I was very homesick yesterday, but jumping into the car and taking a quick ride to New York was out of the question; it takes about fifteen hours for the drive and I was expecting a friend to come over for Christmas dinner. The need to see home, however, was strong, too strong to ignore, although I could not understand why. I have lived in Kentucky for nine, happy years and had come to think of this as home; yet, there was a small, young child inside me, insisting on going home to New York.

I wanted to see the ice  skaters at the Wollman Memorial Rink in Central Park and go visit the Santa at Macy’s 34^th Street. I needed to see stretches of the East River from the 23^rd Street to the Brooklyn Bridge, but most of all I wanted to be at the corner of at 903 Avenue St. John and Prospect Avenue in the Bronx. Yes, that would be home—although I had not been there in fifty years.

With just a couple of hours free, I pulled out my laptop, fired up Google Earth and inserted the address I remembered. In the blink of an eye I flew at dizzying speeds, back to my childhood home in the Bronx. Suddenly, I gasped; standing there before me was the building I remember and it was just as I remembered it.

It was shuttered and marked with graffiti; its cheerful, redbrick paint and white trim stood out in sharp to the beige buildings on either side. The neighborhood bar on the corner was still there—only now its name was “Lucky 7 Bar.” On the other side of my building—where the doctor’s office used to be on the ground floor, the doctor who had rushed to my bedside with his black bag of instruments when my mother had called that one time when the fever was so strong I could not stand— yes, that building was still there too.

Suddenly, with the flick of the wrist, there was another burst of speed. I had miscalculated, somehow, and I also did not have the wherewithal  to slow down the backward momentum of the years. I traveled back in time to the August day in 1944 when my brother was born. I was three years old again, sitting on the stoop of the building, waiting.

All photos taken Nov. 15, 2009 — for more, see s. dool photos.

Photo submitted by © Danielle Kelly

[click on photo to enlarge]

• Personal note by Danielle Kelly

brooklyn bridge looking out at lower manhattan with “The New York City Waterfalls” by Olafur Eliasson

Links :
• Follow Danielle Kelly on Twitter – @daniellekelly
• Visit Danielle Kelly’s website – www.dkellyphotography.com
• Visit Danielle’s blog – dkellyphotography.tumblr.com

La magia inizia da fuori… si arriva da una piccola discesa in cui si rende omaggio alla più vecchia pizzeria di Brooklyn (e la più buona in assoluto), Grimaldi’s Pizzeria, si arriva in un piccolo giardino recintato in cui le luci (soprattuto di natale) come piccole lucciole ti rapiscono e ti guidano verso l’entrata. Ti basta alzare lo sguardo per capire che la magia ha avuto inizio, sopra la testa si erge in tutto il suo splendore una delle due gambe del Brooklyn Bridge, li a sorreggere il mitico ponte ed a fare da guardiano ad un piccolo ristorante unico al mondo per atmosfera e vista: il River Cafè.
Una volta dentro sembra di essere trasportati in un’altra epoca, la piccola ma bellissima lobby ti accoglie per farti prendere respiro e per portarti nel cuore del ristorante, la sala da pranzo. Qui si trovano camerieri in livrea anni 30/40, piacevoli, sempre gentili eccomodanti. La sala è illuminata solo dalle candele a dalle piccole luci che stazionano sui tavoli ai bordi della sala. La vista è mozzafiato come la sua cucina, superba per gusto e qualità, altrettanto magnifica per la sua presentazione. Se non bastasse, il tutto è accompagnato dalle note lievi e mai fastidiose di un fantastico pianista che passa in rassegna musiche del repertorio classico americano ed alcune chicche di un cantante che a NY amano molto, Andre Bocelli.

Qui ho chiesto a mia moglie di sposarmi, qui ho festeggiato il mio matrimonio, e qui mi sembrava giusto festeggiare il nostro secondo anniversario, il River Cafè è un po come casa nostra, è pieno di bei ricordi e per 3 ore dimentichi dove sei e perdi le cognizione del tempo. Non aiuta certo la splendida vista sulla Skyline di Manhattan.
Mi sento in dovere di consigliarvi, se venite a New York e volete regalarvi una splendida serata con una cena fantastica, di prenotate una cena in questa magico posto, vi stregherà ve lo garantisco. Parlatene con un newyorkese e la prima cosa che gli sentire pronunciare sarà un semplice “OOohhhh, beautiful…“.

Splendido vedere il volto della persona che amate illuminato di felicità, soprattuto quando una cosa è del tutto inaspettata. Adoro fare sorprese, ed adoro ancora di più sorprendere. Il pianista ti culla e ti rilassa con le sue musiche, è quasi finita, questo è un altro posto che ci mancherà durante l’anno, che ci mancherà sempre.

Magia ed atmosfera è anche guardare i bambini giocare con la neve, guardare il Central Park completamente innevato, quasi non sentire i suoi rumori, i suoi suoni. Splendido!
E’ domenica, c’è il sole e tanta neve, slittini, bob si sprecano, i pupazzi di neve spuntano come dei bellissimi e profumati funghi dopo un’acquazzone. La gente di diverte e l’atmosfera del natale di carica ancor più di tradizione: il bianco natale è assicurato. Sappiamo che se ne andrà presto, i prossimi giorni saranno di solo, ma non scorderà facilmente il rientro a casa alle 3 di mattina con ancora la neve che scendeva, le strade quasi deserte e  l’unico rumore era quello dei piedi che affondavano nella neve alta. E la luce, niente è più magico di una notte illuminata dalla neve.

E’ tardi e si sentono ancora passare gli spazzaneve, tra due giorni questo manto bianco sarà solo un ricordo che vivrà nella mia mente ancora per molto. Notte.

I probably won’t shoot any more shows this year so I’m closing it out. Some of these photos represent actual favorite shots and some favorite shoots. I hope you enjoy them.

In chronological order:

Drink Up Buttercup at Mercury Lounge

Bree lying in the street, Portland OR

Johnny, Richie, Glen and Mike at Glen’s house in NJ. I grew up with these guys – it was SO good to spend that afternoon with them.

Crowd shot during The Octopus Project at Mercury Lounge.

Drink Up Buttercup at Santos Party House

Drink Up Buttercup at Santos Party House – I almost missed this, thanks to Lisa for pointing it out.

The Antlers at Mercury Lounge

The Pet Shop Boys at Hammerstein Ballroom

The Art of Shooting at Glasslands

And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead at The Cutting Room

Joanne at Tre Merli

Andre and Christina on the Brooklyn Bridge

Sunset shot from Avenue I train station

Sharon van Etten at The Bell House

Ganglians at Santos Party House

WAVVES at Santos Party House

Sharon and Brian’s wedding

Grooms at The Knitting Factory

Larkin Grimm at Union Hall

Drink Up Buttercup at Union Hall

Bang Bang Eche at The Cutting Room

Will Sheff (performing with Rumours) at The Bell House

Dan St. Germaine

Jen and Kristin at Brooklyn Bowl

Kidrockers.

To view the set as a slide show click here.

To see 25 Favorite photos from January-June 2009 click here.

Out cold
over the east river
the snow blows
and the ghosts
flow in and out
of the arches
of the brooklyn bridge
small biting flakes
bedeviling
the only living
soul walking
the span.

Legendary Street Artist COPE2 will be at ART PRIMO in NYC tonight signing sketchbooks, showing art and meeting fans. This is your chancce to get Cope2’s mark in your book. Don’t say we didn’t tell you….

Art Primo is the best source for Graff and Street Art Supplies. I’m always impressed by their inventory, their fast shipping and of course, their prices. Hit them up.

Here are a few photos from my trip to the Big Apple using SimpleViewer. Just click on

This past Sunday I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to meet up with my friend Laura Leebove and company in line for the Bust Craftacular. She went last year and showed me all the cool stuff she bought, so this year, I just had to see it for myself.

When I found her in line, it was already reaching around the corner and later it made its way around the entire block.

The line was worth it. Two dollars and a free goodie bag (for the first 500 people) later, we were inside and there was SO MUCH TO LOOK AT! I did not know where to begin. Vendors everywhere. Jewelry, purses, clothing, chocolates, cookies, toys, stuffed animals, handmade cards…

We made our way around the maze and I ended up with one thing for one of my sisters. I obviously can’t tell you what it is. There were a million things I could have bought for myself, but that wasn’t the point of going there now, was it?

I’ve realized I really like handmade cards. They are so adorable. And they’re about the same price as the mass-produced ones you find at Kate’s Paperie so why didn’t I buy some? You tell me.

Here’s a table of some interesting stuffed animals:

And a t-shirt display I was pretty fond of:

And now for the killer. There was one particular booth that really stuck out at me. You know I really like creatures. I especially like penguins. So here was this table with ceramic mugs and ceramic necklaces with different creatures on them. And the creatures were just so CUTE! I seriously wanted to cry about it, they looked so sad and lonely on the mugs and necklaces and I wanted to be their friend.

This necklace I wanted especially:

A penguin in front of the Brooklyn Bridge! This is even better than my amazing photo of the ice cream in front of the Brooklyn Bridge! This necklace is City Mitten!

Why didn’t I buy this? I don’t wear necklaces that much but that penguin should have been mine. The woman who made them was really nice, maybe she can make a pendant for me and make it into a bracelet. I would love love that. For now I can only hope that Mr. Penguin here found a home at the Bust Craftacular. And, you should check out the 3rd Ward Handmade Holiday Craft Fair this coming Sunday, cause SKT Ceramics is gonna be there.

If I’m going to talk
about you, I better cut
every other word
in half to see if 

the reflection of your cable stays
in the river floats, or 

disintegrates
under scrutiny
of a thousand pairs
of headlight eyes.

My favorite bridge...

Get outerspace drunk….

Late entry for Dad of the year?

Obama’s approval high in Texas…

Pope confirming Catholic church is “nothing but a gangsta party?”

Cross the bridge at left by clicking on it and get transported to a magical place…

jffcrmr.

Taxi to station, train to airport, plane to JFK. Gonna be a long day.

…and so it proved, and not just because I would end it 5 time zones to the west of where I began it.

5^th October
Even the date is exciting today.  It’s been on the horizon for so long I feared it might never arrive.  On the 1027 EMT service to St Pancras, travelling First Class; this is the way to do it.  A whole other world.

1041
Still here.  Technical difficulties.  What a day for it!  Doing my best not to panic, but contingency plans are forming.

Movement!

After the initial hiccup, all seems to be well now.

The tone of mild dread apparent in the above was because the train was not moving.  It was a farcical scene, passengers stood on the platform wondering when the doors were going to open, then giving up and filing through the  single set of doors that did open.  Once we’d walked the length of the train to get back to our seats, we waited while 10:27 came and went and nothing happened.  Somehow, it wasn’t reassuring; just like your temperamental Windows 95 machine (remember those days!), the answer is to turn it off and turn it back on again. Trains can be rebooted apparently, and eventually this seemed to have the desired effect.

After its unnerving stand at Sheffield, my train made it uninterrupted to its destination, taking me on a journey through stations filled with memory; Chesterfield means band rehearsals, the crooked spire, dormitory hotels, the imported culture of American pizza restaurant.  Then glimpses of Derbyshire as the tourist board knew it; the Derwent and its flood plain, rolling hills, jagged outcrops of sandstone.  Then the north of Derby; Belper, Duffield.  The sites that meant home, or at least the mileposts along the way, creep into view; the Evening Telegraph, the Cathedral.  Derby will forever be coming home from university in Leeds for the weekend, Friday night or Saturday morning trains south.

This is what I was leaving behind.  That I was doing it First Class was a piece of luck that TheTrainline.com likes to deliver from time to time (although never when you need it most), in the form of very cheap 1^st returns to London.  Rest assured, reader, I don’t do this often.  It is, though, a world away from the usual overcrowded experience.  Space to move, to think, elbow room and a little peace.

Finally freed from its scaffolding prison, St Pancras is once more the beautiful gateway to the capital that it should be.  To emerge into its sky-blue arch is to know you have arrived in London and feel invigorated by that knowledge.  Suddenly the years of putting up with temporary platforms and the interminable walk through the construction site barriers to King’s Cross are all worth it, because now when us Midlanders arrive in London, we have the most beautiful of all its termini, newly decorated with shops and restaurants that you might actually want to use occasionally, worlds away from the usual station fare.

Having said all that, my stay in St Pancras wasn’t a long one this time.  Touch in with my Oyster Card, silently hoping the world mistakes me for a Londoner in the process, and onto the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow.

The irony of eating at TGI Friday’s about 8 hours before arriving in New York was keenly felt, but short of champagne-and-caviar places, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of food airside at Terminal 3.  There is something deeply troubling about a spotty London teenager greeting you with the immortal American server salutation “Hello, my name is so-and-so and I’ll be taking care of you today.”  This is England; I do not want to know your name, nor do I want taking care of!  I am only here because there is nowhere else to eat and I am starving and facing the prospect of airline food.  Every detail has been replicated, from the red vinyl seats to the absurd amounts of ice in the drinks and the piping of 24-hour news channels into the dining area.  Who wants to look at the Home Secretary while eating a cheeseburger?  Still, the prospect of being able to compare it to the real thing was exciting enough to render the experience just about bearable.

American Airlines had, predictably, discarded my request for a window seat in favour of someone who had paid more for it, but a left-side aisle seat was the next best thing; anything but the middle section, where one is liable to end up sandwiched between family members and climbed over as people get out, not to mention the constant traffic of plastic trays passing across your eye line.

The Chinese-American girl in the seat next to me proved both friendly and helpful, a New York native.  Asked where I was staying, I had no idea!  A string of numbers and letters that are incomprehensible to someone who has never set foot on Manhattan before, helpfully translated with added recommendations for places to eat and drink, the nearest subway stations and a few places I might not have found in the Rough Guide.

New York City

That was interesting!  I love this city already.  After much indecision I chose a bar on 2^nd called Traffic and found myself befriended by Sasha the barmaid and Will and Laura the affable New Yorkers.  Watched football.  Drank tequila.  Crazy.  You couldn’t do that in any other place…
Been up 24 hours, should really sleep…

And in an email…

Just found my first internet in NYC, distinctly dubious internet cafe/deli on East 28th/Madison. I have been here about 22 hours and it feels like a lifetime. Last night I checked in then went out for a drink, thinking I needed to stay up for a couple of hours to beat the jet lag. I got back to my room at 1am (so 6am London time…) having met, and indeed done shots with, some very friendly New Yorkers who also took the time to explain why the Packers were beating the Vikings. Best. City. Ever.

Those lines don’t really do justice to the impact that my first few hours in New York had on me.  From the moment the curve of the Williamsburg Bridge allowed me my first clear view of the Manhattan skyline, it was, as so many have said about the place before me, like watching myself in a film.  I checked into my hotel and, deciding that I

had to get out if I was to fend off sleep for a few hours, wandered out onto E 51^st and right onto 2^nd Ave.  After the aforementioned indecisive wandering, I ducked into Traffic, a sleek, classy-looking place that appealed.  Green, amber and red lights on a glossy black background, polished design and attractive people.  Whilst I’m not sure that it “couldn’t (be done) in any other place”, what I meant by the statement was that it wouldn’t have happened in Sheffield or London.   That within ten minutes of sitting down at the bar I was having the football game explained to me was perhaps not remarkable, but that it was in a friendly, open fashion with none of the condescension the lone foreigner might expect or deserve felt exceptional; the rest of America thinks that New Yorkers are too busy to help out strangers, especially tourists.  Not so.

United Nations from 1st Ave

6^th October

Am going to have to write often if I’m going to remember all this.  Woke before 6, still adjusting to EST, and decoded (at this point the aforementioned Parker sputters the aforementioned green ink in blobs over the page; I note post flight trauma!) to walk along 1^st Ave and see the sunrise.  I’d hoped to be up early enough to get to Brooklyn, but I had no idea how far that actually was.  Made it into the twenties though and looked back on Manhattan, or at least midtown.  From there I walked back to 34^th and across all the way to the Empire State and Broadway.

Looking back up along the East River

Up 5^th Ave to Bryant Park, from where I called home, then back again in the vain hope some shops around 34^th + 5^th might have opened.  Up to Grand Central and onto the subway to 51^st + Lexington, a short walk back here.  I’ve seen so much already and it’s 10am on day one.  Total sensory overload, hence the retreat here for a moment to gather myself and plan my next move.

The first sight of the Empire State Building and its environs is indescribable.  If most of Manhattan feels faintly cinematic, the corner of 34^th & 5^th is like stepping through the silver screen and into every movie, every book, every pop song ever written about the island.  That this place actually exists comes as a kind of shock; there remained a sneaking suspicion that it was in fact a film set hidden somewhere in Beverley Hills, where animatronic gorillas

Empire State Building from the corner of 36th and 5th Ave

could climb it in peace, miniature helicopter gunships could fly unimpeded around it dissuading giant reptiles from stepping on Madison Square Garden by accident.

To find that it actually exists, close up and for real, changes you somehow.  The fear of anticlimax, that foreboding that when you walk round the corner you’re going to have one fewer of the world’s great monuments on your list.  The Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, perhaps the Brandenburg Gate or the

Houses of Parliament; in my experience at least, it’s a very short list.

It is, then, something of a letdown when you discover, at approximately 8.45am, that none of the shops open until 10.

1.35
Central Park

This day seems endless, magical.  A by-product of jet-lag-induced early rise, perhaps, but also this majestic, magnificent city.  I left the hotel and walked west, eating a mozzarella pesto panino in a public fountain garden.  Half-tripped across St Patrick’s Cathedral, which is astonishing, then the Rockefeller and Radio City.  Bought Entenmann’s cookies and apple juice at a drugstore and am enjoying them in Central Park.  There’s a sax player in the distance.

The word ‘drugstore’ might be the first obvious, self-conscious piece of American English in my journal.  It wouldn’t be the last.  Finding Entenmann’s cookies was a sudden reminder of my last trip to America, to a kitchen table in a suburb of Chicago, and another in Naperville IL.  They are magical things, and sadly unavailable in the UK, so carry a certain exotic quality for those of us who can’t get them very often.  This no doubt strikes American readers as peculiar, but there you go.

Central Park would be remarkable as a piece of parkland wherever it was.  That from the pond you can look up at 59^th St makes it unique and unsettling.  Look the right way, lean against the right tree or rock and you can block it out entirely, lose yourself in this giant playground/backyard/front lawn/wilderness fantasy.  Then turn you head and the city creeps back in, silver and gunmetal checkerboards through branches or between rocks or older, yellow brick turrets on Upper West Side blocks rising over horse-drawn carriages or hired bicycles.

7^th October
Washington Square

Left Central Park and, after a brief visit to Bloomingdale’s, went back down to 34^th and bought boots at Macy’s, where my friend Ralph was only too happy to make my day.  Walked back to my hotel, went up to the roof for a while.  Lay down for a rest and some CNN and never got up; jet lag not quite conquered.

Got up this morning early and, with the aid of the subway, made it to Brooklyn Bridge.  Lots of photos.  Strange to see old stuff after a day in midtown.  Stone and brick again fter all steel-and-glass.  Then back on the subway, intending to go home but being tempted by Bleecker Street, where I got coffee and a Danish.  Then walked down Broadway, utterly lost the whole time it turns out (going south when I was convinced I was heading north) and taking more photos.  Another subway to 8^th St and I realised how close I was to this place, I couldn’t resist.  Wrote Charlie’s postcard.

The above shows my iPod, in its cosy iPod dock in my room, and the first song I played when I plugged it in.  You trip across Simon & Garfunkel songs all the time; I couldn’t pass through 59^th St subway station without thinking “Doo doo doo doo, feeling groovy”.  My parents felt the need not only to play “America” over their breakfast the morning I left, but to send me a message and inform me of this!  Simon’s music is New York music, and it was he who drew me to Bleecker Street that morning.

The temptation to go to Washington Square had to do with another songwriter, Adam Duritz.  Lead singer of Counting Crows, a band whose music has formed a more significant part of my life than the music critic in me knows they deserve.  It is precisely their appeal to the part of me that hates music critics that means they’ve stuck around as the soundtrack to my life for the best part of a decade.  The sound of their song ‘Washington Square’, the memories of a set in Hyde Park the previous summer.

MoMA cafe
3.49pm

Never been more grateful for Muji case and FLW notebook than right now.

The prices in the cafe filtered out the tourists and left, for the most part, a collection of the most painstakingly stylish people I’d ever laid eyes on. The cutlery, the glassware, the cut of the coats, the cost of the haircuts.  These, presumably, were the members that MoMA advertised for in the lobby.

Starry Night, Vincent van Gogh

Just seen Starry Night.  Call it jet lag or the shock of the unexpected, but it blew me away,  Cezanne, Picasso, Rousseau too, but I had to come out and recover for a moment.  Raspberry sorbet and orange juice overlooking 54^th St.  Writing postcards.

Not sure whether to return here.  I have to spend the night of the 29^th here, but I could either linger in Philadelphia or head up to Boston or somewhere.  At the moment it feels like this is the perfect introduction to the place and to come back would almost spoil it.  Still, two weeks in Middle America could change all that.

I feel remarkably at home in the E50s, I have landmarks, places to eat lunch, a bar or two, and a route to the subway.  I suppose it’s the way with some cities.  Right now I feel I could stay forever.

8^th October
Esplanade

Looking out at Liberty Island.

Manhattan from Brooklyn Bridge

Did night shots on Brooklyn Bridge last night, and a quick look at Times Square.  Ground Zero this morning was disappointing in that there’s nothing to see; construction moves on apace.

Liberty and the World Trade Center seemed like an appropriate combination.

You don't take the ferry to get to Staten Island, but for the view off the back

The Pod
2.30pm

Cutest girl on the subway, late for her Political Science lecture.  Standing around at Grand Central waiting for a 6 that was really a 6, chatting.

Should I find it astonishing, in retrospect, that I had such casual familiarity with the subway lines some 48 hours after first using them?

Staten Island ferry was good purely for the views.  Ground Zero less so, in that it’s a building site.

5.25pm
Rooftop

Walked til I hit the East river.  E52st gets residential quite quickly, fuelling my wild dreams of settling in here.  Apartments for rent…

Leaving for Denver in the morning.  I’ll miss this view!

9^th October

Went to Metro53, no Sasha, but drank 4 pints of Sam Adams and ate mediocre bar food whilst being flirted with by Stephanie.  All the while Andre, or possibly his friend whose name I’ve forgotten, enthused about the Stone Temple Pilots.

New York bar culture remained fascinating.  It’s one of the moments when you feel like you’ve stepped into the America of popular imagination, sitting at the bar watching the game, drinking and getting to know people.

Writing from Texas to a friend at home, a week later:

I cannot begin to explain the impact that place has had on me, so I won’t even try for the time being. It’s an amazing, perma-lively, wild, ecstatic maelstrom of a place, relentless in its appeal and sensory stimuli. Perhaps more than any place I’ve visited, I thought I could live there. At the end of four and half days, I had a subway stop, a couple of bars I liked, a place I bought lunch, a favourite spot in Central Park. Truly, I could see myself in an apartment on the Upper East Side somewhere.

I saw most of the obvious places, Empire State, Chrysler and Rockefeller buildings, the big churches, the Statue of Liberty (from the Staten Island ferry, which is close enough really), Ground Zero (which is now mostly a construction site you can’t get into), Central Park, 5th Ave with all its attractions. I shopped a bit, bought some awesome boots from Macy’s on Broadway. I took photos from the Brooklyn Bridge, I drank coffee and ate pastries, I had breakfast on Bleecker Street (which is also a Simon and Garfunkel song), I stood on the corner of 44th and Broadway (which is in a Ryan Adams song).  I went to Washington Square, which is a Counting Crows song.  Just up from Washington Square, on 14th Street, I went to Guitar Center and had a spiritual experience with a 1963 Gibson SG Junior. It was beautiful and I wanted to take it home.

New York changed me. I am, quite simply, not the same person I was before I went; I feel I can mark time in terms of before and after NYC. It is the center of so much, the focal point of the entire world in some ways, the axis of consumerism and a shining beacon of liberty, a massive, grinding contradiction. It will take me some time to fully understand my experience there.

The thing that leaps out at me upon reading this back is the word “center”.  Was it autocorrected by an overzealous American browser, or had I already begun the drift into AmEng that was inevitable?  Certainly by the time I got to Texas I was using terms like parking lot indiscriminately, and my pronunciation of schedule, croissant and tomato had been brutalised (by necessity, for the most part; it’s all about being understood!)

I was only three-and-a-half days into my New York experience, but as I didn’t know how much more time I was going to get at the far end of the trip, I crammed as much in as I could, pushing eating and sleeping into the corners to get as much living in as possible.

Speaking of eating, New York was the first place I observed that, in American cities, you will be able to smell grilling beef about 50% of the time, day or night, whether you’re surrounded by steel-and-glass sheer cliffs of midtown or the cast-iron-clad brick of lower Broadway.  Or, later, the steakhouses of Texas.

The following morning I woke early and slipped out for a pre-breakfast wander, taking the subway to 95th and ticking off another building I wanted to stand outside, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Museum its glorious, absurd spiral carving through the grey mist of one of Manhattan’s less magnificent October mornings.  From there I walked across Central Park, rounding the reservoir and marvelling at the number and variety of runners; New Yorkers run before work like no other people on earth, in packs, with earphones and a a joyous determination to get away from city blocks for a few moments.  I walked down the far side of the park along Central Park West down to Columbus Circle, bought my breakfast and then continued on foot back to my hotel, where I packed up and took a cab to La Guardia.  Part one was complete, I had said a morning farewell to New York City.  An entirely different world awaited me at the end of a United flight to Denver.

For Long Island info (ie: taking a train or bus, meeting others) see: here.

Bernard Lafayette to lead the World March for Peace and Nonviolence across Brooklyn Bridge

What: The World March for Peace and Nonviolence starts a three-day tour of the USA with a March over the Brooklyn Bridge led by Dr. Bernard Lafayette, Civil Rights activist and adviser to Martin Luther King.

When: Mon. Nov 30, starts 1 pm, finish 3pm

Where: Starting at Brooklyn Boro Hall to City Hall, via the Brooklyn Bridge.

Who: The international base team of the World March for Peace and Nonviolence with their international Spokesperson, Rafael de la Rubia, Dr. Bernard Lafayette, hundreds of nonviolence activists from around the State, all the students and teachers at Brooklyn International High School and others, religious leaders, Consuls and New York City Council Members.

Why: The World March for Peace and Nonviolence is travelling through 100 countries on 6 continents calling for the complete elimination of nuclear weapons and the withdrawal of troops from foreign territories among others.  Starting on 2^nd October in Wellington, New Zealand, the March is due to arrive in Punta de Vacas, Argentina on the 2^nd of January at the end of a 93 day tour.

Endorsements: Presidents of 11 countries; Desmond Tutu, Jimmy Carter, Noam Chomsky, Cornel West, Daniel Ellsberg, Cate Blanchett, Martin Sheen, Yoko Ono, Art Garfunkel, Philip Glass, Ed Asner and hundreds more.  For a complete list, go to www.theworldmarch.org

[ Another New York Trip ]: Day 5

We headed out to Brooklyn for some afternoon exploring.

Hey so yesterday I had a nice trip to the city…. Brooklyn Bridge, Empire State Bulding, and Times Square.  Ton of fun taking pictures…… Check them out.

Statue of Liberty from the Brooklyn Bridge.

The Brooklyn Bridge

]]> http://fartlekrunner.wordpress.com/2009/11/23/toronto-runner-shawn-syms/ Mon, 23 Nov 2009 12:07:20 +0000 Matt http://fartlekrunner.wordpress.com/2009/11/23/toronto-runner-shawn-syms/ http://citymitten.com/2009/11/23/i-love-new-amsterdam-market/ Mon, 23 Nov 2009 12:00:47 +0000 cmitten http://citymitten.com/2009/11/23/i-love-new-amsterdam-market/

I’m not going to lie, this is my new favorite picture. My life in one frame, haha. The Brooklyn Bridge and ice cream. Yes, please.

Yesterday I finally, finally was able to check out the New Amsterdam Market, a monthly market in the South Street Seaport where the Fulton Fish Market used to be. It’s butchers and bakers, farms and wineries, cheese and chocolate – all kinds of things – all local or locally sourced. And it’s amazing. Aaaamazing. And there’s lots of samples for you to try.

You’ll never guess what kind of flavor that ice cream is. It’s sweet potato pecan. I was a little apprehensive at first, but once I tried it, I was sold, sold, sold. It was from The Bent Spoon, an ice cream shop from Princeton, New Jersey. It had honey-candied chocolate pecans in it. Hello. I might have to buy myself a pint of whatever flavors they bring to the next market.

Before I tried the ice cream, I got myself a small lobster roll from Luke’s Lobster, which I have been hearing soo many wonderful things about. At their booth, they had a little chalkboard that told you exactly where today’s catch was from (in Maine, by the way). Luke’s had the longest line, well-deserved. I only got the “snack” portion of the lobster roll, but it probably wouldn’t have killed me to get a whole one, $14 or not.

This lobster roll is hands-down the best thing I’ve had in a month (okay, maybe besides Gotham Bar & Grill). They have a place on E. 7th street that I am going to visit immediately.

And here’s some other things you’d find at the New Amsterdam Market:

Produce.

People.

Cheese!

Oysters!

The next Market is Dec. 20th and you can bet your booty I’m gonna be there.