My flight from JFK to Heathrow left at 9:30pm Tuesday evening, arriving at 9:30am on Wednesday morning. Only six hours duration, I lost another six hours to the time difference. The result of all this is that my Tuesday/Wednesday was a combined 36 hour day, and I arrived in London feeling exhausted.
I lined up at the EU passport holders queue, and was processed fairly quickly with no more than a cursory inspection my passport. My Greek issued passport was not correctly read by the machine, and the officer said this is common with Greek passports. Denise said the same regarding her passport. I'm not sure if I should expect anything else.
I fussed around Heathrow for a half-hour, with various interdependent dilemmas. I didn't have Denise's mobile phone number, my mobile wouldn't ring long-distance to Japan to ask Paul Jones, I couldn't get my credit card to work in a pay phone, the ATMs are hidden from view, and internet cafes are non-existent. I then remembered that Raymond had given me two £50 pound notes for my birthday, which I could use to purchase a train ticket... Of course, the machine would only accept £10 and £20 denominations, and of course my credit card wouldn't work here, either. But thankfully I found a desk, actually manned with people, who were able to get my credit card to work. It cost £16 for the trip. Not cheap once converted, but quite reasonable pound-for-dollar.
I took the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station, with the journey lasting only fifteen minutes. Once at Paddington I had to find my way to Embankment station where I could meet up with Denise. I purchased an Oyster card, which is London Transport's really cool ticketing device. It cost £21 for 7 days unlimited use. Can you see the pattern emerging regarding transportation costs?
The 7 July bombing attacks have rendered inoperative some sections of some underground lines. The Circle line, which circles central London, isn't available from Paddington. So I had to take tubes to get to Embankment, for what might otherwise have been a simpler trip. Of course, that meant lugging two bags up and down stairs because there are no elevators at the stations I visited.
I love the feeling that tells me I have arrived at a destination, like emerging from Circular Quay train station in Sydney. With the bridge and the Opera House in view, I really feel that I am in Sydney. Flying into Heathrow the ground looked very English, with rolling farmlands etc. But it was only when I emerged from Embankment tube station, onto to a busy road with buzzing black cabs and red buses, that I knew I was in England! And what a glorious day to arrive. The weather was warm, and few clouds to stop the sunshine. Apparently, it's been like this for some weeks now.
After a quick coffee, and hello catch-up with Denise, I took a black cab to her and Anthony's flat in Brixton. It wasn't a long trip, but I got to survey some really different landscapes along the way. After dropping off my bags, I found a really good value cafe nearby, then headed home for a nap. The kind of overtired nap where I passed out, and woke up totally disorientated and totally unsure of where I was. Nice.
That evening, Denise and Anthony shouted me dinner at a nearby pub. The restaurant is very much in the style of the refurbished restaurant pubs that have popped up everywhere in Australia. I had a delicious Atlantic Salmon steak that I thought to be particularly good value at only £11.
I've mentioned prices a few time in this point. Which brings me to the issue of cost of living, because everyone I've spoken to says how expensive the UK (and London particularly) can be. I've only been here a day, and will no doubt revisit this subject, but it seems to me that there are two systems determining price differences between Australia and the UK. Some things, like food items from grocery stores, are approximately the same price once the cost is converted. For example, a smallish jar of good quality jam was around 90p, and similar to what I'd expect for the converted $2.35. But other things, like transportation or eating out, is priced pound for dollar. Hence what I was saying earlier about the fare from Heathrow to the city being what I'd expect pound-for-dollar. I'm beginning to wonder if service-oriented stuff is more in line with pound-for-dollar model. At least the taxes are usually included in pricing here. That kept throwing me off in North America when I'd have to remember to add 15% sales tax. And of course, the tipping model is closer to what we have at home. Yay about that!
I felt a little homesick overnight, and missed Paul terribly. I've noticed that this feeling comes in waves, and I am sure being jet-lagged doesn't help. So insomnia set in and it was hours before I nodded off. When I woke up this morning I thought it was 6am. Which it was, in New York... as it was actually 10AM here in London! (I'm sure I'll adjust the next few days.) But the good thing is that was able to get on to MSN Messenger and chat to Paul and Katherine, helping to allay the feeling the night before.
It wasn't until 1pm that I was ready to go out. I planned to go into town and just generally check things out. Anthony had shown me how to get to Stockwell and Oval stations the night before. Both are on the same line, but Oval is closer, so I headed there. It took me ages to realise that the sirens and slowing traffic meant something was going on. When I got to Oval I discovered that the whole area had been cordoned off not long before. There were lots of rubberneckers, whom I asked about what was going on. I found out that there was an explosion in the very tube station I was going to. The whole underground system was shut down, and there were reported explosions elsewhere too. Really freaky. What are the chances of going to one of the four tube stations (when there are so many), on the very day when something happens? Thankfully the incident seems to have backfired on the terrorists. Early reports suggest that the explosions only involved detonators, and only one person was injured.
I hung around for about a half hour waiting to see if the matter would resolve itself. In fact the opposite happened. The police decided to increase the cordoned area and I soon found myself crossing newly marked boundaries to get to the correct side. Denise and Anthony's flat is probably 600 metres from Oval station, and I'd estimate the cordoned to have been increased from 25 to 300 metres. The surrounding area was a sea of people, as the police ordered passengers off buses etc etc. I was very very impressed with how the police handled the incident. There were so many police. Perhaps 50 just hanging around the station, and that's not counting the many more I saw in neighbouring streets. At all times the police were polite, and no-one was panicking... just annoyed. One old guy, who I briefly chatted to, was mostly miffed that he wouldn't be able to get his pint this afternoon.
Unable to go anywhere this afternoon, I wandered around Brixton taking the odd photograph, and also did some grocery shopping. Brixton has a reputation for being a ghetto, but I really don't feel it. Nor do I feel unsafe. It's a lot like Surry Hills, or the terraced parts of Kings Cross.
When I got home I fired up the computer to check the latest on the bombings. It was really interesting comparing BBC's coverage to NineMSN. I read the BBC articles first, which described the events as disruptive, but fairly low-key. The Australian news source has blown everything out of proportion, and mentions John Howard's lunch meeting with Tony Blair in every article, as if John Howard is a key figure in this issue. I didn't even know Howard was in the country from the BBC articles. So I re-read them, and sure enough there was one small reference in one article. No doubt the other Australian news sources will have a field day.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Let The River Run
OK. The subject of this post has little relevance to the content, but Geoffrey will love it. I caught up with Geoffrey's brother, Richard, on Friday night. He's bought a cute little apartment on W21st St, and is doing very well for himself in the publishing field.
Before I get into my list of things I've done and seen, there are a couple of omissions from past posts worth mentioning. Sometime last week I visited the Museum of Sex, and (separately) the Museum of Film and Television. The MoS was small, but very cool. Nowhere near as smutty as the name suggests, the museum presented a history of sexually explicit (or not so explicit for that matter) material in popular culture. On the occasion I visited there was a temporary exhibition entitled "Beefcake", exploring the material that was huge in the days before hard-core pornography existed. Think Steve Reeves.
The Museum of Film and Television is not a museum in the traditional sense, in that there are no galleries. Instead, there are five or six screening rooms, and an schedule of programs that are screened, changing from day to day. Admission entitles one to wander from room to room watching whatever is being screened at the time. I saw the pilot episode of Seinfeld, and two excellent museum-produced documentaries. The first was a compendium of famous Superbowl commercials, like the Orwellian 1984 ad directed by Ridley Scott which screened once to herald the introduction of Apple's Macintosh. The other documentary was a collection of short snippets of Peter Sellers' TV appearances. It started with the Goons, but later included telemovies, his hilarious appearance on The Muppets, with various interviews and commercials in between. Great stuff. This is the type of museum that would make living in New York such a dynamic experience.
On Saturday I went to the Museum of Modern Art, which was unbelievably good. I don't think I have seen so many famous paintings in one permanent collection. I saw Edward Hopper's House by the Railroad, which some people believe may have influenced the design of the Bates family home from Psycho. Other highlights were Rousseau's The Dream, Magritte's The False Mirror, Lichtenstein's Girl With Ball, and Wyeth's Christina's World. The last painting looked familiar although I can't recall seeing it before. I did overhear several people commenting on how famous it is.
In the afternoon I wandered around Greenwich Village, eating at the famous Cafe Reggio (featured in Carlito's Way and In Good Company), before visiting Washington Square park, and wandering through the neighbourhood's shops. Later that night I headed out to Splash bar/nightclub. Despite it's popularity, I wasn't that impressed frankly. It's definitely New York's Wickham Hotel, which would be fine with a large group of people. Not satisfied with the music, I went to the Roxy, which I visited the weekend before, and which I've discovered can be relied upon to deliver the goods.
Sunday was always planned as a slow day. I went to the matinee performance of Doubt, the new Broadway play that is receiving rave reviews, awards, and accolades. The play Doubt recieved the 2005 Tony Award for Best Play as well as the 2005 Pulitzer Prize, the Obie, Drama Desk, Lucille Lortel, New York Drama Critics Circle, and Outer Critics Circle Awards. The actors have also been similarly awarded for their performances. It is unbelievably difficult to get tickets to this show. No half-price tickets, and if you want more than one ticket, with a good view, forget about it. Set in a Brooklyn Catholic school in the 1960s, the story concerns the school headmistresses investigations into whether one of her male teachers, a priest, may or may not have interfered with a student. At only ninety minutes, with no intermission, Doubt is the shortest Broadway production I have seen during my visit to NYC. But the performances were quite superb. The morally complex story is packed with tension. The suspense builds and builds, before the actors really let loose in several chilling confrontations.
On my last two days in New York, I visited two of the biggest attractions the city has to offer. On Monday I went to the American Museum of Natural History. This place was amazing. They had literally everything you could possibly expect to see in a museum. From (real) dinosaur skeletons to the Star of India emerald to a gigantic 34 ton meteorite (that is supported by steel columns drilled directly into the bedrock beneath the museum's structure). I left the museum with an Ikea-ache... the sort of headache I get from visual overload whenever I visit the Swedish superstore.
On Tuesday I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was chatting to some departing guests at my hotel the day I arrived, and they told me you could spend two days in the Met and not see everything. And never has a truer word been spoken. Like an art-world cousin to the AMNH, the Met is a horde of national treasures all in the one building. Flanking both sides of the main entrance are two wings respectively dedicated to Greek & Roman and Egyptian art.
I started with the Greek & Roman Art wing, where the collection rivals the stuff that I saw in Greek museums. Statue after statue. Did you know that Ancient Greeks used burial tombs, kind of like the sarcophagus used by the Egyptians? I didn't, but they're there! There are other wings - not just rooms or halls, but wings - dedicated to Assyrian Art, Pacific Art, African Art, European Art.... the list goes on. Mum would be very impressed that there was even a section exclusively holding Cypriot Art.
Of course, the Met is also home to some exceptionally important paintings. When I had dinner with Dan the night before, he tipped me off regarding the Met's impressionists collection. While MoMA has more pieces that I recognise from popular culture, relative to the size of collection on display, the Met is just overflowing with the volume of work on display. If I recall correctly there was one room filled with Van Gogh, and another just holding Picassos... and mostly big works too. The Modern Art section was definitely my favourite. I wandered through the extensive European and American wings, and while impressed with the volume of works on display, I'm not as familiar with the artists of the period. Mum and Dad, you'd love the rooms dedicated to iconography art. Carmel and Veronica, there is more than one wing filled with antique furniture.
Back across the other side of main entrance is the Egyptian wing, which I visited last, and where I found sarcophagi after sarcophagi, arranged in such a way you could be fooled into thinking they're for sale at Sarcophagi 'R' Us. Then there are the tombs that have been tombs reconstructed within the museum, and which you can walk through. I passed room after room of various artifacts, more sarcophagi, death masks, staffs, and ancient Egyptian bric-a-brac, before arriving at the Temple of Dendur. This is a whole temple - two buildings to be precise - that stand in their own huge hall complete with fountains, water course, and reeds. Oh yeah, there are a bunch of other statues in the room which are probably priceless and worthy of consideration just on their own.
So I left the Met with another Ikea-ache, but somewhat satisfied that I had managed to cram in quick glances and a walk through of one of the most significant museum collections anywhere. I almost forgot to mention my visit to the rooftop sculpture garden. As the Met is located within the rectangle of Central Park, the garden had unbelievable views of Manhattan's skyline rising from jungle of the park. There are so many published photos and films that depict this view, but it was still very impressive in real life... even if was more than 32 degrees with a humidity approaching saturation point.
And that brings me to the end of my trip to New York City. All my life I have wanted to visit. And after two weeks I felt I had seen a lot of the sites that always held an interest, but done so at a pace that was agreeable to me. The city is dynamic and welcoming, and I felt that by mastering the subway my stay was that bit closer to living like a New Yorker.
I've praised the subway before, but I don't think I mentioned the heat down there. If it is 32 degrees on the street, it could easily be close to 40 just a few metres below. One of the things that makes New York look like the New York of popular culture, is the steam that constantly rises from sewer grates, manhole covers, and the train ventilation shafts (like that which Marilyn Monroe stands above in The Seven Year Itch). In the case of the latter, the 40 degree heat below the surface can easily explain the rising steam. But I still don't know why the sewers and manhole covers can let out steam. I'm sure there is a perfectly simple reason, but from a visitor's perspective it looks like the city is a living breathing thing. A huge machine below the surface that is fed by the city's momentum, and in turn keeps the city alive, much like Fritz Lang's vision of Metropolis eighty years ago.
And so it was fitting that I made my way to JFK International Airport via the subway. The airport itself is huge, but different to others I have been through in that it is a series of smaller buildings that serve only a few airlines each. It was cool seeing the old Pan Am (now Delta) and TWA (now disused) terminals, having read about the rivalry between the two companies during those early golden years. Scorsese's Howard Hughes bio-pic The Aviator touches on this. I find it quite ironic that both companies no longer exist, as gigantic as they once were.
Before I get into my list of things I've done and seen, there are a couple of omissions from past posts worth mentioning. Sometime last week I visited the Museum of Sex, and (separately) the Museum of Film and Television. The MoS was small, but very cool. Nowhere near as smutty as the name suggests, the museum presented a history of sexually explicit (or not so explicit for that matter) material in popular culture. On the occasion I visited there was a temporary exhibition entitled "Beefcake", exploring the material that was huge in the days before hard-core pornography existed. Think Steve Reeves.
The Museum of Film and Television is not a museum in the traditional sense, in that there are no galleries. Instead, there are five or six screening rooms, and an schedule of programs that are screened, changing from day to day. Admission entitles one to wander from room to room watching whatever is being screened at the time. I saw the pilot episode of Seinfeld, and two excellent museum-produced documentaries. The first was a compendium of famous Superbowl commercials, like the Orwellian 1984 ad directed by Ridley Scott which screened once to herald the introduction of Apple's Macintosh. The other documentary was a collection of short snippets of Peter Sellers' TV appearances. It started with the Goons, but later included telemovies, his hilarious appearance on The Muppets, with various interviews and commercials in between. Great stuff. This is the type of museum that would make living in New York such a dynamic experience.
On Saturday I went to the Museum of Modern Art, which was unbelievably good. I don't think I have seen so many famous paintings in one permanent collection. I saw Edward Hopper's House by the Railroad, which some people believe may have influenced the design of the Bates family home from Psycho. Other highlights were Rousseau's The Dream, Magritte's The False Mirror, Lichtenstein's Girl With Ball, and Wyeth's Christina's World. The last painting looked familiar although I can't recall seeing it before. I did overhear several people commenting on how famous it is.
In the afternoon I wandered around Greenwich Village, eating at the famous Cafe Reggio (featured in Carlito's Way and In Good Company), before visiting Washington Square park, and wandering through the neighbourhood's shops. Later that night I headed out to Splash bar/nightclub. Despite it's popularity, I wasn't that impressed frankly. It's definitely New York's Wickham Hotel, which would be fine with a large group of people. Not satisfied with the music, I went to the Roxy, which I visited the weekend before, and which I've discovered can be relied upon to deliver the goods.
Sunday was always planned as a slow day. I went to the matinee performance of Doubt, the new Broadway play that is receiving rave reviews, awards, and accolades. The play Doubt recieved the 2005 Tony Award for Best Play as well as the 2005 Pulitzer Prize, the Obie, Drama Desk, Lucille Lortel, New York Drama Critics Circle, and Outer Critics Circle Awards. The actors have also been similarly awarded for their performances. It is unbelievably difficult to get tickets to this show. No half-price tickets, and if you want more than one ticket, with a good view, forget about it. Set in a Brooklyn Catholic school in the 1960s, the story concerns the school headmistresses investigations into whether one of her male teachers, a priest, may or may not have interfered with a student. At only ninety minutes, with no intermission, Doubt is the shortest Broadway production I have seen during my visit to NYC. But the performances were quite superb. The morally complex story is packed with tension. The suspense builds and builds, before the actors really let loose in several chilling confrontations.
On my last two days in New York, I visited two of the biggest attractions the city has to offer. On Monday I went to the American Museum of Natural History. This place was amazing. They had literally everything you could possibly expect to see in a museum. From (real) dinosaur skeletons to the Star of India emerald to a gigantic 34 ton meteorite (that is supported by steel columns drilled directly into the bedrock beneath the museum's structure). I left the museum with an Ikea-ache... the sort of headache I get from visual overload whenever I visit the Swedish superstore.
On Tuesday I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was chatting to some departing guests at my hotel the day I arrived, and they told me you could spend two days in the Met and not see everything. And never has a truer word been spoken. Like an art-world cousin to the AMNH, the Met is a horde of national treasures all in the one building. Flanking both sides of the main entrance are two wings respectively dedicated to Greek & Roman and Egyptian art.
I started with the Greek & Roman Art wing, where the collection rivals the stuff that I saw in Greek museums. Statue after statue. Did you know that Ancient Greeks used burial tombs, kind of like the sarcophagus used by the Egyptians? I didn't, but they're there! There are other wings - not just rooms or halls, but wings - dedicated to Assyrian Art, Pacific Art, African Art, European Art.... the list goes on. Mum would be very impressed that there was even a section exclusively holding Cypriot Art.
Of course, the Met is also home to some exceptionally important paintings. When I had dinner with Dan the night before, he tipped me off regarding the Met's impressionists collection. While MoMA has more pieces that I recognise from popular culture, relative to the size of collection on display, the Met is just overflowing with the volume of work on display. If I recall correctly there was one room filled with Van Gogh, and another just holding Picassos... and mostly big works too. The Modern Art section was definitely my favourite. I wandered through the extensive European and American wings, and while impressed with the volume of works on display, I'm not as familiar with the artists of the period. Mum and Dad, you'd love the rooms dedicated to iconography art. Carmel and Veronica, there is more than one wing filled with antique furniture.
Back across the other side of main entrance is the Egyptian wing, which I visited last, and where I found sarcophagi after sarcophagi, arranged in such a way you could be fooled into thinking they're for sale at Sarcophagi 'R' Us. Then there are the tombs that have been tombs reconstructed within the museum, and which you can walk through. I passed room after room of various artifacts, more sarcophagi, death masks, staffs, and ancient Egyptian bric-a-brac, before arriving at the Temple of Dendur. This is a whole temple - two buildings to be precise - that stand in their own huge hall complete with fountains, water course, and reeds. Oh yeah, there are a bunch of other statues in the room which are probably priceless and worthy of consideration just on their own.
So I left the Met with another Ikea-ache, but somewhat satisfied that I had managed to cram in quick glances and a walk through of one of the most significant museum collections anywhere. I almost forgot to mention my visit to the rooftop sculpture garden. As the Met is located within the rectangle of Central Park, the garden had unbelievable views of Manhattan's skyline rising from jungle of the park. There are so many published photos and films that depict this view, but it was still very impressive in real life... even if was more than 32 degrees with a humidity approaching saturation point.
And that brings me to the end of my trip to New York City. All my life I have wanted to visit. And after two weeks I felt I had seen a lot of the sites that always held an interest, but done so at a pace that was agreeable to me. The city is dynamic and welcoming, and I felt that by mastering the subway my stay was that bit closer to living like a New Yorker.
I've praised the subway before, but I don't think I mentioned the heat down there. If it is 32 degrees on the street, it could easily be close to 40 just a few metres below. One of the things that makes New York look like the New York of popular culture, is the steam that constantly rises from sewer grates, manhole covers, and the train ventilation shafts (like that which Marilyn Monroe stands above in The Seven Year Itch). In the case of the latter, the 40 degree heat below the surface can easily explain the rising steam. But I still don't know why the sewers and manhole covers can let out steam. I'm sure there is a perfectly simple reason, but from a visitor's perspective it looks like the city is a living breathing thing. A huge machine below the surface that is fed by the city's momentum, and in turn keeps the city alive, much like Fritz Lang's vision of Metropolis eighty years ago.
And so it was fitting that I made my way to JFK International Airport via the subway. The airport itself is huge, but different to others I have been through in that it is a series of smaller buildings that serve only a few airlines each. It was cool seeing the old Pan Am (now Delta) and TWA (now disused) terminals, having read about the rivalry between the two companies during those early golden years. Scorsese's Howard Hughes bio-pic The Aviator touches on this. I find it quite ironic that both companies no longer exist, as gigantic as they once were.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Liberty Enlightening The World
I haven't been sleeping the best the last few nights, so when I woke up this morning at 5AM, I figured I stood a good chance to get a time pass to visit the Statue of Liberty. The statue was closed to the public on September 11, and remained off limits until its partial reopening last year. Anyone can buy a ferry ticket and visit Liberty Island to walk the grounds, but only a limited number of time passes are provided each day, allowing visitors to enter the statue. I arrived at 8AM, didn't have to queue, and within 35 minutes I was on the island.
Security is very tight. All visitors have to go through an airport style x-ray and metal detector before boarding the ferry. Then once on the island, visitors with a time pass have to pass a second set of tests. In addition to the standard x-ray and metal detectors, there is this really cool machine which blows air on you, then sniffs you for explosives. I have seen this once before, in Toronto at the CN Tower (where the machines look like an inverted dalek). The security at the Empire State Building wasn't as good, although there were many, many more security guards everywhere. When I visited the ESB, and passed through the metal detectors, I completely forgot about the mobile phone that sits in the special mobile phone pocket near the bottom hem of my shorts. The scary thing is that it didn't set off the metal detectors.
Since the bombings in London last week there is definitely a bigger police presence on the subways and at tourist sites. At Penn Station last week I passed an army guy in fatigues carrying a semi-automatic weapon (or was it fully automatic - I really can't tell). It is totally beyond me how a show like that is supposed to make me feel more safe. Why wouldn't ordinary revolvers suffice? Dan was telling me the other night that when he went to work on September 12 2001, there were only two other people on his peak hour subway train. A woman, also on her way to work, and an army dude with an automatic rifle.
But back to the statue. I am glad I did get to go inside. That's where the museum is located, and it was filled with fantastic photos and information detailing the history and construction of the monument. I also got to see up close the original torch, which was replaced with a brand new 24K gold gilded torch when the statue was renovated in 1986 for its centennial. The only part of the statue that was not reopened to pre-S11 access is the crown. It used to be the case that visitors could walk up dozens and dozens of stairs in a spiral staircase to access the "observatory" in the crown. The statue was never intended to be an observatory, and in fact there weren't even stairs inside the tower for the first two years of its life. The National Parks Service is firmly refusing to reopen the crown, saying that it prevents a safety risk more than a security risk (because the narrow spiral staircase is the only way up or down). But there is a movement in Washington afoot to introduce a bill to force the NPS to reopen the crown.
Anyhow, the highest I could go was to the base of the pedestal, just below Ms Liberty's feet. A glass roof has been installed at this point, so visitors can look up inside the structure. Did you know that the copper panelling is only 3/32" thick? The strength of the structure is provided by stainless steel (originally iron) latticework that resembles a bridge cantilever. The view from the pedestal level was fantastic, not just of the statue but of New York Harbour as well. Again, another good reason to try and get a time pass if you visit.
The ferry stops at Ellis Island before returning to Manhattan. I have been keen to visit the immigration processing centre for a long time. Yes, it is featured in many movies (eg The Godfather Part II), but that's not the reason in this case. In the first fifteen years of the 20th century, my great-grandfather regularly travelled to the USA for short work stints. I found out about all this when my grandfather died. My grandmother gave me her father-in-laws passport, with New York entry stamps. In the last few years, the Ellis Island records have been published on-line, and I was able to confirm my great-grandfathers visits. So it was kinda cool to visit the island for that reason.
The site was abandoned in the late 50s, and left to rot. At the same time as the Statue of Liberty received her makeover in the mid 80s, Ellis Island was restored to how it looked around 1920. The exhibits provide considerable detail about the island's history, covering the medical examinations, court procedures, living standards for detainees, and even provides samples of the clothing and belongings that some immigrants brought with them.
Definitely consider a trip to Liberty and Ellis islands.
Security is very tight. All visitors have to go through an airport style x-ray and metal detector before boarding the ferry. Then once on the island, visitors with a time pass have to pass a second set of tests. In addition to the standard x-ray and metal detectors, there is this really cool machine which blows air on you, then sniffs you for explosives. I have seen this once before, in Toronto at the CN Tower (where the machines look like an inverted dalek). The security at the Empire State Building wasn't as good, although there were many, many more security guards everywhere. When I visited the ESB, and passed through the metal detectors, I completely forgot about the mobile phone that sits in the special mobile phone pocket near the bottom hem of my shorts. The scary thing is that it didn't set off the metal detectors.
Since the bombings in London last week there is definitely a bigger police presence on the subways and at tourist sites. At Penn Station last week I passed an army guy in fatigues carrying a semi-automatic weapon (or was it fully automatic - I really can't tell). It is totally beyond me how a show like that is supposed to make me feel more safe. Why wouldn't ordinary revolvers suffice? Dan was telling me the other night that when he went to work on September 12 2001, there were only two other people on his peak hour subway train. A woman, also on her way to work, and an army dude with an automatic rifle.
But back to the statue. I am glad I did get to go inside. That's where the museum is located, and it was filled with fantastic photos and information detailing the history and construction of the monument. I also got to see up close the original torch, which was replaced with a brand new 24K gold gilded torch when the statue was renovated in 1986 for its centennial. The only part of the statue that was not reopened to pre-S11 access is the crown. It used to be the case that visitors could walk up dozens and dozens of stairs in a spiral staircase to access the "observatory" in the crown. The statue was never intended to be an observatory, and in fact there weren't even stairs inside the tower for the first two years of its life. The National Parks Service is firmly refusing to reopen the crown, saying that it prevents a safety risk more than a security risk (because the narrow spiral staircase is the only way up or down). But there is a movement in Washington afoot to introduce a bill to force the NPS to reopen the crown.
Anyhow, the highest I could go was to the base of the pedestal, just below Ms Liberty's feet. A glass roof has been installed at this point, so visitors can look up inside the structure. Did you know that the copper panelling is only 3/32" thick? The strength of the structure is provided by stainless steel (originally iron) latticework that resembles a bridge cantilever. The view from the pedestal level was fantastic, not just of the statue but of New York Harbour as well. Again, another good reason to try and get a time pass if you visit.
The ferry stops at Ellis Island before returning to Manhattan. I have been keen to visit the immigration processing centre for a long time. Yes, it is featured in many movies (eg The Godfather Part II), but that's not the reason in this case. In the first fifteen years of the 20th century, my great-grandfather regularly travelled to the USA for short work stints. I found out about all this when my grandfather died. My grandmother gave me her father-in-laws passport, with New York entry stamps. In the last few years, the Ellis Island records have been published on-line, and I was able to confirm my great-grandfathers visits. So it was kinda cool to visit the island for that reason.
The site was abandoned in the late 50s, and left to rot. At the same time as the Statue of Liberty received her makeover in the mid 80s, Ellis Island was restored to how it looked around 1920. The exhibits provide considerable detail about the island's history, covering the medical examinations, court procedures, living standards for detainees, and even provides samples of the clothing and belongings that some immigrants brought with them.
Definitely consider a trip to Liberty and Ellis islands.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
The Naked City
"There are eight million stories in the naked city." I haven't seen the 1948 film The Naked City, but I have heard that quote before... I was reminded of it when I visited an exhibition in Grand Central exploring representations of New York transportation in films. It covered everything from an early Edison film to Men In Black II. But I have often thought of that quote as I make my way around New York. I love the anonymity of travel, and especially in a large city where I pass thousands of people every day who I will never see again. It's kinda cool. The downside of course is that it does magnify any sense of isolation. This can be nice, nbut sometimes not so nice when I feel I'm lost in a sea of people who know the subway system much better than I. When arriving in New York I was a little scared of the people and the environment. After all, New York has such a bad reputation on both counts. But I have never felt unsafe, and on the most part I have found New Yorkers very easy to deal with. The one exception is when it comes to service from retail staff. Never before have I been in a city where the level of service is directly proportional to the amount of money that is transacted. I've had the very best of service, in even the simplest restaurants, and the very worst of service... usually at chain stores. I know I can't expect much when people are being paid an appalling minimum-wage to work the registers at McDonald's... but I would like them to actually speak in English, and not grunt at me. I've started to become a little more assertive with these people, saying things like "you will have to speak up", and "I can't understand what you are saying". But it's not gonna work. My friend Dan has since told me that New Yorkers like that will respect me if I treat them like assholes. I should try that out with the taxi drivers. Again, for the most part the taxi drivers are fine... but then I'll get these bastards who ignore everything I say after I request the destination. My efforts to make conversation are returned with total silence, as if I'm not there. It's so rude, and really disconcerting. But I wised up to their act real quick, and now when they do that I don't tip. Dan reckons that'll really piss them off. :-) And that brings me to the whole subject of tipping. While I'm now in my fourth week in North America, I accustomed myself to the whole tipping thing real quick with some helpful assistance from Brendan (who similarly was scared by it when arriving in Canada). What annoys me is that "in theory" the tipping system is supposed to encourage good service, but in reality it's customary. Expected. Required, in fact, because people in service jobs don't get paid a proper wage. So why not just increase every price by 15%, and allow people to tip when they truly want to reflect good service... just like back home. And God help you if you forget to tip, as I found out last weekend in New York when, a little worse for wear, I counted out exact dollar notes. The bartender bitched to her co-worker, loudly, before running to the other end of the bar to no doubt locate a scarlett letter to affix to my shirt. I fixed the problem up real quick, tipping extra just to be sure I hadn't forgotten something else, then left real quick, somewhat embarrassed. I have come to realise that the Australian tipping system is spot on. Anyhow, back to the boring list of things I have done. On my first Friday, I went out to the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. It's a great museum, documenting the history of the film, television, and computer game industries. There were lots of hands-on exhibits. I got to create a flip-book, a short stop-motion animation sequence, and could have revoiced Judy Garland from the Wizard of Oz, had I been so inclined. The museum has heaps of original equipment so, for example, I finally got to see what a Technicolor camera looks like in real life, and just how much bigger it was than cameras from the same period. Then there were the customary fandom exhibits, with costumes, wigs, merchandisining paraphenalia etc etc. Most of that was crap, but I loved the props section where I got to see a standing Yoda puppet from Empire Strikes Back, a Chewbacca head, and a section of the Tyrell skyscraper from Blade Runner. They also run a cinematheque at the museum. The night after I was there, Gus Van Sant was showing his new film Last Days to a preview audience (only $8 a ticket), and hanging around for Q&A. It's stuff like that that makes big-city museums so cool.
On Friday night I caught up with Geoffrey's brother Richard. He is in publishing, and presently finishing the first issue of a magazine for a client. It's all very fab and very New York. We went to some non-descript, and possibly unnamed gay bar in the Lower East Side, before heading on to a very famous gay bar called The Cock. This is the bar with a neon rooster in its window, and which makes Sydney's Beresford (before it closed that is - a sad, sad day) look glossy and polished in comparison. It was lucky we went there because the lease was up, and the bar was scheduled to close two nights later. Apparently Starbucks are moving in to the old location, and let me tell you, New York definitely needs another one.
Half of Saturday was spent trying to hide from sunlight. The great thing about daylight saving in North America is that I can sleep in until midday and still have 9-10 hours of sunlight to do stuff. I walked from my hotel on W22nd Street across to Broadway, then followed the Bowery down to the Williamsburg Bridge. I crossed the bridge, wandered around the riverfront in Brooklyn, then crossed the Brooklyn Bridge by foot again back to Manhattan. Now that probably doesn't mean much, and if so get a map, because it's a bloody long way. I think it took me six hours. Very cool though, as the view is amazing. The Brooklyn riverfront that I described is where so many movies are filmed. Just like the poster for Woody Allen's Manhattan, if you've seen a photograph with the Brooklyn Bridge in the foreground, and Manhattan in the background, it was probably taken from this park. Brisbane-folk can wander down to New York Slice in Brunswick Street to see exactly what I mean.
On Saturday night I headed out to two nightclubs. The first was called Spirit, which is basically the old Twilo club renamed and maybe somewhat renovated. On the night I was there Peter Rauhofer was playing, but it was still mostly pots and pans to me. I later found out that Spirit is an after-place... not an early-night place, so I headed to the Roxy. Looking somewhat like Matt Groening's representation of a gay nightclub, the Roxy is easily the RHI Pavillion at Mardi Gras... every Saturday night. Out of control, and lots of fun. I would have loved to stay, but I was out by myself, and boring myself to tears with all the same-old jokes.
Knowing that my Sunday might be a little slow, I had planned (on Saturday) to only have one goal for Sunday. Just one goal. To go to the Empire State Building. I got there in the mid-afternoon and if I didn't know better, I could be excused for thinking half of NY was there. To say that there are horrendous queues is a gross understatement. The building is huge, cavernous in fact. So when half a floor is allocated to queuing, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that there were 150 people queuing just to get a ticket. It was at this point that I decided to buy an Express Ticket which means I pay straight away, and bypass every queue to go straight to the top. Normal tickets cost USD$14, while express tickets cost $30. Of the difference in price, let me say that every penny was worth it. I bypassed that ticketing queue, then walked straight past the elevator queue (with about 300 people in it), then bypassed another queue on the 80th floor (with about 150 people in it). I was up the top taking photos within 8 minutes of arriving... it's no wonder everyone is so pushy and pissed off by the time they get to the top. The view from the top is quite fantastic. I must have spent an hour taking photographs, not just of the landscape but also zoomed-in details like rooftop gardens and building ornaments etc. From up high, it almost looks like another city.
On Monday I tried to visit the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, but decided against it when I got to the ticket window. Since reopening after S11, only a limited number of tickets are issued each day allowing tourists to go inside the Statue. I couldn't see the point of queueing for two hours in the hot sun to walk around the base. So instead I took the Staten Island Ferry (to Staten Island, of course), which offers very good views of Manhattan, the harbour, and the Statue. Yes, Geoffrey, I did think of Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. And once I got to the island I had a chance to try and locate an apartment block used in Brian De Palma's 1973 cult film Sisters, all the time wondering if anyone else adds film locations to their travel itinerary.
On Tuesday I went to the Intrepid Air Sea Space Museum. The Intrepid is an aircraft carrier that saw action in WW2 and Vietname, before being mothballed to the Hudson River where it is now home to a pretty interesting museum. I'm not keen on war museums, which exactly describes some of the exhibits, but there was a variety of vehicles on display that were very cool to see up-close. I got to live a childhood dream and board a Concorde, and also saw a SR-71A Blackbird up close. I also took a tour through a submarine. While not as claustrophobic as I thought it might be, the tour had an added attraction in that I spent most of it trying to decipher what our guide was saying from her very thick Queens accent.
After the Intrepid I headed to B&H Photo Video. This is a huge camera shop that I purchased goods from, by mail order, in Australia. It's probably not quite as fabulous as Yodobashi Camera, which I visited in Japan and have written about already, but still B&H was amazing. I have never seen so much specialty (and by that I include professional camera equipment) on the floor, hooked up, ready to play with. Every few seconds I'd hear this whizzing noise above my head. The store is only a small portion of their actual operation. The warehouse is upstairs or out back somewhere. And there is this fantastic goods transport system suspended from the roof, whizzing around cartons that customers have requested to purchase. The really cool thing is that the network has brances, using barcodes or something to direct the goods to the right destination.
On Tuesday evening I saw the new Broadway musical of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, with John Lithgow in the Michael Caine film role. I read a review in March, which was scathing of the production. If it weren't from a tip off at another show last week I'd have missed DRS... which would have been a shame because it was truly spectacular. Unlike Rent, I found the original songs in this musical to be very accessible, and very very funny. (But that also may have a lot to do with the fact that I'm a big fan of the film.)
I spent most of yesterday morning, ie Wednesday, on the phone to Fujitsu Siemens. My PDA screen cracked sometime earlier in the week. The annoying thing is that I haven't dropped it, or walked into a wall, or had someone crash into me. In fact, I have treated it like a newborn. So you can imagine how annoyed I was when I found out that cracked screens are excluded from the warranty. I'm trying to not worry about it, and will deal with it when I get to London, but it could cost as much as the original purchase price just to fix the screen. It's outrageous. In the meantime, I'm actually missing it because it's been so handy in so many different ways. There is this program called Metro, which has the rail networks for practically every city in the world. It's been a dream here in New York because I dial in where I am, and where I want to go, and it gives me clear directions on how to get there.
Anyhow, later on Wednesday I headed out to the Guggenheim which presently is showing a fantastic exhibition called Robert Mapplethorpe and the Classical Tradition. The aim of the exhibit was to present Mapplethorpe's classical insipirations for his very racy photographs. It seems that the Guggenheim actually holds a lot of Mapplethorpes work in its collection. I think his work is exceptionally good. Not just those photos of the human form, but also his flower subjects (which make even flowers look sexy). Who would have thought there could be a Mapplethorpe exhibition where all bull whips are fully visible?
On Wednesday afternoon I saw the Broadway revival of Steel Magnolias, with Delta Burke in the Dolly Parton role, alongside a lot of big Broadway names like Christine Ebersole, Marsha Mason, and Francis Sternhagen. The dialogue is so good. And it was very, very interesting to see what was added to the story when making the film, because the whole play is set in the beauty parlour.
And what would a day in New York be without looking up some film related locations. Mr Knap will be very jealous, I'm sure, that I located Joan Crawford's apartment building at 5th Avenue and 70th Street. Don't worry John, I have photos. This is the apartment which she bought with her Pepsi chairman husband, and famously demanded he "tear down that bitch of a bearing wall, and put a window where it ought to be". Not sure if that really happened, because all the building's windows already look exactly where they ought to be. Further down this street is the brownstone where Michael Caine listened to Angie Dickinson's psychiatric problems in Dressed To Kill.
Last night I caught up with Dan, a friend from my days at Bond. We had a great ol' time chatting about films and stuff, and hopefully we'll get to catch up again before I leave.
Today, Thursday, I visited the United Nations. It may not sound exciting, but this was an unexpected highlight of my trip. The guided tour lasted about 45 minutes with just the right amount of time spent discussing a variety of topics, and showing every room. I got to see the Security Council chamber, General Assembly hall and two other meeting rooms. That's a good run for a weekday visit because there's usually something on in at least one of the rooms. Afterwards, I took the Roosevelt Island skytram... to Roosevelt Island. The view from the tram was pretty good, but I have to admit I was probably drawn to it because it featured in a 1982 Sylvester Stallone film called Nighthawks, in which it was hijacked.
And that's all the news that's fit to print. I'm holding back a cold, but I've decided to stay in New York a few days more, if only to be able to go out this weekend. More soon... ;-)
On Friday night I caught up with Geoffrey's brother Richard. He is in publishing, and presently finishing the first issue of a magazine for a client. It's all very fab and very New York. We went to some non-descript, and possibly unnamed gay bar in the Lower East Side, before heading on to a very famous gay bar called The Cock. This is the bar with a neon rooster in its window, and which makes Sydney's Beresford (before it closed that is - a sad, sad day) look glossy and polished in comparison. It was lucky we went there because the lease was up, and the bar was scheduled to close two nights later. Apparently Starbucks are moving in to the old location, and let me tell you, New York definitely needs another one.
Half of Saturday was spent trying to hide from sunlight. The great thing about daylight saving in North America is that I can sleep in until midday and still have 9-10 hours of sunlight to do stuff. I walked from my hotel on W22nd Street across to Broadway, then followed the Bowery down to the Williamsburg Bridge. I crossed the bridge, wandered around the riverfront in Brooklyn, then crossed the Brooklyn Bridge by foot again back to Manhattan. Now that probably doesn't mean much, and if so get a map, because it's a bloody long way. I think it took me six hours. Very cool though, as the view is amazing. The Brooklyn riverfront that I described is where so many movies are filmed. Just like the poster for Woody Allen's Manhattan, if you've seen a photograph with the Brooklyn Bridge in the foreground, and Manhattan in the background, it was probably taken from this park. Brisbane-folk can wander down to New York Slice in Brunswick Street to see exactly what I mean.
On Saturday night I headed out to two nightclubs. The first was called Spirit, which is basically the old Twilo club renamed and maybe somewhat renovated. On the night I was there Peter Rauhofer was playing, but it was still mostly pots and pans to me. I later found out that Spirit is an after-place... not an early-night place, so I headed to the Roxy. Looking somewhat like Matt Groening's representation of a gay nightclub, the Roxy is easily the RHI Pavillion at Mardi Gras... every Saturday night. Out of control, and lots of fun. I would have loved to stay, but I was out by myself, and boring myself to tears with all the same-old jokes.
Knowing that my Sunday might be a little slow, I had planned (on Saturday) to only have one goal for Sunday. Just one goal. To go to the Empire State Building. I got there in the mid-afternoon and if I didn't know better, I could be excused for thinking half of NY was there. To say that there are horrendous queues is a gross understatement. The building is huge, cavernous in fact. So when half a floor is allocated to queuing, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that there were 150 people queuing just to get a ticket. It was at this point that I decided to buy an Express Ticket which means I pay straight away, and bypass every queue to go straight to the top. Normal tickets cost USD$14, while express tickets cost $30. Of the difference in price, let me say that every penny was worth it. I bypassed that ticketing queue, then walked straight past the elevator queue (with about 300 people in it), then bypassed another queue on the 80th floor (with about 150 people in it). I was up the top taking photos within 8 minutes of arriving... it's no wonder everyone is so pushy and pissed off by the time they get to the top. The view from the top is quite fantastic. I must have spent an hour taking photographs, not just of the landscape but also zoomed-in details like rooftop gardens and building ornaments etc. From up high, it almost looks like another city.
On Monday I tried to visit the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, but decided against it when I got to the ticket window. Since reopening after S11, only a limited number of tickets are issued each day allowing tourists to go inside the Statue. I couldn't see the point of queueing for two hours in the hot sun to walk around the base. So instead I took the Staten Island Ferry (to Staten Island, of course), which offers very good views of Manhattan, the harbour, and the Statue. Yes, Geoffrey, I did think of Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. And once I got to the island I had a chance to try and locate an apartment block used in Brian De Palma's 1973 cult film Sisters, all the time wondering if anyone else adds film locations to their travel itinerary.
On Tuesday I went to the Intrepid Air Sea Space Museum. The Intrepid is an aircraft carrier that saw action in WW2 and Vietname, before being mothballed to the Hudson River where it is now home to a pretty interesting museum. I'm not keen on war museums, which exactly describes some of the exhibits, but there was a variety of vehicles on display that were very cool to see up-close. I got to live a childhood dream and board a Concorde, and also saw a SR-71A Blackbird up close. I also took a tour through a submarine. While not as claustrophobic as I thought it might be, the tour had an added attraction in that I spent most of it trying to decipher what our guide was saying from her very thick Queens accent.
After the Intrepid I headed to B&H Photo Video. This is a huge camera shop that I purchased goods from, by mail order, in Australia. It's probably not quite as fabulous as Yodobashi Camera, which I visited in Japan and have written about already, but still B&H was amazing. I have never seen so much specialty (and by that I include professional camera equipment) on the floor, hooked up, ready to play with. Every few seconds I'd hear this whizzing noise above my head. The store is only a small portion of their actual operation. The warehouse is upstairs or out back somewhere. And there is this fantastic goods transport system suspended from the roof, whizzing around cartons that customers have requested to purchase. The really cool thing is that the network has brances, using barcodes or something to direct the goods to the right destination.
On Tuesday evening I saw the new Broadway musical of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, with John Lithgow in the Michael Caine film role. I read a review in March, which was scathing of the production. If it weren't from a tip off at another show last week I'd have missed DRS... which would have been a shame because it was truly spectacular. Unlike Rent, I found the original songs in this musical to be very accessible, and very very funny. (But that also may have a lot to do with the fact that I'm a big fan of the film.)
I spent most of yesterday morning, ie Wednesday, on the phone to Fujitsu Siemens. My PDA screen cracked sometime earlier in the week. The annoying thing is that I haven't dropped it, or walked into a wall, or had someone crash into me. In fact, I have treated it like a newborn. So you can imagine how annoyed I was when I found out that cracked screens are excluded from the warranty. I'm trying to not worry about it, and will deal with it when I get to London, but it could cost as much as the original purchase price just to fix the screen. It's outrageous. In the meantime, I'm actually missing it because it's been so handy in so many different ways. There is this program called Metro, which has the rail networks for practically every city in the world. It's been a dream here in New York because I dial in where I am, and where I want to go, and it gives me clear directions on how to get there.
Anyhow, later on Wednesday I headed out to the Guggenheim which presently is showing a fantastic exhibition called Robert Mapplethorpe and the Classical Tradition. The aim of the exhibit was to present Mapplethorpe's classical insipirations for his very racy photographs. It seems that the Guggenheim actually holds a lot of Mapplethorpes work in its collection. I think his work is exceptionally good. Not just those photos of the human form, but also his flower subjects (which make even flowers look sexy). Who would have thought there could be a Mapplethorpe exhibition where all bull whips are fully visible?
On Wednesday afternoon I saw the Broadway revival of Steel Magnolias, with Delta Burke in the Dolly Parton role, alongside a lot of big Broadway names like Christine Ebersole, Marsha Mason, and Francis Sternhagen. The dialogue is so good. And it was very, very interesting to see what was added to the story when making the film, because the whole play is set in the beauty parlour.
And what would a day in New York be without looking up some film related locations. Mr Knap will be very jealous, I'm sure, that I located Joan Crawford's apartment building at 5th Avenue and 70th Street. Don't worry John, I have photos. This is the apartment which she bought with her Pepsi chairman husband, and famously demanded he "tear down that bitch of a bearing wall, and put a window where it ought to be". Not sure if that really happened, because all the building's windows already look exactly where they ought to be. Further down this street is the brownstone where Michael Caine listened to Angie Dickinson's psychiatric problems in Dressed To Kill.
Last night I caught up with Dan, a friend from my days at Bond. We had a great ol' time chatting about films and stuff, and hopefully we'll get to catch up again before I leave.
Today, Thursday, I visited the United Nations. It may not sound exciting, but this was an unexpected highlight of my trip. The guided tour lasted about 45 minutes with just the right amount of time spent discussing a variety of topics, and showing every room. I got to see the Security Council chamber, General Assembly hall and two other meeting rooms. That's a good run for a weekday visit because there's usually something on in at least one of the rooms. Afterwards, I took the Roosevelt Island skytram... to Roosevelt Island. The view from the tram was pretty good, but I have to admit I was probably drawn to it because it featured in a 1982 Sylvester Stallone film called Nighthawks, in which it was hijacked.
And that's all the news that's fit to print. I'm holding back a cold, but I've decided to stay in New York a few days more, if only to be able to go out this weekend. More soon... ;-)
Biting into the Big Apple
There is so much to see and do in NYC that I have been overwhelmed each morning with the decision of what to do. Two of my work colleagues from QR, Kerry and Craig, visited the States last year, and pre-planned what to do each day in a huge spreadsheet. I am in awe of that, because it would have come in handy.
So on my first Wednesday in the city, I headed to Grand Central Terminal for the tour. Having seen the train station in countless films, and many of my favourites like Carlito's Way, North by Northwest, and Superman, I was still very impressed with seeing it in real life. The building's southern facing exterior is presently wrapped in scaffolding for a spit and polish. After passing through a very unimpressive entrance, one walks down some marble-clad ramps through the Vanderbilt Hall, and then onto the main concourse which is a magnificient open space. The building's interior was renovated in the late 90s, adding shops and a food hall, but also revealing a celestial fresco on the concourse ceiling. I actually did not do the Wednesday tour as it would have prevented me from attending an afternoon matinee show. But when I came back for the Friday tour I learned quite a bit about Grand Central. Firstly, it has never in its history been called Grand Central Station. There is a post office and a subway station with that name, just nearby, but the rail station is called Grand Central Terminal as it was the terminus of Vanderbilt's rail network. Shinjuku may be the busiest station in the world, but no station has more operating platforms than the 66 found at Grand Central. All the rail lines used to be above ground. And the station proper extends over a huge part of the neighbouring area. The city forced the rail companies to electrify and bury the lines, which the rail company's happily did at great expense... but had the windfall of suddenly owning a hell of a lot expensive New York City real estate to sell or lease.
I attended an afternoon matinee of Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, with Kathleen Turner in the Elizabeth Taylor role, and a guy called Bill Irwin playing her husband (in a role for which he won the Tony this year). It was a great production, and Kathleen Turner easily rivals Elizabeth Taylor's film performance.
On Wednesday evening I headed out to a nearby gay bar called Barracuda. It's a small bar, with friendly clientele and bartenders. I planned to stay for a drink or two, but ended up watching a fabulous drag show unlike any other I had seen before. That's because the drag artiste, Sherry Vine, actually sings, rather than miming. And she was pretty good too.
The next morning I felt a little worse for wear. I fired up my PDA from my bedroom and signed onto MSN Messenger. Paul Jones was on-line and asked me where I was, and if I was okay. This all seemed strange to me, but I soon found out he was checking if I was in London. The bombs had gone off not long before, and the event was getting a lot of coverage on NY television.
I went out to Brooklyn to visit the transit authority's Transit Museum. It's located in the disused Court St subway station, with exhibits, photographs, and actual rollingstock. The station also has a long history as a filming location, appearing in The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3. Sadly, I felt the museum lacked detail. I didn't even know by the end of my visit which lines were built first, and felt that I had learned more about the system from the internet in my pre-trip reading. There were some pretty spectacular photos of the subway's construction. Most of it was done using the cut-and-cover method, as the lines typically run north-south on the avenues. Generally speaking, the subway is pretty spectacular. The trains run almost as frequently as they do in Tokyo, while not as clean of course! But it's just amazing how easy it is to get around a very big city in such a short space of time. I'm staying right near the 8Ave and 23rd St station, and it takes me about 12 minutes to get to the Financial District, or Grand Central. Both places are at least 20 blocks away.
On Thursday night I went to see Rent. It was alright, but I found it very hard to get into. The sound in the theatre was terrible, and I didn't find the songs all that accessible... although I really liked two or three. I think I find it hard to enjoy a musical when I'm not too familiar with the songs. I can see how it will make a great movie, though.
So on my first Wednesday in the city, I headed to Grand Central Terminal for the tour. Having seen the train station in countless films, and many of my favourites like Carlito's Way, North by Northwest, and Superman, I was still very impressed with seeing it in real life. The building's southern facing exterior is presently wrapped in scaffolding for a spit and polish. After passing through a very unimpressive entrance, one walks down some marble-clad ramps through the Vanderbilt Hall, and then onto the main concourse which is a magnificient open space. The building's interior was renovated in the late 90s, adding shops and a food hall, but also revealing a celestial fresco on the concourse ceiling. I actually did not do the Wednesday tour as it would have prevented me from attending an afternoon matinee show. But when I came back for the Friday tour I learned quite a bit about Grand Central. Firstly, it has never in its history been called Grand Central Station. There is a post office and a subway station with that name, just nearby, but the rail station is called Grand Central Terminal as it was the terminus of Vanderbilt's rail network. Shinjuku may be the busiest station in the world, but no station has more operating platforms than the 66 found at Grand Central. All the rail lines used to be above ground. And the station proper extends over a huge part of the neighbouring area. The city forced the rail companies to electrify and bury the lines, which the rail company's happily did at great expense... but had the windfall of suddenly owning a hell of a lot expensive New York City real estate to sell or lease.
I attended an afternoon matinee of Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, with Kathleen Turner in the Elizabeth Taylor role, and a guy called Bill Irwin playing her husband (in a role for which he won the Tony this year). It was a great production, and Kathleen Turner easily rivals Elizabeth Taylor's film performance.
On Wednesday evening I headed out to a nearby gay bar called Barracuda. It's a small bar, with friendly clientele and bartenders. I planned to stay for a drink or two, but ended up watching a fabulous drag show unlike any other I had seen before. That's because the drag artiste, Sherry Vine, actually sings, rather than miming. And she was pretty good too.
The next morning I felt a little worse for wear. I fired up my PDA from my bedroom and signed onto MSN Messenger. Paul Jones was on-line and asked me where I was, and if I was okay. This all seemed strange to me, but I soon found out he was checking if I was in London. The bombs had gone off not long before, and the event was getting a lot of coverage on NY television.
I went out to Brooklyn to visit the transit authority's Transit Museum. It's located in the disused Court St subway station, with exhibits, photographs, and actual rollingstock. The station also has a long history as a filming location, appearing in The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3. Sadly, I felt the museum lacked detail. I didn't even know by the end of my visit which lines were built first, and felt that I had learned more about the system from the internet in my pre-trip reading. There were some pretty spectacular photos of the subway's construction. Most of it was done using the cut-and-cover method, as the lines typically run north-south on the avenues. Generally speaking, the subway is pretty spectacular. The trains run almost as frequently as they do in Tokyo, while not as clean of course! But it's just amazing how easy it is to get around a very big city in such a short space of time. I'm staying right near the 8Ave and 23rd St station, and it takes me about 12 minutes to get to the Financial District, or Grand Central. Both places are at least 20 blocks away.
On Thursday night I went to see Rent. It was alright, but I found it very hard to get into. The sound in the theatre was terrible, and I didn't find the songs all that accessible... although I really liked two or three. I think I find it hard to enjoy a musical when I'm not too familiar with the songs. I can see how it will make a great movie, though.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Bright Lights, Big City
One of the reasons I arrived in New York on July 4 is that I had always wondered what America's Independence Day celebrations were like. The only good thing about this decision, in retrospect, is that the traffic is almost non-existent because lots of New Yorkers head out of town for the long weekend. If it wasn't for the occasional shop assistant wishing me a happy July 4, I wouldn't have known the date. As for July 4 celebrations, they too were pretty hard to spot. The big thing is Macy's fireworks, launched from six barges in the East River and New York Harbour. I battled the crowds to make it there on-time, but frankly it was hardly worth it. The fireworks we have in Australia are far more spectacular because we incorporate the environment into the show, launching fireworks from building tops, bridges, as well as barges. Although I was in view of the George Washington and Brooklyn bridges, the fireworks were only launched from the barges. And fireworks are fireworks. With a running time of 30 minutes, I was bored after 15.
So I left early, and walked and walked and walked across the southern tip of Manhattan looking for a train station. By sheer chance I ended up at Ground Zero. I must admit that the site was one of the lowest items on my list of things to see, if at all. The site is pretty big, and I spent some time looking at it and reading the various information boards, before taking the subway from the WTC train station. Of most interest to me was a little sign in the train station declaring that from that point on, everything was as it was before S11. It was surreal and kinda creepy to walk through tunnels lined with the same marble that was used throughout the bottom of the complex. Because of the central location of the WTC site, and its train stations, I wondered how difficult it must be for some commuters to use that station, in light of what happened there.
On my first full day in New York, I had planned to visit one of the museums right after buying some theatre tickets. I was tipped off by another guest at my hotel that the trick to buying last minute tickets is to not go to the Time Square TKTS booth where there might be an hour wait. There is another booth at Fulton St Seaport where I only had to wait about 20 minutes. So handy.
But as luck would have it, I had a lot of difficulty on this first day trying to understand the rail network. Instead I wandered through the financial district, much as I had done the night before. It was so cool finding the skyscrapers I had read a little about, like the Woolworth building, 40 Wall St, and smaller buildings like the Federal Gold Depository (which featured in Die Hard With a Vengeance, and might have featured in a remake of Thunderball if Kevin McClory had his way).
I headed towards Century 21, right across the road from the WTC site. Everyone raves about Century 21. The prices are good, but there is a lot of crap merchandise there. Sure, I could by size 28 (or 42) Versace jeans in orange corduroy for only $50... But who really wants size 28 orange corduroy jeans, Versace or otherwise?
When I left Century 21, I took another look at the WTC site. It is more disturbing in daylight because even now, almost four years later, I could see the damage to the surrounding buildings. One very tall building looks like it is nearing completion when in fact it is slowly being dismantled. When I passed by a few days later I took photos of an adjacent building where almost every window facing the towers had been taped up. Just around the corner, every window is intact on the same building's adjacent side. The replacement structure for 7 World Trade Center, which collapsed not long after the towers, is nearing completion. NY Songlines has something interesting regarding what happened to this building. Apparently, Rudy Guliani had located his emergency command post in 7WTC long before the attacks, against the advice of the fire department, who were concerned about the huge gas tanks to be stored in the building to power emergency generators. These gas tanks ignited when the towers collapsed. It was the ensuing fire, and that alone, that caused 7WTC to collapse.
I finished Tuesday evening with my first Broadway play, The Pillowman, starring Billy Crudup and Jeff Goldblum. The story was very disturbing, concerning child abuse and a serial killer of children. But the performances were excellent, and the production first-rate. After the show, fans wait at the stage door to meet the actors. There was a huge crowd at the theatre next door where Monty Python's Spamalot was playing. David Hyde-Pierce, from Frasier, was doing his best to greet the throng of starfuckers that surrounded him. When he went back inside, all of those people converged on Jeff Goldblum, leading him to ask the crowd if anyone there had actually seen The Pillowman. The whole scene was one of the stranger things I have ever seen. And no, I didn't approach any of the celebrities. I was happy to stand a few feet back and watch everyone else. Anyway, after "Hello", I wouldn't know what to say.
I finished the night by walking into Times Square. Wow. With all the neon and advertising, it was so bright, it was like daytime. I saw Howard Johnson's diner, but decided against going in. That was a mistake, because the diner closed within a week after 60-something years of business.
So I left early, and walked and walked and walked across the southern tip of Manhattan looking for a train station. By sheer chance I ended up at Ground Zero. I must admit that the site was one of the lowest items on my list of things to see, if at all. The site is pretty big, and I spent some time looking at it and reading the various information boards, before taking the subway from the WTC train station. Of most interest to me was a little sign in the train station declaring that from that point on, everything was as it was before S11. It was surreal and kinda creepy to walk through tunnels lined with the same marble that was used throughout the bottom of the complex. Because of the central location of the WTC site, and its train stations, I wondered how difficult it must be for some commuters to use that station, in light of what happened there.
On my first full day in New York, I had planned to visit one of the museums right after buying some theatre tickets. I was tipped off by another guest at my hotel that the trick to buying last minute tickets is to not go to the Time Square TKTS booth where there might be an hour wait. There is another booth at Fulton St Seaport where I only had to wait about 20 minutes. So handy.
But as luck would have it, I had a lot of difficulty on this first day trying to understand the rail network. Instead I wandered through the financial district, much as I had done the night before. It was so cool finding the skyscrapers I had read a little about, like the Woolworth building, 40 Wall St, and smaller buildings like the Federal Gold Depository (which featured in Die Hard With a Vengeance, and might have featured in a remake of Thunderball if Kevin McClory had his way).
I headed towards Century 21, right across the road from the WTC site. Everyone raves about Century 21. The prices are good, but there is a lot of crap merchandise there. Sure, I could by size 28 (or 42) Versace jeans in orange corduroy for only $50... But who really wants size 28 orange corduroy jeans, Versace or otherwise?
When I left Century 21, I took another look at the WTC site. It is more disturbing in daylight because even now, almost four years later, I could see the damage to the surrounding buildings. One very tall building looks like it is nearing completion when in fact it is slowly being dismantled. When I passed by a few days later I took photos of an adjacent building where almost every window facing the towers had been taped up. Just around the corner, every window is intact on the same building's adjacent side. The replacement structure for 7 World Trade Center, which collapsed not long after the towers, is nearing completion. NY Songlines has something interesting regarding what happened to this building. Apparently, Rudy Guliani had located his emergency command post in 7WTC long before the attacks, against the advice of the fire department, who were concerned about the huge gas tanks to be stored in the building to power emergency generators. These gas tanks ignited when the towers collapsed. It was the ensuing fire, and that alone, that caused 7WTC to collapse.
I finished Tuesday evening with my first Broadway play, The Pillowman, starring Billy Crudup and Jeff Goldblum. The story was very disturbing, concerning child abuse and a serial killer of children. But the performances were excellent, and the production first-rate. After the show, fans wait at the stage door to meet the actors. There was a huge crowd at the theatre next door where Monty Python's Spamalot was playing. David Hyde-Pierce, from Frasier, was doing his best to greet the throng of starfuckers that surrounded him. When he went back inside, all of those people converged on Jeff Goldblum, leading him to ask the crowd if anyone there had actually seen The Pillowman. The whole scene was one of the stranger things I have ever seen. And no, I didn't approach any of the celebrities. I was happy to stand a few feet back and watch everyone else. Anyway, after "Hello", I wouldn't know what to say.
I finished the night by walking into Times Square. Wow. With all the neon and advertising, it was so bright, it was like daytime. I saw Howard Johnson's diner, but decided against going in. That was a mistake, because the diner closed within a week after 60-something years of business.
Friday, July 8, 2005
Start spreading the news
My flight from Montreal to New York-La Guardia was scheduled for 9AM. Air Canada's planes are falling apart, so we left at 10:20AM... But the good news is that I had a dream experience with American customs and immigration. I thanked the INS guy for being a thousand times nicer than the guy in Chicago. The Montreal guy dead-panned, "And I'm not that nice."
The landing flight path had us fly south over Manhattan, doing a 180 just beyond the southern tip, then flying north to land, but with some distance that allowed us a spectacular view of the island. I was excited seeing all the skyscrapers, but at this point it still felt like I was watching a movie. At Geoffrey's suggestion, I had arranged a hire car to take me from La Guardia to Manhattan. Not quite the town car I was expecting, I did get to travel in a Madonna-esque people mover that zipped through the holiday traffic (I arrived on July 4).
I know it's cliche to say that New York looked like a movie, on the street level, but that is precisely what it was like. From the yellow cabs, to the looming presence of the Met Life tower, the steaming sewers, and the hundreds of people everywhere, everything looked just like it does in a movie.
I am staying in the Colonial House Inn, a little gay-run B&B hotel in Chelsea. The owner is about a thousand years old, and financed the famous Paradise Garage disco in the late 70s. Accommodation in New York is outrageously expensive, and this is the least expensive nice place (read: clean, simple, no cockroaches) that I could find. I'm still paying USD$100 per night. And that's for a shared bathroom (with two other rooms). My bedroom does have a sink, and was recently renovated, but it is barely bigger than a double bed, making the small Japanese business hotels seem unbelievably spacious in comparison.
On my first afternoon I walked from Chelsea down to Greenwich Village, which is perhaps 15 blocks. There is a fantastic street-by-street guide on the internet called New York Songlines. As it's just HTML pages, I downloaded the site to my PDA and have been consulting it on my travels in NY so far. The great thing about this guide is that it will identify important historical and present sites, organised by street name and number for easy reference. So on Monday I wandered down 7th Avenue looking up street numbers as I passed them. It's fantastic. Did you know that Glenn Close's apartment building in Fatal Attraction was also used in The Hours? I have photos now. I also found the block of apartments bordered by Christopher and W 10th Streets that is the real address, and the purported basis, for the events in Hitchcock's Rear Window. And in the Village, I also found a couple of sites that were used in William Friedkin's Cruising.
A I write, it's Friday, and I have heaps more to write about the days since Monday, but have to rush off now to do the Grand Central Terminal tour. It'll be interesting to see how security has been ramped up since my last visit on Wednesday, with what happened yesterday in London.
The landing flight path had us fly south over Manhattan, doing a 180 just beyond the southern tip, then flying north to land, but with some distance that allowed us a spectacular view of the island. I was excited seeing all the skyscrapers, but at this point it still felt like I was watching a movie. At Geoffrey's suggestion, I had arranged a hire car to take me from La Guardia to Manhattan. Not quite the town car I was expecting, I did get to travel in a Madonna-esque people mover that zipped through the holiday traffic (I arrived on July 4).
I know it's cliche to say that New York looked like a movie, on the street level, but that is precisely what it was like. From the yellow cabs, to the looming presence of the Met Life tower, the steaming sewers, and the hundreds of people everywhere, everything looked just like it does in a movie.
I am staying in the Colonial House Inn, a little gay-run B&B hotel in Chelsea. The owner is about a thousand years old, and financed the famous Paradise Garage disco in the late 70s. Accommodation in New York is outrageously expensive, and this is the least expensive nice place (read: clean, simple, no cockroaches) that I could find. I'm still paying USD$100 per night. And that's for a shared bathroom (with two other rooms). My bedroom does have a sink, and was recently renovated, but it is barely bigger than a double bed, making the small Japanese business hotels seem unbelievably spacious in comparison.
On my first afternoon I walked from Chelsea down to Greenwich Village, which is perhaps 15 blocks. There is a fantastic street-by-street guide on the internet called New York Songlines. As it's just HTML pages, I downloaded the site to my PDA and have been consulting it on my travels in NY so far. The great thing about this guide is that it will identify important historical and present sites, organised by street name and number for easy reference. So on Monday I wandered down 7th Avenue looking up street numbers as I passed them. It's fantastic. Did you know that Glenn Close's apartment building in Fatal Attraction was also used in The Hours? I have photos now. I also found the block of apartments bordered by Christopher and W 10th Streets that is the real address, and the purported basis, for the events in Hitchcock's Rear Window. And in the Village, I also found a couple of sites that were used in William Friedkin's Cruising.
A I write, it's Friday, and I have heaps more to write about the days since Monday, but have to rush off now to do the Grand Central Terminal tour. It'll be interesting to see how security has been ramped up since my last visit on Wednesday, with what happened yesterday in London.
Wednesday, July 6, 2005
Bonjour Montreal, parlez-vous anglais?
After a day spent running around Le Village, Montreal's gay district, I was excited to get back to my hotel and relax. I had booked all accommodation for my trip about six months ago, but with the exception of Montreal for a couple of different reasons. Can you imagine my horror when I tried to book a room on June 30, for July 1 to 4, and discovered that there was nothing available in Montreal? When I asked why there was a problem, I was told that the upcoming weekend was a holiday weekend for both Canada (July 1 is Canada Day) and the USA (July 4 is Independence Day). As luck would have it, I found a room in the business section of the Governeurs Hotel. It ended up costing me AUD $266 per night (including breakfast), but it was very luxurious and had a spectacular 28th floor view of the city.
I split my sightseeing in Montreal over two days. On the first day I walked a very long way, from Old Montreal to the observation platform in the Parc Du Mont-Royal that overlooks the city. Montreal is a very leafy, beautiful city, filled with many old buildings of European design. I know that I have compared Toronto to Melbourne, and on a street level with the trams, restaurants, and the buzz this is very true. But when comparing the two cities, Toronto is very much Canada's Sydney - big, brash, bold, loud, and a little trashy (all things that I love about both cities). And likewise, Montreal is very much like Melbourne in terms of architecture, laissez faire feeling, but of course sans street-cars. There is also a historical rivalry between the two cities that mirrors their Australian counterparts. When Canadians were deciding where to locate their capital city, both Toronto and Montreal wanted it for themselves. In the end they chose a place that was between the two, but closer to the bigger of the two cities.
Teena was telling me that Montreal was the bigger of the two cities until the late 60s, when ordinances came into effect that made French the language of the province, and thus the city. This made life very difficult for people and companies who did not have French ethnicity as the intent was more than just making people speak the language.
And I have to say that Quebec is very French, almost annoyingly so. All one hears all day is French. Well, at least they call it French... It sounds a little different to any French I've heard before. :-) On top of the oral language, all street signs and advertising are in French. Even stop signs are in French, which is ridiculous when you consider that stop signs in France say STOP. It's like Quebecois are trying to make a point. There is a very strong separatist movement within the province. The last referendum held on the issue was only narrowly defeated, and there is another scheduled for later this year. What annoys me as a visitor is how much I see the rest of the country bending over backwards to make life easier for the Quebecois. There are two official languages, and in Toronto all official signage will appear in both English and French. But in Quebec you'll only see French. It's really rude. I'm beginning to think, as someone suggested to me, that Canada should just let Quebec go as the country will be better off financially. Quebec has 25% of the population, but receives 50% of the government grants.
On Sunday, my last full day in Montreal, I visited the Olympic Stadium. Held in 1976, the games were a financial disaster. In fact, they were so bad that no other city besides Los Angeles bid for the 1984 games. (I understand that the L.A. games revolutionised the business of the games, and were the first to make it into a profitable exercise). The stadium's retractable roof wasn't finished and the inclined tower, with an observation deck, opened much later. I took the funicular to the top of the tower, for a pretty spectacular view. There are signs everywhere saying how the tower is the world's highest inclined tower. Kinda cute when you consider they're trying to compete with Toronto's monster CN Tower. I'm not sure if the tower wobbles, but I felt vertigo (and never normally do). If you visit Montreal, then the Olympic Stadium and it's neighbouring biodome (an artificial flora and fauna reserve) are a must. The complex's design is very French, and a study of what can be achieved by using prefabricated concrete as the only construction material.
On my way to the stadium, a fellow train passenger tipped me off to a Tea Dance that was held on a nearby island. I took the subway (which is fabulous in Montreal) to the Parc Jean-Drapeu. There, in the bright sunshine, was about 1500-2000 daytime revellers dancing the afternoon away. Unlike Australia the organisers hadn't bothered to erect sun-shade. So I joined in and danced for a little while, before wandering off in a sun-stroked haze. One other big difference between this type of event in Canada and Australia was that there was no alcohol available at the event. Obviously there was more going on than that, but I can't think of any daytime event in Australia that could be organised past the paper phase without obtaining an alcohol license. One of those little cultural differences, I guess, that makes travelling so interesting.
I split my sightseeing in Montreal over two days. On the first day I walked a very long way, from Old Montreal to the observation platform in the Parc Du Mont-Royal that overlooks the city. Montreal is a very leafy, beautiful city, filled with many old buildings of European design. I know that I have compared Toronto to Melbourne, and on a street level with the trams, restaurants, and the buzz this is very true. But when comparing the two cities, Toronto is very much Canada's Sydney - big, brash, bold, loud, and a little trashy (all things that I love about both cities). And likewise, Montreal is very much like Melbourne in terms of architecture, laissez faire feeling, but of course sans street-cars. There is also a historical rivalry between the two cities that mirrors their Australian counterparts. When Canadians were deciding where to locate their capital city, both Toronto and Montreal wanted it for themselves. In the end they chose a place that was between the two, but closer to the bigger of the two cities.
Teena was telling me that Montreal was the bigger of the two cities until the late 60s, when ordinances came into effect that made French the language of the province, and thus the city. This made life very difficult for people and companies who did not have French ethnicity as the intent was more than just making people speak the language.
And I have to say that Quebec is very French, almost annoyingly so. All one hears all day is French. Well, at least they call it French... It sounds a little different to any French I've heard before. :-) On top of the oral language, all street signs and advertising are in French. Even stop signs are in French, which is ridiculous when you consider that stop signs in France say STOP. It's like Quebecois are trying to make a point. There is a very strong separatist movement within the province. The last referendum held on the issue was only narrowly defeated, and there is another scheduled for later this year. What annoys me as a visitor is how much I see the rest of the country bending over backwards to make life easier for the Quebecois. There are two official languages, and in Toronto all official signage will appear in both English and French. But in Quebec you'll only see French. It's really rude. I'm beginning to think, as someone suggested to me, that Canada should just let Quebec go as the country will be better off financially. Quebec has 25% of the population, but receives 50% of the government grants.
On Sunday, my last full day in Montreal, I visited the Olympic Stadium. Held in 1976, the games were a financial disaster. In fact, they were so bad that no other city besides Los Angeles bid for the 1984 games. (I understand that the L.A. games revolutionised the business of the games, and were the first to make it into a profitable exercise). The stadium's retractable roof wasn't finished and the inclined tower, with an observation deck, opened much later. I took the funicular to the top of the tower, for a pretty spectacular view. There are signs everywhere saying how the tower is the world's highest inclined tower. Kinda cute when you consider they're trying to compete with Toronto's monster CN Tower. I'm not sure if the tower wobbles, but I felt vertigo (and never normally do). If you visit Montreal, then the Olympic Stadium and it's neighbouring biodome (an artificial flora and fauna reserve) are a must. The complex's design is very French, and a study of what can be achieved by using prefabricated concrete as the only construction material.
On my way to the stadium, a fellow train passenger tipped me off to a Tea Dance that was held on a nearby island. I took the subway (which is fabulous in Montreal) to the Parc Jean-Drapeu. There, in the bright sunshine, was about 1500-2000 daytime revellers dancing the afternoon away. Unlike Australia the organisers hadn't bothered to erect sun-shade. So I joined in and danced for a little while, before wandering off in a sun-stroked haze. One other big difference between this type of event in Canada and Australia was that there was no alcohol available at the event. Obviously there was more going on than that, but I can't think of any daytime event in Australia that could be organised past the paper phase without obtaining an alcohol license. One of those little cultural differences, I guess, that makes travelling so interesting.
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
Oh, Ottawa
I know that I'm not known for punctuality, but on this trip I have been pretty good in arriving on time for my flights. All excepting Toronto to Ottawa, which is the closest I came to altogether missing a flight. It might have been the fact that I had to buy and repack my suitcases, or insisted on watching Batman Begins before leaving town, or that I'd had a huge weekend just past, or all three, but I have never come so close to missing the flight. The bumper-to-bumper traffic didn't help. Toronto may look and feel like Melbourne, but there are many things that are very Sydney-like... including the traffic.
Every Canadian I have met on my trip has asked me why I am going to Ottawa. I guess it's a little like someone travelling 15,000km and going to Sydney, Melbourne, and Canberra. But we have a family friend in Ottawa, which worked out really well because I got to see a side to Canada that I would otherwise have missed in the big cities. Teena used to teach with my Mum at the Primary Correspondence School in Brisbane in the 70s. A Canadian, she returned to her country in 1980 after five years in Australia. When I was younger I used to write to Teena, as she wrote me. But apart from sporadic phone calls over the years no-one in our family has seen Teena since 1980! I was nervous getting off the plane to see if I could recognise Teena, and worried I'd front up to people who'd look at me strangely when I greeted them. But sure enough it was easy, as Teena as hardly changed.
Once out of the airport, Teena drove me around Ottawa. The landscape is very different to Toronto. Instead of that city's sprawling concrete jungle, Ottawa is a lush, green, well-planned and very beautiful, quaint little city. Located at the very edge of Ontario, the Ottawa River divides the metropolis that combines Ottawa with Gatineua, a city just across the river in Quebec. The pride of Ottawa's landscape is the Rideau Canal. Extending for more than 10 kilometres, the canal punctuates the city's landscape with narrow waterways emptying into small lakes. When the canal reaches Ottawa's downtown area, the waterway descends 24 metres through many locks, so that boats can meet the water level of the Ottawa River. On one side of the canal is Parliament Hill, and on the other the Chateau Laurier. This latter structure, now a Fairmont hotel, is a stunning example of the many steep-roofed hotels that dot the Canadian landscape from coast-to-coast. These hotels (like that in Banff Springs) were built by the Canadian railway more than 100 years ago, with the purpose of creating a tourist rail market. As well as zipping around Parliament Hill, Teena showed me 24 Sussex Drive (where the Prime Minister lives), the Governor-General's house, and not far from these places we also visited a very expensive area with huge stone mansions. It was here that Teena showed me the dignified and graceful home of Michael Potter, a multi-millionaire who founded I.T. company Cognos. It's right across the street from the huge ugly "Paradise Waters"-esque mausoleum owned by Michael Cowpland, who founded Corel (which later bought WordPerfect). The curious thing about this area is that as wealthy as the owners might be, none of these houses had fences or gates. Anyone could walk right up to the door and ring the bell. Canada feels so safe when compared to even a relatively safe place like Australia.
I spent my first day in Ottawa sleeping in, and relaxing at Teena's house. I then caught a bus to the downtown area, or "town" as we might say in Brisbane. The strangest thing about the bus ride is that I could not work out from the houses and apartment blocks whether I was passing through a good or bad area. Teena explained to me a few days later that the Ottawa city council requires that every new area have four types of housing: middle-class semi-detached houses, public housing, apartment blocks, as well as the big homes. Consequently the city doesn't really have ghettos. And the city's people are forced to live and interact with people from other socio-economic backgrounds.
I managed to do very little even once I'd made it downtown. I checked out Parliament Hill from the street-level, and visited the Rideau Canal locks, and wandered into the Byward Market area which has lots of fresh-produce and arts & crafts stalls. Not a lot of the stuff on sale is my thing, but it was quaint and pretty. And that was my day. That evening Teena and I enjoyed a wonderful home-cooked roast dinner she'd prepared. We had talked about seeing a film, but were both so exhausted we called it a night at 10. Mind you, this was only about 20 minutes after the sun set!
On my second day in Ottawa I hurried to make up for the time I'd lost the day before. I visited the Art Gallery, which has a fantastic permanent collection as well a very good Renaiisance exhibit at the moment. On the way to the Art Gallery I had to walk past the new, huge American Embassy. It occupies an entire block, and to the annoyance of Canadians, the Americans have blocked off a lane on each side of the building with concrete flower beds and bollards to prevent vehicles passing too close.
At 5pm I met up with Teena and she took me on a little car drive through the Gatineau Hills. This is a huge national park on the Quebec side of the river that has lakes, forests, and ski slopes. We stopped off at the estate of William Lyon Mackenzie King. He was Canada's tenth Prime Minister, and held the job longer than any other person in any other country in the Commonwealth. He was also a little queer. Although he never married, his queerness can be attributed to holding seances with his dead dog and dead mother, seeking political advice from the latter. If it works, it works I suppose. Who are we to judge?
Teena dropped me back at the Museum of Civilisation, which is Canada's national museum. A lot of the museum's floor space is devoted to the history and experience of the First Nations, Inuit, and Metis people, who are collectively Canada's aboriginal people. This history takes into account life before and since European settlement in Canada. From a visitor's perspective, it looks like Canada has reconciled relations with its indigenous people, but I understand that this is not really the case. There is a lot of resentment and bitterness arising from how these people were mistreated. And in many ways, it reminds me a lot of Australia. Even in Canberra one gets the idea that Australians are tolerant and progressive and have reconciled things, as far from the truth that might be.
The most engrossing part of the museum, IMHO, is the top two floors which document European exploration and settlement. Like something one would find in an theme park like Dreamworld, the floor space is divided into perhaps a dozen small little spaces that recreate a specific part of Canada at a specific point in its history. These are often streetscapes, and easily fool the eye into thinking that one is actually there. One of the spaces, that I like to think of as the Wild Wild West set, had little shops that you can enter. The contents of these shops were ripped in entirety from actual shops that closed down in rural Canada some time ago. For example, there was a traditional printers shop (even imbued with the heavy scent of printing press ink) that was transposed from Winnipeg where the store shut down in 1995.
My last night in Ottawa was to be an early one. I had arranged to meet up with people in Montreal, and we were going to need an extra few hours to take in the special itinerary that Teena had planned. We left home around 7:45am, and headed to Montobello. This small town looks like Rural, Anywhere, but is famous for its log cabin hotel. This establishment is again another example of the railway company's 19th century entrepenurship, but is unlike most others because of its wood construction. The core of the hotel, containing the lobby and bars, is a hexagonal-shaped building with a four or five storey atrium dominated by a central stone fireplace. The hotel rooms are located in wings that radiate from from each of the building's six edges.
Every Canadian I have met on my trip has asked me why I am going to Ottawa. I guess it's a little like someone travelling 15,000km and going to Sydney, Melbourne, and Canberra. But we have a family friend in Ottawa, which worked out really well because I got to see a side to Canada that I would otherwise have missed in the big cities. Teena used to teach with my Mum at the Primary Correspondence School in Brisbane in the 70s. A Canadian, she returned to her country in 1980 after five years in Australia. When I was younger I used to write to Teena, as she wrote me. But apart from sporadic phone calls over the years no-one in our family has seen Teena since 1980! I was nervous getting off the plane to see if I could recognise Teena, and worried I'd front up to people who'd look at me strangely when I greeted them. But sure enough it was easy, as Teena as hardly changed.
Once out of the airport, Teena drove me around Ottawa. The landscape is very different to Toronto. Instead of that city's sprawling concrete jungle, Ottawa is a lush, green, well-planned and very beautiful, quaint little city. Located at the very edge of Ontario, the Ottawa River divides the metropolis that combines Ottawa with Gatineua, a city just across the river in Quebec. The pride of Ottawa's landscape is the Rideau Canal. Extending for more than 10 kilometres, the canal punctuates the city's landscape with narrow waterways emptying into small lakes. When the canal reaches Ottawa's downtown area, the waterway descends 24 metres through many locks, so that boats can meet the water level of the Ottawa River. On one side of the canal is Parliament Hill, and on the other the Chateau Laurier. This latter structure, now a Fairmont hotel, is a stunning example of the many steep-roofed hotels that dot the Canadian landscape from coast-to-coast. These hotels (like that in Banff Springs) were built by the Canadian railway more than 100 years ago, with the purpose of creating a tourist rail market. As well as zipping around Parliament Hill, Teena showed me 24 Sussex Drive (where the Prime Minister lives), the Governor-General's house, and not far from these places we also visited a very expensive area with huge stone mansions. It was here that Teena showed me the dignified and graceful home of Michael Potter, a multi-millionaire who founded I.T. company Cognos. It's right across the street from the huge ugly "Paradise Waters"-esque mausoleum owned by Michael Cowpland, who founded Corel (which later bought WordPerfect). The curious thing about this area is that as wealthy as the owners might be, none of these houses had fences or gates. Anyone could walk right up to the door and ring the bell. Canada feels so safe when compared to even a relatively safe place like Australia.
I spent my first day in Ottawa sleeping in, and relaxing at Teena's house. I then caught a bus to the downtown area, or "town" as we might say in Brisbane. The strangest thing about the bus ride is that I could not work out from the houses and apartment blocks whether I was passing through a good or bad area. Teena explained to me a few days later that the Ottawa city council requires that every new area have four types of housing: middle-class semi-detached houses, public housing, apartment blocks, as well as the big homes. Consequently the city doesn't really have ghettos. And the city's people are forced to live and interact with people from other socio-economic backgrounds.
I managed to do very little even once I'd made it downtown. I checked out Parliament Hill from the street-level, and visited the Rideau Canal locks, and wandered into the Byward Market area which has lots of fresh-produce and arts & crafts stalls. Not a lot of the stuff on sale is my thing, but it was quaint and pretty. And that was my day. That evening Teena and I enjoyed a wonderful home-cooked roast dinner she'd prepared. We had talked about seeing a film, but were both so exhausted we called it a night at 10. Mind you, this was only about 20 minutes after the sun set!
On my second day in Ottawa I hurried to make up for the time I'd lost the day before. I visited the Art Gallery, which has a fantastic permanent collection as well a very good Renaiisance exhibit at the moment. On the way to the Art Gallery I had to walk past the new, huge American Embassy. It occupies an entire block, and to the annoyance of Canadians, the Americans have blocked off a lane on each side of the building with concrete flower beds and bollards to prevent vehicles passing too close.
At 5pm I met up with Teena and she took me on a little car drive through the Gatineau Hills. This is a huge national park on the Quebec side of the river that has lakes, forests, and ski slopes. We stopped off at the estate of William Lyon Mackenzie King. He was Canada's tenth Prime Minister, and held the job longer than any other person in any other country in the Commonwealth. He was also a little queer. Although he never married, his queerness can be attributed to holding seances with his dead dog and dead mother, seeking political advice from the latter. If it works, it works I suppose. Who are we to judge?
Teena dropped me back at the Museum of Civilisation, which is Canada's national museum. A lot of the museum's floor space is devoted to the history and experience of the First Nations, Inuit, and Metis people, who are collectively Canada's aboriginal people. This history takes into account life before and since European settlement in Canada. From a visitor's perspective, it looks like Canada has reconciled relations with its indigenous people, but I understand that this is not really the case. There is a lot of resentment and bitterness arising from how these people were mistreated. And in many ways, it reminds me a lot of Australia. Even in Canberra one gets the idea that Australians are tolerant and progressive and have reconciled things, as far from the truth that might be.
The most engrossing part of the museum, IMHO, is the top two floors which document European exploration and settlement. Like something one would find in an theme park like Dreamworld, the floor space is divided into perhaps a dozen small little spaces that recreate a specific part of Canada at a specific point in its history. These are often streetscapes, and easily fool the eye into thinking that one is actually there. One of the spaces, that I like to think of as the Wild Wild West set, had little shops that you can enter. The contents of these shops were ripped in entirety from actual shops that closed down in rural Canada some time ago. For example, there was a traditional printers shop (even imbued with the heavy scent of printing press ink) that was transposed from Winnipeg where the store shut down in 1995.
My last night in Ottawa was to be an early one. I had arranged to meet up with people in Montreal, and we were going to need an extra few hours to take in the special itinerary that Teena had planned. We left home around 7:45am, and headed to Montobello. This small town looks like Rural, Anywhere, but is famous for its log cabin hotel. This establishment is again another example of the railway company's 19th century entrepenurship, but is unlike most others because of its wood construction. The core of the hotel, containing the lobby and bars, is a hexagonal-shaped building with a four or five storey atrium dominated by a central stone fireplace. The hotel rooms are located in wings that radiate from from each of the building's six edges.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)