The Book Thief

I went with a pal tonight to see The Book Thief.  It's the story of a little girl, raised by adoptive parents in World War II-era Germany.  It's a quite simple story; at it's heart, it relates the dawn of the girl's love affair with books and the power of the written word.

There has been a lot said about all that happened in Europe during those years, the late 1930's and 1940's - so many books have been written, so many movies made.  This one was a little different from some of the others - it lacked the grand scale or sweeping perspective of Schindler's List, Saving Private Ryan, or even The Pianist.  This was a much more intimate story - told from the perspective of a child, and offering a glimpse into what the life of an ordinary German family might have looked like during that time.

Still, though; it's nigh to impossible to come face-to-face with the horrible reality that was Hitler's Germany, even in cinema, without doing some serious soul-searching.  It's quite a thing to see an entire community, a whole nation, really, stand shoulder-to-shoulder, shouting in agreement as their leaders spew messages of hate and violence.  It's perhaps not such a surprise when death and destruction is perpetrated and endorsed by the vile and the weak, but to witness the average and upstanding among the citizenry stand idly by, ignoring or excusing evil rather than risk standing out from the crowd; it just never ceases to stop me in my tracks.  Imagine a world where an entire lifetime of belonging can be swept away in but a moment; where friends turn away one by one, preferring the safety of betrayal to the risk of loyalty; where simply acknowledging one's neighbor becomes an act of selfless heroism.

I think we all tend to do things like read the Bible or hear stories of the Holocaust and assure ourselves and the ones around us that had we been there, we never would have stood for it.  We would have recognized Jesus for who he was; we would have refused to stand idly by while our loved ones were dragged to their deaths.  It's interesting how time and distance lend a certain clarity to these things - how obviously, glaringly, horribly wrong were those who crucified the Savior, or who allowed the wholesale murder of innocent civilians?  And yet, sometimes, while we do such a great job spotting the huge failings of those who came before us, those same shortcomings can lurk, hidden in our daily interactions, and we don't even realize it.  Sure, nobody's dying now, but if a person lacks the guts to refuse to participate in casual mockery, or can't speak up when unjust accusations are being bandied about, or drops the head rather than acknowledge a less-than-popular friend, one starts to wonder where the great burst of heroism that would supposedly stop a more dramatic carnage would come from.

I'm left feeling pretty sober.  If I intend to fight and win the big battles, I sure as heck better make sure I nail these smaller, everyday skirmishes.  Every single time.  Until making the right choice becomes as natural as breathing, a part of the very fiber of my being.  There's a lot of work to do.  But one thing is certain, I want to win, with everything I've got.  When I'm faced with the choice of whether to honor or deny my Lord, I want to stand straight and tall, and call His name without fear or shame.  So I think I'll start by caring for my brother and my sister, straight and tall and without shame.  It'll be good, good practice.

Anyway, feels good to vent a bit.  It was a great movie.

The Big Apple: Day 2

Well, I think we all had a pretty fantastic night's rest, traffic noise notwithstanding.  Nothing like sheer exhaustion to make that pillow feel mighty good.  (You know that saying about hunger being the best sauce?  I think the same applies to sleep.)  Anyway, I really hate alarms so some of the great joys of life are the mornings when I can ditch them.  We were footloose and fancy-free, so the executive decision was made to wake up whenever we woke up.  Poor Tunie though; her alarm clock rings every single morning by 5 AM and she can't escape it because hers is internal.  (I can't decide whether to feel sorry for her or to be a little envious...)  So Mom and I woke up about 7 or so, rip-roaring and ready to go, only to find out that Tunie had been awake, quietly waiting for us to get done sleeping, for two hours already.  OUCH!

We girded our loins and hit the road, ready for Day 2 of our adventure.  Lo and behold, the rain had passed in the night, and a clear blue sky greeted us!  Still brutally cold, but it's amazing what a bit of sunshine can do - the city took on a whole new energy.  We hit Fluffy's Diner for breakfast.  It was great - you walked up to this big glass case containing the fixings for any sort of breakfast you could want - eggs, meats, rolls and bagels, waffles and pastries, spreads, cheese, gosh, a little of everything.  You told the guys behind the counter what you wanted to eat, they grabbed the appropriate items and slapped your breakfast together in a matter of minutes.  No time for nonsense, let me tell you.  Just the ticket to prepare us for the day ahead.

After breakfast, I graciously allowed my co-travelers to shop for souvenirs.  (I say that extremely tongue-in-cheek.  These two ladies were tremendously good sports to put up with my flying around - I had to be reminded to slow down and smell the...fake Louis Vuitton purses.)  After a few purchases, we headed back to our tour bus headquarters.  Yesterday, we took the Downtown tour, which covered the southern half of Manhattan Island - the Financial District, the Garment District, the Flatiron District, SoHo, TriBeCa, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Battery Park, the Statue of Liberty, Chinatown, Little Italy, Hell's Kitchen, the Brooklyn Bridge, etc.  We even saw Five Points, like in the Gangs of New York movie!  

That was yesterday, though.  Today was different; today we did the Uptown tour.  Think Central Park, the Upper West Side (residential areas full of old brownstones worth millions), Harlem and the Upper East Side, Lincoln Center and Juilliard, the Met, the Museum of Natural History, the Frick, the Guggenheim, the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine (um, wow), Columbia University, the Apollo Theater, and let us not forget, the projects and the barrios!  I couldn't tell you why, but I bonded with Uptown, even the grungy areas (Harlem has its moments, to say the least) a lot more than I did Downtown.  This kind of disappointed me, to be honest; I always fancied myself a Downtown sort of girl - I know places like SoHo and Greenwich Village and Chelsea are supposed to be where all the cool kids hang out, and who doesn't want to fancy themselves a cool kid?  But when I actually saw those areas, I was kind of...underwhelmed.  When you're in Midtown Manhattan, everything is slick and new and just oozes wealth.  Then it's almost like you cross this line.  The buildings get shorter and older and show increasing signs of disrepair; the streets get dirtier, and the advertising gets tackier.  I think it was this combined with the sense of history I felt Uptown - having read so much about the Harlem Renaissance, so many rags-to-riches stories set in the projects, not to mention, let's face it, I'm a museum geek, so I just felt more at home.

I think the one unifying theme that I just couldn't get over, though, regardless of which part of the city we found ourselves in, was the architecture.  I just couldn't get tired of the constant variety, the juxtapositions of old and new, the restored and the crumbling, the various styles and personalities of the structures.  It literally never got old.

The following are not great pictures; nothing more than my attempts (from the top of a moving tour bus) to capture just a few of the sights and structures that we saw.

The Museum of Natural History

I really like this one on a few levels - the water towers and gardens on the roof, and the pretty building jammed up against the bland, mid-century looking ones.

This is a side shot of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine.  There was no way I could fit that whole structure in my viewfinder.  This is, after all, the fourth largest church in the world.

The entrance.  This thing has been under construction since 1889.  Seriously.

The projects!  I really can't explain why these hold so much fascination...

What a thrill! One of the great hotbeds, along with the Cotton Club, of the Harlem Renaissance.  Buddy Holly was the first white man to play here, and it still pulls in the legends!

Harlem Brownstones

If I remember right, they say there are around 500 churches in Harlem alone.  Gosh, I'd really, really like to experience a Sunday morning in that neighborhood.

Spanish Harlem, aka The Barrio!

Central Park

The Guggenheim!  My dad always used the term "guggenheim" in a slightly derogatory way, when describing something mixed up or not making any sense.  Now I know why. Notice the structures surrounding it?  Yeah, Frank Lloyd Wright got a pretty rough time for this one.

Ahhhhh, the Metropolitan Museum of Art!  And my heart goes pitter-patter... Oh, to get lost in your many splendors!

So, yeah, there's the nickel tour.  I bet you're wishing I was a better photographer about now!  It was pretty awesome in real life, though; it really was.

We finished this tour right around lunch time, so it was off to Gray's Papaya for the city's best hot dogs!  Nestled into a warm, toasted bun, providing a satisfying snap when bitten into, these critters really did hit the spot.  Granted they were just hot dogs, but hot dogs do have their own charm, and these were good specimens.  We washed them down with the house specialty papaya beverage (weird, with a yeasty funk).

Then, females that we are, it was time to SHOP!  Mom had heard ahead of time about this great store that offers designer brands at steep discounts, so when Century 21 was pointed out to us by multiple tour guides, it was the final straw; we just had to check this place out.  Oh, it was great.  We loaded up on designer jeans and tops and sweaters, all at a fraction of normal retail.  Girls plus bargains equals one happy couple.  Oh, and Tunie got the coolest hat...

OK, so our time in the big city was beginning to run out.  (Don't forget that two-hour commute back to the airport.)  We still had time for one more adventure, though.  This was pretty fantastic.  So Tunie has this book she picked up, kind of a memoir or biography of sorts about a celebrity chef (Marcus Samuelsson for anyone interested in this sort of thing).  In the book, he describes this little place he opened in Harlem called the Red Rooster.  Behold, I present...

TA DA!

Tunie noticed it while we were on the tour bus, so being that we had some extra time, we decided we simply must eat there.  We took the bus back around and were deposited on the sidewalk a few blocks away.  We felt pretty cool strolling the streets of downtown Harlem, let me tell you.  (Although it did feel quite a bit like the streets of downtown Lake City anthropologically speaking, if not architecturally speaking...)

The place was booked up, but we were told that we could look for an opening at the bar.  We are not easily diverted when in pursuit of a great eating experience, so wait we did, until, one by one, three spots opened up.  (I must pause for a moment and celebrate my mother.  When I travel, I tend to like to blend in a bit; I generally shrink from doing things that make me visible.  My mother is not so afflicted.  She is always the first to march up to random strangers and ask for directions, ask for recommendations, or in this case, insert herself right up front, ready to grab that open bar stool.  I become mortified in these situations.  That is, of course, until her boldness saves the day, procuring whatever it is that we are in need of, at which point I slink forward to reap the benefits.  I decided on this trip once again that she is a rare jewel of a woman, and I would do well to strive to be more like her.)

One other thing I'd like to get off my chest.  If your policy is to serve walk-in guests, it is in poor taste to treat those guests as second-class citizens.  If you can't provide the same welcome to walk-ins that you do to your reserved guests, then don't accept them.  Certainly don't treat them like a bother or a nuisance.

OK, anyway.  So we got our spots and we ordered.  Keep in mind, Red Rooster is soul food, done by an Ethiopian chef raised by Swedish parents.  Sounds crazy, I know, but this dude is passionate about food, and that comes through in every bite.  Not to mention, the vibe is just crazy hip.  We ordered fried chicken and waffles, steak and frites, and Swedish meatballs, accompanied by cornbread and tomato jam, and followed by sweet potato donuts and a cookie sampler.  Ladies and gentlemen, if you ever find yourself in Harlem's neck of the woods, do yourself a favor and stop.  This place is a can't miss (unless you're nitpicky about the whole service thing).  Even the sweet tea was like momma's, only better.  That fried chicken?  The best I've ever tasted, hands down.  And I only got a bite, more's the pity.  So yeah, this was a winner.  All things considered, just the whole neighborhood, feel of the restaurant, quality of the food, topping off a great weekend, I think we all agreed that this experience was one of our favorites.

The lighting was bad for photos but good for scene...

That was it, then!  Fat and happy, we walked a few feet to the subway and began our long, arduous journey back to the airport, and then home.  In summary, it was a great weekend.  I got to spend time with two ladies that I love very, very much, seeing so many amazing sights, eating such a variety of great foods, and having a boatload of great experiences.  Many memories were made, and they will be savored for a long, long time to come.  

Oh, and just to mention, if anybody wants to head up there and needs a buddy, I am SO available.

:)

  

The Big Apple: Day 1

Okay, so it's been kind of a running "thing" in my crowd (mom, sisters, friends, etc.) - we've talked for years about finding cheap tickets to NYC and doing the town for a day or two.  That's pretty much all we did though is talk, until recently.  Somebody found some cheap Jet Blue tickets, and Voila!  Our weekend in the Big Apple, during the HOLIDAY SEASON no less, was BOOKED.  (Yes, leave it to my mama to step in and make stuff happen.)

Who were the members of this merry band?

Me, Mom, AND....Is it a bird? Is it a plane? NO! It's the long-lost TUNIE!!!!!!

That's right folks!  My fellow namesake and the lady whose voice has enlivened this blog on many occasions, (most unfortunately silenced of late by crazy schedule) carved a couple of days out of said schedule and deigned to grace us with her illustrious presence!  (If we are very, very good, we may even get some commentary on this blog from the lady herself...)  Ohhh, we were in for a good time, yes we were. 

The day started pretty darn early, 2:30 AM to be exact, as we had a 6 AM flight to catch.  Painful, but worth it when you consider we arrived at JFK International Airport at 8 AM, with a long, beautiful day ahead of us.  Just to clarify, the day itself was not beautiful, it was freezing and rainy and altogether miserable.  But that is beside the point, we were in New York, and that alone made everything positively and utterly fantastic.

It was actually a good thing we arrived at 8 AM, because it took us approximately two hours to navigate the AirTrain and subway systems and deposit ourselves in Midtown Manhattan.  (Yes, I take responsibility for steering us onto the wrong train, subjecting us to an additional 8-block walk.)  Us country bumpkins don't have us dem unnergroun trains where we come from.  

(I post the following two pictures because, if you look closely, you will see subtle signs of preoccupation, a.k.a. mild stress, triggered by our struggles to make sense of the maze that is New York City's public transit system.)

Well OK, we weren't all stressed out.  Some of us were cheerfully changing our footwear.

Anyway, the subway.  You know how the subway always looks in the movies?  It really looks just like that.  Kind of yellow and dingy and full of people reading or sleeping or staring at nothing (and why does everybody wear earbuds everywhere nowadays?  What if something dramatic happened and you missed the whole thing because your music was too loud?  But I digress...)  The whole subway thing was pretty cool, actually.  AND, we successfully navigated it!  Yay for us!  One other thing before I move off the subject of subways - all throughout the city, here and there, you'd see this sort of hole in the sidewalk (with railings and a sign, of course), right in the middle of whatever action happened to be taking place (parks, residential areas, shopping, offices, etc.), and people ascending and descending into what seemed like the bowels of the earth.  It was really interesting to think of this entire subterranean network humming along directly beneath our feet, carrying people to and fro below as we went about our business above.   

See what I mean?

So anyway, we walk up the stairs and out of the subway into....CHAOS!  Noise!  Traffic!  Honking!  People everywhere!  And huge, huge buildings, crammed together and overshadowing the whole crazy mess.  Welcome to the Big Apple, folks!  

This is literally the sight that greeted us.  I'm sure you can devise a soundtrack in your mind.

We hadn't eaten since, well, the night before, so first item on the agenda was food.  Tunie and I are huge, huge fans of Thomas Keller (we would probably never recognize One Direction on the street, but I am pretty sure Keller would get hit up for an autograph if he happened to pop into view) so Bouchon was an absolute must.  Bonus: Bouchon is located within the Rockefeller Center, so we were able to kill two birds with one stone - fill our bellies and catch the world-famous Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.  After some travail (reference afore-mentioned wrong train and subsequent 8 blocks of needless walking), including a quick detour into Bryant Park and its Christmas tree and bazaar ("Gosh, is this really Rockefeller Center?  This tree is downright puny!"), we finally arrived.  The real thing did not disappoint.  There it stood in its glittering majesty, like a beacon standing watch over the soggy crowds ice-skating and shopping and sightseeing.  (This was a real highlight for my mama.)  

The Real Thing.

 The Imposter.

Oh, and the food?  Did not disappoint.  We had a variety of sandwiches - Tuna Nicoise (pronounced the best tuna sandwich ever), Honey-Roasted Turkey, and Roasted Squash with Goat Cheese and Pear Marmalade.  (I'll let you figure out who ate what. :)  All followed up, of course, by pastries - chocolate hazelnut tart, apple frangipane tart, and "Nutter Better" - a Keller riff on the Nutter Butter (it was).

Sigh. I know.  I have a gift for capturing those unwelcome photo props, i.e. extraneous tourists.

After lunch, we headed towards Times Square and our tour bus.  We invested in one of these 48-hour "all-you-can-ride" tour bus packages, and friends, if you are visiting the city for the first time, I would highly recommend it.  It's a great way to get one's bearings, not to mention a great overview of the city, complete with history, pop culture, tons of wonky data, colorful tour guides, and the like.  Granted, the tours are long, but they are "hop-on, hop-off", meaning you can jump off if something catches your eye, and then jump back on whenever you're ready.  Good stuff.

Here, let me interject, it was cold.  Very, very cold.  And rainy.  My limbs went numb.  My mind became completely preoccupied with attempting to balance paying attention to the tour guide and absorbing the sights with trying not to contract hypothermia.  So there aren't very many pictures of this phase of the day, and the ones that do exist are not great, to say the least.  (Some of them, I can't even remember why I took them.)  I'll try to keep this part short.

 Look at our youthful optimism!

See all the crud?  This was right smack in midtown, probably right next to some gleaming highrise.  Classic Manhattan.

Now THIS is the way a Post Office should look.  Nice and dignified.

Macy's.  Or as much of it as would fit in my viewfinder.  

A slightly...different perspective of the Empire State Building.  Like I said, I was cold.

NOW do you believe me?

It was still fun though, it really was.  Who wants to come all the way to the city and then just park in some coffee shop or hotel room?  We are DOERS, people!  When our tour ended, we had to find a coffee shop and thaw out, though.  (Plus, my mother cannot travel far without feeding her very powerful coffee habit.)  Then we had to find an Anthropologie for the Tune.  Rockefeller Center obligingly provided one.  A huge, multi-level one, to be exact.  And the city steals another chunk of our hearts.  

Warmed and refueled.

We stopped off at the hotel to freshen, and then we headed to an early dinner.  Mom had somehow managed to snag reservations at Le Cirque, a bit of a New York institution.  It felt a little like Alice in Wonderland, to me.  I don't belong in that world, probably never will, but it sure is fun to sneak in and pretend a bit now and then.  You walk in shivering from the noisy, dripping cold to a world that is warm and quiet and softly lit.  The room swarms with suave, professional waiters and handsome, suited overseers; the maitre'd hands us off to the coat check lady, and we are seated in a dining room lush and sparkling with crystal and china and silver.  This is not so much a meal as it is an event.  We order the tasting menu (why not?), and a panoply of dishes begins to parade before us, all accompanied by the constant attentions of the roving bread man (four kinds if I remember right) and the subtle presence of a myriad of waiters.  Scarcely do we drain our glass and it is almost imperceptibly refilled.  Scarcely have we taken our last bite and our entire place setting is whisked away, to be replaced with new and fresh, in preparation for our next bite.  Through it all, our primary waiter was the very definition of hospitality - offering guidance and suggestions where needed, support and encouragement when appropriate, and hesitating not at all to make positively certain our dining experience reached the very pinnacle of perfection.  I'll quit blathering on now and let pictures do the talking.

An amuse-bouche of Red Beet Gel with Gorgonzola Cream 

Marinated Tuna

Langoustine a la plancha

Seared Foie Gras

Loin of Venison

Chocolate Stove Cake (Really.  That entire thing was edible. Utterly magnificent.)

Praline aux amandes avec du selde mer (basically chocolate pudding in a meringue thing)

Gosh, I just feel fancy even saying that stuff.  And it was fantastic.  Cooking on a level I don't even aspire to.  And then, of course, they send out a little tray filled with itty-bitty candies and bite-sized cookies.  And then, of course, they present each of us with a little gold box, which opens to reveal two little drawers, each containing its own confection.   It was just a really, really cool dinner, what more can I say?  I don't intend to forget it any time soon, I'll say that much.

Two hours later, we finally did emerge from the jewel box.  Our all-you-can-ride tour providers offered a night ride showcasing the festive holiday lights of the city.  We climbed on board, but the rain and cold conspired with our fatigue, and we only rode about half-way before asking the driver to let us off in the vicinity of our hotel.  It was early, maybe 9 PM, but it had been a long, long day, and we were more than content to walk back to the hotel and sink gratefully into bed.