updates

Updated the travel blog. Will update this one too, but I have an exam on Thursday. So, it'll be touch and go with the internet until my math test is over!

Wish me luck.

entry at 2:17am

Sometimes living in New York makes you feel like a great big nobody. Someone without a name, purpose or function.

Pointless.

my travel blog needs some comments, people

Check it:

http://flipworldwide.blogspot.com/

celebrity sightings

Francophiles have Paris. Alien abductees have Los Alamos. Gamblers have Monaco. And gossip hounds? We have New York City.

It's true that LA is the entertainment capitol of the world, but that's just for the film industry. New York is the cultural gem of America, which means we attract more big name movie stars, artists, musicians, authors, dancers and models than almost anywhere else on this little green planet of ours. Fitting, then, that almost everyone in this city has multiple stories to tell of various run-ins with celebrities. A prime example of this was the day when, after less than a full day's work on a brand new job, my former roommate came home and announced she had rung up Drew Barrymore's cash register that afternoon.

As all of my friends have had numerous celebrity sightings, I have been waiting for my first. Well, that's not true. I did have a chat with Joan Baez in an elevator a few years ago (culminating with her patting me on the head), and I've performed for several well known names (Madeline Albright, Kanye West, etc.) -- but still. It wasn't quite the same thing as running into a celebrity on the street.

Which, I can now add, I finally have. About a week ago I was leaving a late night class on my university campus, when who did I spy filming a movie on the street? Miss. Buffy herself, Sarah Michelle Gellar. Granted, it was evening time, drizzling, and the ultra-bright set lights everywhere made it hard to look directly in her face. However, it was definitely her, and the crowd of bystanders gawking at her made this quite evident. The camera crew were giving everyone non-industry related (i.e. me and all the other people staring) nasty looks, but that didn't stop anyone from pulling out camera phones and snapping photos of Gellar like she was some sort of exotic wild beast roaming the streets of Manhattan.

She looked underfed and very short, and her hair was dyed black. Very pretty though, which I suppose is a requirement for all Hollywood actresses. I don't remember much else about my celebrity moment except that she was filming a scene with another actress (no clue who), and had on a pretty hideous boots.

... and I have to cut this entry short because of a duo of unruly cats trying to sit on my laptop.

when power tools attack

I take pride in New York City's subway system. I mean, it is one of the longest and most famous lines in the world. However, when things happen that involve innocent victims and power tools, I'm not so sure how I feel about riding around on the train anymore. I mean, seriously. Earlier this year a dead corpse was found riding around on a train, and now a weirdo trying to hack people in half? Luckily the guy was caught, but here's more detailed information for those who are interested:

http://gothamist.com/2006/07/06/man_attacks_sub.php

summertime

It's summer, and the weather is nice!

the umbrella man

I'm walking in the rain, getting soaked to the skin while chatting on my cell phone. As the rest of New York is huddled under umbrellas, I'm splashing around in puddles of water on the sidewalk. I have no umbrella and my hair is sticking to my face and getting into my mouth. My clothes are sticking to my skin and rain drops keep falling into the speaker of my cell. "This," I inform my friend on the other end of the phone line, "sucks. Royally."

New York has been under a deluge of wet weather, and I'm not enjoying any of it. There's something to be said for the cooling relief of rain during an urban summer, but, then again, there's something to be said for not having to walk around everywhere with rain boots and a jacket on.

There I am, walking along, step after step (with a regular SPLASH! of a puddle), when a plump young man falls into step beside me. He's looking at me curiously, and when I catch his eye he offers up a small smile. The handle to a big black umbrella is clutched in his right hand, and his balding head of hair looks neat and dry. I am, of course, jealous of this fact. (Not his balding head, but the fact he isn't suffering from damp clothing.)

"Want to keep dry?" The man extends his umbrella over my head. He looks harmless enough, and so when he asks where I'm headed to, I don't feel sketched out enough to blow him off. Instead I do the surprising thing of being truthful with a stranger for once. "Honestly," I tell him, "I'm not sure where I'm going." When he looks confused I try to explain again, all the while still attempting to continue the conversation already taking place on my cellie. "I'm lost," I mouth to the umbrella man, "but I think I'm headed in the right direction."

"Well, I'm headed in the same direction too. I'll walk you there," is his quick reply.

And so we trail along at a stately pace. I feel a little silly with an umbrella being held over my head by a man who is carefully trying to match his walking pace with my own. At the same time, however, it feels kind of nice, like being a modern day noble with a dutiful servant at my beck and call.

The man holding the umbrella politely lets me finish my conversation on the phone as we walk. When I tell the person on the other end "I love you," the man at my side cracks up and says "I love you too!" Once I've hung up, he wants to know if I was speaking with a boyfriend. I give an affirmative 'yup' and he puts on a dejected face and sighs, "Oh well, I was hoping it was a parent or family member."

Tough luck.

After double checking some cross streets, I realize I'm heading the right way to my destination. I admit to the umbrella man that the part of Manhattan we're in is strange to me. It's not my style, I tell him. Too many rich ladies in fur coats walking small, pissy dogs.

As promised the man escorts me to the door before heading off with a "Have a great day -- and don't get rained on!"

And that is the very short tale of the umbrella man who kept me dry during a rainy Manhattan week.

I'm baaaaaaaaaack

I'm back!

No, this blog is not dead. It was just hibernating until I got my life in order. New apartment, new semester of class, trying to find (yet another) job ...

Oh! The travel blog has begun. http://flipworldwide.blogspot.com Check it.

Photos on Webshots will be posted soon, as well. The link is http://community.webshots.com/user/indianepalflip. Plenty of photos there for anyone interested in seeing a bit of my trip to the East.

A New York City related post will be coming in the next day or so. For now I'll just give a single clue on what the post will be about: Umbrella Man!

Yay!!

I'm off to India & Nepal! Please send me positive thoughts for a safe trip there and back, and while in the far east. (Is that the proper title for this part of the world?) Oh, and the consensus is in -- yes, I will be creating a travel log upon my return. Yay!! Any suggestions for names?

Lots of love, and until my next entry ...

bon vonyage to myself.

your opinion needed

I played my concert with the 'Grammy winning artist.' I can't say who or where because of the contract I signed, but I can still write about the experience, which I will do when I have more time freed up.

[edit: Now I can say, since it's been long enough! It was Kanye West. Whee. :)]

In the meanwhile, I am getting ready to set off for India and Nepal for a 3 week adventure. I'm going to keep a journal over the course of my trip, and turn them into blog entries when I return. I'm also planning on taking lots of photos to post online and share with everyone.

I am thinking about starting up a travel blog on the side. I've done enough interesting trips at this point to have a lot of material to write about, and my most recent ones (Belize and Puerto Rico) are still fresh in my mind. My question is this -- what do you guys think about my idea? Would you be interested in a travel blog?

Give me your opinions before Monday!!

music, central park zoo, cupcakes and more.

So much has been happening lately, I don't even know where to begin.

I suppose the first order of business is to mention a gig I have coming up this weekend with a Grammy Award winning rapper who's very, very famous and was recently in Dave Chappelle's Block Party documentary. It's unexpected and pretty sudden, and I'm not going to lie, I'm a little nervous about it. Sight reading is required -- not my strongest point -- but thus far the music that has been sent to me does not look difficult.

Other news -- I played Bernstein's Chichester Psalms last night. The concert (chamber version) went very well, especially considering I had VERY short notice to learn the piece, which is notoriously difficult for my instrument. I never had a chance to have a complete rehearsal with the full ensemble and almost zero time to tune (not to mention no time to warm up beforehand). The conditions were less than ideal, but my instrument (and me) held through it, and did just fine. The chorus was very nice and friendly, which always makes performing easier. All in all I was surprised and pleased with how kind everyone was. I got a few compliments from the performers as well, which is always nice.

A couple days ago I had a very New York day and visited a couple city institutions. First on the list was the Central Park Zoo. In general I hate zoos, because they are pretty much prisons for animals. It wasn't surprising, then, when I found out one of the polar bears at the CPZ had to be put on antidepression medication. The zoo itself was lovely. Small, but beautifully landscaped and full of informed, friendly guides. The habitats were cramped, especially for some of the monkeys, and the sea lion tank made me feel sad -- the animals had no where to go except to splash around in a circle all day, which they did over and over, making me dizzy. The penguins looked happy, as did the puffins, but the monkeys looked depressed, as did the polar bears. (Even the one on medication.) The animals were well taken care of, however, and I didn't feel as guilty about visiting as I normally would with a zoo. Especially touching (I'm a total softie when it comes to animals) were the senior citizen animals who had special tanks and were obviously well loved.

Highlights:

*The rainforest room -- amazing birds! There were so many different kinds, and they were all colorful. A few were making nests, which was adorable.
*Baby colobus monkey -- cutest animal ever.
*Red panda
*Snow monkeys, although their exhibit was small and weirdly surrounded by water.

Next on the list was a visit to the store Condomania in the West Village. I think the name is pretty self-explanatory. I went with a classmate as a joke, and it was as entertaining as could be imagined. We did not spend very much time in there, however, as the store was limited to pretty much what it's named for. Apparently it's famous though, and has a loyal following.

Then it was cupcakes at the overrated Magnolia's. The place is famous for their baked sweet stuff, but the staff were catty, self absorbed and generally the type of people I try to avoid. It was self serve for cupcakes, which were tasty. $3.50 for 2 cupcakes, however, is overpriced. Not worth it. It was fun to try, though, and there was no line, which is unusual.

Afterwards I ate my cupcakes in the park, and was hit with a storm of pigeons. One was gimp with a messed up foot so he got a few pieces of the cake. I'm a sucker, what can I say?

improper use of toilets

So, I have a question. Why do women have a hard time aiming straight while sitting on a toilet?

Seriously. You can't go to the bathroom anywhere in this city without having to check out the floor, toilet seat and that little flushing handle first. Then, of course, there's always the lack of paper, which is strange, since god knows enough trees are being cut down each day to allow us Americans to wipe our precious arses with. I think people steal the rolls of toilet paper from bathrooms. Even I'm guilty as charged, but only the rolls from my school -- I figure I pay enough tuition that saving a few dollars each month by hoarding TP from them is no big deal.

Due to the gross factor involved with trying to take a piss in New York, I've decided to put together a few helpful hints on how to Pee In Public Restrooms. This is not to be mixed up with How To Pee In Public, which I've also kind of mastered, but that's a whole other story. My advice, for women anyway, is:

* Don't go to the bathroom at Barnes and Noble bookstores. Maybe I'll get sued for typing this, but they always have dirty bathrooms, long lines and lots of peed on toilet seats. Also, frantic shoppers checking their windblown hair in the greasy mirrors is never a plus. They have sharp elbows and take up a lot of room.

* Don't bother using a toilet at any university or college campus. Apparently educated girls can't pee any straighter than their less intellectual counterparts. Also, toilet paper theft seems to be an issue at these places -- see above in the first paragraph if you have any doubts.

* Bryant Park has a nice bathroom. There's an attendant and everything. Also, the toilets are all self cleaning -- technology at its finest.

* The Port Authority has surprisingly okay bathrooms. I've been there a lot, and I've never been grossed out to the point of wishing I'd never stepped foot into a stall. The cleaning ladies there all speak in Creole or in beautiful languages from Africa, and they all stand around like royal guards armed to the teeth with ammonia sprays and rolls of paper towels.

* Starbucks, like Barnes and Noble, have restrooms open to the public. Alas, they are equally skank, if not more so. Avoid the one by the West 4 Street stop on 6th Ave. I felt dirty just breathing the same air there. Same goes for the one on Astor Place. Mega ew.

Anyway, that's my post. I'm avoiding doing work, can't you tell?

annoyed

Well, I just lost everything I spent half an hour typing, so now I'm pissy and don't feel like going back and recreating the post I planned on publishing. It was all philosophical and focused on India and Nepal, and how excited I was.
But I suppose that's pretty obvious, and blabbing on about it on here doesn't matter. (Man, I am IRRITATED I lost that damn post!)

Anyway, blah blah blah. IndiaNepalIndiablahblah.



Um, yeah. So screw this post. It's a lost cause at this point. Maybe I'll try it again later.

In other news, I'm stressed out as hell. I have a huge performance coming up that I was only informed about last week -- I get 1 rehearsal on the same day as the concert, and it's difficult, hard to count, and a very exposed part. I barely know the piece at all. Joy of joys. I have several papers due soon, an ecology project for one of my classes, and final exams to prepare for. Can anyone say 'being a student sucks?' Thanks, mom and dad, for paying for an education that is going to make me mentally unstable and strung out for the rest of my days.

Oh, and in case you're wondering about the airplane picture -- it was the only thing that remained from my previous post, weirdly enough. It was supposed to go along with the whole 'traveling' theme. Whatever. Peace.

open letter to the people upstairs

Dear People Who Live Upstairs,

Please stop moving furniture and stomping around at 2 in the morning. I understand that you may have been raised by a herd of elephants, but you live in the city now and not in an African game reserve. This means, simply put, that I'd love it if you would take the time to shut the f!!k* up after 11pm.

In other words:

Thanks,

Your Neighbor Who Banged A Broomstick Against The Ceiling Last Night To Say BE QUIET .

(I was unsuccessful in my attempt at creating peace and civil order.)

* Expletive not put in completion in respect for my mother, who does read this thing from time to time.

random things

Random Things:

the girl riding the skateboard down Waverly Place the other day in a designer jacket and jeans.

no one cleans up after the pit bull who goes to the bathroom on my street.

the trash that accumulates around the police station. no one ever bothers to pick it up.

me, giving a lost tourist directions to st. mark's.

schoolkids flirting on the subway.

i feed stray cats when they look hungry.

Soundtrack New York: Goldfrapp

In New York City, you spend a lot of time plugged into headphones. From riding around on the subway to going jogging, music is everywhere. This is in addition to not to mention all the shops and bars that have albums or iPods on shuffle constantly playing.

Every now and then I'm going to post a group/musician I like and include a link.

So, here's my first: oldie but goodie Goldfrapp, who has a new album out. I like their old stuff better -- Felt Mountain was out of this world -- but I have to say that their poppy synthy new sound is pretty tasty too, when it comes to party prep and the like.

Good to listen to during: Party/club prep, subway rides on weekends/late nights, before dates.

Favorite Album: Felt Mountain

Love, love Goldiefrappers. Maybe you will too. Maybe not.

http://www.goldfrapp.co.uk/

a community garden in alphabet city

"No sticks and stones."

The woman was sitting on a bench, plump rear firmly pressed into her seat. A weeping willow draped over her head, and for a minute she reminded me of a garden gnome. Squat, fat, and tucked away under the shadow of a tree.

When we looked at her with confused expressions, she added "... in the water."

Assuming she was a little nuts, me and my friend just nodded our heads and turned our backs on her. "What the hell was she talking about?" I asked my friend through gritted teeth. He kind of shrugged and started to laugh. "Who knows, but I'm trying really hard not to be a smart ass." While I giggled, my friend called out over his shoulder, "We won't throw anything into the water!"

The two of us carefully picked our way through the garden, staring around us in amazement. I found out the 'water' the gnome was referring to was a dingy fish pond, complete with dead fish at the bottom, gleaming gold and orange. Flowers brimmed against the sides of the pond, rimmed with bricks taken from somewhere in the city.

Mardi gras beads hung from bushes and wooden stakes, sparkling purple in the sun. Dirt -- actual country dirt, moist and smelling like rain -- lined the curving path around the garden, meandering around flowers and city trees. Glass spikes of different shapes and sizes lined the chain link fence around the perimeter of this patch of green, little dagger teeth with artistic bite.

I felt like I was Alice and had just dropped into Wonderland. This park, I thought, would be a wonderful place for a tea party. Even the Cheshire cat was there, big, fat and orange, rolling around in a patch of sunlight. When the garden gnome informed me that he was tame and "very friendly," I strolled over and the cat immediately began to purr and stretch out, rubbing his head against my hands.

"That," I said, "is one helluva friendly cat."

My friend and I tossed around a few jokes about it being on Ecstasy. It was impossible not to, since he was rolling around like he had just discovered how wonderful life is stretched out in the middle of a sunbeam.

After we left the neighborhood's oasis (only the size of a corner lot), my friend and I wondered aloud about the place. Who knew that Avenue C would have so many community gardens along it? The two of us passed park after park, strange fairylands tucked into the nooks between concrete apartment buildings.

Some were rundown, while others bloomed in riots of strange colors and sights. Most were padlocked, unfriendly and clearly unwelcoming. One parcel of trees had a rusty saw leaning against the fence around it, a clear reminder not to try to climb over onto the property.

It was my first real venture into Alphabet City. I had always heard how sketchy the place was, how people got mugged there, how far away it is from the subway. Which, I suppose, is all true. It is a long walk from the nearest subway stop, and I can agree that Avenue D is not the most inspiring place in terms of feeling safe. But ... Avenue C. Avenue B. Avenue A. I liked the trio of streets, the funny buildings dotting their length.

It bothered me though, the way all these beautiful gardens were blocked off from the world. I had the luck of getting into the only one that was open to strangers, and it was a wonderful experience. The three Avenues all seemed gentrified, and the people strolling along them did not look like they were going to go hungry anytime soon. Kids on expensive bikes roamed around, parents in tow. 'Bohemians' pretending to be cutting edge and avant garde were everywhere, all white skinned with their lifestyles intact thanks to daddy's trust fund.

Avenue D, I decided, would benefit from some of these places. There things changed suddenly, and me and my friend stuck out like a sore thumb with our pale faces and the digital camera we were carrying around. Here, instead of parks, there were basketball courts. Instead of expensive apartments there were tall, Soviet style buildings. These monoliths are what every public housing project in the city probably aspires to be. Kids on Avenue D seem older, grittier, wiser than their Avenue C neighbors, and none of the parents I saw could have been much older than 24 or 25.

New York City is, without a doubt, an amazing place. In the span of a minute, you can walk from the most beautiful streets to areas of poverty and unhappiness. I suppose you get used to it after a time. I know that I already am. But, (and this is a big one) -- but, I think it's a little frightening, this acceptance of poverty in the midst of wealth. It doesn't seem fair to hoard beauty for yourself, while denying your neighbors a chance to have it as well.

Post for My Banana Bread Friend

THANK YOU FOR THE BANANA BREAD!

My craving is now satisfied.

:)

reading in a cemetery

Happiness is reading a good book outdoors. This is especially true on warm, sunny days when there is green grass to rub your feet on and a spring breeze to cool your face in.

In years past, I have always marked the start of spring by bringing books outside and reading. I've read in parks, on roofs, balconies and by poolsides. I've turned pages sitting by the shores of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and I've even done some serious reading on the deck of an ocean liner.

But I have never read in a cemetery -- until today.

I know it sounds creepy. I even got asked about it today, by an old woman hauling her even older mother along the gravestones. "You're reading in a cemetery?!" she asked, in total amazement. Well no, wait. That wasn't the first thing she asked me. She wanted to know where the public bathrooms were located, and then broached the subject of reading-among-the-dead.

"Yes, I'm reading in a cemetery. It's the only place nearby with some grass, flowers and where I can hear birds." And besides, I added in my head, there's walking paths and benches all over the place in this place. People jog here everyday. What's so weird about reading?

But apparently jogging is okay. As is wandering aimlessly with backpacks on your back, which is what I saw several people do. (All with glazed expressions who vanished into the restrooms for long stretches at a time.) Even holding hands and looking romantic seemed to be okay. Just ... not reading?

The woman was shocked that anyone would want to read in a graveyard. I mean, really. Horrors. I didn't have the heart to point out to her that she was far more morbid, hauling around her corpse of a mother with her. The pair trundled along at a snail's pace, with the younger one shaking her head in despair at me the entire time. I couldn't wait for them to get to the bathroom, pee, and fall into the toilet and drown.

After the Doddering Duo left, I had my shady little patch of graveyard back to myself. Sort of. I had parked myself on a bench near the main entrance, because it seemed the safest place to sit. A beautiful tree had been planted to stand guard over the bench, and flowers were blooming all along the pathway in front of me. The place was begging to be sat in, noticed and appreciated.

Birds were singing, squirrels were rustling in the bushes, and the workmen on duty were joyfully speaking to one another in Spanish. It did not feel like a burial ground at all. Even the visitors were smiling, and most weren't even dressed in black. Lots of kids running around, parents sighing, a couple or two smiling at one another.

When I had first moved into the neighborhood, the local cops had told me the cemetery was open to the public. "Lots of people go hiking in there," one of them told me. "I mean, I don't advise doing it after visiting hours, but it's safe during the day. And real pretty."

And real pretty it was. At one point I walked until I found a duck pond, and stared at my reflection in the rippling water. Ducks were honking at me and nosing by my feet for food, making me feel guilty for not bringing them bread crumbs. Spring blossoms were everywhere, in a profusion of purples, yellows and reds -- like cotton candy fluffs, electric colored and satisfying to look at.

Back at my reading perch under the tree, one of the groundskeepers walked by and gave me a big smile. A genuine one, not one of those creepy-old-man-who's-going-to-hit-on-you ones. "You picked a great day to read here," he told me in passing. He then went on to tell me other good reading spots in the cemetery, and I assured him I would explore them all.

cows: i keep forgetting they're sacred in india.

"If a driver hits a ... cow, the vehicle and its occupants are at risk of being attacked by passersby. Such attacks put the vehicle's occupants at significant risk of injury or death, or at least incineration of the vehicle."

-- Travex Report on India

In traffic and on roads, "the cow always has the right of way."

-- CultureShock!

and other funny things ...

1) Cows, camels, goats and elephants are all fairly typical sites on Indian roads.

2) Monkey bites are, apparently, a common malady among tourists.

3) I've read several times that sidewalks are not really there to be walked on, but are instead used by the homeless as places to sleep, by merchants as places to sell wares, and others use these 'walks as parking lots, taxi stands, lunching spots and more.

4) Asking for a hamburger is grounds for getting punched in the face.

(And oh man, I love beef!)

I am leaving in less than 2 months. Ahhhh. I just got back from my school's travel clinic, after being vaccinated for typhoid, hepatitis A and getting prescribed my malaria pills. I have to go back for further shots next week ... lucky me.

At least the doctor gave me cute bandaids and Gatorade. Oh -- and I'm the brand new owner to the World Health Organization's International Certificate of Vaccination. It's bright yellow and hurts the eyes -- but apparently you can't (literally) leave home without it.