If you want a beautiful sight, to me, there's one that is just as beautiful as a sunset over the mountains in nature, and that is the light show that is painted on the sky and the man-made mountains of a city's skyline.
Riding on the elevated train, just as the sun begins to set, a look out the window rewards you with a dazzling sight. The many purples, fiery oranges and dark blue sky is suddenly highlighted by the man-made lights springing up from the many buildings on the horizon. There you see black silhouettes, of multiple shapes and heights come alive with dots and squares of lights.
As the train moves on, the city seems to come alive as darkness falls. And you suddenly feel, as you observe this grand display, that despite all the savage acts that we inflict on this planet and one another, there's still much to be proud, much to congratulate ourselves on accomplishing.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Crickets: A Summer Symphony
When talking about the weather...which one is your favorite season? For me it's the time in late summer and early autumn. Why? Because that's the time when all the chirpy insects seem to awaken and begin their noisy and amplified serenade to each other.
You have during the day the very loud hum of the cicadas, sort of like someone scratching a grater. Then in the evening a chorus of crickets takes over, and keep their song all night long! Ah, how romantic! you say, well --- no....At first it sounds great -- with many notes being sung, here a long one, there a short one, also a persistent one. But after a while it wears you down, and you just wish that they would shut up!
I mean, I wouldn't want for them to disappear, the place would seem empty and colorless, without the cricket's sounds. It really adds color, and another dimension, to the whole summer palette.
You have during the day the very loud hum of the cicadas, sort of like someone scratching a grater. Then in the evening a chorus of crickets takes over, and keep their song all night long! Ah, how romantic! you say, well --- no....At first it sounds great -- with many notes being sung, here a long one, there a short one, also a persistent one. But after a while it wears you down, and you just wish that they would shut up!
I mean, I wouldn't want for them to disappear, the place would seem empty and colorless, without the cricket's sounds. It really adds color, and another dimension, to the whole summer palette.
Friday, September 28, 2012
The Many Faces of New York
Having lived in a very rough neighborhood in Brooklyn, as I was growing up, has made me a bit wary of trends and people. You learn in that kind of neighborhood -- that not everyone is honest or can be trusted to treat you right. This wisdom, I've found out , can be applied to almost any other facet of your life.
For example, when you hear the name New York, certain images flash into your mind: the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State building, the skyscrapers, and so on. But if you stop to think about it, a lot of the images of New York that people worldwide have in their minds, are manufactured by either the news or the movies. Which means that unless you have lived here for a while, you don't know the real New York.
This point is illustrated, to me, by people I have met that have come just as tourists, who express a view of New York, that is distorted by what they have been shown by these media. If you go by what the movies show, New York is either populated by super rich people, who live in these fabulous penthouse apartments, and get driven around by their private chauffeur. And, oh yes the only "ethnic" people you see are either the taxi drivers, the newspaper kiosk guy, and so on. But rarely are these "ethnic" types portrayed as being part of the "elite".
Except,of course, if we are talking about the other way New York's people are portrayed: as super evil villains out to destroy the good parts of the city, for their own selfish purposes. Unfortunately, for some reason, these evil people most always are portrayed as the "ethnic" types. Which makes me uncomfortable, since in the real New York, the super rich and the not-quite-rich "ethnic" types, tend to live side by side in a kind of parallel situation. They see each other and sometimes interact with each other, but it's like there's an invisible wall that keeps them from understanding how the other side lives.
And they do not interfere with one another, each assuming the wrong thing about the other side. Which is a pity, because a good conversation between these groups, once in a while, would -- I think --be beneficial for everybody concerned. But that's just one person talking....you may have another opinion.
For example, when you hear the name New York, certain images flash into your mind: the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State building, the skyscrapers, and so on. But if you stop to think about it, a lot of the images of New York that people worldwide have in their minds, are manufactured by either the news or the movies. Which means that unless you have lived here for a while, you don't know the real New York.
This point is illustrated, to me, by people I have met that have come just as tourists, who express a view of New York, that is distorted by what they have been shown by these media. If you go by what the movies show, New York is either populated by super rich people, who live in these fabulous penthouse apartments, and get driven around by their private chauffeur. And, oh yes the only "ethnic" people you see are either the taxi drivers, the newspaper kiosk guy, and so on. But rarely are these "ethnic" types portrayed as being part of the "elite".
Except,of course, if we are talking about the other way New York's people are portrayed: as super evil villains out to destroy the good parts of the city, for their own selfish purposes. Unfortunately, for some reason, these evil people most always are portrayed as the "ethnic" types. Which makes me uncomfortable, since in the real New York, the super rich and the not-quite-rich "ethnic" types, tend to live side by side in a kind of parallel situation. They see each other and sometimes interact with each other, but it's like there's an invisible wall that keeps them from understanding how the other side lives.
And they do not interfere with one another, each assuming the wrong thing about the other side. Which is a pity, because a good conversation between these groups, once in a while, would -- I think --be beneficial for everybody concerned. But that's just one person talking....you may have another opinion.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
The Rule of Opposites on the Subway
Have you ever noticed that no matter what it is you are waiting for: the bus, the plane, or what ever, that the one that you are waiting for is always the last one to arrive. This seems to be one of those unwritten, but unshakable Life's law of things that are put there to drive you crazy.
The worst is when I.m on the subway, and have to get to my destination at a certain time, that I cannot be late. It doesn't matter which train I have to take. If there are four track, and my train is supposed to arrive on track one, I can bet money and win, that trains on tracks two through four are going to zoom by. And my train?...It usually shows up late, or even better -- never shows up at all!
Sure they air announcements over the loudspeakers, but unless you have a very good ear for mumblings, you can't understand a word, all you hear is a word here and there and lots of static. This is why I carry a map and the latest routing changes on an app in my cellphone. Otherwise, I would be like those many lost souls that wind up getting lost, if their regular train doesn't show up.
The worst is when I.m on the subway, and have to get to my destination at a certain time, that I cannot be late. It doesn't matter which train I have to take. If there are four track, and my train is supposed to arrive on track one, I can bet money and win, that trains on tracks two through four are going to zoom by. And my train?...It usually shows up late, or even better -- never shows up at all!
Sure they air announcements over the loudspeakers, but unless you have a very good ear for mumblings, you can't understand a word, all you hear is a word here and there and lots of static. This is why I carry a map and the latest routing changes on an app in my cellphone. Otherwise, I would be like those many lost souls that wind up getting lost, if their regular train doesn't show up.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Dining Out Joy
Too many people condemn the fast-food places as a contributing to the problem of obesity, or they call the parents who take their children there, horrible names for not giving those children a "home-cooked meal". What they don't realize that these places are not all bad or evil. They serve a big segment of the people who like to eat out, but can't go to the regular restaurants because most of the times the prices are outrageously high.
So to keep the illusion that, hey---we can afford once in a while to eat out, these people go to the fast-food places. And I say why not? What's wrong with wanting to go out to eat with your family and not have to take out a loan to do it. I understand completely the feeling of wanting, once in a while, to get out of the house, and take the family and treat them to a different cuisine -- so what it it happens to be some burgers and fries! At least the whole family can afford it.
Believe or not, these excursions are one way for people to feel that they at least can keep their dignity, for not only do these fast-food places give them a chap meal, but they also are one of the few places left, that will offer entry-level employment to any person willing to work. In today's economy that 's a big positive.
So, next time you pass one of these places, think a little, before you look down your nose at them,.
So to keep the illusion that, hey---we can afford once in a while to eat out, these people go to the fast-food places. And I say why not? What's wrong with wanting to go out to eat with your family and not have to take out a loan to do it. I understand completely the feeling of wanting, once in a while, to get out of the house, and take the family and treat them to a different cuisine -- so what it it happens to be some burgers and fries! At least the whole family can afford it.
Believe or not, these excursions are one way for people to feel that they at least can keep their dignity, for not only do these fast-food places give them a chap meal, but they also are one of the few places left, that will offer entry-level employment to any person willing to work. In today's economy that 's a big positive.
So, next time you pass one of these places, think a little, before you look down your nose at them,.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Other Broadway
Everyone has heard of Broadway. The famed place where you have all those theaters and shows, where people who want to be stars, or who are stars, go to shine and showcase their talents. But that's not the Broadway I know, or want to talk about.
There's also a Broadway in Brooklyn, a far more interesting place, at least to me. This Broadway is a collection of small shops, restaurants, newspaper kiosks, beauty parlors, senior citizen center, bazaars, flea and farmer's markets, and so many other colorful entities. They are run by people from many different parts of the world, who amazingly, get along and help each other. There exists a camaraderie among them that is refreshing to see, in a world too often divided along so many ideological lines.
Walking from one corner of a block to the other, you can get goods and foods from people from the Caribbean, Middle East, Europe, Africa, America, the Orient and everything else in between. To me it's a virtual testament that deep down, we can put our differences aside, and focus on the matters we all share in common.
After all, we all want to live well, have a nice place to call home, take care of our families, and work in something that makes us feel that we are contributing something to society, and get rewarded for it. As for the other Broadway, the one in Manhattan, where the fantasy world is played out in songs, dance and drama, it's nice....but it doesn't surpass in beauty and grandeur Brooklyn's Broadway. Where the real world is playing a better harmony.
There's also a Broadway in Brooklyn, a far more interesting place, at least to me. This Broadway is a collection of small shops, restaurants, newspaper kiosks, beauty parlors, senior citizen center, bazaars, flea and farmer's markets, and so many other colorful entities. They are run by people from many different parts of the world, who amazingly, get along and help each other. There exists a camaraderie among them that is refreshing to see, in a world too often divided along so many ideological lines.
Walking from one corner of a block to the other, you can get goods and foods from people from the Caribbean, Middle East, Europe, Africa, America, the Orient and everything else in between. To me it's a virtual testament that deep down, we can put our differences aside, and focus on the matters we all share in common.
After all, we all want to live well, have a nice place to call home, take care of our families, and work in something that makes us feel that we are contributing something to society, and get rewarded for it. As for the other Broadway, the one in Manhattan, where the fantasy world is played out in songs, dance and drama, it's nice....but it doesn't surpass in beauty and grandeur Brooklyn's Broadway. Where the real world is playing a better harmony.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Nightime And The Taxi
To understand the life of a person, you sometimes have to switch places with them, not always physically but mentally. We, too many times, believe that we know how this or that person, in a given profession, is supposed to think and work, in short: we stereotype them. We sort, and bundle people together, based on our preconceived notions.
Unfortunately, we all, at one time or another fall into this mentality. Myself , for example, used to have this weird ideas as to what kind of person became a taxi driver. That is, until a good friend of mine became one. The stories he would tell me about the different kinds of people he would pick up, were enough to make your hair stand on end.
Many a times he would, based on his gut instincts alone, just drive-by a person, and not pick them up. Aha! you might say, discrimination! Well, no..not really, you see, he quickly learned that being a taxi driver was a somewhat dangerous job. As he never knew if the person he picked up, was some kind of maniac, a criminal, or someone high on something -- and would try to do him harm.
As it sometimes would happen, that he would pick somebody up, against his better judgment, and was later faced with the choice of getting into a fight over the fare, possibly risking his life, or just getting the heck out of there, without the money -- but with his life. As he told me, the worst time was late at night, supposedly the best time to make more money, since people didn't want to take public transportation, but also all, unfortunately, when all the drunks and whacked out people would also be out there.
But he had a family to support, and he had to be driving the late shift. It finally got too much for him, when one night, one of his fares pulled a gun on him, and he was forced to talk this guy into sparing his life, after the guy robbed him of the little cash he had made that day. After that incident, he said that the money wasn't worth it, and got out the taxi-driving business.
I think of him whenever I hear some people complain about how rude, or prejudiced this or that taxi driver was to them. How would they feel if they could see the situation from his point of view.
Unfortunately, we all, at one time or another fall into this mentality. Myself , for example, used to have this weird ideas as to what kind of person became a taxi driver. That is, until a good friend of mine became one. The stories he would tell me about the different kinds of people he would pick up, were enough to make your hair stand on end.
Many a times he would, based on his gut instincts alone, just drive-by a person, and not pick them up. Aha! you might say, discrimination! Well, no..not really, you see, he quickly learned that being a taxi driver was a somewhat dangerous job. As he never knew if the person he picked up, was some kind of maniac, a criminal, or someone high on something -- and would try to do him harm.
As it sometimes would happen, that he would pick somebody up, against his better judgment, and was later faced with the choice of getting into a fight over the fare, possibly risking his life, or just getting the heck out of there, without the money -- but with his life. As he told me, the worst time was late at night, supposedly the best time to make more money, since people didn't want to take public transportation, but also all, unfortunately, when all the drunks and whacked out people would also be out there.
But he had a family to support, and he had to be driving the late shift. It finally got too much for him, when one night, one of his fares pulled a gun on him, and he was forced to talk this guy into sparing his life, after the guy robbed him of the little cash he had made that day. After that incident, he said that the money wasn't worth it, and got out the taxi-driving business.
I think of him whenever I hear some people complain about how rude, or prejudiced this or that taxi driver was to them. How would they feel if they could see the situation from his point of view.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Haggling for the Clock
You don't have to travel to some exotic bazaar abroad to find yourself in a shop or store where you can argue, or as some would call it "haggle", with the seller to see if the item can be bought cheaper. Most of the time this is done out of necessity, especially when in a lot of places nowadays -- things are way, way overpriced.
This happened to me as I needed to buy a new clock-radio. You know... one of those old-fashioned electric devices that have AM and FM radio, have a clock, snooze, sleep, and alarm buttons, and so on. Why not an iPod or something similarly smart and cutting edge -- with features that practically ask you whether you want cream and sugar in your coffee? Because, frankly....I'm cranky in the morning, and want something simple and uncomplicated to wake me up.
Anyway, here I was at the electronics shop, one -- that, by the way, is perpetually going out of business, looking over at several different models, trying to decide which one was the most convenient for me. Now the prices were totally out of line for the size and features that most of these clock-radios offered.
The one that I was looking at, was a small rectangle shaped boxy radio, about five inches in length and three in width, which probably would cost -- at the most -- ten dollars. The man tells me forty dollars! Looking at him in disbelief, I tell him -- you must be kidding me! OK, OK he says, for you --- thirty-five.
No wanting to be ripped-off, I start heading towards the door, the guy follows me saying -- fine, fine, you are twisting my arm -- twenty dollars, but not a penny less! I head out the door, and he comes outside to chase me saying -- you win, you win -- it's yours for fifteen dollars! Practically running away from this store, I just kept walking, and went to another shop that gave me the right price from the start, without the aggravation.
This happened to me as I needed to buy a new clock-radio. You know... one of those old-fashioned electric devices that have AM and FM radio, have a clock, snooze, sleep, and alarm buttons, and so on. Why not an iPod or something similarly smart and cutting edge -- with features that practically ask you whether you want cream and sugar in your coffee? Because, frankly....I'm cranky in the morning, and want something simple and uncomplicated to wake me up.
Anyway, here I was at the electronics shop, one -- that, by the way, is perpetually going out of business, looking over at several different models, trying to decide which one was the most convenient for me. Now the prices were totally out of line for the size and features that most of these clock-radios offered.
The one that I was looking at, was a small rectangle shaped boxy radio, about five inches in length and three in width, which probably would cost -- at the most -- ten dollars. The man tells me forty dollars! Looking at him in disbelief, I tell him -- you must be kidding me! OK, OK he says, for you --- thirty-five.
No wanting to be ripped-off, I start heading towards the door, the guy follows me saying -- fine, fine, you are twisting my arm -- twenty dollars, but not a penny less! I head out the door, and he comes outside to chase me saying -- you win, you win -- it's yours for fifteen dollars! Practically running away from this store, I just kept walking, and went to another shop that gave me the right price from the start, without the aggravation.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
A Strange Trip
You never know what's going to happen when you get on a bus. Sure, you know what your destination is, but it's what happens on the way there that is always a question mark. Since I'm a person that tries to conserve energy, I take the bus whenever I can, instead of using the car. Most of the time the ride is uneventful, at other times things can get strange -- it all depends on the kind of people that get on the bus. And believe me, you get to see all kinds.
A couple of weeks ago, in the middle of the worst heat wave this summer, I decided to go by bus, to a place that was too far to walk in the brutal heat and sun. So I'm standing at the bus stop, when this semi-good-looking young guy approaches the small group that was standing -- waiting for the bus.
Unfortunately for us, this young guy seemed to be under the influence of something, as he was bare-chested, holding his shirt in his hands and waving it like a flag. He had a bandana tied around his forehead, and was laughing and shouting how high he was, as he kept jumping into the oncoming steady stream of traffic that kept zooming by -- daring them to hit him!
Naturally, we kept our distance from him, as we tried to ignore him and keep talking among ourselves. Of course, he noticed our behavior and made a beeline for us as he kept telling us -- how crazy he was, all this, as he kept jumping in front of cars, that did their best to avoid hitting him. We kept desperately scanning the distance for our bus, as the guy appeared to wander off about a block from the bus stop.
When -- finally! we saw our bus headed our way. Hooray! we said, we can get away from this lunatic! But, no...the guy came running back and quickly got into the bus, as the doors were about to close. To my dismay, he took a seat right behind me. And then proceeded to take a backpack he had with him, took out a deodorant and proceeded to apply it. Then he took out a different shirt, put it on, then he began shaving with this portable electric razor. In all, he acted as if he were all by himself in his home. After shaving, he then took out this thermos, and began drinking from it, what smelled like alcohol. Mind you, he's ranting to himself and the world, all kinds of weird stuff.
While he's doing all this, the rest of us on the bus, did our best to pretend that what he was doing, was as normal as reading the newspaper. The bus driver, just kept glancing at him occasionally from the rear-view mirror. It seemed like an eternity, but I reached my destination, and as I got out, actually felt sorry for this guy. Here was a young person, who from his actions and by his demeanor, gave the impression that he was not ignorant or uneducated, yet was destroying his life -- for the temporary illusion of feel-good that whatever he was on, was giving him.
A couple of weeks ago, in the middle of the worst heat wave this summer, I decided to go by bus, to a place that was too far to walk in the brutal heat and sun. So I'm standing at the bus stop, when this semi-good-looking young guy approaches the small group that was standing -- waiting for the bus.
Unfortunately for us, this young guy seemed to be under the influence of something, as he was bare-chested, holding his shirt in his hands and waving it like a flag. He had a bandana tied around his forehead, and was laughing and shouting how high he was, as he kept jumping into the oncoming steady stream of traffic that kept zooming by -- daring them to hit him!
Naturally, we kept our distance from him, as we tried to ignore him and keep talking among ourselves. Of course, he noticed our behavior and made a beeline for us as he kept telling us -- how crazy he was, all this, as he kept jumping in front of cars, that did their best to avoid hitting him. We kept desperately scanning the distance for our bus, as the guy appeared to wander off about a block from the bus stop.
When -- finally! we saw our bus headed our way. Hooray! we said, we can get away from this lunatic! But, no...the guy came running back and quickly got into the bus, as the doors were about to close. To my dismay, he took a seat right behind me. And then proceeded to take a backpack he had with him, took out a deodorant and proceeded to apply it. Then he took out a different shirt, put it on, then he began shaving with this portable electric razor. In all, he acted as if he were all by himself in his home. After shaving, he then took out this thermos, and began drinking from it, what smelled like alcohol. Mind you, he's ranting to himself and the world, all kinds of weird stuff.
While he's doing all this, the rest of us on the bus, did our best to pretend that what he was doing, was as normal as reading the newspaper. The bus driver, just kept glancing at him occasionally from the rear-view mirror. It seemed like an eternity, but I reached my destination, and as I got out, actually felt sorry for this guy. Here was a young person, who from his actions and by his demeanor, gave the impression that he was not ignorant or uneducated, yet was destroying his life -- for the temporary illusion of feel-good that whatever he was on, was giving him.
Friday, September 21, 2012
On the Playground of Science
There's a place in New York -- in Flushing, Queens, to be precise -- that makes you feel as if you have stepped into the future. This great place is the New York Hall of Science, located in Flushing Meadows Park in Queens.
A little background history: the Hall of Science was first built as a pavilion for the 1964 World's Fair, but it proved to be so popular, that long after the fair ended, the Science Hall was left as a sort of Science Museum. And it has now sort of become New York City's hands-on science and technology center.
The place can be reached by bus, car or train. But your best bet is by train, to avoid the hassles of parking. Taking the number 7 train to the 111th Street Station, and then walking three blocks south, going down 111th street, gets you there. You have to pay a reasonable fee to enter and then the fun begins!
Last summer, myself and a small family group went to visit, and there were so many wonderful science exhibits, the great majority of them interactive, that we had to map out a strategy so that we could see the most interesting ones that day. Because believe me -- you need more than one day to enjoy all the different exhibits.
For children of all ages, to me, the best exhibit is the Science Playground, which is outdoors. Here I remember, we were able to explore, hands-on, several scientific principles of sound, water, sun, wind, balance, motion, sight--as well as use simple machines to illustrate other principles. It was so much fun, that you forgot you were learning and actually testing science!
For example there are a series of mirrors that once you turn them toward the sun, you focus the sunlight on certain small targets hooked up to small windmills. This causes these windmills to turn, which as they turn -- cause connected pipes to release a mist of water on the people on that part of the playground. There are also balancing boards, that depending how you step on them and move, produce different musical notes. And other fun stuff.
Of the exhibits that are inside, there are so many that you interact with -- that it's not possible for me to list them all. I can only mention some of our favorites. One of those was this machine that told you how much you weigh -- in gallons of water. There's also an exhibit that lets you leave your shadow imprint on a white wall. Another one, lets you create a whole symphony of sounds and music, just by stepping and moving in front of this screen that is activated by your motion.
My family had a real fun time, which is why this is a place that we go to every year. Because apart from the permanent exhibits, they always have new things and events that illustrate one scientific principle or the other, in a fun and interesting way. And, for those that want more, they offer -- for children and adults, all sorts of teaching events, all geared towards making science and technology more open and accessible to the general public.
This is one of those places, that if you want to see the future of science and technology develop right before your eyes, you should not hesitate to visit it. You can find the details of how to get there and the other information about it on the Internet. if you love science and technology, do not miss visiting this place, you will not regret it!
A little background history: the Hall of Science was first built as a pavilion for the 1964 World's Fair, but it proved to be so popular, that long after the fair ended, the Science Hall was left as a sort of Science Museum. And it has now sort of become New York City's hands-on science and technology center.
The place can be reached by bus, car or train. But your best bet is by train, to avoid the hassles of parking. Taking the number 7 train to the 111th Street Station, and then walking three blocks south, going down 111th street, gets you there. You have to pay a reasonable fee to enter and then the fun begins!
Last summer, myself and a small family group went to visit, and there were so many wonderful science exhibits, the great majority of them interactive, that we had to map out a strategy so that we could see the most interesting ones that day. Because believe me -- you need more than one day to enjoy all the different exhibits.
For children of all ages, to me, the best exhibit is the Science Playground, which is outdoors. Here I remember, we were able to explore, hands-on, several scientific principles of sound, water, sun, wind, balance, motion, sight--as well as use simple machines to illustrate other principles. It was so much fun, that you forgot you were learning and actually testing science!
For example there are a series of mirrors that once you turn them toward the sun, you focus the sunlight on certain small targets hooked up to small windmills. This causes these windmills to turn, which as they turn -- cause connected pipes to release a mist of water on the people on that part of the playground. There are also balancing boards, that depending how you step on them and move, produce different musical notes. And other fun stuff.
Of the exhibits that are inside, there are so many that you interact with -- that it's not possible for me to list them all. I can only mention some of our favorites. One of those was this machine that told you how much you weigh -- in gallons of water. There's also an exhibit that lets you leave your shadow imprint on a white wall. Another one, lets you create a whole symphony of sounds and music, just by stepping and moving in front of this screen that is activated by your motion.
My family had a real fun time, which is why this is a place that we go to every year. Because apart from the permanent exhibits, they always have new things and events that illustrate one scientific principle or the other, in a fun and interesting way. And, for those that want more, they offer -- for children and adults, all sorts of teaching events, all geared towards making science and technology more open and accessible to the general public.
This is one of those places, that if you want to see the future of science and technology develop right before your eyes, you should not hesitate to visit it. You can find the details of how to get there and the other information about it on the Internet. if you love science and technology, do not miss visiting this place, you will not regret it!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
The Beach Ride
When you depend on public transportation to go any place, you have to deal with all kinds of dramas and delays, not to mention with all kinds of situations. But that's the beauty of it, because if you ever get tired of your routine, a trip on the bus will bring you in contact with the unexpected or just with a challenge. How you deal with it will either leave you angry or just laughing, but at least you'll have had your adventure for the day.
This is the point of view that four of us had, when we decided to go to Jones Beach by bus, because it was the cheapest mode of transportation. Never mind that the trip was about an hour, and the bus left you quite a distance from the water's edge, still it was cheap.
What we didn't count on, was that quite a few other people had the same brilliant idea, and when we got to the bus stop there was a very, very long line. By the time we got on, we were squashed against the doors, we couldn't even see the driver.
This being a hot, humid summer day, we were suffocating and gasping for fresh air, as it happened that the people near us apparently did not believe in using deodorants, and frankly they stank! The one hour ride seemed to last an eternity, however, thanks to the overcrowding, the conductor did not check for tickets and -- hooray! we at least had a one-way, free ride to the beach.
This is the point of view that four of us had, when we decided to go to Jones Beach by bus, because it was the cheapest mode of transportation. Never mind that the trip was about an hour, and the bus left you quite a distance from the water's edge, still it was cheap.
What we didn't count on, was that quite a few other people had the same brilliant idea, and when we got to the bus stop there was a very, very long line. By the time we got on, we were squashed against the doors, we couldn't even see the driver.
This being a hot, humid summer day, we were suffocating and gasping for fresh air, as it happened that the people near us apparently did not believe in using deodorants, and frankly they stank! The one hour ride seemed to last an eternity, however, thanks to the overcrowding, the conductor did not check for tickets and -- hooray! we at least had a one-way, free ride to the beach.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Party Etiquette Dilemma
Why is it that whenever you are organizing a party, no matter how careful and inclusive you want to be, you always wind up with people that feel insulted because you did not invite them? It doesn't matter that you explain to your uncle or friend so-and-so, that -- hey, this was not your type of party, word always spreads around that the party was great -- and you left them out.
This is the problem I face, being part of a huge family --- where even if you are a cousin five-times-removed you are still considered family! Naturally this presents logistical problems, as there are several generations involved, and sometimes a party for the younger set, may not appeal to the older crowd. And there are times that a compromise just doesn't work. You also have the questions of in-laws and friends of all involved, which if we invited everyone, would require us to book a stadium!
So it falls, usually to me, as I'm always elected to make the guest list, to decide who is invited or not -- depending on whose occasion is being celebrated. Naturally this puts me on the spot, as word quickly spreads about any party, with people calling me to make sure that their name is on the list. However, it isn't always possible or desirable to invite everyone. So I choose the names carefully.
Over the years, I have learned that there are people that want to be invited to a party, just so they can snub you and not show up. Or there those people that want to be invited just so that they can feel popular, but they also never show up. The way I have learned to deal with these kinds of people, especially if it's a catered affair or at a party hall or restaurant, where you pay per person, is that I send them invitations, but don't include them on the list I give to the caterer, the party hall, or the restaurant.
This way I don't get aggravated because I'm not paying for people that have no intention of showing up to the party. This, of course, while saving me money and aggravation, makes some of these no-shows angry, when they find out that....no, nobody missed them, because they were not ever put on the list of actual guests. But, you know what? I don't care, because these are the kind of people that if they do show up to your party, will complain about everything and try to ruin it for everyone else. So who needs them!
This is the problem I face, being part of a huge family --- where even if you are a cousin five-times-removed you are still considered family! Naturally this presents logistical problems, as there are several generations involved, and sometimes a party for the younger set, may not appeal to the older crowd. And there are times that a compromise just doesn't work. You also have the questions of in-laws and friends of all involved, which if we invited everyone, would require us to book a stadium!
So it falls, usually to me, as I'm always elected to make the guest list, to decide who is invited or not -- depending on whose occasion is being celebrated. Naturally this puts me on the spot, as word quickly spreads about any party, with people calling me to make sure that their name is on the list. However, it isn't always possible or desirable to invite everyone. So I choose the names carefully.
Over the years, I have learned that there are people that want to be invited to a party, just so they can snub you and not show up. Or there those people that want to be invited just so that they can feel popular, but they also never show up. The way I have learned to deal with these kinds of people, especially if it's a catered affair or at a party hall or restaurant, where you pay per person, is that I send them invitations, but don't include them on the list I give to the caterer, the party hall, or the restaurant.
This way I don't get aggravated because I'm not paying for people that have no intention of showing up to the party. This, of course, while saving me money and aggravation, makes some of these no-shows angry, when they find out that....no, nobody missed them, because they were not ever put on the list of actual guests. But, you know what? I don't care, because these are the kind of people that if they do show up to your party, will complain about everything and try to ruin it for everyone else. So who needs them!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Subway Entertainment
There's always something going on in the subway. You never have a chance to get tired or bored, because whenever you think that maybe today it's going to be a normal day, something always happens. There I was, trying to read the newspaper, while at the same time keeping an eye on my surroundings, just in case...And then, it happens.
You see, we have become so used to all sorts of strange people doing all kinds of weird stuff on the train, that the weirdos have to be creative to get our attention. After the train left the station, we passengers were jolted out of our cocoons. This guy, that nobody paid attention to when he got in, started blowing this trumpet really loud, making the most horrible sound you can imagine.
As we all pretended that it didn't bother us, and refused to look at him, he let out another blast of that awful trumpet. Then, laughing loudly, let us know that --- yeah! I know you heard me! And guess what?! I'm going to keep blowing on this trumpet giving you all a nasty headache, unless you all give me money to stop!
Now, you have to admire, in spite of yourself, a man who has the sheer audacity to blackmail an audience who will only be his prisoner until the train makes its next stop. Some people were actually so impressed by his incredible boldness, that they actually gave him money! They took it as a really unique take on the usual playing of some random music to get people to give money.
Not me, I just thought he was incredibly annoying, and did not contribute any money to him, but I must admit that his technique was at least out of the ordinary, and for that earned, if not my money, at least a measure of my respect.
You see, we have become so used to all sorts of strange people doing all kinds of weird stuff on the train, that the weirdos have to be creative to get our attention. After the train left the station, we passengers were jolted out of our cocoons. This guy, that nobody paid attention to when he got in, started blowing this trumpet really loud, making the most horrible sound you can imagine.
As we all pretended that it didn't bother us, and refused to look at him, he let out another blast of that awful trumpet. Then, laughing loudly, let us know that --- yeah! I know you heard me! And guess what?! I'm going to keep blowing on this trumpet giving you all a nasty headache, unless you all give me money to stop!
Now, you have to admire, in spite of yourself, a man who has the sheer audacity to blackmail an audience who will only be his prisoner until the train makes its next stop. Some people were actually so impressed by his incredible boldness, that they actually gave him money! They took it as a really unique take on the usual playing of some random music to get people to give money.
Not me, I just thought he was incredibly annoying, and did not contribute any money to him, but I must admit that his technique was at least out of the ordinary, and for that earned, if not my money, at least a measure of my respect.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Outdoor Eating on the Go
One of the best thing, to me, of living in New York, is the variety of cuisines you can get from an outdoor food vendor. I mean, because of the rich cultural mix we have, with immigrants from practically all parts of the planet living here, you can get some really interesting foods from the food carts found all over the city.
My own particular favorites are the middle eastern food carts that sell gyros, falafels, and other assorted middle-east dishes. The flavors and the quality of the foods are sometimes better than some fancy restaurants, and of course you can't beat the very reasonable prices. You literally can find Indian, South American, Chinese, Japanese, Caribbean, and other international cuisines represented among the food carts vendors.
Not to be forgotten among all these exotic foods, is the ever popular hot dog, with the classic toppings of either onions or sauerkraut and mustard, yum! And the classic roasted chestnuts and pretzels can still be found, as people just love the aromas of these foods.
Naturally, this public preference, has sparked a bunch of complaining from the established restaurants. Especially those that charge you a ridiculously high price for food, that sometimes is not as good as the street food vendors', with the restaurants sometimes demanding that the city ban the food carts, because they take business away from them. But the popularity of these carts, has made it tough for the city to try to ban them, although they keep trying.
Most people here agree that New York would be a pretty boring place, food-wise, if these multi-ethnic food carts were forced to get off the streets. I myself, have signed the many petitions that have been circulated to save the street vendors. After all they are part of the fabric of New York life.
My own particular favorites are the middle eastern food carts that sell gyros, falafels, and other assorted middle-east dishes. The flavors and the quality of the foods are sometimes better than some fancy restaurants, and of course you can't beat the very reasonable prices. You literally can find Indian, South American, Chinese, Japanese, Caribbean, and other international cuisines represented among the food carts vendors.
Not to be forgotten among all these exotic foods, is the ever popular hot dog, with the classic toppings of either onions or sauerkraut and mustard, yum! And the classic roasted chestnuts and pretzels can still be found, as people just love the aromas of these foods.
Naturally, this public preference, has sparked a bunch of complaining from the established restaurants. Especially those that charge you a ridiculously high price for food, that sometimes is not as good as the street food vendors', with the restaurants sometimes demanding that the city ban the food carts, because they take business away from them. But the popularity of these carts, has made it tough for the city to try to ban them, although they keep trying.
Most people here agree that New York would be a pretty boring place, food-wise, if these multi-ethnic food carts were forced to get off the streets. I myself, have signed the many petitions that have been circulated to save the street vendors. After all they are part of the fabric of New York life.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
The Shadow of Poverty
There are times when we just don't think about how other people live, we just think of ourselves, and our problems. Sometimes magnifying those problems in our minds, and thinking we are in such a horrible situation, and poor us. But there are moments, as you interact with other people, or when you are just walking, riding, or driving -- going from here to there, where an image hits your senses and suddenly your problems seem small and irrelevant.
Such a moment happened to me, as I was walking home, from food shopping at the supermarket. Across the street , walking in the opposite direction, was this very frail-looking and, very skinny older man. He was well dressed, and what struck me was the sign he was carrying, which read: I'm Hungry -- Please Donate Some Food. It shocked me. Here I was complaining to myself about the ridiculously high prices of the stuff I had just bough, and here was a man who would be happy with even one of the items.
What struck me was this was not your usual disheveled, or grungy looking beggar, this was a man who looked dignified and well dressed, and had been brought so low, that he had to swallow his dignity and beg for food. I crossed the street and asked what he needed, he told me if I could give him some bread and milk. I gave him what I had, and told him about a food pantry that I knew of, that would give him food, no questions asked.
I had to look away, so as not to embarrass him, then went on my way. The thought that kept running through my mind: what had happened not only to this poor man, but to us as a community. What had happened to the so-called safety net that was supposed to be in place, so that a person would not have to beg in the street if they were hungry, when times got tough? As I kept walking home, I just wandered what had happened to us, have we really become that selfish, that much focused on only ourselves, that we forget our fellow human beings? I just wonder.
Such a moment happened to me, as I was walking home, from food shopping at the supermarket. Across the street , walking in the opposite direction, was this very frail-looking and, very skinny older man. He was well dressed, and what struck me was the sign he was carrying, which read: I'm Hungry -- Please Donate Some Food. It shocked me. Here I was complaining to myself about the ridiculously high prices of the stuff I had just bough, and here was a man who would be happy with even one of the items.
What struck me was this was not your usual disheveled, or grungy looking beggar, this was a man who looked dignified and well dressed, and had been brought so low, that he had to swallow his dignity and beg for food. I crossed the street and asked what he needed, he told me if I could give him some bread and milk. I gave him what I had, and told him about a food pantry that I knew of, that would give him food, no questions asked.
I had to look away, so as not to embarrass him, then went on my way. The thought that kept running through my mind: what had happened not only to this poor man, but to us as a community. What had happened to the so-called safety net that was supposed to be in place, so that a person would not have to beg in the street if they were hungry, when times got tough? As I kept walking home, I just wandered what had happened to us, have we really become that selfish, that much focused on only ourselves, that we forget our fellow human beings? I just wonder.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
The Not So Old Lower Manhattan
Have you ever noticed that sometimes change and progress doesn't always mean that things improve? Sometimes change will come to a neighborhood, and while it might seem on the surface that things look cleaner, shinier, more modern...the change can destroy the character of the neighborhood, indeed even take its soul away.
To me this happened on the area around the the entrance to the Williamsburg bridge in Manhattan, the area around Delancey and Essex streets. This area was an enclave of cheap shops, especially clothing and fabric shops, and also cheap rental tenements. If you needed quality fabrics or clothing that didn't cost you a small fortune, or find cheap and affordable rentals, you would head to Delancey Street.
There you had a so many little shops to choose from: coats, handbags, office wear, shoes, fabrics so you could make your own clothes, and so on. The owners would haggle with you about the prices. Also the little restaurants, or bodegas that would sell you a great variety of food from all corners of the world.
Most of the owners were recent immigrants or the latest family members to take over the business that had been open for years. No matter, the feeling was one of discovery, of family, where the merchants genuinely cared about you the customer and everyone felt equal. The buildings were old-world, little brownstones with architecture and details that reminded you of the Dutch (the first Europeans that owned Manhattan). In all -- the place felt alive and was always buzzing with activities.
The other day I went by, and was genuinely saddened when I saw that half of the old buildings were gone, and a sign proclaiming that a new hotel was being built here, right at the entrance to the Williamsburg bridge. Most of the quaint shops were gone, only a few have remained open, as this part of Manhattan has become yet another victim of greed, as the real estate value here has zoomed out of sight. The old, nearly historic buildings have been replaced by characterless glass boxes, that are too big and tall.
The shops that are now open are colorless stores, all part of the big chains that are slowly taking over Manhattan. And as you can expect, the store owners there couldn't care less about the customers, it's all about making money, and so-called high fashion. Gone are the different small retail stores that offered you service, quality and variety. No more fabric shops, or the shoe store, with an actual shoemaker there, no more quality handbags store.
No, everything now is sold by chain stores, with most of the stuff made outside of the country. The soul of the neighborhood has been drained. The people you see now are so concerned with looking "fashionable" and "in" that it's like being in a place populated by mindless zombies.
On a bright note, I did find a few survivors, a few little shops, practically holes-in-the-wall, where you could get the best food, cakes, and party decorations ever. I hope that next time I visit, these places will still be there, but with the new hotel opening, I don't hold my breath.
To me this happened on the area around the the entrance to the Williamsburg bridge in Manhattan, the area around Delancey and Essex streets. This area was an enclave of cheap shops, especially clothing and fabric shops, and also cheap rental tenements. If you needed quality fabrics or clothing that didn't cost you a small fortune, or find cheap and affordable rentals, you would head to Delancey Street.
There you had a so many little shops to choose from: coats, handbags, office wear, shoes, fabrics so you could make your own clothes, and so on. The owners would haggle with you about the prices. Also the little restaurants, or bodegas that would sell you a great variety of food from all corners of the world.
Most of the owners were recent immigrants or the latest family members to take over the business that had been open for years. No matter, the feeling was one of discovery, of family, where the merchants genuinely cared about you the customer and everyone felt equal. The buildings were old-world, little brownstones with architecture and details that reminded you of the Dutch (the first Europeans that owned Manhattan). In all -- the place felt alive and was always buzzing with activities.
The other day I went by, and was genuinely saddened when I saw that half of the old buildings were gone, and a sign proclaiming that a new hotel was being built here, right at the entrance to the Williamsburg bridge. Most of the quaint shops were gone, only a few have remained open, as this part of Manhattan has become yet another victim of greed, as the real estate value here has zoomed out of sight. The old, nearly historic buildings have been replaced by characterless glass boxes, that are too big and tall.
The shops that are now open are colorless stores, all part of the big chains that are slowly taking over Manhattan. And as you can expect, the store owners there couldn't care less about the customers, it's all about making money, and so-called high fashion. Gone are the different small retail stores that offered you service, quality and variety. No more fabric shops, or the shoe store, with an actual shoemaker there, no more quality handbags store.
No, everything now is sold by chain stores, with most of the stuff made outside of the country. The soul of the neighborhood has been drained. The people you see now are so concerned with looking "fashionable" and "in" that it's like being in a place populated by mindless zombies.
On a bright note, I did find a few survivors, a few little shops, practically holes-in-the-wall, where you could get the best food, cakes, and party decorations ever. I hope that next time I visit, these places will still be there, but with the new hotel opening, I don't hold my breath.
Friday, September 14, 2012
The Feel of People
To get the tone of a neighborhood, all you have to do is listen to its noises. It's amazing what you can learn as you walk through a place, with your ears attuned to what noises people make. For it is in this unguarded moments that people express their true opinions.
This was brought home to me as I walked in Manhattan, and started paying attention to the conversations of random persons walking by. For example, in the upcoming presidential elections here, people are all over the place as to what they believe is important.
It seems that everybody has filtered whatever the politicians are saying, through their own particular problems, and have come up with bizarre or plausible points of views to support their particular candidates. And the worst part is -- that if you engage any of these people in conversation, they get too passionate defending their particular brand of politics, and if you don't watch out, you're involved in a huge fight.
The funny thing is, that from the way these people speak, they care less about the bigger picture than what they think this or that particular politician can do for them. And of course, depending on the neighborhood you happen to be in, the topic of importance changes: sometimes in a small way, sometimes in a big way, but it changes.
It's no use telling this or that person to look beyond their own narrow interests, as they will call you biased and ignorant, and close their minds to further arguments. And so it goes for politics, good luck to all the politicians, they are going to need it, for we the people are sure fickle.
This was brought home to me as I walked in Manhattan, and started paying attention to the conversations of random persons walking by. For example, in the upcoming presidential elections here, people are all over the place as to what they believe is important.
It seems that everybody has filtered whatever the politicians are saying, through their own particular problems, and have come up with bizarre or plausible points of views to support their particular candidates. And the worst part is -- that if you engage any of these people in conversation, they get too passionate defending their particular brand of politics, and if you don't watch out, you're involved in a huge fight.
The funny thing is, that from the way these people speak, they care less about the bigger picture than what they think this or that particular politician can do for them. And of course, depending on the neighborhood you happen to be in, the topic of importance changes: sometimes in a small way, sometimes in a big way, but it changes.
It's no use telling this or that person to look beyond their own narrow interests, as they will call you biased and ignorant, and close their minds to further arguments. And so it goes for politics, good luck to all the politicians, they are going to need it, for we the people are sure fickle.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
An Aggressive Fortune Teller
Have you ever felt that sometimes strange, and wacky things happen just to you? That everyone else has "normal" things happen to them, but, oh no...not you. It's as if you are a magnet for the strange and weird. Well, that's the feeling that my cousin and I felt, as we were vacationing in Spain in the city of Granada.
We had arrived there by train, and after settling into our hotel, decided to explore this very beautiful city. So there we were checking out the famous Granada Cathedral of the Incarnation. This is a very imposing building that took nearly 180 years for it to be fully built. It was started around 1523, and was not finished until around the year 1704. There are many different architectural elements reflected in the Cathedral, which make it very impressive, and unique looking.
So there we were, just coming out from touring the inside of the Cathedral, and commenting that we certainly had taken many pictures, when we see this colorfully dressed woman approach us. Before we knew what had happened, she had grabbed my cousin's right arm by the wrist. My cousin tried to break free, but this woman had a strong grip on her. When I yelled at her -- to stop this! what the heck are you doing! She just told us in a solemn voice that she was a gypsy and it was her duty to read my cousin's hand to tell my cousin her fortune.
Now, we had been warned by the hotel staff about the gypsies that were roaming around the Cathedral, ready to pounce on you. But we didn't think that they would be so pushy. So my cousin told this woman, that -- no thank you, she didn't want her fortune to be read, and made a fist with her hand. The woman got really angry and threatened to put a curse or jinx on us.
I immediately sensed that this situation was not going to end unless we gave her money. So I took out a few euros, and said --look my good woman...this is all you're getting from us, but if you don't let go of my cousin's arm, you are getting zero! She looked at me, and says -- first you give me the money! Not being a fool, I said, no... let her go or we call the police and you wind up losing everything.
At that she relented and let go her vise-like grip of my cousin's wrist, and said --fine! give me the money and you don't get a fortune told.....your loss! I told her we couldn't care less, just to go away and leave us alone.She took the coins, and promptly ran, muttering all kinds of nasty things about us. After that, we were a bit more careful as to who we let get near us.
We had arrived there by train, and after settling into our hotel, decided to explore this very beautiful city. So there we were checking out the famous Granada Cathedral of the Incarnation. This is a very imposing building that took nearly 180 years for it to be fully built. It was started around 1523, and was not finished until around the year 1704. There are many different architectural elements reflected in the Cathedral, which make it very impressive, and unique looking.
So there we were, just coming out from touring the inside of the Cathedral, and commenting that we certainly had taken many pictures, when we see this colorfully dressed woman approach us. Before we knew what had happened, she had grabbed my cousin's right arm by the wrist. My cousin tried to break free, but this woman had a strong grip on her. When I yelled at her -- to stop this! what the heck are you doing! She just told us in a solemn voice that she was a gypsy and it was her duty to read my cousin's hand to tell my cousin her fortune.
Now, we had been warned by the hotel staff about the gypsies that were roaming around the Cathedral, ready to pounce on you. But we didn't think that they would be so pushy. So my cousin told this woman, that -- no thank you, she didn't want her fortune to be read, and made a fist with her hand. The woman got really angry and threatened to put a curse or jinx on us.
I immediately sensed that this situation was not going to end unless we gave her money. So I took out a few euros, and said --look my good woman...this is all you're getting from us, but if you don't let go of my cousin's arm, you are getting zero! She looked at me, and says -- first you give me the money! Not being a fool, I said, no... let her go or we call the police and you wind up losing everything.
At that she relented and let go her vise-like grip of my cousin's wrist, and said --fine! give me the money and you don't get a fortune told.....your loss! I told her we couldn't care less, just to go away and leave us alone.She took the coins, and promptly ran, muttering all kinds of nasty things about us. After that, we were a bit more careful as to who we let get near us.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
A Loss and the Train Conductor
Fate sometimes is good to you -- in spite of yourself. As events unfolded the time we were traveling from London to Paris, by train via the Chunnel. The three of us had just boarded the train, and were very excited to take this mode of transportation. We found this better than taking the ferry across the Channel, as some of us suffered from seasickness.
Anyway, we made ourselves comfortable and as we kept busy talking about our plans for Paris, we kind of lost track of time, and before we knew it -- we had arrived. This kind of threw us out of sync, and we just hurriedly grabbed our stuff and ran out of the train. We got into a taxi and made our way to the hotel. As we go to the front desk to check in, we found out -- to our shock and horror -- that, oh no! my friend, the one who had our prepaid hotel vouchers, had left her handbag on the train. That handbag had all her important papers like her passport, Eurorail pass, money, and all the prepaid vouchers for our trip across Europe.
Naturally we went into panic mode. Luckily, my friend had made her trip arrangements with a travel agent back home, who very wisely, had kept copies of everything we needed for the trip, including the hotel vouchers and our passports. So my friend explained to the concierge at the front desk what had happened, and asked if she could call the travel agent from the hotel's phone. So that the agent could fax the required voucher and the passports information to confirm that yes, we were who we claimed to be, and that indeed the hotel had been prepaid.
The concierge, very kindly, let us do that and -- thank goodness -- the travel agent faxed all the papers and we were able to check in, once the concierge verified that everything was in order. My poor friend, though, was besides herself, thinking, oh no...now I'm going to have to go the Embassy, now I have no money, what am I going to do?! We calmed her down and told her that we should rest and leave that for the next day. She reluctantly agreed.
Bright and early the next morning, we ate a quick breakfast, determined to do what we could to go to the Embassy to get my friend at least a copy of her passport. So we go to the front desk and ask the concierge how to get there. But before we could even ask him, he calls my friend, and tells her that he has a package for her, brought by messenger early that morning. She's puzzled, who could have sent her a package? So she opens it, and lets out a scream, what's wrong? we ask, what's in there?
Look! look! she say's, I can't believe this...oh wow! thank you good angel, thank you. There in the box --was her bag with all its contents intact, nothing missing, not even the money. And pinned to it was a very brief note: To the lovely young lady, who was so excited to arrive in Paris, that she forgot this very important handbag, I looked inside and found the voucher to your hotel. As I don't want your vacation and enjoyment of our great city to be spoiled, here it is. Happy vacation! Your train conductor.
We just stood there in disbelief, we never -- in a million years -- thought that my friend would ever see that handbag again, much less with its contents intact. The anonymous train conductor did not even leave his name, but we made sure to write a letter to the company that runs the train, praising him and telling them to thank him for us. It certainly made our trip to Paris a more enjoyable experience.
Anyway, we made ourselves comfortable and as we kept busy talking about our plans for Paris, we kind of lost track of time, and before we knew it -- we had arrived. This kind of threw us out of sync, and we just hurriedly grabbed our stuff and ran out of the train. We got into a taxi and made our way to the hotel. As we go to the front desk to check in, we found out -- to our shock and horror -- that, oh no! my friend, the one who had our prepaid hotel vouchers, had left her handbag on the train. That handbag had all her important papers like her passport, Eurorail pass, money, and all the prepaid vouchers for our trip across Europe.
Naturally we went into panic mode. Luckily, my friend had made her trip arrangements with a travel agent back home, who very wisely, had kept copies of everything we needed for the trip, including the hotel vouchers and our passports. So my friend explained to the concierge at the front desk what had happened, and asked if she could call the travel agent from the hotel's phone. So that the agent could fax the required voucher and the passports information to confirm that yes, we were who we claimed to be, and that indeed the hotel had been prepaid.
The concierge, very kindly, let us do that and -- thank goodness -- the travel agent faxed all the papers and we were able to check in, once the concierge verified that everything was in order. My poor friend, though, was besides herself, thinking, oh no...now I'm going to have to go the Embassy, now I have no money, what am I going to do?! We calmed her down and told her that we should rest and leave that for the next day. She reluctantly agreed.
Bright and early the next morning, we ate a quick breakfast, determined to do what we could to go to the Embassy to get my friend at least a copy of her passport. So we go to the front desk and ask the concierge how to get there. But before we could even ask him, he calls my friend, and tells her that he has a package for her, brought by messenger early that morning. She's puzzled, who could have sent her a package? So she opens it, and lets out a scream, what's wrong? we ask, what's in there?
Look! look! she say's, I can't believe this...oh wow! thank you good angel, thank you. There in the box --was her bag with all its contents intact, nothing missing, not even the money. And pinned to it was a very brief note: To the lovely young lady, who was so excited to arrive in Paris, that she forgot this very important handbag, I looked inside and found the voucher to your hotel. As I don't want your vacation and enjoyment of our great city to be spoiled, here it is. Happy vacation! Your train conductor.
We just stood there in disbelief, we never -- in a million years -- thought that my friend would ever see that handbag again, much less with its contents intact. The anonymous train conductor did not even leave his name, but we made sure to write a letter to the company that runs the train, praising him and telling them to thank him for us. It certainly made our trip to Paris a more enjoyable experience.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
A Clear and Sunny Tuesday
Eleven years ago, on another Tuesday, the morning was beautiful. As I looked out the window, the sky was a clear blue, the sun was shining and there was a hint of Autumn in the cool air. I was doing my usual morning routine: listening to the traffic and weather report on the radio, as I got ready to work.
As I looked out the window I thought, it might be a nice day to go out. Then, from the traffic helicopter the pilot is saying that there's smoke coming from one of the towers at the World Trade Center. This caught my attention, what?! it can't be! -- At first, the traffic-helicopter pilot said that maybe a small plane might have accidentally crashed into the tower. At that I immediately turned on the television, this is impossible! I thought, there are a million safeguards against this happening. As I watch the smoke coming out of one tower, I start calling everyone I know, telling them to turn on the television.
One of the people I called is one of my cousins, who worked as the superintendent of a building in Queens, from whose rooftop you could see, across the river, the two towers. As he is on his cell phone talking to me, watching one tower burn, from the roof of his building in Queen, and I'm watching the live report on television, we both watch live as the second plane comes, accelerating in speed, and slams into the second tower. Now my cousin is a tough man, and he told me that he felt as if somebody punched him in his heart and tears just ran down his face, when he saw this.
His thought was: why? we are a nation where people come here from all over the world, because of the promise of a better life -- why this horrible action? Because it dawned on both of us and the rest of my friends and relatives, as we frantically tried to communicate with one another, that this was a terrorist attack.
Fate was kind to us in that we did not lose close friends or relatives, but that did not diminish the pain we felt. To know that neighbors who had gone to work, were not coming back, that people who were just trying to make a living, were made targets because of hate. It was a hard thought to contemplate. We spent that day trying to find out where this or that family member or friend was.
One of my friends, who worked on the 88th floor of one the towers, got saved because of a toothache. Monday evening he called his dentist, who had an office five blocks from the World Trade Center, about this toothache, and the dentist gave him a 7:30 AM appointment, for Tuesday, September 11, 2001. He went to the appointment, worrying about getting to the office late. Only to come out and seeing one of the towers spewing thick black smoke, and people looking up at the sky as the sound of another jet was fast approaching and then feeling the impact of the second jet hitting the other tower. And people realizing that this was serious, and him just thinking -- about his fellow workers who were already there.
One of my cousins was on the last subway that went under the World Trade Center, on its way to New Jersey, before the towers collapsed. And then the countless friends that just ran for their life as the shock wave of dust, smoke and debris covered everything in lower Manhattan, like a volcano eruption.
I remember going there with my camera, the following week, on September 18, 2001, to record in photos, the destruction. The whole place was coated in a gray, sticky, ash -- honestly, you would have thought that a volcano had erupted and this was volcanic ash. But is was more gruesome, when you went to the site of what had been two majestic, and imposing towers, all you saw was this huge pile of still burning and smoking ruins. It broke my heart, for you see, I too had once worked there. Just that August, I had shown one of my visiting relatives the pride of New York.
The saddest part of all this, is how the politicians appropriated this tragedy for their own gains. Most of us here in New York wanted the twin towers to be rebuilt exactly the way they were. But, oh no...the politicians of all stripes and parties made it their agenda -- to use this to push their agendas, without much regards for the feelings of the families and friends of the victims. To me, it is shameful that the promised museum honoring those that died on that horrible day, is still not fully open to the public.
At least this year, politics is being kept to a minimum, the ceremonies are being kept simple, with politicians excluded. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, a fitting tribute and museum will finally be open, and the memory of all those innocents whose lives were so brutally cut short, will be honored in a respectful and joyful memorial. So that the world will not forget who they were, and remind us that we are all brothers and sisters. That no matter from what part of the planet we come from, what our background is: we are all human beings and should have respect for each other.
As I looked out the window I thought, it might be a nice day to go out. Then, from the traffic helicopter the pilot is saying that there's smoke coming from one of the towers at the World Trade Center. This caught my attention, what?! it can't be! -- At first, the traffic-helicopter pilot said that maybe a small plane might have accidentally crashed into the tower. At that I immediately turned on the television, this is impossible! I thought, there are a million safeguards against this happening. As I watch the smoke coming out of one tower, I start calling everyone I know, telling them to turn on the television.
One of the people I called is one of my cousins, who worked as the superintendent of a building in Queens, from whose rooftop you could see, across the river, the two towers. As he is on his cell phone talking to me, watching one tower burn, from the roof of his building in Queen, and I'm watching the live report on television, we both watch live as the second plane comes, accelerating in speed, and slams into the second tower. Now my cousin is a tough man, and he told me that he felt as if somebody punched him in his heart and tears just ran down his face, when he saw this.
His thought was: why? we are a nation where people come here from all over the world, because of the promise of a better life -- why this horrible action? Because it dawned on both of us and the rest of my friends and relatives, as we frantically tried to communicate with one another, that this was a terrorist attack.
Fate was kind to us in that we did not lose close friends or relatives, but that did not diminish the pain we felt. To know that neighbors who had gone to work, were not coming back, that people who were just trying to make a living, were made targets because of hate. It was a hard thought to contemplate. We spent that day trying to find out where this or that family member or friend was.
One of my friends, who worked on the 88th floor of one the towers, got saved because of a toothache. Monday evening he called his dentist, who had an office five blocks from the World Trade Center, about this toothache, and the dentist gave him a 7:30 AM appointment, for Tuesday, September 11, 2001. He went to the appointment, worrying about getting to the office late. Only to come out and seeing one of the towers spewing thick black smoke, and people looking up at the sky as the sound of another jet was fast approaching and then feeling the impact of the second jet hitting the other tower. And people realizing that this was serious, and him just thinking -- about his fellow workers who were already there.
One of my cousins was on the last subway that went under the World Trade Center, on its way to New Jersey, before the towers collapsed. And then the countless friends that just ran for their life as the shock wave of dust, smoke and debris covered everything in lower Manhattan, like a volcano eruption.
I remember going there with my camera, the following week, on September 18, 2001, to record in photos, the destruction. The whole place was coated in a gray, sticky, ash -- honestly, you would have thought that a volcano had erupted and this was volcanic ash. But is was more gruesome, when you went to the site of what had been two majestic, and imposing towers, all you saw was this huge pile of still burning and smoking ruins. It broke my heart, for you see, I too had once worked there. Just that August, I had shown one of my visiting relatives the pride of New York.
The saddest part of all this, is how the politicians appropriated this tragedy for their own gains. Most of us here in New York wanted the twin towers to be rebuilt exactly the way they were. But, oh no...the politicians of all stripes and parties made it their agenda -- to use this to push their agendas, without much regards for the feelings of the families and friends of the victims. To me, it is shameful that the promised museum honoring those that died on that horrible day, is still not fully open to the public.
At least this year, politics is being kept to a minimum, the ceremonies are being kept simple, with politicians excluded. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, a fitting tribute and museum will finally be open, and the memory of all those innocents whose lives were so brutally cut short, will be honored in a respectful and joyful memorial. So that the world will not forget who they were, and remind us that we are all brothers and sisters. That no matter from what part of the planet we come from, what our background is: we are all human beings and should have respect for each other.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Falling into Autumn
Hooray! Finally... the scorching heat, the unbearable humidity, the dreaded three H's are coming to an end. No more forecasts of Hot, Hazy and Humid weather. Autumn is just around the corner. This along with Spring are my two favorite seasons.
This is when Nature shows her most beautiful colors. In the Spring it's all about new beginnings, flowers blooming, the green leaves returning to the trees, the grass changing from dingy yellow to emerald green, birds and butterflies coming back after hiding from the cold of winter.
And Autumn is at the other end, now the leaves change from green to a variety of colors: golden, purple, orange, flaming red, and so on. The air becomes cool and crisp, you don't have to chew it to breathe it again.
The gray haze hanging over everything begins to lift and the sky stops looking milky gray and turns glorious blue. The children go back to school, and the adults go back to the regular office routines, with summer vacations memories fading as fast as the summer tans.
Winter is too far away to even worry about. This is a time to just enjoy this beautiful season.
This is when Nature shows her most beautiful colors. In the Spring it's all about new beginnings, flowers blooming, the green leaves returning to the trees, the grass changing from dingy yellow to emerald green, birds and butterflies coming back after hiding from the cold of winter.
And Autumn is at the other end, now the leaves change from green to a variety of colors: golden, purple, orange, flaming red, and so on. The air becomes cool and crisp, you don't have to chew it to breathe it again.
The gray haze hanging over everything begins to lift and the sky stops looking milky gray and turns glorious blue. The children go back to school, and the adults go back to the regular office routines, with summer vacations memories fading as fast as the summer tans.
Winter is too far away to even worry about. This is a time to just enjoy this beautiful season.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Time for the Screen of Magic
There's still one place left, in today's increasingly expensive society, that can transport you to places far away whether in time, space or mind, and all for under 20 dollars per person. This place is the local multiplex, where you can view the latest or catch vintage movies. To me, movies are one of the best invention that the human mind has created. For it allows a collective of people to put into visual, musical and spoken form what the mind thinks and sees.
You might find the particular movie entertaining, simply awful, inspiring, funny, tragic, and many other descriptions -- but it always engages you. It transports you out of your little world, and into a new perspective, and another way of perceiving the many different sides of reality.
Naturally, depending on the multiplex you go to, that reality can be influenced by the size of the screens each particular movie is assigned to. I discovered that at my local multiplex. To my reckoning, they have about 10 screens, ah -- but all screens are not created equal! After many visits to the place, I discovered that they have different screen and viewing room sizes, depending on how popular -- the owners think -- a movie will be.
For example: when we went to see what is commonly called a low-budget, indie movie the screening room, was not much bigger than a living room, and the screen was about the size of one of those large, flat-screen TV. Really, there were -- I would say -- about enough seats for maybe only 60 to 80 persons... tiny. But for the big-budget, latest expected summer blockbuster, they dedicated about three screens in the larger auditoriums, made to hold about two to three hundred persons, and the screens there were really panoramic in size.
It was a bit disconcerting to find yourself exiled to the smaller auditoriums, if your movie did not meet the criteria, set by heavy advertising on the studios part, of being the next big thing. No matter, you still could enjoy your escape out of the mundane and into the made-up world or reality of the particular movie. And since that is what you wanted to do in the first place, the screen size really didn't matter.
But, you say, why should I go there, when I can catch whatever I want on the Internet. Because, yes you can watch endless choices on the Internet, but nothing can replace the feeling of shared fun that you can get a a movie theater. I have been to movies that at the end, the audience is clapping or cheering. And it's that feeling of camaraderie with our fellow human beings, of being part of that crowd, in person, that not even the Internet can duplicate or replace. Otherwise movie theaters would have all closed a long time ago.
You might find the particular movie entertaining, simply awful, inspiring, funny, tragic, and many other descriptions -- but it always engages you. It transports you out of your little world, and into a new perspective, and another way of perceiving the many different sides of reality.
Naturally, depending on the multiplex you go to, that reality can be influenced by the size of the screens each particular movie is assigned to. I discovered that at my local multiplex. To my reckoning, they have about 10 screens, ah -- but all screens are not created equal! After many visits to the place, I discovered that they have different screen and viewing room sizes, depending on how popular -- the owners think -- a movie will be.
For example: when we went to see what is commonly called a low-budget, indie movie the screening room, was not much bigger than a living room, and the screen was about the size of one of those large, flat-screen TV. Really, there were -- I would say -- about enough seats for maybe only 60 to 80 persons... tiny. But for the big-budget, latest expected summer blockbuster, they dedicated about three screens in the larger auditoriums, made to hold about two to three hundred persons, and the screens there were really panoramic in size.
It was a bit disconcerting to find yourself exiled to the smaller auditoriums, if your movie did not meet the criteria, set by heavy advertising on the studios part, of being the next big thing. No matter, you still could enjoy your escape out of the mundane and into the made-up world or reality of the particular movie. And since that is what you wanted to do in the first place, the screen size really didn't matter.
But, you say, why should I go there, when I can catch whatever I want on the Internet. Because, yes you can watch endless choices on the Internet, but nothing can replace the feeling of shared fun that you can get a a movie theater. I have been to movies that at the end, the audience is clapping or cheering. And it's that feeling of camaraderie with our fellow human beings, of being part of that crowd, in person, that not even the Internet can duplicate or replace. Otherwise movie theaters would have all closed a long time ago.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Freezing in the Aisles
Everyone has to go food shopping at some point in the week. I mean, we all got to eat right? Now, This is a task that should easily accomplished: you go to your local supermarket, maybe with a list of what you need to buy, find the items you need, pay for them and go home -- right? Well, at my particular supermarket -- it's not always that simple.
To start off, even though it's 90 degrees outside in the summertime, you have to bring a jacket. Why...? Because they have the air conditioning set at antarctic level - you can practically see your breath. And if you don't have that jacket, you'll be so cold -- that you'll be barely able to move, and even with the jacket, your fingers you'll get frostbite. The poor workers there, wear up to two jackets so that they don't get sick.
Now, you may ask, why do I even bother to go there to shop in the first place -- aha, because they have really good prices, and many promotions where you can get points -- to get items way cheaper than the competition. But this makes them a bit careless, and at times it seems as if the workers feel that they don't have to follow normal supermarket procedures.
As in, for example, stocking extra in popular items, or even being consistent in stocking basic items that people buy everyday. With them, it's hit or miss. The product you find there today, it's not guaranteed to be there tomorrow. And as for their produce department -- well that also it's a gamble. You may or may not get a really great, fresh, organic produce ... or...you may get something that one day after you get it home -- suddenly rots right in front of you. And then, you have to go back and return said produce.
But in spite of all its flaws, it's the only supermarket, around where I live that has a huge selection of foods from all over the world, organic produce, and really friendly workers, who actually believe in providing quality service to the consumer.
So I keep going back there, because, sadly, in the other supermarkets that I occasionally go to, there are not many workers -- just plenty of self-checkout machines that have taken over, depriving who knows how many people from being employed. And I, for one, will not support a place that puts machines ahead of people. After all, we all need to be able to make a living, and I really don't want to speed up the day when very smart robots will take over the jobs that we imperfect humans are presently doing.
To start off, even though it's 90 degrees outside in the summertime, you have to bring a jacket. Why...? Because they have the air conditioning set at antarctic level - you can practically see your breath. And if you don't have that jacket, you'll be so cold -- that you'll be barely able to move, and even with the jacket, your fingers you'll get frostbite. The poor workers there, wear up to two jackets so that they don't get sick.
Now, you may ask, why do I even bother to go there to shop in the first place -- aha, because they have really good prices, and many promotions where you can get points -- to get items way cheaper than the competition. But this makes them a bit careless, and at times it seems as if the workers feel that they don't have to follow normal supermarket procedures.
As in, for example, stocking extra in popular items, or even being consistent in stocking basic items that people buy everyday. With them, it's hit or miss. The product you find there today, it's not guaranteed to be there tomorrow. And as for their produce department -- well that also it's a gamble. You may or may not get a really great, fresh, organic produce ... or...you may get something that one day after you get it home -- suddenly rots right in front of you. And then, you have to go back and return said produce.
But in spite of all its flaws, it's the only supermarket, around where I live that has a huge selection of foods from all over the world, organic produce, and really friendly workers, who actually believe in providing quality service to the consumer.
So I keep going back there, because, sadly, in the other supermarkets that I occasionally go to, there are not many workers -- just plenty of self-checkout machines that have taken over, depriving who knows how many people from being employed. And I, for one, will not support a place that puts machines ahead of people. After all, we all need to be able to make a living, and I really don't want to speed up the day when very smart robots will take over the jobs that we imperfect humans are presently doing.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Excursion on the River
To get away from the city, we sometimes like to go to Bear Mountain. This is a really nice, one-day getaway. Especially in the Fall, when -- as you sail up the Hudson River -- you can get a great view of the city's skyline, the George Washington Bridge and the changing colors of the trees, as you go past the Palisades and the Cloisters, on your way to the mountain.
The trip normally takes about 2 and a half hours to complete, each way, but you don't even notice it, because the scenery that goes by is so interesting that before you know it --you have arrived at your destination. Of course for us the best part is being on the ship, and just enjoying the passing scenery and taking lots of photos.
Now we like to make this a fun occasion, so we dress up for it, putting on our dressiest outfits and looking sharp, so that the photos are worthy of being sent to assorted friends and relatives. Sometimes, though, being so nicely dressed can present challenges, especially when the ship itself is not really a fancy one, and occasionally -- mishaps happen. As it happened to us one day.
To understand what happened, I must explain that this ship had three levels. And it's one of those ships that has this big smokestack that releases big, black clouds of smoke as (I guess) it uses the motor to speed along. Well anyway, there we were -- about six of us, on the very top deck, checking out the sights and taking photos. We really were not paying attention to the loudspeakers and the stuff they were saying, when we noticed that people were hurriedly going downstairs, we just shrugged and kept taking pictures.
Then we heard a loud horn, like a foghorn, go on and next thing we knew -- this huge black cloud of soot descended on us, on our nice white outfits! on out face, skin, hair, all over! Had we paid attention to the announcement that told people to please go downstairs...but we were too busy talking and now this!
We went downstairs, where the other people tried, very hard, not to laugh right in our face -- we looked quite the spectacle. One of the ship's crew came over to us, and offered us some cloths and showed us to the lavatory where we washed off as much soot as we could, but our outfits, previously white, were ruined. Now they looked grey and dingy. We had now choice now, since we were already at Bear Mountain, to pretend that everything was fine, and give nasty looks to whomever even so much as looked at us with a look of puzzlement on their face.
Apart from that little distraction, we had a great time, and when we got home went straight to the showers, and just threw the outfits we had worn, in the trash. You see, the soot was sticky and oily and just would not come off. We learned a lesson that day: next time -- pay attention to the announcements, it may prevent you from getting caught in a disaster!
The trip normally takes about 2 and a half hours to complete, each way, but you don't even notice it, because the scenery that goes by is so interesting that before you know it --you have arrived at your destination. Of course for us the best part is being on the ship, and just enjoying the passing scenery and taking lots of photos.
Now we like to make this a fun occasion, so we dress up for it, putting on our dressiest outfits and looking sharp, so that the photos are worthy of being sent to assorted friends and relatives. Sometimes, though, being so nicely dressed can present challenges, especially when the ship itself is not really a fancy one, and occasionally -- mishaps happen. As it happened to us one day.
To understand what happened, I must explain that this ship had three levels. And it's one of those ships that has this big smokestack that releases big, black clouds of smoke as (I guess) it uses the motor to speed along. Well anyway, there we were -- about six of us, on the very top deck, checking out the sights and taking photos. We really were not paying attention to the loudspeakers and the stuff they were saying, when we noticed that people were hurriedly going downstairs, we just shrugged and kept taking pictures.
Then we heard a loud horn, like a foghorn, go on and next thing we knew -- this huge black cloud of soot descended on us, on our nice white outfits! on out face, skin, hair, all over! Had we paid attention to the announcement that told people to please go downstairs...but we were too busy talking and now this!
We went downstairs, where the other people tried, very hard, not to laugh right in our face -- we looked quite the spectacle. One of the ship's crew came over to us, and offered us some cloths and showed us to the lavatory where we washed off as much soot as we could, but our outfits, previously white, were ruined. Now they looked grey and dingy. We had now choice now, since we were already at Bear Mountain, to pretend that everything was fine, and give nasty looks to whomever even so much as looked at us with a look of puzzlement on their face.
Apart from that little distraction, we had a great time, and when we got home went straight to the showers, and just threw the outfits we had worn, in the trash. You see, the soot was sticky and oily and just would not come off. We learned a lesson that day: next time -- pay attention to the announcements, it may prevent you from getting caught in a disaster!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Ceremony of Convenience
This was a party that promised to be an interesting one.It was being held in one of those elegant halls that was made to look like a fancy palace, with chandeliers, many flowers, a garden and a lake. The event was taking place outdoors, in one of the gardens with a view of the lake. All very pretty, if I may say. This was the place a friend of mine chose for her wedding, as she wanted it to be a memorable occasion.
And as events unfolded, yes -- it proved to be memorable. You see this friend was marrying, not because she particularly was in love with the guy, but because it was the thing to do.
Let me explain: most of her friends had gotten married, and had a bought a house, and had kids. And as she put it: If they can have the husband, house and kids, so can I! Besides, she said that she rather be known as a widow, or divorcee, rather than as a "never married" woman. I thought this was pretty shallow, but, that was my personal opinion -- and who was I to tell her that was a pretty flimsy reason to get married -- others had married for worse reasons.
We were all assembled at the garden when she made her entrance, beautifully dressed, but with an expression on her face that was more suited to a solemn sermon, than the joy of a wedding. Not so the guy, he had a look of happiness and disbelief, as in -- I can't believe this beautiful woman is marrying me! Everyone notices this and was whispering about it, but since most people like to be at this kind of event, some said that maybe it was nerves, and dismissed her glum looks.
The ceremony took place, and then we all went inside to the reception area, where my friend was busy accepting her congratulations and many envelopes full of money for the bride and groom. As she went around the room, accepting congratulations, she was very careful to be at the opposite end of wherever her now-husband was.
When, she came to our table, I remarked to her that she didn't look like the happy bride -- oh, it's OK , she said, now that this is out of the way, next will be the house and kids, and I will have what everyone else has. But, I asked -- what about your happiness, don't you still pine for this other guy? Well, she said, he doesn't have money, and I'm sure that I'll learn to at least like this one. Then she went to the next table, as the wedding video and photo guys trailed her, recording everything.
Finally the party wound down, and everyone there agreed, that it was a pretty sad affair, when the groom was the only one that had a look of total happiness on his face, and the bride looked like a person that was going through the motions, as if she had just made a business deal and nothing more. Pretty sad.
And as events unfolded, yes -- it proved to be memorable. You see this friend was marrying, not because she particularly was in love with the guy, but because it was the thing to do.
Let me explain: most of her friends had gotten married, and had a bought a house, and had kids. And as she put it: If they can have the husband, house and kids, so can I! Besides, she said that she rather be known as a widow, or divorcee, rather than as a "never married" woman. I thought this was pretty shallow, but, that was my personal opinion -- and who was I to tell her that was a pretty flimsy reason to get married -- others had married for worse reasons.
We were all assembled at the garden when she made her entrance, beautifully dressed, but with an expression on her face that was more suited to a solemn sermon, than the joy of a wedding. Not so the guy, he had a look of happiness and disbelief, as in -- I can't believe this beautiful woman is marrying me! Everyone notices this and was whispering about it, but since most people like to be at this kind of event, some said that maybe it was nerves, and dismissed her glum looks.
The ceremony took place, and then we all went inside to the reception area, where my friend was busy accepting her congratulations and many envelopes full of money for the bride and groom. As she went around the room, accepting congratulations, she was very careful to be at the opposite end of wherever her now-husband was.
When, she came to our table, I remarked to her that she didn't look like the happy bride -- oh, it's OK , she said, now that this is out of the way, next will be the house and kids, and I will have what everyone else has. But, I asked -- what about your happiness, don't you still pine for this other guy? Well, she said, he doesn't have money, and I'm sure that I'll learn to at least like this one. Then she went to the next table, as the wedding video and photo guys trailed her, recording everything.
Finally the party wound down, and everyone there agreed, that it was a pretty sad affair, when the groom was the only one that had a look of total happiness on his face, and the bride looked like a person that was going through the motions, as if she had just made a business deal and nothing more. Pretty sad.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Bridges and Canals
Here we were at last...Venice! City of history, gondolas and beautiful architecture. After having seen it in so many movies, magazines and television shows--we felt as if we were in a dream, wow! Naturally, we had a list of places we wanted to visit, and activities to do. But first, we had to check in at the hotel. And what a beautiful hotel. It was once a "palazzo" so it looked very regal, the furniture and the decor made us feel like nobility. Our room had windows facing one of the canals, which we liked, as we kept them open just to hear the songs of the gondoliers.
Venice is a jewel of a city, unfortunately it's also a large labyrinth, a maze composed of alleys, a million little bridges, twists, turns, and dead ends that can drive you insane and leave you wandering around like a lost soul trying to find salvation. Which meant -- that the walking map we had of the city -- was worth its weight in gold, because without it -- we were nothing. Just a bunch of tourist aimlessly walking in circles trying to find out how the heck to get from point A to point B.
But, we had our map, so we ruled! Naturally this meant that we had to consult the map for every step we had to take -- but hey...it kept us from getting lost. After many wrong, turns (even with the map) we finally made it to St. Mark's Square. It was packed! There were so many people that one could barely move, so we decided instead to go to Murano, and come back later to the Square.
After Murano, we came back to St. Mark's in the late afternoon, it wasn't as crowded, so we were able to enjoy it better. We particularly liked the photo-ops with the pigeons. These guys would be walking around with their cameras and bags of bird seeds and tell you they could take the picture of you with pigeons on both your arms.
They would tell you to stand still and hold your arms out, as if forming a cross, then they would put the bird seeds on your arms -- and of course, a gazillion pigeons would land on your arms. The guy would take the picture and sell it to you. Which, of course you would buy because -- hey, this is what you did in Venice, and you had to show the folks back home that you were really here.
Venice is a jewel of a city, unfortunately it's also a large labyrinth, a maze composed of alleys, a million little bridges, twists, turns, and dead ends that can drive you insane and leave you wandering around like a lost soul trying to find salvation. Which meant -- that the walking map we had of the city -- was worth its weight in gold, because without it -- we were nothing. Just a bunch of tourist aimlessly walking in circles trying to find out how the heck to get from point A to point B.
But, we had our map, so we ruled! Naturally this meant that we had to consult the map for every step we had to take -- but hey...it kept us from getting lost. After many wrong, turns (even with the map) we finally made it to St. Mark's Square. It was packed! There were so many people that one could barely move, so we decided instead to go to Murano, and come back later to the Square.
After Murano, we came back to St. Mark's in the late afternoon, it wasn't as crowded, so we were able to enjoy it better. We particularly liked the photo-ops with the pigeons. These guys would be walking around with their cameras and bags of bird seeds and tell you they could take the picture of you with pigeons on both your arms.
They would tell you to stand still and hold your arms out, as if forming a cross, then they would put the bird seeds on your arms -- and of course, a gazillion pigeons would land on your arms. The guy would take the picture and sell it to you. Which, of course you would buy because -- hey, this is what you did in Venice, and you had to show the folks back home that you were really here.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A Shower and Rust
One of the places we visited, the first time we went to Europe, was this really tiny town in Bordeaux. This region is widely known for its fine wines, which was one of the reasons we decided to visit there. We picked this quaint-looking hotel, because it was near the train station. This way, so we reasoned, we would save on taxi-fare.Now, picture this: we arrived at the station at about 7 in the morning, and were very tired. So we were looking forward to getting to our hotel and relaxing.
Now being that we were in a place far from the usual touristy stops, we had to make use of our dictionaries and our High School French, as the people we met did not speak a word of English. Or, as we suspected, even if they knew English, refused to speak it to us.
No matter, we managed to communicate with the very surly front desk guy. This man looked as if he hated all foreigners, or was just plain nasty. He informed us that our room was on the second floor, and by the way, there was no elevator. When we asked if someone could help us bring our luggage up, as we were really tired, he gave us this cold look, and said that -- no, you had to do it yourself!
We trudged up the stairs -- dragging our luggage, and found out that the rooms were really small. But the worst part was that -- to our shock -- the rooms only had the bed and a small table with a chair. We were curious: where were the bathroom (the toilet and sink) and the shower? We got out into the hallway, and discovered that at one end of it was the toilet and sink, and at the opposite end was the shower stall. And that this was to be used by all the people on that floor.
To say that we were unhappy with this was an understatement. But, we had no choice but to accept it, and decided to make the best of the situation. After settling our luggage in our rooms, we decided that after the long train ride we had just taken, we wanted to take a simple shower. Ha! This proved to be a not so simple proposition. When I went to the shower stall, in a bath robe of course, and opened the faucet -- nothing happened.
So I go back to my room, get dressed, and go downstairs to mister-not-so-friendly concierge to inquire as to why there's no water in the shower. He gives me this annoyed look, because--we don't use it anymore, we have shut off the water there. Excuse me -- I tell him-- but it would be nice, since we are paying quite a lot of money, if you could open the water so we can shower like civilized people. He answers that -- you Americans are maniacs about cleanliness aren't you? I tell him that's none of his problems and please put the water on! He disappears, then comes back and tells me that I have to go back upstairs and let the water run, and by the way-- if I want hot water, I have to let the water run for a while.
So, I go back upstairs and open the faucet -- this dirty, brown, cold water comes gushing out -- eeeeew! I realized that this would take a while, so I left the faucet running and joined my friends as we went to eat breakfast. It took four hours for the water to finally come out clean and warm. The concierge got really upset with us, complaining that now his water bill would be sky-high thanks to us obsessively-clean, fanatical Americans. We just ignored him and happily took our shower.
Now being that we were in a place far from the usual touristy stops, we had to make use of our dictionaries and our High School French, as the people we met did not speak a word of English. Or, as we suspected, even if they knew English, refused to speak it to us.
No matter, we managed to communicate with the very surly front desk guy. This man looked as if he hated all foreigners, or was just plain nasty. He informed us that our room was on the second floor, and by the way, there was no elevator. When we asked if someone could help us bring our luggage up, as we were really tired, he gave us this cold look, and said that -- no, you had to do it yourself!
We trudged up the stairs -- dragging our luggage, and found out that the rooms were really small. But the worst part was that -- to our shock -- the rooms only had the bed and a small table with a chair. We were curious: where were the bathroom (the toilet and sink) and the shower? We got out into the hallway, and discovered that at one end of it was the toilet and sink, and at the opposite end was the shower stall. And that this was to be used by all the people on that floor.
To say that we were unhappy with this was an understatement. But, we had no choice but to accept it, and decided to make the best of the situation. After settling our luggage in our rooms, we decided that after the long train ride we had just taken, we wanted to take a simple shower. Ha! This proved to be a not so simple proposition. When I went to the shower stall, in a bath robe of course, and opened the faucet -- nothing happened.
So I go back to my room, get dressed, and go downstairs to mister-not-so-friendly concierge to inquire as to why there's no water in the shower. He gives me this annoyed look, because--we don't use it anymore, we have shut off the water there. Excuse me -- I tell him-- but it would be nice, since we are paying quite a lot of money, if you could open the water so we can shower like civilized people. He answers that -- you Americans are maniacs about cleanliness aren't you? I tell him that's none of his problems and please put the water on! He disappears, then comes back and tells me that I have to go back upstairs and let the water run, and by the way-- if I want hot water, I have to let the water run for a while.
So, I go back upstairs and open the faucet -- this dirty, brown, cold water comes gushing out -- eeeeew! I realized that this would take a while, so I left the faucet running and joined my friends as we went to eat breakfast. It took four hours for the water to finally come out clean and warm. The concierge got really upset with us, complaining that now his water bill would be sky-high thanks to us obsessively-clean, fanatical Americans. We just ignored him and happily took our shower.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Night School Improvements
One of the great things I like about New York, is the amount of classes offered at night, usually in either the primary or high school buildings, giving people the chance to learn just about anything under the sun. Of the many courses offered, one of the more popular ones, is learning English as a second language.
With its huge immigrant population, of course, New York schools offer these classes to immigrants young and old. The best part is that not only do the people get to learn English, but also get to know their fellow immigrants from practically all over the world. So that you get the added bonus of learning about the varied cultures of your fellow students.
Some of my relatives came to New York as young adults, and of course, eagerly signed up for these classes, so that they could learn the language and as they quaintly put it: "make it in New York". As they were not familiar with the area and frankly were afraid to venture out at night alone, I was their guide, and basically sat in (at the back of the classroom).
It was really fun to listen to them trying to learn American slang talk. More often than not, they would mix up the expressions, and the results were really funny. However, I must praise the teacher, he really did a good job of keeping a straight face, and not making fun of his students, or acting condescending towards them. On the contrary, he was actually respectful of the different backgrounds the people had come from, and even tried to have them teach him a bit about their cultures and traditions.
I mention this, because too many times I had seen teachers, in the same school, in other English as a Second Language classes, behave horribly towards these new arrivals to our city. Treating them as if they were not intelligent human beings, but silly children, who had to be talked down to.
Many a times, I made a mental note to write to the school about this or that teacher who shouldn't have been teaching to foreigners because the teacher had a bias against them. I mean, it's one thing to be proud of your country, but quite another to demean a person just because they are recent arrivals to it.
My relatives eventually got their certificate, and were able to get into the regular schools, and then the universities. And they were always grateful to these night schools for their help, at a budget price, in opening the doors to improving themselves and their opportunities.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Protocol at the Parade
People here in New York must really love to either be in -- or just view -- a parade, since it seems that we have one nearly every other day. Whether you are a pedestrian or a driver this presents logistical problems if you are trying to navigate from one point to another during one of these events.
The other day, me and a group of relatives were trying to just sight see around Manhattan, when as we come out of the subway we are met with this huge amount of people, and barricades, blocking our way to even cross the street. Oh great...I thought, now what? Whose turn is it now to celebrate themselves?
We had to go over and ask a policeman how in the world could we get across to such and such place. Well, as per his directions, we had to make this three blocks detour, to get to our destination. But the "fun" did not end there..oh no...we had to endure having our bags searched and us interrogated, and this just for trying to cross the street!
This scene was repeated all along the parade route, which really made it quite an inconvenience to just enjoy our journey. I don't mean to sound disrespectful, or like a grumpy old gnome, but enough is enough! Instead of closing off this or that street for this or that parade, why don't we just designate one avenue, say the world-famous 5th Avenue, for about ten blocks down, then you can parade your group, cause, or what-have-you, and be done with it!
The other day, me and a group of relatives were trying to just sight see around Manhattan, when as we come out of the subway we are met with this huge amount of people, and barricades, blocking our way to even cross the street. Oh great...I thought, now what? Whose turn is it now to celebrate themselves?
We had to go over and ask a policeman how in the world could we get across to such and such place. Well, as per his directions, we had to make this three blocks detour, to get to our destination. But the "fun" did not end there..oh no...we had to endure having our bags searched and us interrogated, and this just for trying to cross the street!
This scene was repeated all along the parade route, which really made it quite an inconvenience to just enjoy our journey. I don't mean to sound disrespectful, or like a grumpy old gnome, but enough is enough! Instead of closing off this or that street for this or that parade, why don't we just designate one avenue, say the world-famous 5th Avenue, for about ten blocks down, then you can parade your group, cause, or what-have-you, and be done with it!
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Smoke and Fires in the Streets
Some people think that they like new places and adventure, that is -- until they are confronted with unexpected adventure in new places, then they suddenly realize that --hey, this can get dangerous! and get me out of here!
Unfortunately, that's what happened to me and two friends, as we toured this typical island in the Caribbean. We had booked a package deal, which included a guy picking us up from, and taking us back to -- the airport. The trip from the airport to the resort went fine, no problem. It was the trip from the hotel back to the airport that proved to be challenging.
The driver that was sent to pick us up, was driving this small shuttle bus, with heavily tinted windows, and very nicely air-conditioned. When I asked why the windows were so heavily tinted, the driver explained that it was so that people couldn't see that we were tourists, what with all the luggage, it was for our own protection. My two friends were totally oblivious, all they wanted was to have fun and enjoy this tropical paradise.
We spent the week really enjoying ourselves at the resort, and too soon -- it was time to leave. So we packed our luggage, and the same driver came to take us back to the airport. He liked us, and asked if he could take us on a different route, through the mountains, so that we could enjoy the natural beauty of the island. Naturally we liked the idea and quickly agreed to this. And I must admit, the scenery we were driving by was breathtaking, so we told ourselves that this was a great idea. That is, until all hell broke loose.
As we were making our way down the mountainside, we were driving on this winding, dirt road, when all of a sudden this young man shouts to the driver -- be careful! don't go down this road, go back! Our driver just thought this was nothing, and we keep going. When suddenly -- as we get to an intersection -- we see a huge pile of tires that had been soaked with gasoline and turned into a bonfire. Around this, several young men, their faces covered with handkerchiefs, were firing rifles into the air and telling everyone turn back! you can't go through here!
Our driver quickly assessed that this was a dangerous situation and made a u-turn to get the hell out of there. As he's driving away from this, he yells at me to ask this woman on the street what the heck is going on, and how do we get out of here, as those hooligans were blocking the main road. She pointed us to a back alley, which we, along with many other drivers got onto.
We thought -- thank goodness, we were almost in the clear -- but then...disaster! just as we were almost out, there was just one truck ahead of us...when this pack of young men, armed with rifles got in front of the truck and told the driver to get out! Now this man was carrying assorted junk metal parts, and asked them what did they want from him. They told him to offload all the metal and get out of the truck. Now, my driver looked at us (me and my two friends) and tells me -- if they see that you're tourists -- it's bad news, let me try to reason with them, as we were next on line, and he certainly didn't want these people to see us. He tells my two very-foreign-looking friends to stay way back so that they couldn't be seen.
Look my friend, he tells the apparent leader, I'm a poor working man like yourself, trying to make a living bringing this passenger to church. I support your cause, my brother...but he wasn't selling it. And we looked at each other, oh no, what next? Then--as if by divine intervention -- this old man came out of nowhere and started chastising the young punks -- what the hell are you people doing?! Put down those guns! Have you no respect for the law?! This stunned the rowdies, and left them momentarily speechless. At this, the old man told us-- get the heck out of here, before they realize I'm just a powerless old man.
He didn't have to say that twice, our driver sped off as fast as we could, out of that messy situation. Now, I must mention, I was really thrilled by the whole situation--here I was living something you only see in the news or a movie. Not so my two friends-- they were shaking, and once we were safely at the airport, pledged to never, ever! revisit this forsaken island, for as long as they lived! Mind you, this was coming from two guys who were mister-I'm-so-tough back home. But that, when cold reality came to them, proved that they were just all words and no substance.
Unfortunately, that's what happened to me and two friends, as we toured this typical island in the Caribbean. We had booked a package deal, which included a guy picking us up from, and taking us back to -- the airport. The trip from the airport to the resort went fine, no problem. It was the trip from the hotel back to the airport that proved to be challenging.
The driver that was sent to pick us up, was driving this small shuttle bus, with heavily tinted windows, and very nicely air-conditioned. When I asked why the windows were so heavily tinted, the driver explained that it was so that people couldn't see that we were tourists, what with all the luggage, it was for our own protection. My two friends were totally oblivious, all they wanted was to have fun and enjoy this tropical paradise.
We spent the week really enjoying ourselves at the resort, and too soon -- it was time to leave. So we packed our luggage, and the same driver came to take us back to the airport. He liked us, and asked if he could take us on a different route, through the mountains, so that we could enjoy the natural beauty of the island. Naturally we liked the idea and quickly agreed to this. And I must admit, the scenery we were driving by was breathtaking, so we told ourselves that this was a great idea. That is, until all hell broke loose.
As we were making our way down the mountainside, we were driving on this winding, dirt road, when all of a sudden this young man shouts to the driver -- be careful! don't go down this road, go back! Our driver just thought this was nothing, and we keep going. When suddenly -- as we get to an intersection -- we see a huge pile of tires that had been soaked with gasoline and turned into a bonfire. Around this, several young men, their faces covered with handkerchiefs, were firing rifles into the air and telling everyone turn back! you can't go through here!
Our driver quickly assessed that this was a dangerous situation and made a u-turn to get the hell out of there. As he's driving away from this, he yells at me to ask this woman on the street what the heck is going on, and how do we get out of here, as those hooligans were blocking the main road. She pointed us to a back alley, which we, along with many other drivers got onto.
We thought -- thank goodness, we were almost in the clear -- but then...disaster! just as we were almost out, there was just one truck ahead of us...when this pack of young men, armed with rifles got in front of the truck and told the driver to get out! Now this man was carrying assorted junk metal parts, and asked them what did they want from him. They told him to offload all the metal and get out of the truck. Now, my driver looked at us (me and my two friends) and tells me -- if they see that you're tourists -- it's bad news, let me try to reason with them, as we were next on line, and he certainly didn't want these people to see us. He tells my two very-foreign-looking friends to stay way back so that they couldn't be seen.
Look my friend, he tells the apparent leader, I'm a poor working man like yourself, trying to make a living bringing this passenger to church. I support your cause, my brother...but he wasn't selling it. And we looked at each other, oh no, what next? Then--as if by divine intervention -- this old man came out of nowhere and started chastising the young punks -- what the hell are you people doing?! Put down those guns! Have you no respect for the law?! This stunned the rowdies, and left them momentarily speechless. At this, the old man told us-- get the heck out of here, before they realize I'm just a powerless old man.
He didn't have to say that twice, our driver sped off as fast as we could, out of that messy situation. Now, I must mention, I was really thrilled by the whole situation--here I was living something you only see in the news or a movie. Not so my two friends-- they were shaking, and once we were safely at the airport, pledged to never, ever! revisit this forsaken island, for as long as they lived! Mind you, this was coming from two guys who were mister-I'm-so-tough back home. But that, when cold reality came to them, proved that they were just all words and no substance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)