what new york is . . . and isn’t . . . for me

We’ve been home for more than a week already, and finally I’m sitting down to reflect on our week in New York. We booked the trip originally to help our daughter with her obligation as home and cat owner while she was in Paris on a combination academic conference/vacation. Now don’t laugh. I turned down many potentially inspiring trips with Hubby the years that one of my three cats at the time required medication and attention I didn’t want to burden my friends and neighbors with. I had the luxury of staying home; our daughter doesn’t. What we got in return was a whole week in the city without expensive hotel bills, living like New Yorkers do, taking advantage of all the cultural offerings, the parks, the food . . . !

And yes, that included the subways. Usually when we’re visiting, I’m about five feet behind Hubby and daughter every time we go out, working hard just to keep up with them. I never know exactly where we are, or how we got there, until we’re there, much like being a child again. This trip, I was right there alongside him so I could see for myself how he knew which train to take–which platform we needed to be on–and the wisdom of waiting for the Express rather than taking the local. By the end of the week I was beginning–but not quite there yet–to feel a little like a native New Yorker. That means I stopped gawking at the artistic tile work on some of the walls, taking pictures, staring at people. I even managed to scan my Metro card with one swipe (most of the time). Walking outside on the street, I practiced the art of focusing on the sidewalk (instead of everywhere else), looking neither right nor left, with a slight scowl on my face and plowing straight ahead. I acted as if I knew exactly where I was going and in a big hurry to get there. Even though I wasn’t–except when we had to be someplace at a certain time–(like the play we went to)–more on that later. When you ride the subway, it’s good to close your eyes and let your head hang to one side, stirring only when the train stops. If you can understand the accent of the subway announcer you can keep your eyes closed all the way. It’s even more effective if you let your head touch other people and then open your eyes quickly as if you’re startled. Then close them again and let your head dangle on your chest some more.

But every now and then, I did look up and let a smile creep onto my face. In spite of myself I even made eye contact now and then, occasionally making a small remark to someone nearby. That taught me something too. That New Yorkers are very often from someplace else too! That makes them a lot like me, and with one exception we got along very well indeed (that story will come in a later story). We got on so well that by the time we left I was feeling as though, like Hubby has always felt since he grew up in a crowded big city while I grew up with cows and hogs, that it might be fun to live in a high rise (no yard work) in a big city. Especially one with great public transportation and every ethnic food you can think of plus some you’ve never heard of, and not all that expensive either. Our daughter lives in Forest Hills. You can shop for just about anything you’d want or need within a few blocks. It took me less than five minutes to walk to the ice cream shop for a gelato after lunch one day.

Thinking back on some of my favorite travel memories, I’m always reminded of that billboard I read more than 40 years ago riding the Staten Island Ferry during my first visit to New York (1968), “Remember that YOU may be one of our visitors best memories on New York.” These are a couple of people encounters I’ll always remember fondly: the greeter at Tiffany on Fifth Avenue who told us what to see (the Ziegfeld Collection and the stunning jewelry worn in the The Great Gatsby movie) and the female sales clerk who taught me a little about purchasing a diamond, knowing (I’m sure) I had no means of buying any at that store (!) and made my day by insisting I try on one of the terribly impressive emerald cut diamond (about 5 carats) that only cost $36,850. And whoever said that New Yorkers aren’t friendly? At the Empire State Building there was the information clerk who was so friendly we chatted comfortably for at least 15-20 minutes (always stepping aside when other visitors needed her attention of course). By the time I left I’d not only gotten a recommend for a new and far cheaper version of skin care product than the one I was currently using, but I knew her age and how many years she had to work before retirement. And even though my friend ML, who had joined us from Pittsburgh and I failed to find the high end store Barney’s we wanted directions for, we found Bergdorf-Goodman instead, and had a wonderful time checking out the (excessively) expensive shoes. Readers, I had no idea there are people in the world who don’t blink an eye at spending thousands of dollars on a single pair of shoes. And here I was feeling all guilty that I’ve had to spend more than $100 for my shoes since chemotherapy and RA have left quite an impact on my feet!

There were “action comic” shoes, “jeweled little bits of nothing strap-wrapped shoes,” even “I wanna tower so tall over men that the heels have to be bowed for balance” shoes.

action comic shoes bg double high shoes bgexotic shoe bg

Like women everywhere, we were soon attracted to the 50% off shoe display in the corner. (Not a single pair did I see for $100.)The ones I singled out varied in price between $650 and $1800 (remember  that’s at 50% off). We found some spiked heels we called secret service shoes because they had not just super high-heels, but literally had black plastic spikes (like track shoe cleats) all over the heel as well as the inset strap. If you worked at secret service and a bad guy (read: terrorist) grabs you from the back or the front you have lethal weapons on both feet for that crotch or buttock kick!  (Sort of like the one of the left below.) And I’ll bet Wonder Woman would have killed for shoes like the one on the right.

   shoes from bergdorf goodman 1ouch shoes bg

The first pair of sandals look like the perfect shoe for the woman who really prefers going barefoot, but doesn’t because “what if there’s dog poo?” The others are very much like those I bought to wear with my saree for my wedding in Pittsburgh (1969).

i kinda feel like bare feet but don't want to step in dog poolike my wedding shoesI paid less than $10 for them at a shoe store near my apartment in Shadyside. Last, but not least, this pair sums up my dilemma every time I purchase shoes of any kind, the “I can’t decide which color I like best shoe.” Remember when the choices were limited to black, white, and sometimes red or black patent?

colorful shoes bgI have many more experiences and people to talk about from our trip, but I’ll hold those until next time. Meanwhile, my new feelings for New York (and big cities in general) are best summed up in these words I stole from a letter written by Anaïs Nin to her lover Henry Miller.

It is the suitable scene for my ever heightened life. I love the proportions, the amplitude, the brilliance, the polish, the solidity. I look up at Radio City insolently and love it. It is all great, and Babylonian. Broadway at night. Cellophane. The newness. The vitality. True, it is only physical. But it’s inspiring. Just bring your own contents, and you create a sparkle of the highest power. I’m not moved, not speechless. I stand straight, tough, and I meet the impact. I feel the glow and the dancing in everything. The radio music in the taxis, scientific magic, which can all be used lyrically.


21 thoughts on “what new york is . . . and isn’t . . . for me

    • I hope nothing major is stopping you from doing what you want to do, Monica. Go for it! And thanks for stopping by again. 😀

      On Wed, Jul 10, 2013 at 6:26 PM, My Wintersong

  1. This is how I feel about New York. But I don’t care if I am labeled “tourist.” I gawk as much as I want. I think it’s the ideal place to retire: just walking down the street is great entertainment, and then there is all the real entertainment. I’m going back for three weeks in August. Can’t wait. And I still want to hear about the play.

    • Ruthe, to be honest I lied in that post about trying to look like a “typical New Yorker”; it’s impossible for me to fake my feelings–you kinda know as soon as you see my face, and I gawked in spite of myself. How else can you see those amazing construction details of an earlier era (those gargoyles and cherubs and such) when those things mattered. I do appreciate clean lines of the “modern,” but history does draw me into the beauty of “old”–in sort of the same way that you appreciate the beauty in aging faces when you’re aging (shall we say “maturing?” right alongside them! 🙂 As for the play, I’ll write in more depth on that later as it’ll be a whole post in itself. In the meantime, if it’s possible MAKE RESERVATIONS FOR YOUR AUGUST TRIP and GOooooooo! It’s wonderful! Both Hubby and I enjoyed it in the extreme!!!!

      On Wed, Jul 10, 2013 at 7:12 PM, My Wintersong

    • That does say a lot, didn’t it, Riverwatch? Sometimes I don’t see my own genius! 😉 Seriously, the whole U.S. is like that anymore, isn’t it. I remember the old days when it felt like everyone but me was a native of wherever I was living at the time, and while they were nice enough to your face many of them never got beyond social pleasantries and actually allowed you into their world. Since I moved around quite a bit over the past 45 years, I’ve learned a lot about fitting in, and New York City is one of the easiest cities, in my opinion, to fit in somewhere. Thanks for stopping by.

      On Wed, Jul 10, 2013 at 8:40 PM, My Wintersong

    • I would love to see your Sinatra imitation if I ever get to your neck of the woods! Promise to do it–private audience–for Hubby and me? As for you, how about getting into politics, starting at the local level, and getting rich. You could stay there a couple of terms, then retire and get a job lobbying and be set for life! 😀 I’d do it if I were smart enough myself. You’re already smart enough.

      • Awwwwwwwwwwww shucks — you really are too sweet! Remember that I can’t dance too well due to my stroke and can’t carry a tune in a bucket!!! Then again, a couple cans of liquid courage and ya never know . . . As to politics, no thanks!!!

        • In retrospect, Kay, you’re right. It takes someone with more than one face to be a politician, and you have to lie a lot too. That may not be how the writers of the Constitution meant it to be, but nowadays it is what it is. 😦

  2. I used to go to NY four times a year in my corporate career – I miss the city and while at first I used to make sure to take advantage of NY, I then started scheduling me trips shorter and shorter – get there, do my work, and leave and then NY became loud and a place I was trying to get away from – you have to really go to be amazed and then NY is fabulous and amazing. Tell your daughter I’ll cat sit next time! Or we can house swap.

    • I completely understand, as my first few trips were centered around travel for a PR business–nothing fancy smancy like “career” (my title was “standards coordinator” which is a fancier way to say “secretarial staff willing to work for less money” than the man who preceded me in the job–the crowning glory was that it let me travel a bit at company expense, and that was really nice). I thought of the city then as “a nice place to visit but I’d never want to live there.” You’ll remember that subways and the city in general was so different and most women I knew were loathe to outside along after dark. I’ll pass your suggestion along to my daughter, as for her this is a summer of being away and working hard to finish a book she’s writing. She’s in Los Angeles this month, but Ben’s at home with the cat. I’m keeping up with *your* moving experiences these days! Hope things get better and better!

      On Thu, Jul 11, 2013 at 6:02 AM, My Wintersong

  3. Certainly sounds like you had a great time.
    The shoes? I couldn’t afford them, let alone even wear them!

    • Colleen, I couldn’t even afford to try them on. They didn’t even look comfortable 😮 ; and comfort wins over fashion every time.

      On Thu, Jul 11, 2013 at 6:14 PM, My Wintersong

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