipity 3, an oversized goblet filled with peanut butter frozen hot chocolate with a heaping spoonful of homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top.  During our hour-and-a-half wait to get in, we explored a street-side bookshop and Central Park.

Dinner: After seeing Nick Jonas, we enjoyed yummy appetizers and a fair share of Blue Moon at Southern Hospitality, Justin Timberlake’s Restaurant.  Megan and I split tender chicken fingers with a delectable honey mustard and a pulled pork quesadilla topped with jalapenos, tangy sour cream, and homemade guacamole.

Day 2 

Breakfast: Sliced apple dipped in peanut butter from Elizabeth and Rachel’s kitchen.

Lunch: A fluffy omelet stuffed with grilled shrimp, tomatoes, and feta served on top of bacon and topped with a spicy tomato salsa accompanied by a crisp spring mix and spinach salad tossed in a slightly-sweet vinaigrette…served with endless mimosas at a trendy brunch bar called Bondi Road in the Lower Eastside, my favorite locale in the city. <3

Dinner: Cheesy New York Style Pizza loaded with pepperoni on a soft and delicious crust from Brooklyn Pizzeria.  Luckily, the man with the tattoo on his face quit following us when we reached the restaurant.

Day 3

Breakfast: A Dunkin' Donuts donut topped with vanilla icing and rainbow jimmies, which we picked up the previous day on our way to the corner of Gramercy and Irving, the location of my dad’s former apartment building.

Lunch: Delicious Thai from Spice, a NYC Thai chain: Ginger pineapple chicken in a light brown sauce accompanied by the freshest red peppers, green peppers, and mushrooms with a side of rice and a Thai Iced Tea.

Dinner: The Recession Special at Gray’s Papaya: for $4.95 two hot dogs topped with spicy brown mustard and orange drink.  I don't have a picture of my hot dogs, but here's a picture from the restaurant.  Talk about colorful.

A Travel Writing Experiment

Thanks to our awesome tour guides, I have plenty of New York City stories to tell.  Wanted to take a little break, though, to try something out.  I recently found out that next semester I will be teaching an introductory writing course at JMU, and I have decided to teach it through a travel writing lens.  My dad and I have often discussed how inspirational music can be on the road.  And I'm toying with somehow incorporating music into my writing classroom, but I still need to figure out if and how this might benefit my future students.  With that being said, I wanted to try out a little travel writing experiment.

Wikipedia has a list of hundreds of songs about NYC.  I'm going to choose a random song from the list.  I pick the letter "N", and according to this website that I found, 36% of the population in NYC was born outside of the United States.  So, I'm going to choose the 36th song that starts with "N."  And if I can get my loser boyfriend to stop attacking my keyboard, I will post the lyrics tonight and somehow relate the song to my trip tomorrow.  Getting lost in the DC ghetto last night wore me out and so did waitressing.

Here goes nothing.................

"New York" by U2

In New York freedom looks like too many choices
In New York I found a friend to drown out the other voices
Voices on the cell phone
Voices from home
Voices of the hard sell
Voices down the stairwell
In New York, just got a place in New York

In New York summers get hot well into the hundreds
You can walk around the block without a change of clothing
Hot as a hair dryer in your face
Hot as handbag and a can of mace
New York, I just got a place in New York
New York, New York

In New York you can forget, forget how to sit still
Tell yourself you will stay in
But it's down to Alphaville

New York, New York, New York
New York, New York, New York

The Irish have been coming here for years
Feel like they own the place
They got the airport, city hall, concrete, asphalt, they even got the police
Irish, Italians, Jews and Hispanics
Religious nuts, political fanatics in the stew
Living happily not like me and you
That's where I lost you...New York

New York, New York
New York, New York

In New York I lost it all to you and your vices
Still I'm staying on to figure out my mid life crisis
I hit an iceberg in my life
But you know I'm still afloat
You lose your balance, lose your wife
In the queue for the lifeboat

You got to put the women and children first
But you've got an unquenchable thirst for New York

New York, New York
New York, New York

In the stillness of the evening
When the sun has had its day
I heard your voice a-whispering
Come away child

New York, New York

Courtesy of Buzzed Photography

After indulging in endless mimosas and a shrimp, tomato, and feta omelette, Elizabeth navigated us to the apartment complex where my dad lived after 9/11. As we walked through the streets of the Lower Eastside, the five of us sang songs. And it made lots of people smile, mostly men. Probably because of my buzz, I contemplated doing a cartwheel at one of the many crosswalks we walked, but I was afraid that I would split my skinny jeans, so decided against it. If only I was wearing yoga pants. I also contemplated stopping to get my tattoo but a) it would have taken hours to complete and b) I'm going swimming at the end of March.

My buzz inspired some classic photos, though. Don't worry, I'll put my portfolio together soon. I snapped pictures of American flags swaying in the wind, a dad at the park with his two boys, buildings, graffiti, business signs, and a man in a NY hat standing on the subway. Once I get home, I'll download some of them so you can see.

I also discretely took a picture of the homeless man that I gave money to. He was young, about my age, wearing a John Deere hat and a ratty old coat. He had a plastic cup with nothing but coins inside. Embraced in his arms was a black lab, gray hair peppering his snout. The dog was quiet, but his eyes were so expressive. Just like Rex's eyes. A cardboard sign in front of the pair read, "I've lost everything but my best friend."

Elizabeth and I have talked several times this trip about the homeless and their dogs. We have come to the general consensus that despite their circumstances, we're happy for the companionship a dog brings. It gives a man or woman someone to talk to, to live for, to provide for.  If Brad and I were ever to become homeless, I'd want Rex in our cardboard corner.  No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Megan, Elizabeth, Rachel, and Lawler, were several strides ahead of me when I reached into my purse to grab my wallet. I debated whether to put some money in the man's clear solo cup and eventually decided to go for it. I dropped a five on top of the small layer of change he had collected. And after I gave him some money, several others followed suit.

For the rest of the night, I missed Rex and Brad. I missed watching how the two of them often cuddled similarly to this man and his dog. As I thought about the warmth Rex provides me, I smiled. This man has it bad, but it could be worse. He could have lost his best friend when he lost everything else.

I wonder what the two of them were doing as I knocked back mimosa after mimosa at the trendy brunch bar earlier that day. Maybe they were sleeping in Central Park, maybe they were at a soup kitchen, maybe they were hiding from the cops, or maybe they were still sitting next to the mailbox and large pile of trash bags in front of the Pizza Hut Express that sits just a block away from the National Debt Clock. 17,515,789,486,297.

Bravo! This deserves a Standing-O.

I almost fell asleep on the way to the play. I could barely keep my eyes open on the subway. Apparently, I was dozing off a little bit, too. Needless to say, I needed to get a second wind and stat. Luckily, there was lots of yelling in the play. And that woke me up.

Philip Seymour Hoffman starred as Willie. Andrew Garfield starred as Biff. And we rushed the play and managed to get thirty dollar tickets. Yay to being under 30. Some people in the audience paid up to 130 dollars per ticket. I wonder what Woody Allen paid for his seat. We saw him in the audience in like the second row. Then again, maybe he didn't even have to pay at all. Tom Hanks doesn't get special treatment, though. Apparently, he showed up to last night's show three minutes late and wasn't allowed in. I probably would have peed my pants if I saw Tom Hanks, love me some Tom Hanks. Woody Allen is cool, too minus the whole marrying his stepdaughter thing. 

I must say Hoffman was an excellent Willie. Compelling, sad, a little pathetic. He performed the hallucination scenes very well. Garfield did well has Biff. His stature was a little small, which threw me off, but he played the character with such passion. For example during the intense anger-infused scenes, snot was coming out of his nose and spit was coming out of his mouth. Also, the elaborate yet simple set looked beautiful. They even projected leaves on the back curtain at certain points in the production. The other neat thing was the hidden elevator that took Happy and Biff to and from their bed during the flashback scenes.

The cast received a standing ovation when the curtain came up. Some dude behind me kept chanting bravo, bravo. The characters moved me to tears several times, but the clapping at the end moved me to tears as well. It was a superb first Broadway experience, slightly surreal.

And then we got some autographs in the freezing cold including Andrew Garfield's excluding Philip Seymour Hoffman's, and that was before seeing Nick Jonas on our way to Justin Timberlake's restaurant, Southern Hospitality.

Me Not Being Stupid

Cool sign, huh?

So...I'm a modern woman. I'm updating this blog on my iPhone. Thanks, Brad Roberts for bring me into the 21st century.

Megan and I made it into DC just fine. It was rainy and foggy, but good coffee, a great friend, and a kickass new school/old school playlist made the drive not bearable but fun. Think O-Town meets Phantom Planet meets Lady Gaga meets Little Big Town. Epic. Along our 2-hour drive, we witnessed the aftermath of three separate accidents. Three was a bit of a theme tonight. It took us three tries around the Massachusetts Avenue roundabout to find the parking garage, but neither of us freaked out. Maybe it's a female thing because at that point there's several certain someones that I know who would have been less than pleased-all of who are men. *cough...you know who you are...cough, cough.*

So, let's discuss the first character I encountered. Unfortunately, Megan missed it because she was standing guard with our stuff. Of course, I was off by myself. May have done that in the parking garage, too. But that's neither here nor there. So, anyways, this lady calls me over to her, 30-something with a low stubby ponytail. She's wearing a long black coat, and she is swimming in a sea of luggage in a dark corner near a neglected baggage claim.

Stranger: Are you spending the night here?
Me: No.
Stranger: Are you meeting a friend?
Me: No.
Stranger: Where are you going?
Me: NYC
Stranger: Is that going through Philly?
Me: I believe so, yes.
Stranger: I have a weird question for you.

[Note to self: Scowl more, smile less.]

Me: Silence.
Stranger: You see, I was supposed to check this bag, but now they won't let me. Would you carry it on the train with you and drop it off at the Philly station. You see, I'm disabled and can't carry it.

[It was a black duffel bag...big enough to fit a body chopped into a bunch of small pieces or a shitton of coke, and I don't mean the cola kind.]

Me: I'm sorry. I don't feel comfortable doing that. Maybe you should talk to the Amtrak Police.
Stranger: They said they can't help me.
Me: I'm sorry. I just don't feel comfortable carrying your luggage.
Stranger: Fine.

The only thing she was missing was candy, a van, and some chest hair.

Hopefully, she wasn't the second coming of Christ. With this cold, rainy weather, I might enjoy some warm weather. Haha. Get it?

Concrete Jungle

The last time I was in New York City, I rode in a van with some my basketball teammates to see the New York Liberty play at Madison Square Garden.  I don’t remember much from that night.  I do remember, though, after the game my hands were shaking because I was so excited to get the autographs of these athletic women that I admired so much at the time.  Needless to say, I no longer play basketball, but I will be forever grateful to Mrs. Shannon for allowing me to have such a neat experience.

I feel I should note that this trip was pre-9/11.  And even though I should, I don’t really consider the basketball game my first trip to NYC.  We drove to Madison Square Garden from the Poconos and immediately drove back after the game—no exploring the concrete jungle.  No pitstop for New York Style pizza, no subway.

But now, I’m heading back to the place where dreams are made of with my dear friend, Megan. 

We won’t be going to see the New York Liberty play (Megan would rather watch the Oscars); instead, play, like, the noun  is on our hitlist—Death of a Salesman with Philip Seymour Hoffman.  Also on the list: a piano bar, one of the dives from Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives, the Ground Zero memorial, and a Monday morning taping of The Today Show. 

Let’s hear it for New York and also Megan’s friends who are letting us stay with them in Brooklyn.  By the way, this is a picture at the stop where the J train and Z train meet.  Bet you can't guess who named himself after this place.  Elizabeth, who you will hear more about later, pointed out this pop culture fact during our short stay at the Marcy Avenue stop--Shawn Carter's old stomping grounds.  That's a hint......if you didn't guess correctly already.

I Know I Should Have Made a Left Turn at Albuquerque

A good friend brought this video to my attention a month or so before my train trip, and, on the train, many travelers alluded to Bugs Bunny's wrong turn as we neared Albuquerque, NM.  For those of you who have or haven't seen this clip, I just thought I would share.  It's pretty funny.

And This Bird You Cannot Change..

Currently in the planning stages of more trips!  Over Spring Break, Los Angeles and maybe Vegas with one of my girlfriends from Grad School.  And over the summer, Botswana, Mozambique, and hopefully Madagascar with one of my other girlfriends from Grad School.

All you need is love?  I disagree.  I need coffee and travel, too.

And Lord knows, I can't change.

Team Train or Team Plane?

Aristotle proposed the Theory of Non-contradiction.  If it’s A, it’s not B.  If it’s B, it’s not A.  It can’t be both A and B, or at least, that’s how I understand it.  In my Materiality of Language class this semester, we discussed that something can be both A and B, it just depends on the circumstances.  I wonder, though, if what Aristotle said holds true in the popular transportation debate.  I wonder if people either like to travel by train or travel by plane.  I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately...

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Here are some pros and cons of Trains v. Planes

Trains:

Pros – roomier, can walk around, access to lounge car, access to shower (though small, if you’re willing to pay), able to see more scenery, more relaxed, community aspect, less crowded, more space to store stuff, no baggage fees?, charging stations at your seat

Cons – takes a long time to get there, subject to frequent delays

Planes:

Pros – get there quickly, though delays are still a possibility, not as subject to delays on planes as on trains, can get you to places trains can’t (i.e. Hawaii and Switzerland)

Cons – tediousness of security (I forgot to take off my shoes ……needless to say, TSA did not like that), rushed, cramped, tense, crowded, less space to store stuff, baggage fees, individualistic, grumpy friggin’ people

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For the majority of my relationship with Brad, we had to do the long distance thing.  So, I found myself flying often.  Very often.  I wanted to see him as soon as possible, and I wanted to have as much time with him as possible.  So, my priorities were different.  I valued being at my destination rather than getting to my destination.  On the plane, train travel never came up in any conversations I had with people.  I rarely had conversations with people, though.  Sunglasses, hat, headphones, book.  Can’t get any clearer than that…

Train vs. Plane, however, is a frequent topic of conversation while traveling by train.  I’ve said it to people before, and I’ll say it again.  People who prefer the train seem to value getting to their destination in addition to being at their destination.  Where Team Plane folks just want to get there.  I was a Team Plane person for a while, but when traveling for pleasure I consider myself very Team Train.  So, yet again I can prove Aristotle wrong…….I’m both A and B.  I’m both Team Train and Team Plane; it just depends on the circumstances. 

I want to say this, too, though.  Train travelers seem to have a different culture than plane travelers.  Sweden even claimed in conversation that “Everyone is so adventurous” when referencing those who lean toward Team Train.  Just think about the topics of my posts.  Also, I am willing to suggest that there is a class difference between those who travel by train and those who travel by plane.  It seems as if the majority of train travelers prefer this mode of transportation because of the low cost.  Some, though, are just afraid of flying.  And others just don’t like the atmosphere of airports. 

I know I’m oversimplifying this, but it seemed as if the second I got to the airport my demeanor completely changed.  Maybe it’s because my iPod wasn’t charged.  Maybe it’s because my laptop wasn’t charged.  Maybe it’s because my Nook wasn’t charged.  Maybe it’s because I wasted two dollars on shitty headphones because I was a window seat, and my backpack was two rows ahead of me.  Maybe it’s because both my hat and sunglasses were in that backpack, as well.  Or maybe it’s because the woman sitting next to me looked at me like I was crazy when I told her that I had just taken the train to Los Angeles only to fly back the same day that I arrived.  Wait…maybe it’s because the overweight woman in front of me decided to lean back as far as possible in order to sleep, and the gentleman behind me wanted to rest his head on my chair.  Or maybe it all started when I left my debit card on Olvera Street.  Or maybe it’s just because I knew my adventure was almost over.  And when the cabin door closed I was still waiting to hear from my ride (more on that to come)…

I’m a glass half full girl, though.  I saw the Pacific Ocean and some really big something swimming toward the surface of the water.  There was no one in the middle seat, and we didn’t crash into a fiery ball of death.

Olvera Street

And yet again I return to Steinbeck's quote.  I couldn't control the blizzard the Southwest Chief hit in the southwest, and the three hour delay which was a consequence of said blizzard thwarted my plans to put my feet in the Pacific. While on the train in Cali, I found the need to improvise.  Following the suggestion of several other travelers, I decided to hit up Olvera Street. 

I did not write the following information.  It's copied and pasted from http://www.olvera-street.com/html/olvera_street.html.  The site gives a nice, though at times syntactically awkward, summary of what one will find when visiting Olvera Street.  I have supplemented the site's info with a bit of my own commentary.

Olvera Street is the birthplace of the City of Los Angeles, otherwise known as El Pueblo Historic Monument.  The colorful village features 27 historic buildings with a traditional Mexican style plaza area. Wander around the marketplace and shop for souvenirs including handcrafted Mexican wares typical of old Mexico. There are also free docent tours by Las Angelitas.
Stroll through this beautiful street and stop for the popular taquitos or tacos at the outdoor cafes. Olvera Street also offers a variety of traditional authentic Mexican cuisine, with delicious enchiladas, mole and other native dishes.  

For lunch, I ate at El Paseo Inn. Thanks to the gorgeous weather, I was able to dine on the outside patio...in a t-shirt.  When the waiter came up for my order, I asked him his favorite thing on the menu.  He said the sopes with beef.  So, that's what I ordered which gave him a chuckle.  I also ordered a margarita before 2PM on a Tuesday.  I was on vacation, after all. 

On weekends you can enjoy outdoor entertainment by strolling bollero musicians, Mariachis music and performances by Aztec Indians and folkloric dancing.   

While on Olvera Street, I enjoyed the music of a couple of mariachi bands, even have video of one of them!  Just you wait.

The original pueblo was built by the 44 settlers of Los Angeles in 1781.  (For more information please visit History, Fiestas to find out about our event schedule). Today Olvera Street is one of the most famous tourist attractions in the City of Angels, located right across the street from Union Station, La Placita Church and one block from Chinatown. 

Olvera Street was a great impromptu adventure!  I bought a ton of earrings and postcards, drank a margarita in an authentic Mexican restaurant, and saw the most beautiful church.......that's not a very valid statement, FYI.  I've only been inside like four churches in my lifetime.  It was gorgeous, though.  Honest. 

Before I wrap this post up, I want to give a quick shout out to Los Angeles who escorted me to Olvera Street.  Also, when I had questions about what signs said or the jewelry that I was looking at, he acted as my translator.  Gracias, LA, for helping this gringa navigate the language barrier.  I now realize I really need/want to learn Spanish.

P.S. Please enjoy the music while your party (i.e. me) writes her next post.