Lunchtime Walks in the City: Back to the Fifties

Lately, work has been s-l-o-w. Hardly any mail coming in. Even the big boss is slacking off. This past week, there were time I’ve been forced to “look busy.” I hate that. I might as well work for Macys where, at least, I could fold shirts.

All the more reason I needed to get out of the office at lunchtime. Or I would have gone i-n-s-a-n-e. After the last two years of wondering: What happened to Spring?!, the weather in the city this April and May could not be more beautiful.

As a result, I haven’t done much exploring on concrete this week, mostly due to the lure of Central Park — where I’ve strolled, bird -watched (the past two days, I saw red wing blackbirds, female cardinal (that hopped right up to me as I sat on a bench) and a red-headed, black and white woodpecker. And those blooming azaleas! Fuschia, white, crimson…breathtaking, all.

But…on Tuesday, I did engage in a lunchtime walk. I had some fun.

As usual, I started out on Fifth Ave. Walked to 55th Street, turned left. 55th was a street I’d not yet explored in any depth. As soon as I crossed over Madison and headed east, I spotted this building. Who knows why the  signs are posted on Eleanor’s Building and who cares. Her reason is probably not as interesting as your imagination:

SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED

When I reached Lexington Avenue, I turned right. An interesting looking church was on the corner of 54th Street — St. Peter’s. I checked it out.

Next to the entrance to the church on 54th St., a Powerpoint slide presentation (confession: I loathe Powerpoint slide presentations — for their lack of imagination and interest, their preponderance of BLUE and orange, their boring subtitles in an ugly font, their much too much generic ado about NOTHING of any fascination whatsoever …) was being  projected through the window.

The title slide:

So bad, but, still, I went inside.  When I asked the women seated at the reception desk where the “art show” was, she gave me a weird look and said, “Downstairs.”

Before descending the stairs, I drifted toward the railing because music was playing. Peering down into what looked to be the altar pit, I saw a quartet in the middle of a chamber piece.

Beautiful music in unexpected places is my favorite kind of surprise. I listened for a while before taking the stairs to the lower level.

Shortly after twelve noon, it was lunchtime at the Senior Center — the venue of  the art exhibit.  The “Granny” of Granny Peace must have been one of the seniors eating lunch. In order to look at the paintings, I had to squeeze behind a regiment of folding chairs filled with octogenarians eating meatloaf and macaroni and cheese. It smelled like the hospital in there.

One old guy stared right at me as if I were some interloper from Mars or I might steal his lunch. I have to be honest. The art exhibit (painterly senior citizens brandishing signs protesting the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan) was truly awful. I made a cursory tour of the back wall (so as not to offend) and go out of there.

Back on the street, this panel truck was parked at the curb:

The name of the company struck me. Figlia means “daughter” in Italian; therefore: “Daughter and Sons.” I liked that.

Suffering through the “Granny Peace” art exhibit increased my appetite for grunge. After all, it was lunchtime.  I headed toward Second Avenue.

Look at this vibrant storefront:

Great name, too. (French, for “those with no pants,” or something to that effect)

Unfortunately, the restaurant was out of business:

See you soon?

Walking down 59th Street, I crossed over Second Avenue beneath the cables of the Roosevelt Is. tram.  I like this section of town. It’s a little dark and spooky. Like reaching the end of the road.

I crossed beneath the overpass supporting the cars and trucks merging onto the bridge. The area was sketchy and remote, in stark contrast to where I had started out, back on Fifth Avenue.

Some interesting business establishments on this side of Second Avenue.

The Chinese take-out delivery boy’s bicycle

And an environmentally conscious Chinese take-out joint, for that matter:

“Let’s be green” with the Atomic Wings Chinese take-out — could not be more unappetizing. Reminds me of mold.

A few doors down:

The local Hookah Cafe – love the covered windows – how inviting

And around the corner:

Pigeon ghetto

The Blue Room Bar and Grill (so old school, Bar and Grill - the stuff of my father’s generation. While in his thirties, my father tended bar on weekends at my uncle Prospero’s “bar and grill” in Queens).

The Blue Room posted this message to their patrons in their window:

Be careful not to cause vandalism…we trust your cooperation on the matter !!!

The last good sighting of my lunch hour occurred on 60th St. on my way back to work:

What a beautiful old relic of a building — atomic wings are popular around here!

Lunchtime Walks in the City: Called, on Account of Rain

View of 5th Avenue and the Apple store from the 10th floor corner office

Due to inclement weather, I missed my walks around the city these past two days. Wednesday was a monsoon. 3 inches of rain in 1 hour. Don’t get me wrong. I love rainstorms. But I’d like to be curled up with a book, looking out at the rain, than be at work and away from windows.

Thursday’s weathe was a bit better…but it was still raining.

So I ate at my desk and read. In fact, I started a new book called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain. If you’re an introverted type like me, this book offers a validation, of sorts. It’s comforting to learn there are lots of other people in the world who feel the way I do about savoring my alone-time.

My quiet personality-type was no more evident as when I worked in Hollywood, CA. As a copywriter for an entertainment industry design company, I attended many, many company parties (attendance was compulsory — not attending was not an option). One time, it was a DVD cover art award ceremony (seriously) — like the Oscars, of entertainment packaging. We even took home a “goodie” bag (filled with bad DVDs). Another time, there was a big affair at the Chateau Marmont celebrating the company-owner’s birthday. At the Chateau, what I remember most, was the lounge off the lobby of the hotel. Decorated in “early vampire,” it was dimly lit, upholstered in velvet, and populated by sad 40 to 50-somethings dressed as teenagers trolling the for celebrities. So depressing.

Maybe this sounds fun if you’re more extroverted than me. Then again, maybe not.

Why am I mentioning all this? The book I’m reading, Quiet…,  has, at the beginning, a short questionnaire you can complete — if you want to know if you are an introvert. Here are the questions:

YES or NO:

1. I prefer one-on-one conversations to group activities.

2. I often prefer to express myself in writing.

3. I enjoy solitude.

4. I seem to care less than my peers about wealth, fame, and status.

5. I dislike small talk, but I enjoy talking in depth about topics that matter to me.

6. People tell me I’m a good listener.

7. I’m not a big risk-taker.

8. I enjoy work that allows me to “dive in” with few interruptions.

9. I like to celebrate birthdays on a small scale, with only one or two close friends or family members.

10. People describe me as “soft-spoken.”

11. I prefer not to show or discuss my work with others until it’s finished.

12. I dislike conflict.

13. I do my best work on my own.

14. I tend to think before I speak.

15. I feel drained after being out and about, even if I’ve enjoyed myself.

16. I often let calls go to voice mail.

17. If I had to choose, I’d prefer a weekend with absolutely nothing to do to one with too many things scheduled.

18. I don’t enjoy multitasking.

19. I can concentrate easily.

20. In classroom situations, I prefer lectures to seminars.

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I confess, I answered “YES” to all of these questions. If you are like me, this is a book for you. We are not alone and it’s nice to know.

TGIF! Looking forward to my solitude…and perhaps a walk in the city today. The sun is shining this morning and I will probably be late for work…

Lunchtime Walks in the City: My Eastside Adventure

53rd St. between 2nd and 3rd Avenues

Armed with a rather ambitious plan of walking to a place I’d heard of called the Ford Foundation Atrium on E. 43rd, between 1st and 2nd Avenues, I hit the sidewalk practically running at 12:30 P.M. Ambitious, because I would really have to hustle to make it to 43rd and 1st and then back again in one hour’s time.

My walk started out like this: left on 57th; right on Madison; left on 56th; right on Lexington; left on 53rd. That’s where I passed “Insomnia Cookies” (above) — warm, fresh cookies delivered until 3 am! – says the awning. The lettering on the window says: Better Foods Better Health. Good one.

I liked the more easterly section of 53rd St. so I slowed my pace. I reminded myself of the philosophy I’d adopted when I began my lunchtime walking.

Walk to discover. With no expectations. No destinations.

I relaxed. I looked around. E. 53rd St. It was a United Nations of restaurants.

Look at this address. Practically a palindrome…well, sort of…okay, not really

Following 53rd St., I made a right when I reached 1st Ave. A sickeningly sweet cherry smell suddenly drifted up my nostrils. Gag. Where was that coming from?

Aha. The Tiparillo-smoking guy up ahead.

Quickly passing him on the left, I made tracks down 1st Ave. to 51 St. A plaque on the corner of a building caught my eye.It said: “from 1763 to 1874 stood Mount Pleasant.” The plaque commemorated a mansion built by James Beekman; the mansion was used as headquarters during the Revolutionary War. Nathan Hale was actually imprisoned on this site.  A few blocks away, he uttered his famous: “I only regret I have one life to give for my country.”

Do you think those words came out of his mouth? I have my doubts. Unless his speech writer was present at the hanging.

Still, true or not, whenever I see a plaque, I stop to read. Many years ago in Florence, Italy, I was exploring the hills above of the city on foot. As I passed a lemon yellow adobe-style villa, I noticed a plaque attached to the wall surrounding the property. Pytor Ilyich Tchaikovsky once lived in that very villa, it said. So, I always stop. You never know.

Further down 1st Ave., in the distance, up popped the United Nations building! I made one memorable visit during elementary  school. We all sat in a large auditorium. me and my classmates. I wore large headphones, which were wired to the chair. I turned a dial to hear lots of foreign languages, really just a bunch of jibberish. But I thought it was cool.

Nice building. Pretty sleek.

A glance down 51 St. enticed me to cross over 1st Ave. and explore. I sensed there was a park on the horizon. As I neared the end of the street, the trees and briny air told me I was correct.

Beekman Place

When I was growing up, my mother loved to read the “society page” in the New York Daily News. At breakfast, she frequently name-dropped Beekman Place. She schooled my sister and me in the difference between “old money” and nouveau riche. They may have been the first French words I ever learned. Beekman Place was “old money.” At the time, we had no idea what she meant by that.

And, yes, there was a very pretty park at the end of Beekman Place.

I descended the brick stairs into the park. On the first landing was a bridge:

A bicyclist with shimmering coppery hair rode slowly by:

Below the bridge to the right was the park’s plaza:

One flight down on the left were benches with a view of the 59th St. Bridge and Roosevelt Is.:

This park was a wonderful find. But, alas, it was time for me to head back…

Time may be relative and the universe may be warped, but I still had to get back to the office by 1:30 P.M.

Bye bye, Beekman Place (and hello, Mom, wherever you are)

Rounding the corner at 50th St. and 2nd Ave., was this vibrantly colored graffiti:

Quite rightly so.

Lunchtime Walks in the City: TGIF Uptown

A premonition of things to come…Duke Ellington Blvd.

If you’re not familiar with the locale of this street sign — it’s near West 96 St. — it was my departure point on Friday for my lunchtime trek. How did I manage that, you may wonder, being so far from my office building on 57th St.?

Well…I had the day off! Weekdays are such a great time to explore the city because the streets are so much emptier.

I took the F train to 57th St. and walked to Columbus Circle, where I caught the #1 train to West 96 Street.

Lucky me, this time I had a traveling companion. I’m so used to eating lunch at my desk before starting out on my walk. So it was a nice treat to actually stop for lunch and have scintillating conversation. The Mexican place we found, Cascabel Taqueria at 2799 Broadway, offered delicious options for vegetarians (namely, us).

The restaurant’s theme was Mexican Wrestlers. Nacho Libre!

We began our trek up my favorite thoroughfare, Broadway. Our plan was ambitious. The first destination would be the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It had been decades since my last visit, but the good feeling I had taken away with me that afternoon so many years ago still resonated.

At West 111 St., we stepped inside a community garden called “The People’s Garden.”

 Situated slightly off busy Broadway, the garden is open to anyone that passes by. I love community gardens. When I lived in California, I worked for a while as a reporter for a local paper. My “beat” was “gardens.” You couldn’t beat that with a stick. Hands down, it was my most favorite job ever.

Gardeners are delightful, peaceable folks with interesting and diverse backgrounds. They’re kind of like artists. They garden out of love (and generally scrape by running a nursery or working at some loathsome “day job.”)

This lovely memorial was also posted on their fence

For the epitome of simplicity, check out their birdbath

Even this seems better than my “day job”

St. John the Divine was close by, on Amsterdam Ave. Before we went inside, we walked around the Children’s Garden, which is adjacent to the cathedral. Small bronze relief sculptures were installed in the hedges around the circumference of the garden. Each was created by a different artist in homage to someone in the arts or person of good works. These two were my favorites:

Because I love the music of Bach and the sentiment inscribed thereon

And…

This great piece of folk art. Note the inscription: “1805-1901 — Greek composer who wrote many songs.” And the right side depicts a page of sheet music, titled “I Have A Dog Named Sue.”

A view inside one of the gardens of St. John’s

One of several entrances in the facade of St. John’s

Before starting our walk, our reason for visiting St. John’s was to view an installation by South African artist Jane Alexander. However, after we entered the cathedral and paid the admission fee, the cashier asked, “Would you like to take the tour? It’s just beginning.” We said YES.

Our tour guide was an eloquent older gentleman who told us we were his only guests. A few minutes later, however, a sweet young Italian couple from Milan, joined in. Nonplussed, our guide welcomed them and started speaking fluent Italian, informing us and them that he had lived in Italy for 10 years.

There were too many highlights on this tour to mention. The guide discussed in detail the mixed-up architecture in the cathedral (a characteristic of most cathedrals, he added). St. John’s construction is half-Gothic and half-Romanesque. He compared the mixture to that of the duomo (cathedral) in Milan.

In a classic “6-degree-of-separation moment,” 4 of the 5 of us present on the tour had been, at one time, inside the exquisite duomo of Milan.

This is a tour for everyone, and especially those who embrace history, art and architecture, and humanism. The trivia concerning the cathedral, the philosophy behind it, and the original artwork inside (paintings, tapestries, sculptures, Asian ceramics…) — plus the many interesting personalities involved in helping the cathedral sustain its vision (“A house of prayer all all people, and a unifying center of intellectual light and leadership”) — is fascinating and enriching.

The design of the cathedral, as we were informed, was centered around the principles of  ”sacred geometry.” The mystical numeral 7 plays a prominent role (as in the 7 naves, 7 trumpets, multiples of seven re the pipes of the organ, the seals on the floor, the chapels…).

In the funeral chapel sits a white piano once belonging to Duke Ellington, who lived uptown and worshipped at the cathedral. His funeral mass was held at St. John’s. After his death, his wife donated the piano to the cathedral. It gave me chills when our guide lifted the quilted blanket to give us a glimpse of the keyboard.

This moving sculpture is dedicated to September 11th.

Markers are provided to write messages on the votive candles

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I need to mention artist Jane Alexander. The following is a sampling of her sculpture (which addresses themes of apartheid and bigotry, which, regrettably, is still very much alive in South Africa). It’s a haunting exhibition.

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We thanked our wonderful tour guide and said goodbye to the Italians. After almost 2 hours on our feet, we were in need of sustenance and chairs to sit on. We bid adieu, by touching  (according to the artist’s original wishes), the elegant Nakashima prayer altar occupying a space near the front door.

Exiting onto Amsterdam Ave., we headed for The Hungarian Pasty Shop cafe across the street (how could we not?). Once inside, we figured out that it was a kind of hangout for brainiacs from nearby Columbia University. The atmosphere bristled with intelligence.

Behind the counter, where you place your order

The proprietor was a raven haired, somewhat intense, friendly women who (to borrow a line from Moonstruck) had “eyes like a gypsy.” We ordered one slice each of flourless chocolate cake made with freshly sliced bananas and topped with shredded coconut. It was amazing.

This cafe reminded me of cafes of older New York, maybe the ones you’d see down in the Village or in Soho before the mega bucks and designer stores showed up. The kind you don’t see around much anymore. At least, not here in the city. Which is to say, simple decor, no tourists, busy minds at work — basically, not a scene. In fact, this entire part of town feels that way. It’s great.

Sitting opposite me in the corner of the cafe was a rather tragic looking young woman:

And I couldn’t help but eavesdrop into the conversation of two bearded young men sitting next to me. One was a budding screenwriter. The other, possibly a writer.

Guy #1 (spiritedly) : I just got an internship at [such and such] company!

Guy #2: Well, I can’t imagine them getting better free labor than you.

Guy #1: Why, thank you. I take that as a moderate compliment.

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For our walk back to West 96 Street , we chose beautiful Riverside Park:

  We descended into the park from the street

The Promenade

The Soccer Field (Hudson River in the background)

Trager Terrace

Overlook from the Terrace

My lunch companion taking a call

Final Stop — West 96 St. Station

Heins & LaFarge, who designed a beautiful ceiling segment of tile work inside St. John the Divine, were the same artists responsible for many of the ceramic motifs inside the New York Subway System.

VISIT THE CATHEDRAL — IT’S INCREDIBLE!

Lunchtime Walks in the City: The Lower Parts of Park

How LOW could I go on Park Avenue? Not that low in a single hour. But LOW enough in contrast to yesterday’s stroll in the upper region.

This morning, a coworker mentioned a cake sale to be staged at Grand Central Terminal. Which gave me a destination, of sorts. Not for the cake, though.

Same coworker started rattling off names of chefs she imagined would be there. Batali (the guy who wears Crocs and is proud of it).  Ever read his “What I’m Drinking” fifty words  in the NYT magazine on Sunday, about his alcohol habit? The guy must start drinking at breakfast.

Next, she invoked Emeril (they guy killing Americans one by one with recipes for Couchon du Lait). Namedropping this primetime pair of chefs, thankfully, exhausted her entire chef-ly repertoire and, finally, she put a lid on it.

Moving right along…get me to lower Park Avenue…

At the strike of noon, I exited my building onto Fifth Avenue and made a left on 57th. I walked directly to Park Avenue and turned right. As I approached 50th Street, the tenor of the avenue began to shift.

Workmen were eating their lunch on the curb! And stately St. Bartholomew’s Church drifted into my radar.

A wagon parked on the corner was selling Chili Dogs…and curb sitters were indulging…

Over the years, I’ve worked at several different jobs in this part of town. I always like being here because it’s a hub of activity and hive of working people.

Here’s a frontal view of St. Bart’s. It’s stunning to look at and recalls times gone by when artists and crafts people were a healthy part of the work force.

Wait a minute. Are those frescos?

I just googled St. Bart’s and discovered, yes, indeed. They are frescos. Not only that…there’s a restaurant inside the church. Seriously?

The Reviews Are In — the PRO’s and CON’s:

“Horrible management and service” Reviewed April 21, 2013

Was this review helpful? Yes

I wouldn’t recommend this restaurant to my worst enemy. I booked a reservation far in advance on Savored for a joint birthday party for my father’s 85th and my niece’s 16th. My parents drove in from Connecticut and my sister took a bus in from Pennsylvania. When we arrived, we were told they didn’t have a record of the reservation (I had a confirmation from Savored) and that they wouldn’t accommodate it anyway as they had a private party of 16 (!!! – the restaurant fits way more than 16 people). This ruined our entire evening. We went to a friendly RELIABLE restaurant in my neighborhood (Rossini’s), waited for a table (because we didn’t have a reservation) and then my sister and niece had to leave before dessert to catch the last bus back home. I have eaten here in the past, the food is fine (nothing special), but the decor is unique and the only reason I booked there in the first place. Unless you’re eager to eat in a church, don’t waste your time.

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“Where smart locals go for lunch” Reviewed April 8, 2013

Was this review helpful? Yes

 

Inside Park is a great place for lunch. It’s convenient(Park& 51st), the food is good and, most importantly, it’s very quiet. You can actually have a conversation with your guest without having to shout. The service is very efficient and the menu selections are varied. The staples are French Onion soup and Chicken Pot Pie but I usually get the “Half n Half”, a bowl of soup with half a sandwich. Today the soup was vegetable with barley and the sandwich was a delicious roast turkey. If you’re taking someone special, ask for a booth when you make your reservation; they are really comfortable! 

Moving right along…

A few posts ago I wrote about how much I love walk-thru and drive-thru buildings in NYC.

Well, here on Park I hit the jackpot. An old favorite, the former PanAM (but currently) MetLife building of that previous post — is actually the called Helmsley building. MetLife merely serves as a backdrop. See the tunnel? That’s the drive-thru. But the closer I got, I noticed something I’d never noticed before. Next to the drive-thru is a building walk-thru!

I crossed over. When I walked through the this pedestrian tunnel and came out on the other side, I encountered another one of my favorite NYC antiquities:

My own personal Bridge of Sighs. A steel artery that connects buildings. Instead of walking through a tunnel carved into a building at ground level to arrive at an adjacent street, in this case, you get to exit from an upper floor inside a building onto a steel bridge appended in between to get to the inside of an adjacent building’s upper floor.

I’ve heard our mayor wants to create a pedestrian plaza on Vanderbilt Avenue at Grand Central Terminal.

I believe this is the section of Vanderbilt where it might happen:

What a great idea. I love walking around Vanderbilt in this area near 45th Street. The surrounding buildings are towering and protective. In this section of the avenue, its asphalt platform is centrally nested. I’m thrilled about this.

I’d spent enough time moseying around, shooting pictures and sightseeing like a tourist. But it was time to head back to work.

I decided my return route would be up Madison Avenue.

FOR THE WEIRDEST THING I SAW TODAY, THE AWARD GOES TO: “THE  DISPLAY WINDOW AT GRAND CENTRAL OPTICALS” for this digitally created “Head on a Stick.” What a concept.

Only ten minutes left to get back to the office. I don’t know why I obsess over being punctual, but I do. And speaking

 of  punctual, I’d bet this man (below) is never late for anything. He plans ahead. He gives himself enough time. I can just tell. I’m like him.

Lunchtime Walks in the City: A Leisurely Stroll Up Park Avenue

I’d heard about some interesting sculptures installed on Park Avenue so I head east today at lunchtime. What a glorious day it is! 67 degrees, sunny, breezy…blissful.

Park Ave. is a riot of tulips.

And, oh, the intoxicating perfume from that blossoming tree…

The thing about Park Avenue’s tulips is that they don’t  fade or droop or turn brown. All of them are perfect. After dark, some stealth gardener must dig up the ones going bad and replace them by daybreak.

It’s a beautiful day for a walk. I’m in no rush. The first sculpture I encounter is near 60th St. I think the artist’s name is Alexandre Arrachea. I think..because I typed the name into my phone and I’m not sure if it auto-corrected. But I’m pretty sure that’s the name.

At close inspection, it looks to be a sleek skyscraper curled, snakelike, and eating it’s own tail. Hmmm.

Here’s another by the same artist:

Kind of looks like this skyscraper is giving New York the finger.

This one is my favorite. It’s kundalini-like squiggle reminds me of some of Andy Goldworthy’s nature installations:

From living for a while in Los Angeles, my eye is trained to spot a photo shoot at fifty paces. The familiar glare of the spotlights, the RV parked at the curb, the unfolded table topped with chafing dishes ready to feed the crew…all at the corner of 71st and Park.

Whenever I see models in person (which isn’t often), I’m always astonished at just how good looking they are.

Like Charlie’s Angels…alien beings, but captivating…

Hey, here’s a van that must feel right at home on Park Avenue:

In a million years, I would never have put window shades and aggression in the same sentence.

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Only on the upper east side (and maybe L.A.) will you find a children’s birthday party doing stroller valet:

I’ll bet no kid goes diaper-less at this party…

The proliferation of foreign consulates and plastic surgery practices on Park has reached critical mass and I am in need of trees and benches and cobblestones and nature gone a bit wilder. I turn up 71th Street and walk toward Fifth Avenue.

Just beyond the corner of 71st, a few construction workers are tooling around up on the scaffolding. One of them is reminiscing aloud about a woman he knows.

“Yvonne…Yvonne…,” he says, dreamily. “Now that’s a first class name. Yvonne…my little croissant…my little croissant with cheese…”

*

As I get closer to my office building, the Strand outpost (always a welcome reappearance with the advent of Spring) comes into view. I love that little book nook but feel guilty because now that I do most of my reading on my iPhone, I don’t buy many paper books.

But, guilt be gone, when I get distracted by two men in conversation standing next to the park. One of them says:

“Dude! I’m trying to help you because I know how it sucks when you have something in your head and you can’t describe it!”

(He’s right, that does kind of suck).

Alas, it’s time to return to work. I cross over Fifth. At 58th Street, I see a bride and groom heading toward the plaza hotel.

Nice day for a wedding…

Before I know it, I’m seated back at my desk. I feel like I need to debriefed. The juxtaposition of my past hour outdoors and the sterility of my beige cubical — is just too much to take in.

Then the  biggest goofball in the office drops by. He checks out my screensaver.

“What’s that a picture of?” he says.

“The Grand Canyon.” Noticing his look of bewilderment, I add, “In Arizona.”

“Oh, the Grand Canyon! Is that the Canadian side or the American side?”

[sigh]

Lunchtime Walks in the City: The Continuing Lure of the Westside

The weather was glorious – sunny, warm but not hot, and just a slight breeze.  Once again, I was heading west.

At the corner of Broadway and 58th St., I saw these words scrawled on a mailbox:

You are so right, Phat Lipp.

Looney tunes and much more going on inside the cubical neighborhood this morning. Tension, laced with passive aggression, peppered with lots of acting out. Could not wait to escape and hit the pavement.

Just past the mailbox, this bar/restaurant came into view. I had to take a picture. This is a place I’d like to visit, if only to sign “Smith” on the check:

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Note to self: seek out other street signs near Lincoln Center named for musicians. My heart leapt up at seeing Bernstein’s name.

I recently re-watched a 1983 Metropolitan Opera Gala concert that I own on DVD. Leonard Bernstein conducts the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra in one segment of the concert. How thrilling it was to watch Bernstein conduct. He was so physical and so passionate. At the Gala, he conducted the overture to Candide, one of his own compositions. He was truly one of the greats. He warms your heart.

Speaking of heartwarming, here’s another reason you have to love the Westside. The Puppy Socialization Mixers. Like it or not, people do bring their dogs to restaurants. Therefore, a few social graces are in order. Non, non, Fifi! We do not poop on zee floor!

Which reminds me of a recent article appearing in the Sunday Times reporting that some babies in Williamsburg, Brooklyn are now going diaper-less, because, according to their mothers — or their doula (a birth and childrearing coach), it’s “eco-friendly.” Going diaper-less requires training, however (that’s where the doula comes in — and it will cost you).

You must read the article, if not for the information, for the unbelievability factor. If this practice catches on, Williamsburg might soon be in need of Baby Socialization Mixers. How to socialize with a bare bottom that excretes at will and with full consent of its respective parent. When you think about it, the babies sound not unlike puppies. Maybe the puppies and the babies should start a pooping meet-up.

Another thumbs-up for the upper westside is the eclecticism and cultural flavor of their street merchants. Check out the selection of goods and how aesthetically they are presented:

As I strolled along, I inevitably became conscious of the time and decided I should begin heading east. The number 68 popped into my head so I turned right on W. 68th St. As soon as I turned the corner, I saw this address:

68 W. 68 Street — a double whammy, like Boutros Boutros Ghali — or JimmyTwo-Times (in Goodfellas)

I liked W. 68 Street right away.  Not only is it bookended by Broadway and Central Park West, the business establishments are quirky and the architecture lovely.

You can learn to tap dance here

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Or have your cards read in the psychic’s apartment, 1F.

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Check out the beautiful facade of York Prep School

As I neared CPW, I overheard  a woman say to a companion: “You got to have some kind of foreign bug we don’t have here.”

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At Central Park West and 68th, into the cornerstone of a Church of Seventh Day Adventists Church was carved:

Taken in the right spirit, it’s always a good message

I had about 20 minutes to get back to the office and had a brilliant idea — which I should have had the other day, when I rushed like mad and hopped a bus on CPW to 57th St. to make it back to work in time.

I would cut though Central Park. At 63rd. St. I crossed over Central Park West and went inside.

A guy walking past me carrying a skateboard the size of a surfboard, with dreds and dressed in camouflage gear, said into his cell: “I can open up some Stoli and have me a little drink.”

Once in the park I headed EAST…

As I traversed this shady path, I came upon a stone bridge. The overpass actually had a name, DripRock Arch:

On approach, I heard the soulful notes of a saxophone.

When I arrived in the underpass, the musician was in-between songs. I expressed my delight at hearing him play and dropped a dollar into his case. He picked up his instrument and started playing again.

 Musicians bring so much joy to the city. And they are everywhere, both above and under ground. In fact, just today, Michael Bublé was singing inside the 66th St. subway station, for free:

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I nodded at the familiar waterfall I’ve sat in front of many times while eating my lunch:

A guy passing by said into  his cell: “I’m in Central Park. They finally turned the waterfall on.”

I didn’t know it had a switch.

Here’s a pretty view of the Park:

I think that’s the Hotel Pierre towering above the trees.

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Years ago, Katherine Hepburn was famously asked, “If you could be a tree, which tree would you be?” Hepburn answered, “An oak.”

If someone asked that same question of a Franz Kline painting, I think the painting’s answer would be (in an image, of course), this:

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Well, my walk was winding down because the clock was about to strike 1:00 PM. Exiting onto Central Park South, I passed a line of Hansom cabs, waiting for passengers.

Lovely head gear on the horse:

And out of the mouth of one of the drivers came this:

“He luke like he shu be eng Mehico wit dah hot.“

(He looks like he should be in Mexico with that hat)

After I snapped his picture and started walking away, he called out after me: “Dohn put eet out on Facebook! Ha ha ha ha ha ha.”

Lunchtime Walks in the City: Make My Day

My lunch hour was abbreviated today due to a compulsory catered lunch in the conference room at work — management’s way of honoring us — even if the sandwich bread was cold and tasteless from over-refrigeration. Being a dutiful employee — i.e., eating from the tasteless spread in full view of the H.R. manager — really cut into my leisure time.

When I exited the building, the weather was so very fine, I nearly gasped. I immediately headed over to the Park for the 35 or so minutes remaining in my lunch hour.

The color red knocks me out. But when it appears in nature and with such flamboyance — as in that flaming tree pictured above — it fills me with joy and truly does “make my day.”

I didn’t expect to see anything that would top the vibrance of that tree. But look what I saw in the pond!!!

Spring is the season to breed. The geese are doing a good job of it.  How heartbreakingly cute this itty bitty baby gosling was. (Click on the photo to enlarge).

Gosling? Hey, there’s an actor called Ryan Gosling. I’ve never thought of him as being part goose. Now, that is all I will think of when I see him.

It’s illegal to fish in Central Park (probably for you own good, i.e., eating the catch). One of the men is fishing. The other seems to be texting.

What could he be typing? In the park. Soooo bored!

If only I could have joined these people on the grass and blown off work. It was such a picture perfect day.

Right before 1:00 PM. on my way back to the office, two of the women who sit next to me, were crossing over Fifth Ave. toward Central Park. What was going on here? We had all eaten lunch at the same time. Yet, they were appending an extra hour onto their lunchtime without giving it a second thought. I guess you are able to get away with that when you hardly work. Or think.

No one will miss them. Especially not me.

Lunchtime Walks in the City: All in a 4-Block Radius

Today, Tuesday, was unseasonably chilly. In the high 40′s, windy, overcast…not a great walking day. I ate my sandwich at my desk as usual and thought about not going out. Even if QPA (aka “Big Mommy”) did call out sick, which reduced the tension level of our cubic confine to a noticeably low level.

Still, I had to get out and breathe some real air. But instead of a long walk, I thought: why not bring the outdoors indoors and knew just where to go. I crossed 57th  St.and headed towards the “520 Madison Urban Plaza” to hang out.

It’s between Fifth and Madison. Just look at it (below). Glass-enclosed, with not just trees (some of them, bamboo), but also birds. It’s true. Sparrows hopping from branch to branch, flying and tweeting. It’s the next best thing to the Park. There’s even a little restaurant in the corner serving artisan soups and other small plates.

And I got to thinking about an earlier post, when I mentioned how one can walk through buildings in Manhattan, thereby avoiding rushing to corners and encircling blocks, in order to move north and south in midtown.

After spending some quality time in this lovely little space, I cut through the space over to 56th St., crossed over, and entered the Sony building, aka the Sony Public Space at 590 Madison. Inside, you can entertain yourself by touring the Sony Wonder exhibit and listen and watch Sony brag on itself. Or you can sit down and enjoy a delicious cappuccino and biscotti from the small cafe.

Or, newly added since the winter, you can have a slice of pizza:

This is really bringing the outside “in,” without having to endure the stale malaise and polyester odor (and potpourri fumes…) of a mall. Because doors to the outside are always opening and closing. The air is constantly being replenished and freshened.

Or, when you have had enough mingle time with the general public, you can walk through the Sony building to the opposite side and exit onto 55th St. I wandered around a bit, turned the corner, walked mid-block — and ran into a chunk of the Berlin Wall!

The details:

Okay, how is this not the greatest city in the world?

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Over on 53rd St., for a little South American feel, I stopped to gaze at this waterfall…

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Eureka! Another walk-through building on 53rd st.

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Yet another walk-through building on another section of 53rd St.  At 666 Fifth Avenue.

In the 90′s, I frequented a dimly-lit, clubby piano bar called “Top of the Sixes” located on the top floor of 666 Fifth, which had a stunning, wraparound view of Manhattan. It was so captivating at night! My cousin and I (we worked together at the time) spent many a Thursday or Friday evening eating dinner at the polished mahogany bar while sipping perfectly poured Margaritas and staring at the view. Such good times…

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Taking advantage of the inclement weather today, I stayed close to work, took my time and didn’t have to scramble for a bus or subway to make it back to the office in time. In a mere 4 blocks between 57th and 53rd Streets, I saw so much.

On my way back to work, I ran into this gentlemen in front of the Presbyterian church on 5th Avenue. I asked him if I could take his picture. He said, “Of course,” and posed for me.

Even better than a Bergdorf’s window!

Lunchtime Walks in the City: Every Day is Earth Day in Central Park

April 22nd – Happy Earth Day!  What better place to spend it than in Central Park. At least, that was my thinking this afternoon.

Especially since there was something akin to an earthquake rattling my cubicle neighborhood this morning at work. Nasty doings by Queen PA (Passive Aggression, and not directed at me — it’s just that I was caught in the crossfire as Q directed her PA at another co-worker, who happened to have brought in a vegetarian quiche she baked yesterday to share with us). So you would think QPA would have cut her some slack, even if she was acting a little manic. I guess QPA isn’t a fan of quiche.

Get me to the Park, was what the voice inside my head was shouting. I cut out of there at noon.

The weather was a tad chilly today. In the mid-ish 50′s with an annoying blustery wind. However, once I descended the steps at Fifth Avenue and climbed down into Central Park, the wind died down somewhat.  And it was really beautiful just to be there.

A couple pushing the Spring envelope by picnicking on the grass…

The entrance to the Central Park Boathouse. Every June, my company holds their annual “Summer Party” at the boathouse. The past two years I dodged the party — either by taking the day off or ducking out on the sly. All these work parties seem like the same wedding reception repeating itself — except there is no bride and groom, no family members, no good friends to toast with, and a lousy DJ — so, who wants to go? Not me. At heart, I’m an introvert. Although I do like parties, I prefer to celebrate with those I truly like and love. I hope I can get out of it this year. Maybe I should go to Europe.

Yes, some brave souls went rowing in the pond, but they were wearing substantial outerwear. Brrrr, really, when the sun slipped behind the clouds.

Look how these tulips just sprang up in the middle of the scrub brushery…

This is Bow Bridge. From the overlook you can see Bethesda Terrace and Fountain and, after you walk across, you are close to Strawberry Fields — my goal (which is at 72nd St. and Central Park West, but inside the Park). I was moseying around on this walk, taking my time to take in the color (and not rushing, as on Friday).

I had already walked from 57th St. to 72nd St. on windy paths in the park. I checked the time on my phone — it was 12:40 P.M. Hmmm, I was a little behind schedule…

The “crossroads” – I have a notoriously bad sense of direction. I even turned on the GPS app on my phone — and I was still confused as to which way to turn.  So I looked up at the sun – always my last resort when lost.

But my attention was diverted by this rock (above). Wagner Cove? A stone staircase begins a foot or so beyond the rock and descends toward that cute tea-for-two gazebo-like structure (below). Good thing it was occupied because I would have liked to sit on one of the benches — which would have made me hopelessly late getting back to work.

Finally, I arrived at Strawberry Fields (forever)!A quiet zone. Like the quiet car on the Metro North. Speak in your library voice (no one ever does)…

My first Robin sighting of Spring…and more gorgeous tulips!

The Dakota (below) – where John and Yoko lived (she still does) and where Rosemary’s Baby, one of my favorite films, was shot (the exterior shots of the apartment where Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes (and the witches!) lived.

Uh oh, it was 12:50! No way I was going to make it back to work on time. I started a jog down Central Park West. I made it as far as 68th St. when saw this bus stop sign. I looked down CPW. A bus was coming!

I got on.

The bus dropped me at 57 St. and Broadway. I trotted from 8th Ave. to 7th to 6th and got to 5th at 1:10 PM. Not bad. Only 9 minutes late today!

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Check out this video from the very first Earth Day – 1970. I was there!! In the crowd!! See if you can find me. I was holding a yellow rose…