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Vacation Day 11 - New York City
Aug. 9th, 2007 02:23 pm(Apologies, this and the later vacation postings are being written well after my return home. Such is the fate of anyone expecting to find free time and a strong wireless signal while on vacation)
After living the first 30 years of my life in and around the New York metropolitan area (and for that matter, much of my life near major US cities), I'd expect to be jaded and immune to the intimidating aspects of New York City. This trip and this day in particular on my own in the Big Apple proved otherwise.
First stop was the World Trade Center. I have so many memories of the twin towers. From sitting in the nearby Federal Building cafeteria during a coffee break and watching Phillipe Petit scale one tower to my standing on the roof some years later and watching the evening lights of the city come up below my spot some 110th floors above the ground. That these magnificent structures, testimonials to man's creativity, were destroyed in a few hours still seems impossible to me. I remember as a youth looking at the New York skyline sans the towers. Then becoming accustomed as we all did to having the gleaming monoliths become icons for this nation's biggest city. And finally now, to see the void where these towers once stood so proudly knowing that so many innocent people were impacted by their destruction. Silence greeted me as I climbed the subway steps, only broken by the sounds of new construction and the roar of traffic nearby. People like myself gazing at the simple signs that have been erected, mute, wanting to touch this moment in our history. Memories of that day came rushing back. Having the San Francisco TV news blaring away that morning as it did every day when a "Breaking News" announcement appeared. "Oh great" I thought, "another accident on the 101". I wasn't prepared for the smoke billowing from one tower. I wasn't prepared (not that it's possible to be prepared) to watch a plane strike the other tower in real time. I wasn't prepared to watch the towers fall to rubble that same day. To stand there at ground zero is something that I'll never forget. It reminded me how hard-ass New Yorkers were changed. They weren't above it all. They weren't impervious to pain. We all took a maturing step that day.
Walking around lower Manhattan, seeing the streets and buildings that were the backdrop of the five years I worked for USEPA was strange. Everything seemed smaller somehow. The City Court building, a familiar backdrop to the Law and Order TV series, seemed dustier than I'd remembered. You can no longer walk up to City Hall without passing through security. Building face lifts seem to be underway everywhere.
Walking towards Chinatown for lunch, I passed through one of the city's small parks. Children at play, a scratch basketball game, people relaxing wherever they could, finding shade to stay out of the summer heat and humidity. It was just as I remembered it some 35 years earlier. Some things never do change. I'm glad.
In planning my trip, I was intent on eating at Wo Hop, my favorite Chinese restaurant. Still almost the same, I descended the stairs to the lower of the two adjacent Mott Street dining rooms. It reminded me of the 'central kitchen theory' that my co-workers and I feverishly concocted after consuming lunch at a bunch of the areas Chinese eateries. How could some be better than others? How could the basement Wo Hop consistently produce better tasting food than its grade level sister? Ah, we finally concluded as we considered the gloppish appearance of much Chinese fare, there must be a central subterranean kitchen which pumps food to all of these restaurants. And being on a lower level meant that the pipes were shorter and the food therefore better! Yes, that's the reason! On this visit, I watched as two waiters, chopsticks flying, constructed won ton after won ton by hand, building a huge pile that was to be cooked and eaten that day. My roast pork won ton soup was just as tasty as I'd remembered. The beef chow mai fun mountain of rice noodles and perfectly cooked beef was piping hot and incredible. The bill (with tax!) came to less than $8. I was full, I was happy, and my wallet had taken only the tiniest of dents.
After lunch, the drained battery in my camera, suggested that it was time to take a break. Back to the air conditioning of the Chelsea Pines for an afternoon of nothing much. I sure needed the downtime.
In the evening it was time to head back uptown to the Theater District to see the third of the three shows I'd ticketed, The Drowsy Chaperone. More about this show in a separate post.
After living the first 30 years of my life in and around the New York metropolitan area (and for that matter, much of my life near major US cities), I'd expect to be jaded and immune to the intimidating aspects of New York City. This trip and this day in particular on my own in the Big Apple proved otherwise.
First stop was the World Trade Center. I have so many memories of the twin towers. From sitting in the nearby Federal Building cafeteria during a coffee break and watching Phillipe Petit scale one tower to my standing on the roof some years later and watching the evening lights of the city come up below my spot some 110th floors above the ground. That these magnificent structures, testimonials to man's creativity, were destroyed in a few hours still seems impossible to me. I remember as a youth looking at the New York skyline sans the towers. Then becoming accustomed as we all did to having the gleaming monoliths become icons for this nation's biggest city. And finally now, to see the void where these towers once stood so proudly knowing that so many innocent people were impacted by their destruction. Silence greeted me as I climbed the subway steps, only broken by the sounds of new construction and the roar of traffic nearby. People like myself gazing at the simple signs that have been erected, mute, wanting to touch this moment in our history. Memories of that day came rushing back. Having the San Francisco TV news blaring away that morning as it did every day when a "Breaking News" announcement appeared. "Oh great" I thought, "another accident on the 101". I wasn't prepared for the smoke billowing from one tower. I wasn't prepared (not that it's possible to be prepared) to watch a plane strike the other tower in real time. I wasn't prepared to watch the towers fall to rubble that same day. To stand there at ground zero is something that I'll never forget. It reminded me how hard-ass New Yorkers were changed. They weren't above it all. They weren't impervious to pain. We all took a maturing step that day.
Walking around lower Manhattan, seeing the streets and buildings that were the backdrop of the five years I worked for USEPA was strange. Everything seemed smaller somehow. The City Court building, a familiar backdrop to the Law and Order TV series, seemed dustier than I'd remembered. You can no longer walk up to City Hall without passing through security. Building face lifts seem to be underway everywhere.
Walking towards Chinatown for lunch, I passed through one of the city's small parks. Children at play, a scratch basketball game, people relaxing wherever they could, finding shade to stay out of the summer heat and humidity. It was just as I remembered it some 35 years earlier. Some things never do change. I'm glad.
In planning my trip, I was intent on eating at Wo Hop, my favorite Chinese restaurant. Still almost the same, I descended the stairs to the lower of the two adjacent Mott Street dining rooms. It reminded me of the 'central kitchen theory' that my co-workers and I feverishly concocted after consuming lunch at a bunch of the areas Chinese eateries. How could some be better than others? How could the basement Wo Hop consistently produce better tasting food than its grade level sister? Ah, we finally concluded as we considered the gloppish appearance of much Chinese fare, there must be a central subterranean kitchen which pumps food to all of these restaurants. And being on a lower level meant that the pipes were shorter and the food therefore better! Yes, that's the reason! On this visit, I watched as two waiters, chopsticks flying, constructed won ton after won ton by hand, building a huge pile that was to be cooked and eaten that day. My roast pork won ton soup was just as tasty as I'd remembered. The beef chow mai fun mountain of rice noodles and perfectly cooked beef was piping hot and incredible. The bill (with tax!) came to less than $8. I was full, I was happy, and my wallet had taken only the tiniest of dents.
After lunch, the drained battery in my camera, suggested that it was time to take a break. Back to the air conditioning of the Chelsea Pines for an afternoon of nothing much. I sure needed the downtime.
In the evening it was time to head back uptown to the Theater District to see the third of the three shows I'd ticketed, The Drowsy Chaperone. More about this show in a separate post.
