Riding in the Rain

Have you ever wanted to go to an exotic place and blend in with the locals, enjoy the place the way the natives do? Well that was me and my friend --  on vacation in this beautiful Caribbean island. We didn't want to be in the touristy resort, that kept you in a protective bubble, far away from the reality of the people that live there.

So we decided to venture out on our own, and take a local taxi to the historic colonial part of town. Unfortunately for us it started raining, and of course, as soon as it rains -- as if by magic -- all the taxis vanish into the air. So there we were, standing on the corner, getting drenched (we forgot our umbrellas), when salvation! we spotted a taxi making its way to us. We waved it to stop -- and it did -- the driver asked us our destination, we told him, and he said get in.

It was once we got in, that we realized that maybe we had made a mistake. Let me describe the condition of the interior of this car: it was one of those 1950's car, really large on the inside. Which means that this driver was picking up as many people as he could pack in. We were on the back seat, which already had three persons, all scrunched in. Now my friend is really tall, so he let me in first, then had to contort himself by the door.

Apart from the driver, there were another three passenger in the front. The car was so unstable that it was held together by this large belt running from one door on the left -- to the other door on the right. To top it off, because the front was so crowded, the driver was actually leaning out the window as he drove, while the passenger next to him had his foot on the gas pedal. So that the two were coordinating between the brake and the gas pedal as they drove. Naturally, this arrangement made them drive like maniacs. And me and my friend were seriously thinking that maybe it would have been better to just get soaked in the pouring rain. But you know what...? ...We had so much fun, that to this day -- it's what we most remember about that trip!

A Place for Dreams in Astoria

There's a place in New York City that feels like a portal to a different, alternate reality. A place where you can go and discover the joy of learning nearly everything about the development of movies, television, and anything else having to do with images that move.

This great place is the Museum of the Moving Image, located in Astoria, Queens. As of now, to my knowledge, it's the only museum in the United States, dedicated to the history, invention, art, design, technology and evolution of what we call movies and videos.

I first went to this place years ago, when it was just the ambitious dream of its founders. As I remember --  it was small and cramped, but had great exhibits. The collections of costumes, props, photos, and assorted memorabilia from movies and television's early days took you back to those early days of what is now a huge business.

After plenty of fundraisers they renovated the place, and what a grand place it is! The architecture is very modern and makes use of natural light. But the best is the way the exhibits are presented. It's all interactive, and the way it presents the technology, history and how the art of the moving image has evolved, is very innovative.

When a group of us went there last summer, it was fun to interact with the Muppets exhibition. They also had a recreation of an old time movie "palace". We just loved the amazing collection they had of classic movies costumes and props, and a wall with photos of old and new stars and asked if you could identify them. The section on Star Wars alone, kept us so fascinated, that we had to be told to move on, so that others could enjoy it.

But the best part --  were the interactive exhibit that let you experience the different aspects of making a movie: like sound editing, adding music, editing the different scenes, adding sound effects, dubbing voices, and so many fun things that honestly, we had to force ourselves to finally go out.

The gift shop has such a varied and eclectic collection that I had to control my money so that I wouldn't buy half of the store. Every time I go there they have different themes and exhibitions, and did I mention that they have this screening room where they play the classic movies?

If you want to be transported to the way things used to be and yet feel like you are at the cutting edge of tomorrow, this is one place that is worth a visit.

Amusement Park Escapade

If you like adventure and thrills, living on the edge, getting that rush from doing something challenging -- but  don't have the money to go off on your dream tour or place, there's always the excitement you can get on a budget -- and if you live in Brooklyn, or visit here, the place for that is the amusement park in Coney Island. But not just any part of the park, you have to get on the world famous Cyclone!

What in the world is the Cyclone, you might ask, well...it's this ancient, wooden roller coaster that opened on June 26, 1927, and was in and out of favor with the public for years. Finally, when it was threatened with demolition, a save the Cyclone campaign not only saved it, but managed to get it declared a city landmark in 1988, and a National Historic Landmark in 1991. Which of course makes it now a popular attraction for people who want to prove to themselves--that they got the nerve and stamina needed to take the ride and not scream their heads off.

With this in mind, I invited a friend to go with me and ride the Cyclone, to test himself. It took a lot of convincing--but he relented and we got on the ride. And oh brother! what a ride! My friend and I were sitting on the very first car, as he thought this would be child's play. So they lowered the bar--and off we went! My friend is screaming his head off, as we were being rattled, shaken and moved hither and yon by the centrifugal forces as this contraption is making turns at dizzying speeds.

Then -- just as suddenly the ride stopped--my poor friend looked green, he could barely walk, he was still shaken from the rattly, speedy ride. So I said to him, wasn't that great! How would you like to ride it again? He gave me a look of horror---oh no, no and no. He complained that he must have broken something and to top it off, he was in excruciating pain. No matter how I tried to explain to him that he had just been on the historic roller coaster, he told me that now his back was ruined for life, and he will forever blame me for dragging him to this.

Parking Lot Skirmishes

One of the reasons I'm not too fond of driving, is that people become possessive  and territorial when it comes to a parking spot. Fights have broken out over who first saw a place to park, and to be honest, I really dislike getting into a fight over that. And the place where the worst behavior over parking takes place is at the local shopping mall.

It's appalling the extremes that some people will go, to secure a parking spot, especially if it's close to the entrance of the business they are going to shop in. I have seen people drive around, waiting for someone to leave a space, near the entrance to the store, while whole rows of empty spots are just half a block away. But no -- these people wouldn't dream of parking that far, heaven forbid! Them, parking where they have to walk five whole minutes! unheard of.

There are the kamikaze car parkers, that would run you over or crash into your car  just to get those coveted spots near the store. The other day, where it not for my quick reflexes, this maniac would have crashed  into the right-side of my car -- as he swooped and zoomed to grab a spot, just as I was turning to park in it. I had to step fast on the brakes. This lady yells at me --  fight him! fight him! But I have more important things to do than to get riled up over some loser whose idea of winning is to do stuff like this.

As I found out, a parking lot, is a lot more dangerous place than the regular roads. Because, for some reason, people totally disregard any notion of rules of the road. People cut through the parking lanes, back-up without looking, zoom around 40 miles an hour, and in general it's an every man for himself mentality. Heaven help you if you are a pedestrian here.

The New Sidewalk

Nothing brings out the artist more in people than the sight of freshly poured cement. If I had any doubt about this, it was perfectly illustrated by what I witnessed when the local library had its sidewalk renovated.

I remember that I was working as a volunteer at the library, when the construction people came to get rid of the old, broken down sidewalk, really early in the morning. The administrator appointed me the point-person to talk to the construction people and to  make sure that the job would be well done.

So there I was watching them tear out the old cement, smooth out the soil, put in some sort of grid,  pour the cement or concrete and shape the new sidewalk. When they had finished, the guy in charge of the construction crew came and told me: you better sit out here for the next few hours to make sure people don't come and ruin the nice clean and smooth cement. I thought that he was exaggerating a bit, but I followed his advice.

What transpired next proved his point. It was unbelievable! It was as if some magic alarm had been sounded --  attention world! fresh cement, come make your mark on it! Next thing I know --  there's a whole parade of people coming by- --  all of them trying to write or do something on the wet cement. There were three kids who tried to leave their footprints, the guy who came with his dog to put the paws prints, one teenager who tried to make tracks with the bike, and I lost track of those that wanted to (of course) write their names or draw something.

Whenever they attempted to do any of these things -- it came as a shock to them that I would say ---excuse me! you can't do that! Because, you see --  they were so intent on leaving their impressions that they didn't notice me sitting there on the front door of the library, just looking at them try to damage the surface of the newly built sidewalk. The look of shock on their faces, when they looked up to see me watching them, was fun. But I was glad, at the end of the day, when my job of sidewalk sentinel finally came to an end.

An Underground Gallery

I'm a fan the subways. Where else can you find a display of the variety we humans are capable of?  I mean---in the subways you really do see everything! Every fashion, action, reaction, you name -- you see it. This is why, if I have to go somewhere, I prefer to take the subway, rather than drive a car--heck even the public bus, offers a great sampling of humanity, if you are into people watching.

But at other times, I also like to take the subway, for the different decorations you can see on the subway station, on the platforms, to make waiting for the train a bit more pleasant. Here you have both elevated train stations that soar above the streets, or underground ones. And each have their particular charms and decorations.

One of my favorites is the subway station that is on the 8th Avenue line, in Manhattan. If you take either the A, C, or E trains to the 14th Street station you will see this really interesting collection of small bronze miniature people, about 5 to 6 inches in height, doing all sorts of wacky things.

You'll see them crawling under the subway iron gates, sitting on a stairways railing, trying to use very odd-looking public phones, and other poses all around. It really is all quite amusing. When I go there  it's like playing a game of hide and seek, to see how many I can spot on the platforms and also even on the street --on the entrance that lead to the underground station.

When I had relatives visit recently, we went around just taking photos of these quirky little creations. It gives the whole station a surreal aspect, which --to me, at least -- make it worthy of being placed on the list of things you just have to see, when you visit here.

The Old West Side

It was interesting to live and work in Manhattan, near Times Square, back in the late 1970's and the 1980's. My uncle was telling me the stories of what it was like -- and boy it was an adventure....

He used to work at a building on 8th Avenue, near 45th Street, that was a hot-spot (and I don't mean wi-fi!) day and night. Now remember, this was before the Internet or cell phones became so common. So that if you got into trouble, and needed to call someone, you needed coins to call someone from a public phone.

Now my uncle was telling me that at lunch time he liked to go and eat at one the local diners or little restaurants on the avenue, or just walk down to Times Square. The only problem was that as you walked down the block, from one corner to the other---you had to run through a gauntlet of pimps, drug dealers, prostitutes, bums, and all sorts of crazies and wackos, some of them zonked-out on drugs.

So the simple task of getting lunch became a game of survival: get to the place, buy lunch, and make it back to the office in one piece. He said that, naturally, as he walked down the block, the assorted characters he met, would hand him little business card, directing him to this or that place--where he could have "fun" and other activities to make him "happy". He just nodded, took the cards, and kept walking.

One day, while he was inside this fish and chips place, he hears a big commotion outside, so he --like everybody else--runs outside to see this two women fighting and calling each other every name on the book. From what he could piece together from their screaming, one was the mistress of the other's husband, and each was calling the other filthy names.

My uncle said that the best part of all this was that the pimps and prostitutes were egging the women on and shouting at them -- that the winner could work for them -- as they were there on the ground tearing each others clothes off, pulling hair, and scratching face.

Finally-- he had enough and went to the public phone on the corner and called the police. Believe or not, when the police came, people actually started booing them for stopping this great spectacle! And--as if by some sort of magic, suddenly the pimps, the prostitutes and the drug dealers--just vanished from the street. My uncle said that he looked around and was, like--what? where did everyone go? Not wanting to be questioned by the police as to what had happened, he like the others, just kept walking and headed back to the office.

He tells me that when he visits Times Square now, and sees how clean and sanitized it has become, he sometimes thinks back to the bad old days, and tells me that nope--he certainly doesn't miss it!

The Dating Switch

For those people that have ever wished for a change of scenery, life sometimes likes to play a joke on them. As if to say, here take this--you wanted it didn't you? An then they have to deal with the consequences of whatever strange things happens next.

This is what happened to a friend of mine and her sister. Now these two girls, both in their early twenties, are so much physically alike that they could pass for twins. Their friends keep mixing them up, as in when they see one of them on the street and say hello, to who they think is sister A, when in reality it's sister B, and then these people get upset when the girl ignores them.

However, the sisters have at times used this confusion to their advantage when some unexpected event forced one of them to change her plans, as it happened to sister A. She was supposed to go on a date with this very nice young man that she had met at a party.

But she came down with this terrible cold, so she called sister B, who had her own place, and asked her if she could go on the date instead. You see -- this young fellow had bought tickets for a Broadway show and then afterwards to dine at this very fancy and exclusive restaurant, and sister A felt bad that this poor guy would lose his money. Sister B said that OK she would take over, besides--she had no interest in the guy, but wanted to see the Broadway show.

With that settled, sister A called the young man and told him that ...hey look I'm sick and can't make it for tonight, but my sister agreed to go with you so that you don't waste the tickets for the show. He at first got confused, but then said that it was alright with him, heck at least he got a date -- and who knows what else he thought!

So, as the sisters told me, the young guy goes to the apartment of sister B, rings the doorbell ---and nearly dies of shock -- when sister B opens the door. He just stood there, staring in disbelief, and when he finally found his voice, all he could say was -- alright, ha! ha! nice little joke -- so you're not sick after all. Sister B waited for him to get over the shock of seeing how much she looked like sister A, and calmly explained that -- no, she was sister B, nice to meet you, and can we go?

Once he got over the huge similarities, the young man was actually quite pleased, telling sister B, that well--he actually liked her better than his original date. This made her think that he was nothing but a creep, and made sure to let him know. This only made him more determined to convince her that ---well, it was fate and could he -- after that night--actually date her --  and not her sister?

You can well imagine the turmoil that caused between the sisters, one which I wanted no part of, as the girls both told me their story.

Florence Traffic and Patience

Life sometimes presents you with moments that give you a glimpse to an alternate way of doing things. Where you experience a sort of epiphany, a revelation, that leads you to say -- aha! maybe I should change, abandon this way of doing things.

Well, I had that sort of epiphany while driving, and attempting to go from point A to point B in Florence, Italy. Now, here in the U.S. I'm used to straightforward traffic directions, streets run in a kind of criss-cross pattern -- north - south and east - west, easy to follow easy to navigate. To my dismay, I found that this was not the case in Florence. No, here you had so many detours and roundabouts, and streets that ended abruptly, or prohibited you from making either a left or right turn -- that the simple act of returning a rental car, became an ordeal -- making me swear off driving there for ever!

What should have been a ten-minute drive, because of all the weird traffic laws of Florence, took us about an hour -- and much consulting of maps and asking for directions from people, as we kept getting lost.  When we thought we could turn someplace--nope! it was illegal. We finally had to stop and park the car, and call the rental agency--which was near the main train station--and ask them to please tell us how in the world we could get there.

The directions the man gave us were worthy of an expedition and relied on this or that landmark. When we finally found the confounded car rental place, it felt like we had won a marathon. I asked the gentleman there -- if there was an easier way to navigate Florence, and he replied that -- yeah, either by foot or public transport would save you the aggravation. Which is something that next time we visit we will certainly do!

Express Rail Interlude

Sometimes a journey might seem to last an eternity, especially if you are riding a train from one country to another and your seatmates are not the best companions, or worse, put you in an uncomfortable situation that will last the whole train ride. In such a case, even if you are in an express train, time seems to stand still -- your suffering seems like it will never end.

This happened to me on a train ride from Paris to Venice. It started out promising enough, as me and my two friends boarded the second class section of this train. Now this train had seat arrangement where there were six seats: with three people on one side --  facing three people on the other side , so that we were facing each other. The seats were very close together so that those facing us had their feet practically on top of ours.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No the worst of it was that we were so close, that you could tell if somebody had brushed their teeth or had bathed. Meaning that if somebody was not clean---you could smell that fact. To my misfortune, the gentleman sitting across and directly in front of me -- had not either bathed or cleansed his body and mouth in the recent past -- and frankly his mouth and body -- stank! To make matters even more dire for me --- this guy had fallen asleep, with his mouth wide open--and it was like being in front of a rotting, smelly, manure-filled --  open sewer.

My neck hurt, from turning my heads sideways, trying to avoid the direct line of smell. My two friends, took no pity on me, and refused to -- even temporarily --- switch seats with me. They just were enjoying my misery. I had a bunch of mints that I tried to toss into his open mouth to see if at least that would neutralize the offensive odors, but the train kept moving and swaying -- and those just fell all around him.

Venice seemed like an eternity away, and there were only so many times you could get up and walk around on  that train, without getting tired of standing. I could not even enjoy the nice scenery we traveled through. When we finally arrived in Venice, I felt like a person released from punishment. The one positive was that it made me view Venice like a welcome paradise.

Wrong Train -- Missed Connection

Sometimes a simple mistake can change your life. That happened to one of my friends when we embarked on a four country adventure to Europe. We all had different motives for making this trip. For me it was to discover the different cultures of England, France, Switzerland and Italy. For one of my friends, it was the first time she had ever been out the U.S.A, and it was the trip of a lifetime.

But for my other friend, it was a trip to meet up with a romantic interest in Switzerland, the other countries were -- for her --  just a distraction till she would meet with her dream man. This was a young man she had met here in New York when he came for a family visit, and they dated until he went back, with a promise that they would get together in the future.

The way we had mapped it out, our first stop was London (of course), then it would be Paris, then Zurich, then Venice and finally---Rome. As you can imagine, with such an ambitious schedule---not everything would go according to plan.

We had a blast in London, but the place that had us in high anticipation mode was---naturally---Paris. I mean, we had read and heard so much about the City of Lights, all the sights, sounds, food and culture that Paris had to offer---that we couldn't wait to get there.

You can imagine then, how we went a bit overboard once we arrived in Paris. What with staying out late, every night, of the three nights we were spending there. So that when the fourth day came, and we had to take our next train from Paris to Zurich, we were like three zombies, and not thinking clearly, which led us to make a mistake that impacted my friend with the romantic interest.

Back when we took this trip, if you wanted to go to Zurich, you had to go to the Gare de l'Est, it wasn't the Gare Lyon, like it is now. If you are familiar with the train stations in Paris, the Gare de l'Est and the Gare du Nord are not that far from each other, so that if you aren't careful, you could go to one, when you meant to go to the other.

Now it just so happened that our hotel was situated between these two stations, and because of our lack of familiarity with Paris, we got very mixed up. In our itinerary we had written that we needed to go to the Gare de l'Est, to take the train to Zurich--but we had gotten into our hotel late, slept only four hours, and now -- semi-awake -- we were trying to find the Gare de l'Est.

So we just started walking and we saw this station and thought, wow! that was easy, now we just have to find our train. But as we wandered around, we couldn't find any signs that pointed to any train to Zurich. Finally we found someone who spoke English, and we asked where could we find the train to Zurich.

This man looks at us as if we were the three biggest idiots he's ever met, and says very coldly---certainly not here! you are in the Gare du Nord, that train leaves from the Gare de l'Est! This shocked us awake, what?! We are in the wrong station?! Oh man....that meant that we would have to run, if we hoped to catch the morning train to Zurich. Needless to say, by the time we got to the Gare de l'Est, we missed our morning train to Zurich and had to take the later train. Which meant that we would arrive by late afternoon.

This was important to my friend with the romantic interest. You see, she had agreed to meet up with him  in the early afternoon at the hotel we were staying at. And from what the concierge told us, when we finally made it to our hotel in Zurich, rather late in the evening, a young man had shown up inquiring about my friend, and he waited there for about two hours, until he thought that perhaps she had changed her mind -- and left. My friend, when she heard this was inconsolable, and she could not get in touch with him because her mobile (from the U.S.) did not work in Europe.

This ruined the trip for her. From that point on, she was so upset --  that the remainder of the trip, in Zurich, Venice and Rome, she was not interested in anything, crying every night about her missed opportunity. As we were only spending three days in each place we went, she never had the chance to meet up with him again. And to this day, she still is sure, that had they met up she would be the happiest woman ever, not the resigned housewife with two kids, and a husband she doesn't love.

Walking in the Past

Time can move fast or slow, depending on your perspective. But it seems that the older a person gets-- time seems to have moved way too fast -- at least for them. So that here they are--and oh no...what happened to their youth? This was the mood that my two aunts were in as they took a day trip to Coney Island.

Now, they spent many a great summer in Coney Island when they were teenagers, going on dates or just the two of them playing on the beach, body-surfing on the coming waves. The big thrill of going on the roller coaster, buying cotton candy. As they told me, this was the cool place to be!

And now here they were: one is eighty, and the other is eighty-two years old, and they can't believe that not only are they grandmothers--but great-grandmothers, what happened? When did time hit them like a stick--and made them old? But today they were determined to, at least in spirit, turn back the clock.

Here they were at the new renovated Coney Island, with the beautiful, world-class aquarium, new attractions, new twisting roller coaster, a whole series of new games in a place called Luna Park, and... oh the food! They were raving about the variety of foods from different parts of the world.

They felt young again, taking off their sandals and walking barefoot on the sand, dipping their feet at the edge of the ocean. They became again two young girls, taking pictures -- with their digital cameras of course -- of this new Coney Island.

As they later came back showing off the photos of their grand adventure, and telling me what a great time they had, it was great to see what a small trip to a place of your youth could do to renew a person's spirits. My two aunts, recouped the vitality of their youth, that they thought they had lost forever. Proving that age truly is a state of mind--more than of body.

On a Slow Flight to Europe

Gone are the days when flying anyplace is a simple matter. No... nowadays, the process is so convoluted and stressful --- that frankly, I'm, seriously looking at going back to the old days of the ocean liner. You, know---a nice slow ship, where you don't have to undergo all kinds of invasive procedures just to board the airplane.

And then, if you're flying economy, be crammed into a tiny seat in, a plane that has eight seats across. So that to eat, you and your fellow seatmates have to coordinate your hand movements, so you don't elbow or hit each other. This was the condition that I and two friends found ourselves in when, to save money, we bought tickets in this charter airline to fly to Spain.

We were congratulating ourselves on getting the flights so cheap, until we boarded the plane and found ourselves stuffed like sardines. The configuration of the economy section we were in was: two seats, an aisle, four seats, another aisle, and then two more seats. We were unfortunate enough to wind up in the middle four seats. This meant-- no windows, and for my friend seated to my left, it meant being seated next to a lady with gastrointestinal problems.

I kept noticing that my friend's face was constantly turned to me, so I asked her what was wrong. She told me that she could barely breathe, because this woman kept passing gas. I tried not to laugh, and told her I could lend her a handkerchief with perfume sprayed on it so that at least she could mask it. My friend took my offer and (poor thing) had to keep that handkerchief to her nose, the whole nine hours that it took for us to get to our destination.

But that was only one of the problems with this airline. The next was that the food was a joke. It was served semi-frozen. Thank goodness that we had the sense to pack some fruits, which we ate, instead of the disgusting meal served. Of course, this being a cheap charter, we didn't even have a movie to make us forget how awful this flight was. So the hours stretched on! It seemed to us that it would take forever to get to Spain.

When we finally got there, to add insult to the suffering, our plane was not connected to the main terminal, we had to get out on the tarmac, and ---just our luck---it was raining, not a little rain---but a downpour! It figures, I thought to myself, let's see what else can go wrong here. We didn't have to wait long. When we finally made it inside the terminal, we were told that our luggage still had not been offloaded from the plane, and that we would have to wait for an announcement as to where we should go to find it.

After about an hour, they finally announced where to pick up the luggage. By this time our mood, as you can imagine was not the best. Then it turns out that one of our bags was missing. Another argument with the inept people that ran this charter airline---until finally we got our missing bag.

Thank goodness for the manager of this great hotel in Madrid we stayed at. He had prepared a welcome lunch for us --- and-- even though it wasn't his fault, apologized for the shabby introduction to his country. This brightened us considerably, and made us appreciate a country that had such a thoughtful and compassionate person representing it.

An Alternate Bus Ride

It was our first time in the Caribbean, and naturally our minds were full of all those ads you see on the television: white sandy beaches, colorful costumes, exotic foods, etc. So as we made our way to our accommodations, in the hotel-provided shuttle bus, we really couldn't wait to begin out  vacation.

And we really had it made, a small cottage right on the beach, with all tropical decorations, it was a dream come true. Naturally, we not only wanted to experience all the great amenities the resort had to offer, but also how the people that lived on this island actually lived. With that in mind, we got rid of all the touristy looking trappings, and dressed as simply as possible, hiding the camera in this colorful handbag, we decided to get out of the resort, and experience the local culture.

So there we were, going to the local bus stop, and waiting with everyone else for the bus to arrive that would take us from the beach area--to the center of town. The line was a very colorful mix of people: we noticed that here--people used the bus to transport everything and I mean everything they needed.

When the bus finally arrived, it was this rickety looking old school bus , that looked like it had been put together using parts from ten different colored buses. It had no windshield, the floor (and I'm not making this up) was made of wooden boards, with big gaps through which you could see the road, and the door was a regular house door that opened outwards, and closed with a regular bolt on  the inside.

As we waited to board -- first a lady with a small goat got on, then this man with a bunch of chickens tied by the legs, so that it looked like he had a bouquet of chickens, another woman had this large can of cooking oil, someone else was traveling with three small children and a huge sack of rice. Since the bus wasn't that spacious me and my friend wound up sitting on this very uncomfortable bump by the front, near the driver.

As we made our way to town, the noise level on the bus was different to say the least, what with the chickens, the goat and the dog, all competing with the chatter of the people. We really were enjoying all of this--that and the fact, the driver was driving like a maniac and the only ones that seemed to be concerned about this were us. When I mentioned to a lady next to us, that well--this guy is going awfully fast---she just laughed and said it was obvious we had not taken this bus before---this was his normal speed. As we saw the road zoom by at our feet through the cracks on the wooden floor.

Incident at Manhattan Oasis

When you live or work in Manhattan (New York, New York to outsiders) and the too much noise and people threaten to rob you of your sanity, there's a place that is smack in the middle and offers refuge---Central Park.

This urban oasis was this country's first planned and designed public space, and it officially opened in  1876. The park is very large, measuring it the way New Yorkers do: its width goes goes from 5th Avenue (the East-side) to 8th Avenue (the West-side), and the length goes from 59th Street on the South-side to 110th Street on the North-side. So that no matter where you live or work in Manhattan you're not too far away from the park.

Which is great, especially in the summer, when the heat and unbearable humidity make you wish for an escape to the green and calm of the park. Now as it happens, in the summer Central Park gets very crowded and people fight to get the best shady spots, secluded spot, or a spot near the lake--so if you get a good spot, you have to defend it from people that want to fight you for it. You would be surprised how nasty people can get for a mere piece of grass or a rock to sit on!

You see--the way the Park was designed, there are places with high rocks where you can sit on and get a more panoramic view of the park, and these are prime desirable places. This is where a friend and I were sitting, enjoying the cool breeze on a hot August day and just relaxing--when we hear this loud obnoxious voice---a man, that was obviously very drunk, was yelling at us that we were in his spot and was making his way up to fight with us!

My friend, not wanting a confrontation, was ready to just get up and go, but I said no! who made him king? We are going to stay right here! So the guy comes over ready to get violent--when I confronted him--by asking him what was his problem?! He just stares at me--problem?---I don't have a problem--you have a problem! So I (using reverse logic) expressed shock, that such a civilized man as himself would prove abusive to a pair of people who obviously he wouldn't bother with, so why lower himself like that?

This left him--confused, he looks at us--and says --you really think I'm a distinguished man? Of course, we say, why , you cut a fine figure! why don't you just join us? This made him very pleased--and then he shook his head and said no,no...I best go get another bottle of beer so that we can all drink together---and with that he left..My friend just stood there amazed. How in the world...what did just happen?

I said, nothing, but it gave us time to get the heck out of here before he comes back with those beers.

Panic and the Snake

Do you work in one of those offices that makes you feel like a drone, a worker bee-- in a giant beehive? This type of office is divided into a bunch of little cells or semi squares, or as they're commonly known: cubicles. These units are the diabolical invention of some evil genius---designed to suck the  soul out of any person who inhabits them.

However, people who have a sense of their own value, come up with different ways to fight this. And one of those ways is to personalize their own particular little unit, with decorations like plants, personal photos, little knickknacks, etc., all put up as a sort of good-luck talisman to ward-off the negative vibes.

This lead to all sorts of odd stuff being found in said cubicles. Things that become an emotional crutch for the owners of such knickknacks or decor, and which, if anyone else--so much as touches these talismans--cause the owners all kind of emotional distress.

Well then, welcome to the office I work in. A quick tour of the cubicles reveals an amazing variety of objects that people use to decorate their workspace. One lady is the plant lady, another has all kinds of seashells, there's the guy with baseball memorabilia, and so it goes.

To me the most fun of these decorations is the middle-aged guy who has all kinds of stuffed creatures all over his cubicle. I mean he has a whole menagerie in all sizes--- consisting of: dogs, tigers, cats, elephants, monkeys, birds, turtles, and most interesting of all ---this large boa constrictor. The best of this case being the fact  -- that he has a name for his creatures. So that every day he kind of refers to them by name, as if to soothe his own bruised soul. As you can imagine--this is a source of mirth for the rest of the his office mates, who wonder why he never outgrew this childhood habit.

Anyway, as in any office, we always have some sort of activity going on, such as celebrating someones birthday, baby shower, engagement, and such, which means--- that at times--- people bring their kids to the office, and everyone gets to relax a bit from the drudgery of the work at hand. Now when you bring children to an office, being the free and innocent little souls they are---they don't feel the evil vibrations of the office. and pretty much turn it into their playground. In a way showing the adults---that hey, you can have fun here!

That happened one day at my office. We were having a party, I don't remember the occasion, but people were allowed to bring their children. There we were, taking a break from the usual routines, and the children began to run around from cubicle to cubicle--having fun discovering all the stuff people kept in them. When they got to the stuffed menagerie it was like hitting the jackpot for them. Wow! they stood there admiring all the creatures--and then it happened---they just started grabbing the different animals --and of course--the big hit was the boa constrictor---the children loved it!

Next thing you know, the kids are running around with this large stuffed snake having a grand old time playing with it. When mister stuffed-creatures saw this--he went into upset-panic mode--and began chasing the kids---yelling at them to leave old Boa (his name for the snake) alone. Naturally this made it into even more of a fun game for the kids--who now, were not only mocking him by keeping the snake, but actually hiding from him--and daring him to find them.

This provided the rest of us with no end of amusement, as he kept asking us, to please get the kids in line--and help him get his creatures back. After a while, the children finally tired of the game and came back and handed him the snake and the other stuff they had taken--and thanked him for allowing them to play with  his toys. This upset him greatly--as he explained to them that they were NOT toys they were decorations. The kids just shrugged, and left.

The rest of us had to keep our faces as straight as we could---so as not to upset this guy even further. But as soon as we were out of his range--we just laughed heartily at the whole show that we had just witnessed.

Taking the Subway to Little Mumbai

There are so many cultures in New York City that it's as if you're traveling to different countries when you visit the many different neighborhoods. In this spirit, one of my favorite places to visit, is the neighborhood of Jackson Heights in Queens, where you feel as if you've travelled to India by subway--and wind up in Mumbai, or as it used to be known--Bombay.

The trains that get you there are the E, F, R, or 7 trains, to the Jackson Heights station. When you get out of the station and into the neighborhood, the sights and aromas just surround you and make you feel welcome. Walking down the block there are the restaurants, shops selling fancy saris, and other gorgeous clothes, jewelry, perfumes, the various vegetables and spices, and my favorite: the dessert shops.

This is a place to come if you want to taste the authentic cuisine of India. There are some restaurants here that are so good, that I have seen buses full of tourists, coming from Manhattan, just to enjoy the food--and of course the sights of the place. I love best the desserts, especially rasmalai, which cools you down after you've eaten some spicy dish.

After you get out the restaurant, and explore the rest of the neighborhood, and listening to and seeing the brightly dressed people, you become convinced that, yes--you are in a magical warp that brought you to India, and how wonderful that you did not even have to get on an airplane to get there.

Last time I visited, I picked up some food, desert, and bought a few Cd's and DVDs with the best music and movies from Bollywood. I had brought my grandmother there, because as she said to me--since she couldn't go to India, this would have to do. We went into practically every shop, big and small, so that she could savor the different items and sensations. Afterwards, she said that--for her-- this was as good as actually going to India.

And indeed, even though the community has now expanded into other parts of the city, still one of best parts, for me at least, is still in Jackson Heights. If you have not done so, or are new to New York, I would urge you to give it a look. If nothing else, it's a great one-day mini-vacation.

The Lost Invitation and Panic

We learned the hard way that when you travel, it pays to always confirm the place you're staying at, before you get to your destination. There we were in London having a great time, trying to do as many activities and sightseeing as we could, since we had only three days, before going to our next stop--which was Paris.

Now, before we flew over to England, we had made arrangements with a friend that lived in a really nice neighborhood in Paris, to stay at his place. This was good for us because it would save us money on a hotel, plus give us a chance to have a native show us around. The original plan, as we had agreed, was that he was going to be on vacation also--and would welcome all three of us and play host and tour guide.

It was late on Monday night, we were celebrating our last night in London by staying at a pub, and didn't get to our hotel until about 2 o'clock in the morning. We had to catch a late morning train to Paris, so we were not worried about oversleeping and missing it, besides we had left everything packed, so we had no worries.

As we entered the hotel lobby, one of the concierges, went to us and said that someone had left a message for us. He hands us a note--and suddenly our good mood went out the window. The message was from our friend in Paris, informing us that due to a family emergency he would not be able to receive us in his apartment, sorry about that and good luck.

To say we were really angry and upset would be to put it mildly. Here we were-- already with our bags packed, and now ---without so much as an advance warning--being told--sorry, you have no place to stay when you get to Paris. No apologies, no suggestion as to where we might stay--nothing! And we had already purchased the tickets to go by the Chunnel train, so it wasn't like we could extend our stay in London, while we looked for a hotel in Paris. One of my travel companions kept crying---oh no, we are going to have to sleep under a bridge in Paris! I had to tell her to stop being so negative!

Thank goodness for the internet!  Thanks to our "friend" instead of being able to get a good night's sleep, we now had to spend that time looking for a place that wasn't too expensive, and that had three nights available. After much searching, we found this small hotel, not too far from the Eiffel Tower, that could accommodate us. We had to put that charge on a credit card, to be paid much later, as our cash was very tightly measured, and this unexpected  problem--- really threw our budget out of line.

We did not sleep at all, so that when we made it to the Chunnel train, we really looked awful, but we didn't care, we would nap on the train, and sleep when we would get to our hotel in Paris. So we made it OK, and were congratulating ourselves---it turns out that the small hotel we found, was one of those boutique hotels and quite charming. The staff was very friendly and gave us a room with a full view of the Eiffel Tower, we could not believe our luck!

Then to put the icing on the cake, our so-called friend gives us a call on the mobile phone, to ask us if we had made it to Paris alright, and could he get together with us, and oh, by the way, sorry for the inconvenience. We told him to go to hell, that we were fine and did not have a need for his company. And with that--- we enjoyed our stay in Paris immensely.

The Eternal City and the Coliseum

After a not so fortunate arrival in Rome, we decided to make the best of it. So we bought one of those self-guide books to both save money, and view the historic places at our own pace. Our small group agreed that we hated to be in one of those huge groups of tourist being led by a tour-guide, with a little flag on a large stick, so that people can follow.

No, not for us, rather---we had a book that traced a route for us to follow, giving the name and address of the place, statue, building or whatever---so that as we stood in front of it, we could read its history. This worked out great. It allowed us to linger at a place for however long we wanted, and take as many pictures as we pleased.

So there were walking down the crowded, noisy streets of Rome in the summer, congratulating ourselves on blending in with the locals, not acting touristy. As we approached the Coliseum, we noticed that in Rome, both the pedestrian and automobile traffic was--as best can be described---very chaotic.

People did not follow any specific traffic rule or regulation. This meant that getting from one side of the street to the other ---had to be a carefully executed maneuver, or you could wind up the victim of an accident. As we were discussing this matter among ourselves, how dangerous it was to even attempt to cross the street--we heard a tire screeching and a big thudding sound, people screaming ---and as we looked (in disbelief) we actually saw this very small car fly  through the air and land on its roof!

Wow! we just stood there with the crowd, not believing what we just saw. But soon the police was there, and we kept on our walk to the Coliseum. Next thing we know-- one of the women in my group let out a scream--now what?! we ask her. She points to a man that had just walked past her, and says--really angry--that creep just pinched my bottom! We couldn't believe the nerve of the man. and resolved to be more careful.

Finally we made it to the Coliseum and we were truly impressed, what a magnificent structure! Even though it's centuries old, it still has a grandeur that makes modern buildings look puny. We sat down on one of the stone benches to read its history in our book.

When all of a sudden, two large tour buses parked themselves across from us, and it was a sight to see: you had about twenty people, from each bus, run out and we hear the tour-guide tell them that they have exactly ten minutes to take photos of the Coliseum, as they had to be at such and such place, and could not get there late. What followed--to our amusement--was a frenzy of people clicking away as fast as they could, and then just as quickly, getting back int their buses and driving away.

This confirmed to us that we made the right decision in not getting into those kind of tours, and just going at our own pace as we continued our visit in Rome.

Midnight Tour of Rome

As we continued our tour of Europe, we arrived--by train--in Rome. It had been a long train ride, and unfortunately for us, we arrived late at night. Now we had been warned by friends to be careful in Rome, specially at night by the main train station, as there were some  dishonest taxi drivers--who would take you to a place for up to three or four time the standard price.

But we were tired--and not really that aware of much--we just wanted to get to our hotel as quickly as possible.Making us easy prey for the predatory taxi drivers. So when this fast-talking guy just grabbed our suitcases, and said to follow him to his taxi--he'll get us to our hotel---we (like hypnotized idiots) just followed him and got in his taxi.

Next thing we know he's driving us all over Rome, explaining this or that sight. And --oh brother! do you see strange stuff in certain parts of Rome late at night. Since I was the designated translator, I kept asking this guy: why was he taking us all over, that I was told that out hotel should have been no more than five minutes (by car). He calmly explained that he was showing us how different Rome is at night as compared to in the day.

Well, I answered him, that we were too tired for a late night tour, to please take us to our hotel. Finally after  about an hour, we finally made it to the hotel. As we get out -- he said, that we owed him about 300 euros for the "excellent" tour he gave us, complete with commentary.

When I heard this--I was outraged! How dare you charge us for something we didn't ask for! Well--he answers: if you don't pay me then I won't give you your luggage! He said with triumph, it's your problem. So he kept the trunk of the car locked -- keeping our luggage hostage, as he tried to extort more money from us.

This was too much for me, I've traveled enough and I'm not easily intimidated. Look, my good man...I began, but he interrupted me---listen you won't get your luggage unless you pay for the tour I gave you. The heck we will, I answer. I had come up with a plan:  One of our group stood in front of the taxi, to prevent him from moving or taking off with our stuff.

Another person from the group went inside the hotel and  got the manager to come and talk to this taxi guy. The hotel manager and the taxi driver started to shout at each other in  Italian. With the manager telling us to call the police. Listen--the manager told this guy---you have two choice: either accept the rightful price for this cab ride---or....you can go to jail---you decide!

The man finally had to admit defeat--OK, OK, they can pay me that pitiful amount that is set by the government, I guess I'll just have to continue struggling. As well you should---you crook! I shouted at him. The experience could have left a bad impression for us of Rome-- were it not for very understanding hotel manager. He advised us that the next time we visited Rome, we had to be wary and choose more carefully when we need a taxi.

Foggy Cold Day at the Beach

Have you ever been to the beach in the winter? It's a fun experience that I would tell people to try at least once. For one--the place is empty of the masses of people you see in the Summer. The air feels crisper and cleaner, and you get to enjoy the larger waves of the ocean.

A group of us decided to do this, so there we were, after this big snowfall visiting Jones Beach. And it looked absolutely beautiful! The snow gave it the look of a fancy, white-sand tropical place. So there we were, with our heavy jackets on, spreading this large blanket right by the ocean's edge, so we could hear the splash and crash of the waves. Trying to see past the fog, into the ocean, while also trying to set up our umbrella against this really strong wind.

We kind of managed to semi-set up the umbrella. But the victory was short --this very strong gust just literally picked up the umbrella to send it flying through the air and land like a deftly thrown spear. This convinced us to abandon the idea of using an umbrella, as we were afraid they could become airborne and dangerous.

So there we were--a strange sight---this group of people, dressed in winter jackets--- just sitting  (in the snow) on this large blanket---and carrying on as if this were the best summer day ever! We were the only people there---and it felt great! Like this was our own private beach.

North Fork Vineyard Experience

There are times when you want to escape the ordinary, go someplace different that will refresh you both mentally and physically. You may think that this requires spending a lot of money, but no--actually all it requires is imagination and ingenuity, and you can accomplish this on a budget.
 
This is what led myself and a group of family members to organize a trip to one of Long Island's famous vineyards on the North Fork of the island.Some people might not know this, but not far from Manhattan, in Long Island, there are several excellent vineyards. Granted, they are not as well known as those of California, but they are very good and making a name for themselves.

And one way they get people to know who they are is by offering tours of the vineyard. Here you get taken around and shown the whole process of wine making--from where the grapes are grown and harvested, to how they are crushed, to the casks they are stored in, etc. The whole wine making process gets shown in a really fascinating tour. The setting is so enjoyable that you honestly feel that you are in some old-fashioned European place. You forget the urban life that's not too far away--- to the west of this place.

Since there were eight of us, we took the Long Island Railroad and a bus to get to the vineyard we chose to visit. Now, we were a rather mixed group: my two elderly aunts, one senior uncle, my younger aunt and her husband and us three younger people. Now, I must mention that my aunt's husband normally hates to go anywhere with a group.But when I mentioned that as part of the package tour, we would get a free bottle of wine--that sold him on it.

The train ride from Manhattan was very long, but finally we got there. What a sight! It was as if we had gone to another country--open fields, and rows upon rows of grapes as far as the eye could see. We really were having a good time learning the finer points of making wine, how delicate the grapes are and how the whole process is one of timing and patience.

Then came the good part, as my aunt's husband put it. We went to where they bottled the wine. There were several varieties of wines being bottled, and we were given samples to taste, which my aunt's husband took full advantage of. He kept saying that he needed just a bit more to fully savor the wine. We looked at him, sure--he just wanted to take advantage of the freebies. Of the whole group he was the one fully having more fun.

Now, he thought that it was so great about the free bottle of wine each tour group would get, that next thing we know, he disappears from our presence. We decided OK, let him do his own thing, we'll meet up with him at the end of the tour. You see, there were several groups being given a tour, so that as one group was in say--the fields, another was in the cask rooms, etc.

Finally we come to the end of our tour, and we meet up again with my aunt's husband--he looked the happiest I've seen him in a while, so I remark that he seemed to really have enjoyed this little outing. Oh, he says--this was the best trip ever! And look at this! He showed us four bottles of wine. I was surprised--and asked if he bought the other three (since he had received one for free). Well--he said, what happened was I kept getting mixed in with other groups--and they kept giving me another bottle for free--and I wasn't about to object--so here I am---man! I love this--I could come here every week.

I felt a little shocked, they just gave you the bottles? Sure-- he said, I'm not crazy and just take them without asking! And the funny thing is... that since they saw me with the different groups, they must have assumed that I was a different guy---and hey, who am I to complain?

We all really had fun and a great time at the vineyard, going home feeling refreshed and happy. But none was happier than my aunt's husband. He went from having been dragged to go to this place to being a total convert to a one-day getaway, so much so that he actually volunteered to go with us, if we planned another one---of course, as long as it was a place that offered the same free amenities!

Night School Instruction

Many high schools offer courses in the evening, to either adults or teenagers, as a way of raising extra income and at the same time enrich their communities. So that if you never learned to properly read or write, you can take courses for that. Or say you want to learn to play an instrument, or dance, or how to start your own business. I mean the possibilities are only limited by their budget.

It was in one such high school that I saw an ad, in the small neighborhood newspaper, for learning Chinese cooking. As this is one of my favorite cuisines, and the price was very reasonable for a ten-week course, I signed up for it. This meant that after work, instead of going home---I would go straight to the school. The set-up was great--in this special classroom, for a class of fifteen students, we each had our own range with stove top and oven, pots, pans and utensils.

Our teacher was this lovely Chinese lady, who told us that by the end of the course, we would at least learn the basics, not only of Chinese cooking , but techniques in cooking that could be applied to any cuisine. And though we might not be gourmet cooks, at least we would learn to appreciate the genuine dishes, and be able to prepare some of the basic ones.

Now, as you know, in every class you always have the smart-aleck, who doesn't listen to the teacher--and thinks they know better. Well, we had this woman, who wouldn't pay attention. So while the rest of us were chopping, slicing , dicing---she was too busy talking about this or that---and not really focusing on the techniques being taught.

So, of course, when it came time to prepare the meal---she was absolutely lost! She tried to fake it by hurriedly throwing everything into the very hot wok (the special pan used for stir-fried cooking). Next thing you know---FOOM! this big flame went up--and we all screamed. 

Luckily, our teacher kept her cool, and grabbing one of the fire extinguishers, quickly--put out the flames. Needles to say her food was ruined. And we all learned a valuable lesson: pay attention when you are cooking!

The Bronx: A Celebration

For those of you who come from the outside, the Bronx has a hard reputation to live down. But to people that actually live in the city-- the Bronx is a very interesting place to visit. True... it has some rough neighborhoods, but it also has some really charming ones. Some areas of the Bronx have soft rolling mini-hills, and great architecture, giving it an almost European feel.

But the best part of the Bronx, at least for me, is the Bronx Zoo. Sure, the people that run it have given it this very long and fancy name--which most of the people I know, can't even remember what it is. Let's just call it the Bronx Zoo, and what a great place it is!

If you ever want to forget the noise, the problems, the hassles of the urban jungle, the Bronx Zoo will transport you---as if by magic to a real jungle. Once you step into the gates of this wonderful place, you can join a safari in a train ride that allows you to see the various animals in a recreation of their native habitat--lion, tigers, gorillas, etc. roaming around, as you ride by.

Want to visit the Congo or the Himalayas? There are exhibits there that you think--wow! this is real! If you're more into reptiles or birds they have these separate exhibits that will truly impress you. My favorite exhibit though, is the Butterfly Garden--as you enter this place the sheer beauty and calmness of it---makes you realize how Nature can outshine any "special effect" of today's much too-connected electronically run world.

To be in this place reminds us--that we too are part of this-- and the slow pace  actually refreshes you. I remember when I visited the last time--standing really still to see if a butterfly would come near me--and how beautiful this small creature is. The variety of butterflies here is amazing. You see some that mimic birds in appearance, or a face, or have such superb camouflage that you have to really look hard to find them. It's so enchanting that if you don't watch out--you'll take too many pictures and not want to leave.

The place has done a good job of putting different rest areas for the visitors, and good places to eat (many with different animals themes). Even though they offer parking, I prefer to get there by bus or train--it's more fun and cheaper. My family always tries to go to the Bronx Zoo at least once or twice in the year. The place is so big, usually it's best to make a few visits--so that you can explore all that it has to offer--and it has a lot!

Next time that you are in New York, or if you live here and have not visited this urban jewel--do yourself a favor---find the information about it on the internet and visit! You will appreciate having seen another side of New York City.

Sardines and the Beach

For most people Brooklyn in the Summer means Coney Island, but not to me and my cousin, to us it brings back great times spent in Brighton Beach. Not that we lived near it, we didn't. We had to take a long train ride to get there, and since we liked to get there early in the morning, it meant getting up at sunrise.

Since we didn't have much money to spend, we had to bring our own drinks and food. As we only had one cooler, and we really didn't want to fill it with ice, we came up with the ingenious idea of freezing two bottles of water and of juice, overnight, as we figured that at the hot beach--- it would thaw out to just cold. And we also made two sandwiches which consisted of only three ingredients: whole wheat bread, mustard, and our favorite filling: sardines, we then wrapped the sandwiches in aluminum paper, and put them in a picnic bag, along with the beach towels and suntan lotion.

Then bag in hand, bathing suit under our clothes (there was no place to change at the beach) we set off on the long train ride to Brighton Beach. We loved it there because it wasn't as crowded as Coney Island, where people were so densely packed that they were practically on top of each other. At Brighton it was practically empty, no noisy radios, no annoying people talking too loud--you could just lay back on your beach towel and listen to the seagulls and the rush and crash of the ocean waves.

And the best part was that you had these Summer workers carrying these huge coolers that would come around yelling ---ice cream! sodas! Italian ice! for sale!, and you could just wave your hand and buy some really cheap stuff to cool you off. Just the perfect complement to the --by now--really warm and aromatic sardine sandwiches, with the mustard accent.

My cousin and I spent one whole Summer going every day to this beach, so much so, that by the end of the summer we were super tanned. Of course we weren't crazy--we always put on the proper sunblock, so as not to burn, and get a nice even tan, which would last us  the whole of the coming winter. Now, remember this was long before all the stuff about too much tanning, and all the medical talk.

Now, when I see what Brighton Beach has become today, I'm a bit disappointed. Sure, it has become ritzy, and now attracts a lot of people, but the sense that it was special and different from Coney Island is gone. It has become yet another part of Brooklyn that the "beautiful people" have discovered and somehow managed to make ordinary. Ah well--I'll always have my memories and my sardines sandwiches to remind me of those times.

Unwanted Rain Shower

There are times when nothing seems to go right. You hear the alarm, hit the snooze button...and then an hour later you wake up and realize---oh no! I'm going to be late for work....This happened to me on--of all days-- a Monday. Why is this bad? Because if you are late on a Monday, people automatically assume that you were wildly partying, and are just too out of it to even show up at the office.

So, with this in mind, I decided to just get to the office late and blame the unreliable subways. Because if I called to say that I was going to be late--they would assume the worst--you know--wild party, etc. So here I was dashing to shower,  eating a quick toasted bagel, while getting dressed and putting my briefcase together. Looking out the window to see, to add to my misery, that it was wasn't just raining, it was more like a deluge, with thunder, lightning and strong winds added to complete the show.

Wonderful---I thought, now I'll have to swim just to get to the train. In this type of rain the umbrella proved useless, as the rain was coming in sideways at you. The best I could do was keep my head dry. Finally I make it to the subway, and congratulate myself on arriving there semi-dry. The train stank, the tracks were full of running water, all the garbage there got soaked and you can imagine the smell of wet, old garbage.

I was glad when the train reached my stop. My office was only two blocks away, so it felt good, that in spite of the rain, I had managed to stay reasonably dry. Now, here I was right across the street from my office building, all I had to do was wait for the traffic light to change and I would be home free. But I did no factor in Murphy's Law, which says that if something can go wrong ---it will.

Just as the light changed, and I was about to cross the street--this car came speeding down the street to make a turn---forcing me to jump back, and as the car turned, it drove right into this LARGE pool of water that had collected at the corner (it was still raining heavily) which caused an enormous wave of filthy, smelly, oily water to absolutely drench those of us that were there.

Needless to say, I was soaked from head to toe, and my nice work clothes, shoes, everything looked like I had come out of a pigsty. I was fortunate to have a very understanding manager, who after he stopped laughing, told me that it was OK for me to go home.

The Budget Journey

Have you ever wanted to go on vacation, but where very short on cash? Well, that didn't stop me and a friend from going to Disney World, without actually having to spend a small fortune. We started by thinking on a small--rather than a large scale. First off, we did the research, and by focusing only on a few attractions, we figured that all we needed was 3 nights/4 days there.

This meant that --hooray!--we could go there for just a long weekend. The way we figured: we could take a cheap flight  Friday morning, with one of those packages that included hotel, airport transfer to and from the hotel, grab and go breakfast, and a free shuttle to the Main Gate of Disney World. This would save us money not only on the flights and hotel, but also on car rental, and breakfast.

As far as to what was our plan, it was to maximize our stay and enjoy ourselves without spending too much money. So--as soon as we got to our hotel, we collected all the brochures for the different time-share condominiums (there were a lot of offers).

The brochures invited you to sign-up for your dream-vacation. They were giving various seminars, and so we decided to sign-up for the ones about owning a time-share unit  (if you cared about these things). These seminars started at the crack of dawn, with the tempting offers of free breakfast and lunch. So we signed up.

We obtained the cheapest day-pass to Disney World, and that Friday,  ran around the place taking advantage of every sample meals. At dinner time we received this voucher to eat at the hotel, which we did.

Next morning, we got up really early, and walked to the real estate 7 AM  showing for the Time-Shares. The presentation was so involved--that we kind of got lost halfway through it. But that didn't matter -- because we ate a great breakfast for free --  and an even better lunch.

The guy who was doing the presentation to the large group of people, came over to our table--he was all mister big-teeth, flashing smile, and phony sincerity, quickly established the hard-sell. Telling us that this was a great investment--for ourselves and our family, that not to sign up would be a HUGE mistake (his emphasis).

He was mister warmth while making his sales pitch. However--when we absolutely said that--no...we want to take those papers home, and have our lawyer look at them. Mister Warmth--suddenly turned colder than the Antarctic--Oh, he said, giving off such cold vibes--that we nearly froze in his presence, then I guess I'm wasting my time here! You people don't know how to vacation!

Oh, but we did---we had a great and economical time in Orlando, saving enough money--that we were able to plan ahead for our next super-cheap vacation.

Subway Surprise

Riding the subway frequently, you get to see everything. I mean, weird people, rats, pigeons, all kind of activities that people do, etc. I never thought that one day, I was going to  become part of the subway spectacles that I so often criticize, but it happened ...one Halloween day.

My cousin and I were invited to this Halloween party at night. Since that year Halloween fell on a weekday,  and we both worked--it meant that we had to bring our costumes to work, then after work--go to the break-room and change into our costumes. and go by subway to the party.

No problem, right? Wrong! You see--she was going to be a 1950's prom queen, complete with tiara, hoop skirt with lots of ruffles, white gloves, etc., while I was going as Dracula, complete with makeup to turn my face a very sickly chalk-white, realistic looking fangs, black lipstick (with traces of red on the mouth corners), very long black fingernails, and the whole classic vampire outfit: black suit with a black cape with the high collar---and well... you get the picture.

So as soon as we could, we went to the break room and transformed ourselves from office drones, to a very odd-looking pair: a Prom Queen and her Vampire friend. I must say we looked darn good! Now the weather was perfect for this Halloween, it was cold and very foggy, you could barely see ahead of you, just the night to scare the daylights out of people.

So dressed in our costumes, we made our way to the subway. We didn't have to wait long for the train. As we got in-- we grabbed the seats next to the door. Now, this was the kind of train that didn't have individual seats but rather long benches on either side, so that there was always room for more people to try to sit. When we reached the next station, as the door opens--this very large woman sees an empty space next to me, and immediately begins the motions of trying to put her rather large posterior--- in a space that was frankly too small for it. I quickly figured that unless I spoke up-- this woman was going to sit on top of me.

So, in the most pleasant and polite voice I had, I said to her--excuse me! excuse me, miss! there's no space for you to sit here! Now-- she wasn't facing me, as I said before--she was maneuvering herself to sit down---when she heard me, she suddenly stopped and turned around--ready to fight with me--but the sight of my face--decrepit looking, the black lips, long black fingernails and to top it off--- this weird looking prom queen next to me--was too much for her--she let out a scream! And quickly moved to the opposite end of the subway car. Everyone else just laughed.

By the time we got to our stop, we had people taking pictures of us and asking us to pose with them. Needles to say we had a great time at the party.

Chinatown Remembered

Many large cities proudly showcase their Chinatown, an exotic place where you can enjoy the Chinese culture without having to travel too far. Manhattan used to have a great Chinatown...but it no longer exists there. But--you may say--there still is a Chinatown in Manhattan, you recently visited the place...No, what you saw is the remains of what once was a thriving and engaging place, which has now been reduced to "tourist trap" status.

When we were growing up ---Manhattan's Chinatown was a fun place to visit. We kids would take the subway to Canal Street, and as you went up the stairs, the aromas and the noise would hit you. There were all these authentic dim sum places, where you felt like you were back in China. There were the many tea-houses. But the one we liked the best were the places that had many traditional Chinese children's games, we would spend hours, alongside the Chinese kids playing all these low-tech games.

There were the stores selling you genuine, hand-made knick-knacks. And as you walked down the street you could see and really smell the fresh fish, duck, chicken or whatever was hanging outside the store. I remember also a fortune-telling place where they used a chicken to tell your fortune. Honestly, when you walked Canal, Mott and the other streets around there, you actually felt as if you had been transported.  I loved the little pagoda on top of the phone booths.

Today, there are few phone booths, what little is left--- is often nothing more than decoration. The products are no linger unique, hand-carved items made of wood or jade or stones, No, they are cheap machine-made junk, the food is overpriced and flavor-wise  are geared towards the non-Chinese, meaning you lose the authentic cuisine--in favor of general blandness.

No, when I want to experience the real Chinatown, I head to Flushing in Queens, and rejoice in the rebirth of Chinatown there. Flushing was going down the drain, until many Chinese arrived from Hong Kong, when ownership reverted back to mainland China. This was like a blessing to Flushing--a Renaissance. Now you have five-stars hotels, and world-class restaurants. In short, what the Manhattan Chinatown used to be. So if you visit here--you have been warned---if you want a tourist trap Chinatown, stay in Manhattan-- but if you want the real deal-- take the number 7 train to Flushing.

London and The Tourists

After saving for a year, two of my friends finally had enough money to take one of those cheap flights to London and book a budget hotel. They were going to view all their favorite London spots, that they had seen only in movies. Of course they had the usual sights on their list: Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Changing of the Guard, and so on. In all they had mapped out a pretty nice one-week vacation.

So I said my good-byes, and thought that I wouldn't hear from them until they came back...well....I was wrong. It's the middle of the night and I get a call from one of them. She is telling me--oh my goodness--you have got to help us! What's the matter---I ask, what's wrong? Everything! she says, the budget hotel that seemed like such a charming place, at a bargain price, is a horror!

I had to calm her down, what do you mean, I ask. Then, she proceeds to tell me that: first off--no elevators, they had to drag their luggage up 3 flights of stairs. Then when they got to their room--it was filthy. My friend told me that the sheets on the beds looked like they had never been changed, one of the windows faced a brick wall, and the other the street -- and the walls were so thin that every little noise from the other rooms could be heard.

They had not slept a wink--because --  on top of everything else -- they were on the third floor facing the street, and since they couldn't close the old window, they were afraid someone might sneak-in while they slept. So, I asked them--what do you want me to do?

Please get us out of this horrible hotel! Help us find better accommodation, we don't have a way to check the Internet, please do this as soon as possible, we can't spend another night here! They found out that the hotel was basically what we call a "hot-sheets". Meaning that it was rented out on an hourly basis to hookers (prostitutes). They could hear--through the very thin walls, everything that was going on in the other rooms, and it wasn't pleasant.

I told them not to panic, and after some searching--- got them a room at a hotel in a nearby neighborhood. They could not get out of that place fast enough. Needles to say, this put a damper on them--but being positive people they just laughed it off. Reminding themselves that if something sounds too good to be true, to trust their instincts, and not fall for the old traps of travel.

Gambling and Greed

Have you ever been to a casino? It's a fascinating place to watch people lose not only their money, but their dignity, self-respect, common sense, and so on. This nearly  happened to me and my cousin when we went with a group from the office to Atlantic City.

It was a fun trip, one of those packages, where you get 25 dollars in chips to play once you get to the casinos and free all-you-can-eat buffet lunch--what more could you ask? So on the bus trip over there we were a happy bunch--singing songs, and discussing what to do with all the money we surely would win.

When we arrived we made a beeline for the slot-machines, figuring this would be the best investment for the 25 dollars in chips.After all, if you hit the jackpot, you could win a decent amount of money. So me and my cousin picked two machines, got a bucket (for the coins, in case we hit the jackpot) and started playing.

But we didn't know that this was also the territory of countless little old ladies, who had "their" machines and would not let anyone else play these. We got into a big argument with one such old lady. It seems that she had staked out about ten slot machines in a row, and would not let us near them. After getting really nasty with her, and threatening to call the floor manager, she backed-off.

Soon we began to win money--aha! that's why she didn't want us to use these machines, they are lucky! Before we knew it, we had won about 100 dollars. You would think that at this point we would quit. But no...greed took over--and we started putting every quarter back--hoping to get an even bigger jackpot.

You may guess what happened next--we lost every single quarter we had, and were soon scrounging around on the floor, looking for any quarter someone might have dropped. Then, we came to our senses---what the heck are we doing? We blew the 100 dollars, let's not get ridiculous and lose our dignity, so we just laughed it off--and proceeded to the free all-you-can-eat buffet.

Hah! let's show them, we said, we'll just eat 100 dollars worth of food! We did so.  And even though we had the most horrible stomach ache, we felt satisfaction, as we felt we had our revenge!