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Architectural Abominations of Gentrification
Grab your bag of popcorn and take a look at how the Upper West Side continues to gentrify and loose some of its character. Gone is the beloved Greek diner that stood here (which took in some previously displaced diner workers and patrons that were usurped by the Whole Foods construction a few blocks over) and up went this white plastic…. what the heck is it? “Hip apartments” of course, that fit oh so nicely with the rest of the neighborhood’s architecture.
Summer Book Rec: How to Be Idle
I am reposting something from last year because it’s summer (in the northern hemisphere) and your minds are more easily prone to indoctrination by this manifesto. Free your soul!
“I have a dream. It is called love, anarchy, freedom. It is called being idle.”
-Tom Hodgkinson
How to train your tike to be a gentrifier
Wars for pre-school applications that happen pre-conception, helicopter parenting, entitlement lessons via a no-spanking-it’s-okay-to-run-amock-everywhere-and-throw-a-tantrum-policy… I should not have been surprised to see this little playset at a children’s store in the Upper West Side. Sorry, but I don’t think the Sushi Set is a lesson in culture. Anywhere else, yes. Learn, little tike, learn, after your lesson on The Kindergarten Spectrum Dogs what it is you are supposed to do when you live on the Upper West Side.
Dante’s Inferno- Eighth Circle, Bolgia 7: Restaurants Charging $2.50 for tea
Do only city establishments get away with such thievery? Or is this a well-shared sin? If you are charging more than a dollar for a cup of tea at your restaurant, then the customer should reasonably expect a certain amount of pomp and circumstance surrounding it. This means, above all else, do not serve the customer a cup of hot water with a not even-open Lipton tea bag. The thievery! The lack of respect to the customer’s palate! Once you pass the dollar amount, tea ought to be served in an elegant tea pot with some ceremony to convince the customer there is an additional $1.50 of effort in there. Don’t condemn yourselves into the Eight Circle, tea bag sinners. There’s nibbling lizards and snakes in there. Stop ripping us off.
Hot Dogs of Havana
One curious site in Havana Vieja was the abundance of little hot dogs walking around. All types: the standard straight-up weiner (pictured), the spotted mutt- dogs that don’t look that they should be hot dogs but somehow are.
I have to say I had a moment when eating out and reading a menu. Listed was “perro caliente”… Within the context of a country of poor resources together with the images of all these little weiners walking around, my heart sank, until C-mixto explained that the translation works the same in Spanish as in English. A bunned, not fur, hot dog.
Pilgrimage to the Silver Golf Ball
Thanks for the crickets, people. What happened to my petition to get me inside Disney World? Luckily Nova was strong willed enough to be able to drag C-mixto there. I was on a mission: 4.5 hours to hit the entire universe of Epcot, meet Mickey or Donald, eat cotton candy, and have a German beer and sausage. Here’s my Epcot adventure, minus some ride stories that deserve their own entry:
- Take public transportation to Disney World! For the cost of a NYC subway ride, we zoomed into Walt Disney Empire in 30 minutes with only 3 stops for only $2 freakin bucks. I don’t get Disney at the end of my subway ride back to Inwood.
- The estate of Walt Disney surrounding the actual Kingdom is set up like a military base. Endless highways with checkpoints, then a monorail system that takes you through a mysterious swamp ending God knows where. Sniper Mickey’s and Donalds, Disney character rejects and other strange things must lurk in those woods that escaped the demolition bullzoders and cement of Disney.
- Disney World uses geriatric labor and indentured immigrant labor to staff all those rides (and I mean global immigrant labor for each theme of its Epcot city). The bar maid in Germany’s Biergarten Restaurant had to be pushing at least 80.
- Speaking of the Biergarten, I was very happy with sausages and sauerkraut waving my frothy beer mug back and forth in the air to the sounds of cowbells, yodeling and the Ricola horn, until the crowd belted out in unison, “Hoi, hoi, hoi!”. Suddenly I felt a bit uneasy joining a blond haired, blue eyed crowd chanting in German in unison. I am very sorry I felt that way, but I suddenly felt the urge to leave.
- Disney scans your finger as you enter the park. When I asked why, they said “to avoid someone using your ticket”. I have some theories as to what other things they might be doing with your fingerprint…
- Be careful signing the liability form when you buy tickets. There is fine, fine print in there that pledges your first born child to Walt Disney. There is a reason why the robots on their rides look so real, why there is something demonic about “It’s a Small World”.
More on rides- but do any of you have Disney memories?
Gazi, Athens, Greece 2007the other (salsa) shoe
Supposed to be editing my novel, but couldn’t resist this entry (darn yahoo news is distracting). I checked out Tavern on the Green’s Monday salsa night the other week to see if it had an on-2 following. It’s a magical atmosphere (not for on-2 though): dancing in the park at night with Chinese paper lanterns hanging from the tree branches above you like stars… Nice mixed crowd, low entrance fee, etc, etc. But while dancing in the outdoor garden I caught a glimpse of the scene encased in the glass chambers of the restaurant. Different crowd altogether. Then passing the young guy with the top hat who opens the door for you like a butler, I glanced back at the old-world decor of the place, and thought: how bad of a financial state is Tavern on the Green in if they have salsa nights that actually blend into pop club music (my exit cue)? Hate to think that way, but I said to myself how many old fogies are either rolling in their graves or jumping into their graves before schedule because Tavern on the Green hosts this type of younger ethnic crowd, dancing with music that has lots of drums and fewer stringed instruments? then the NY Times runs the story, Tavern on the Green Filing for Chapter 11 (picture from NY Times article). Sorry that I had to wonder about the other shoe dropping, but here it is. That aside, for all I know this event has been going on when times were good too. The timing still struck me.
The Charm of Athens
Temple of Zeus, Athens Greece September 2005
I often hear of some Greeks advising potential tourists to the patrida to skip Athens in their itinerary. If the Greek islands are your destination with limited time, I can see that. BUT… here’s why Athens works, either to visit or to live in, despite some of the harshness found in any city, in its own form.
- The Acropolis. Could very well be personal taste, years of Euro-centric schooling- Nah! Shut up. The sight of the Acropolis at night, draped in moonlight with an eerie glow… is breathtaking and surreal. How many times have I shed a tear just catching sight of it, wherever I may be in the Athenian night? Visit during the hours of 12pm-3pm during the months of July and August and you’ll swear you’ve just hiked into the atmosphere of the sun.
- Coffee culture. Try a damn frappé, for goodness sake, and people watch behind black sunglasses. If you’re a man, have black hair with Adonis wavy locks– you’ll blend right in. If you’re uppity, go to Kolonaki for your cafe. But you will have a nice frappé atmosphere almost anywhere. If coffee is not your thing, try a frosty beer with some feta-cheese flavored Lay’s chips.
- The beach. It’s just a drive away. You don’t have to island hop or go broke. City dweller by week day, beach god or goddess during the weekend.
- Island excursions. Just a short plane ride away (or more true to the Greek experience) a ferry away. See above! The Charm of Athens – continue reading …
Ode to… Good Food
The irony of traveling to the eastern coast of Sicily, where Helios unleashed his firery wrath upon the crew of Odysseus for eating something they shouldn’t have (the Oxen of the Sun), on a food trip does not escape me. And it almost didn’t escape us, because one of us almost literally ate ourselves to death.
Never in my life have I seen so much food. So much good food. So much really, really good food. I’ve also never traveled with foodies before. I’ll try to make this my only generic entry on Sicily (the rest more regional). Sitting at a table in the Sicilian coast or countryside with foodies is no different than group sex, I kid you not. The moans and groans from our table, the bulging eyes at the variety of dishes splayed in front of you- the pure ecstasy of flavors coating tongues. Love hath taken new meaning with a group of foodies unleashed in Sicily. We traveled miles, made three hour car drive pilgrimages to specific restaurants, one trip simply to eat one dish- a pistachio granita.
Ode to… Good Food – continue reading …
