On Prejudice, Perfect Parks, Historic Places, Pink Slime and Performance

Before this trip I had a fair amount of apprehension about going to mainland USA for the first time and New York in particular. The lure of the cheap airfare and the extremely favorable exchange rate were too much for me to resist. New York was on my bucket list but I had always managed to find an excuse or a better deal for Europe when I’d had the chance in the past. New York I assumed would be too fast, too crowded, too much and yet I really did went to go there. So the means were there and the excuses were not.

My first impression of New York after the interminably long flight from Melbourne was a bit dreck to be honest, the taxi drive in from JFK took me through some shady looking suburbs and empty streets that seemed to scream every horror I’d ever imagined and I just kept hoping I would not be in a hotel near this particular street or that particular warehouse etc. I had a very jolly taxi driver who had fled Russia with his family, a family that had eventually dispersed to other parts of the world, including, amazingly Melbourne. We hadn’t got very far when we detoured to a gas station for him to fill up. I guess an advantage of a fixed fare is that these detours don’t add any cost to the fare.

It is unsettling too to have to run the gamut of taxi touts at the airport and they are pretty good, all dressed in suits and very polite (and persistent). I am fond of a good gamut but perhaps not when jet lag is creeping up from the ankles, slowly inhabiting the rest of my body and being. Only a few minutes after taking a spot in the not too long (legitimate)taxi queue there was a bit of activity and a surge of energy as about a dozen besuited blokes took flight and headed for the car park. Apparently the airport cops had appeared and were rounding up some of the touts. Quite a comical sight actually.

My apprehension about New York melted as we crossed one of the bridges and there before me was the Manhattan skyline, spectacular, beautiful and warm…I remember feeling very cosy seeing it and I thought ‘this will be okay’.

I really battled jet lag for the first couple of days; I took the line ‘…the city that never sleeps’ a little too literally and fought the ability to sleep for two or three days. This might have contributed to the feeling I had for those days that everything was surreal, I was on a film set, so much was familiar but ‘distant’ somehow. I couldn’t quite get my head around what I was standing amongst, as if I was seeing a painting or a photo of everything rather than in being there before me. I took to touching walls and stepping harder on pavements, running my hands on leaves and breathing in the air just to connect myself to it all. So many images from film and TV, a strong reminder of how much American popular culture inhabits us, especially from TV and movies from the sixties I think.

I walked myself silly and by about day 12 I was starting to flag. I can fall prey to sudden and staggering fatigue, maybe the last remnant of the heart surgery but when it hits, boy it’s a showstopper. Nevertheless I would not have seen as much as I did if I hadn’t kept going. That’s not to say I didn’t take breaks here and there and ‘stop to smell the roses’. Walking a lot after all can be meditative and letting the sights one sees wash over one can be a nice brain space mover. The joy and excitement I slowly started to get infused me with energy and interest.

Whereas New York is relatively ‘modern’, not dripping in ancient or distant history (you aren’t going to be regularly looking at signs on buildings noting they were built in 1690 etc), Washington oozed it. I loved Washington and it was like a literal breath of fresh air compared to New York; wide clean streets, no skyscrapers as such – my hotel was one of the tallest buildings with 11 floors. Reminders of the Civil War and Lincoln, Washington and the original Old Glory were there, indeed up to Martin Luther King and now Obama. The iconic buildings are amazing, spectacular and you can feel the power. I was surprised the White House sits in a city street with no real swathe of land to act as a boundary. It is a somewhat harder city to get around given the blocks in Washington are more the distance we are used to whereas in New York they are really just the length of a building or two rather than an actual ‘block’ (maybe the term ‘apartment block’ was coined to reflect that).

The Newseum was my favorite spot in Washington, so interesting and needed. I could spend a full day in there and what a great resource for educators and people with an interest in ‘news’.

My least favorite thing in Washington was the homeless.  

There were many ‘a-ha’ moments in Washington also that reminded how far the country had grown in some ways race wise. I was having breakfast one morning and at the table next to me was a white man, probably a businessman, in a suit and sitting opposite him was a black woman. They were chatting away, all very natural and banal. I couldn’t help but think that was a simple, ordinary, nonthreatening interaction like that could not have happened in the 60’s or earlier. Similarly shopping at a supermarket or riding on the metro, being served in a shop, let alone using a urinal next to a black man…all impossible at one time. And you have to wonder why, how could something that had no rational or decent reason, made no sense and was fed by hate, could have proliferated in a country that was seen as the leader of civilized societies. What purity, what wisdom, what value the country denied by acting like this. How many great stories let alone fantastic human beings were lost because others thought it was ok to behave like that. It simply defies belief. That’s even before you consider the energy it all took, think of having to constantly be conscious of where you walked, shopped, what public transport, bathrooms you could use. You can’t do anything about it because you have done nothing more than been born a colour that someone else has determined is unequal to them. You have no choice and can’t change your colour (and why should that even be part of the equation – why wouldn’t it be ok to be born black), you haven’t committed a crime so you can’t influence the judgement being made about you. Impossible.

SoHo and Tribeca with their wonderful buildings, cast iron and timber, the cobbled streets and side alleys were my favorite part of New York. There was a palpable energy and some vibey spots I passed by. Also Sutton Place/Park area on the East side down near Queensboro Bridge plus further over with the Tudor City area also took my fancy.

I won’t ever forget the views from atop the magnificent Empire State Building and the reality thud of Ground Zero will take a long time to diminish in my memory. The Paley Center, the NBC tour and the immense Radio City Music Hall gave me a thrill.

Visiting Broadway was significant for a one time actor, Times Square, the busiest part of New York, was a sight but felt so safe, surprising when you think of it’s salubrious (recent) past. I can’t say my theatre visits fill me with revere or delight but they were fine. The concert at Carnegie hall however was sublime and I was definitely on a high from it for a day or two.  

The thing I miss is Central Park. A beautiful space with so many little pockets of magic and peace to sit amongst or stroll through. I want to just go and sit for a few hours there still. To think my previous readings of Central Park almost guaranteed being mugged at least once in there, the gentility of this gem could not have been more disabusing of that notion.

So I left New York pleased with my time there, not particularly pining to return or to extend my stay. I am thrilled and feel privileged to have gone there and seen what I saw, experienced what I did and to learn even more simply by being there. I have a new affection and gratitude for the Americans I encountered, such kindness and openness I have rarely experienced. This was a big surprise to me because, again, I had an impression that the Big Apple locals would be brash, impatient and frankly rude. The range of accents was amazing and that they were so varied…if I heard some of them being imitated on an Australian stage I would have poo-pooed their lack of authenticity (shame on me). I saw some spectacularly beautiful lookers and one or two whackos but by far I encountered gorgeous, warm, fun and generous people. Sometimes they didn’t understand me, occasionally they simply couldn’t help me but never, not once was I ‘invisible’, God bless Americans!!!!

So what, or where, next? I don’t have any pressing plans although the Northern Lights are on my bucket list for my 60^th birthday in five years. I don’t think I can travel on my own anymore, I am tired of making all the decisions, the little ones particularly…I want someone else to share the load and I want to have conversations along the way rather than throwing words out only on a blog (and not often getting a response!!!!). I wasn’t lonely too much but I was often aware of my alone-ness. I’m over lugging the wheel along and deciding on whether to grab a taxi or do the stairs at the subway on my own frankly.

So I would look at tours if I travel overseas again. Apart from London (which just feels like home),I would seek refuge in the fine people of Trafalgar, Cosmos, Insight etc. That was a big learning and a significant change in my thinking.  

Maybe the trip was as much about how I think on holidays as what I saw and experienced. I guess a good trip does that, challenges and sometimes changes out thinking. Whatever it means I hope I will always be interested and have my thinking challenged while ‘seeing’ what is before me, ‘hearing’ what I am told and leave me curious for more.

Happy trails.

And as for pink slime? Google it and enjoy your next burger.