05 March 2010

NYC, Day 1

Had a mixed-bag kind of day today.

It started rather inauspiciously when I discovered that I had lost my favorite rhinestone airplane brooch from my winter coat. I halfway recall having it catch on something last night, but I can't remember whether it was at MCO or EWR or anywhere in between, but I don't suppose it matters. And a quick scan of the internets shows no duplicate on offer anywhere. I wish I didn't attach such significance to stuff and things, but I really miss that pin.

Anyhow, I had been looking forward to my day out on my own in the city all week. I hadn't done much in the way of trip-planning, so I was mostly planning to re-visit places from previous trips. It has been just about three years since I was last here (Spring Break 2007), which is by far the longest I'd gone between visits in the last ten years or so. Previously, I'd managed to make trips here at least once a year. Anyhow, my point is that I didn't have much on my to-go list that were new. Which is perhaps what set me up for the day I had.

I planned quite an ambitious schedule. I knew that once Mr. Jenspin arrived, we likely wouldn't go at quite a breakneck speed, nor would he be terrifically interested in endless thrift-shop shopping or art museums. So, I crammed my solo day in the city full of those very things. I decided to get an early start, because I didn't know how long it would take to get into the city from New Jersey - this being the first time ever I wouldn't be staying with my Manhattan friend. I stayed up relatively last night, researching opening hours and directions and addresses and filling in my new fancypants city book. Plus I'm operating on a significant sleep deficit, so I knew it was going to be an exhausting day.

At some point, I took out my camera to take a picture. I had "charged" my camera battery the night before leaving so I wouldn't have to tote my charger with me. Well, when I pulled my camera out to take a picture at some point in the morning, I discovered that my charger had effectively DIScharged my battery. So now I had no camera, instead, I now had a couple useless pounds to tote around all day, taking up space in my bag. I had to resort to my phone camera, which meant no creative control and, thus, no artsy shots of Grand Central like I was planning. :( It did, however, offer instant uploads. At least it has that going for it. At one point, I popped into a camera shop and explained my predicament, and asked them their price on a charger. Admittedly, I was hoping the guy would offer to just charge it for 10 minutes or so and send me on my way, but no. Silly midwestern altruism, sure, but it certainly would have been appreciated. Because I had no intention of spending $50 on a charger.

Across the street from the curmudgeonly photography shopkeeper was a delightful little Belgian cafe that had packaged Liege waffles in the window. I ducked in and bought one as my afternoon snack. I probably would have enjoyed lunch there, but I was on the move!

I discovered last night that the Strand bookstore had closed their Annex location downtown, and I didn't think Century 21 alone was a sufficient draw downtown, so I aimed for their 12th and Broadway location. I liked the Annex better because it just seemed like there was a better selection, reminiscent of the stacks at university - endless numbers of rows of musty old books and utterly delightful. Anyhow, I asked them about an obscure author, and they have never had any of his books in stock, ever. Wow. That's impressive! Anyhow, I had been hoping for that (again, high expectations) , so it was a bit of a bust when they didn't have any. I looked around a bit, bought a Paulo Coelho novel for $4.95, and saw a book that looked terrifically interesting, but I didn't know that a) it's very recently published and b) it was a pretty good price until I got back to the hotel and looked it up on amazon. So I will go back and get it later this weekend.

I continued on my long loop around the east and west village, stopping at a couple shops, but again, either finding them shuttered and moved (Broadway Panhandler), or without what I was seeking (Pearl River Mart). As I walked around, I just chose a route based mostly on the direction of the Walk sign at an intersection, and I found myself on streets I knew, seeing shops and restaurants in which I'd been before. Pleased at the familiarity, I pressed onward towards a Housing Works thrift shop. I had been in one of their stores (and bookstores) before, and they have a really well-edited collection of items in lovely condition. I didn't recall that they commanded such a high price, however. I love to look for neckties at thrift shops - they're always so cheap. Here, though, I found some lovely items, but at $25 or $40, it was hardly thrift! Another frustration.

Popped into a fountain pen store - the likes of which I wish we had at home. Everything from Pilot Varsity to Montblanc. Bought myself inks and pencil lead: a bottle of Private Reserve in Sonic Blue, a pretty tin of J. Herbin cartridges in Rouge Bourgogne, and some red and blue Pentel mechanical-pencil lead!

Down the street from the pen place was Grand Central Terminal. I had had grand designs of getting artful shots in the station, but alas, I had to settle for camera-phone pictures. Did pop into Penzey's, the Official Spice Supplier to our household for some curry powder, garlic powder, cinnamon, and whole nutmeg.

I really treasure days of solo travel. It's very likely a function of my only-child-ness. Since I travel (or, rather, used to travel) a fair amount for work, I often have occasion to explore new places on my own. Even when my husband and I travel together, our interests are sufficiently different that we'll usually take a day to have separate adventures and then enjoy telling each other about them over dinner. Anyhow, I also don't mind going to a movie on my own, though eating out solo is always a little awkward (even with a book). Nevertheless, I do travel well by myself. Somewhere south of Abingdon Square, heading uptown towards the library (in which I want to live one day), I realized that even if I'm by myself, I'm never truly alone. I tote around with me the people whom I love. I see something and think, "Oh, she'd really love this." "I can't wait to tell him all about that." I also love presents (mostly giving them), and so I'm constantly on the lookout for treats to take back home. Some kind of token to show them that I was thinking of them while absent from them. Postcards often fill the same role - particularly with how much I love mail. Another benefit of solo travel is the freedom to not compromise. I can indulge myself in ridiculous itineraries without having the pressure of a companion to whom I feel I owe a well-crafted experience.

Anyhow.

It was getting on to afternoon, so I had a decision to make. The Met or The Guggenheim. I had been to the former about a decade earlier, shortly after taking my first art-history course as a freshman in college. I have never been to the latter. I wound up at the Met. I figured I wanted to see "Big" art. The instantly-recognizable pieces.

London's National Gallery is incredible for its collection of recognizable artworks. It's also has a more friendly layout, with a map and labeled rooms. The European Paintings rooms were not well-outlined, and very difficult to navigate. Well, after plundering around European Masters, I popped into the shop, where I was reminded of their American art, which includes Madame X by John Singer Sargent, one of my favorite paintings. So I tried to find my way over to the American Wing. Once I finally found my way there (no easy task), I learned that the American Wing would be closed for renovations until 2011. Grrr. So, though I saw some fantastic art (including a phenomenal collection of drawings by Bronzino), I still had a swing-and-a-miss at the museum.

Earlier, my husband had messaged me to tell me that he had jumped an earlier flight, so I had to cut short my dinner plans. Well, cut my dinner plans, period. And to pick him up at the airport, I would need to get back to the hotel, grab a friend's car, and drive to EWR. This was the second-most intimidating drive of my entire life! (First was driving a manual transmission overnight in the wee hours of the morning through the hills of Missouri and into Kansas, as we moved to California. #3 was a pre-dawn drive on the opposite side (Between Melbourne and Adelaide) to take pictures in sunrise light. Eeep - the NJ Turnpike and toll booths without easypass and the very real likelihood of making a wrong turn and ending up in a tunnel into the city... I realized how dependent I am on my own car's navigation system. I looked up directions to the airport, but neglected to figure out how to get back to the hotel. All's well that ends well, certainly. It just took a phone call to a friend with a laptop and Google Maps to make sure we stayed in New Jersey and didn't wind up in Pennsylvania or Manhattan.

Today's soundtrack: an eclectic mix of club/dance tracks to which I would never have listened, had someone not given them to me.


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