Bat Country Blog

The gale-force winds of late have put a damper on my outdoor leisure time.  A riding clinic I’d been scheduled to participate in was canceled, not for the 60 mph gusts we had here, but for ankle-deep mud at the facility 130 miles away.  It also happens that my workout routine, aside from running, has gotten pretty humdrum.

Thoroughly ready for a change, I stopped by our local Big 5 Sporting Goods, and got a doorway-mounted pullup bar.  After some research on Amazon, I ordered a set of bellydance workout DVDs.  Now, there’s a premium to pay every time I walk into the bedroom or bath–one pullup!  The routine is officially changed.  For now, I’m saying “sayonara, Billy Blanks and Core Secrets,” and “aloha, Brandon Carter and bellydancing.”  (it’s my life and I can mix them if I want to).

Life is short.  Enjoy!

It is not supposed to be below freezing with snow and ice on the ground for days on end in the desert southwest.  No, no, no.  But alas, it has been.  Today, temps rose enough to melt most of the snow on the road berms and make a muddy mess out of the farm roads that are customarily my running trails. And I wasn’t going to run anyway until it got warmer, because, well, I really hate the cold.

But I also think of myself as the queen of “get over it,” so when my bud Cristi posted on Facebook (little encircled R goes HERE) that she’d just done a flippin four hour workout, it was a case of eating either my pride or my own medcine.

Thanks to the mud, and the fact that I’ll be packing these shoes in a suitcase in the morning for a trip to a place where mud is optional, I decided to run on the highway.  My reward for conquering the Living Desert hill in 30 degree weather:  a few moments shoulder-to-shoulder with an airborne Ferruginous hawk, and the glorious sight of the sun making fog out of snow in the valley below.  Awesome.  Thanks, Cristi, for unintentionally kicking me in the backside.

Next run will be on the National Mall.  Looking forward to it.  If anyone has a name on the Viet Nam wall that you want a “rubbing” of, let me know.

Eckhart Tolle and Jerry Seinfeld do exactly the same thing for a living….show people how to focus on the moment.

THIS is the post I’ve been wanting to do forever.  Hopefully, I’ll add to it as time goes by.  See, I get a kick out of experiencing things in places named in popular songs.  The ones I can think of, that bear repeating, are listed here.  Post yours in the comments section, please, dear Reader!

Let’s see….

I’ve been to the desert on a horse with no name…

have driven down Carefree Highway (in Arizona) when that song played on the radio…

have been on Ventura Highway in the sunshine (thanks, Mom)….

and incidentally was going west down Ventura Boulevard (gotta love Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers)…

on one fine morning in 2005, I was standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona…

was fortunate to experience another rainy day in New York City…

and this doesn’t really count as a geographic experience, but there are times, driving home from meetings, that stuck in the middle with you sticks in my head.  And it makes me laugh.

This six-part series is meant to be read bottom to top, installment I to installment VI.  Sorry for the inconvenience. It’’s taken me too long to post all this and I’m not going to change it.

More walking adventures and a fond farewell
We set out to find Little Italy. Back on the subway, an operator said MTA had shut down service in the area we wanted to go due to a fire. Above ground again, we wandered and found ourselves at the corner of Houston and something looking at our map (again). A homeless guy on the corner asked, “where ya going.” We told him, and he said to head south to Mulberry, take a right, and in a few blocks we’d run smack dab into Little Italy. He also gave recommendations, with the precision one would expect from a food crtitic, on the reasons we should visit a certain restaurant, the name of which I’ve forgotten, and said to save room for dessert at Ferrara’s. “Ferrara’s is famous for desserts.” The guy knew what he was talking about and following his tip, for which we gave him a dollar, saved us stress and time. Mulberry St. was barricaded for blocks in Little Italy, and the area was a festive array of eateries and shopping—for kitsch and cookware. We had the BEST slice of brick oven pizza and a beer for $6; the corner restaurant was lovely but I’ve forgotten the name. Although they chased us from the “real” menu eaters on the sidewalk, I managed to snap a photo there and it was fun to watch the dough tossing, meat slicing, and other general pizzeria/Italian restaurant goings on inside.

Outdoor diners in lovely Little Italy

After that yummy experience, we wandered past Ferrara’s. We were not hungry, having eaten our way across about four miles thus far, but they had a portable gelato/ice cream station set up outside. For $3, a “small cup” was two generous scoops of delicious pistachio ice cream. SO good. We wandered up the block and found ourselves in Chinatown. Little elbow room was to be had; all the vendors were selling food on the blocked-off street. Most of the food we didn’t recognize, so much unusual produce. Long, curved squash or zucchini-looking things with deep lobes, light purple eggplant, and more. The meat was a little sad to see. Large trash barrels, 1/3 full of water, holding hundreds of live frogs, each one at least 4” diameter. Fish in all stages of living, dead and butchered prepearation. Some of the sea creature parts, we never could identify. All the labels were in Chinese. We speculated that one tray of very large white, triangular cuts might be rays. I was too shocked to take any photos there.

Chinatown seemed to go on forever and we found ourselves wanting to be out of the sad marketplace. Turning to a new street, Chinese-staffed stores hawked every variety of cheap, blingy gold jewelry and accoutrements for two blocks. Then we were in Soho. More lack of elbow room, stores selling trashy jewelry and the accoutrements of adolescence. We chose a quiet side street after being mildly amused at standing on the corner of Greene & Canal—after all, we have that same corner here at home too!

Soho quickly medts into a markedly more upscale, less crowded area, paved with bricks and lined with the outlets of designers of all sorts of immeasurably expensive things. We enjoyed walking on the quieter streets there and stopped to take in the window display of a store that specialized in larger than life hanging tile mosaic art. The art itself was stunning; so was the elaborate tiling on the floor…a whole showroom done in a scalloped design using tiles only about ¾” square. Such craftsmanship! Later, I stopped to snap a photo of a doorway. This one sported a sign begging “no menus” above the mail slot.

We had had quite enough of finding our way around on the MTA system, and had covered in excess of nine miles on foot this day, so we allowed ourselves the luxury of a cab to return to the Wellington. Another short nap and change of clothes later, we were recharged for our serious 5K celebration date (it’s easier to celebrate when it’s not pouring rain).

We walked in the dark several blocks to the Pony Bar, located in Hell’s Kitchen. We brushed close enough to the crowds in Times Square to confirm our notion that avoiding that area was the right move…all lights, glitz and chain restaurants, and besides, we’d been there just last November. This trip was about unique experiences. The Pony Bar did not disappoint. Its menu of only American microwbrews on tap, good music, a small but happy crowd, and oak surroundings that reminded us of our own pub room at home. They served up fried green beans with hot mustard; very tasty and a treat after a long day of walking. We left with T-shirts (legally obtained) and two coasters (swiped), the latter for our home collection. A quieter route home found us back at 55th St. Deli for a salad supper as our nightcap.

03 Aug. Monday: As usual, Ron was awake earlier and got our deli caffeine and fruit. The cab delivered us to La Guardia at about 7:10 AM. Farewell, NYC, and thanks for a great vacation!

AFTER THE RACE, TIME TO TOUR
After donning dry clothes, we left the hotel and bought two umbrellas for $10 from a vendor on the corner at the hotel. Thankfully, a way to stay dry! Walked a couple wet blocks, feeling sorry for the horses pulling carriages down 7th Ave. in the cold rain.  (Hypocritcal, coming from someone who rides in the rain? Yep.  Retrospectively, I think it’s called “projection”).  An Irish pub gave us a dry place to celebrate the race with a draft. Chicago’s Another Rainy Day in New York City was stuck in my head; for good reason. After the pub, we stopped at a touristy store for some gifts, which we dropped off at the room right after.

Now it was time to knock off some of the planned visits on our Google map, kindly printed by coworker Alison. We hopped the subway and found our way to the former Filmore East. Ron spoke with a guy hanging out next door, whom it turns out was there since 1969. He used to make Filmore patrons line up south on 2nd Ave, around the block on 6th St. to the east, so as not to block his business. He said that upon its closure, NYU tried to buy the Filmore, but was unwilling to pay Bill Graham’s price. It was later sold and is now an Emigrant Bank. (Still raining!) We then walked north on 2nd Ave and happened upon a vegetarian grill, with a VERY narrow walkway and a Spanish speaking short order cook. Ron had a veggie stew and fresh bread; I had sauerkraut pierogies. Very thankful for their bathroom!  Too bad I can’t remember the name of this diner.

Blast from the past: Ron waves from the entrance to the former concert venue, the Filmore East.

We walked south and west from the Filmore and photographed some interesting doorways. Someday, when I get about 1,000 other things out of the way, family and friends may see those photos on greeting cards. On a quiet street, we happened upon a fashion/jewelry designers’ gathering in a gymnasium. I found a lovely pair of earrings. Ron passed up a t-shirt that said “I love to pee outside,” which we agree is a good elk camp shirt (actually a fitting shirt for pretty much any Ron day). We walked through NYU campus area/Greenwich Village and found Sacred Chow, another veggie restaurant at 227 Sullivan St., where we had hummus and an organic beer. (Nope, there was no place called Mr. Cacciatore’s; I looked. There was one of those peanut butter restaurants though. I made myself think about dog farts, cellulite, and basically pretended I hate peanut butter as we walked by).

East Village doorway

After quite a lot of walking, we were (not necessarily on purpose) in the heart of Greenwich Village. Enjoyed the narrow triangle-shaped park and took pictures of Stonewall Tavern, a historic civil rights landmark which we happened upon rather accidentally.

Stonewall Inn, and its bouncer

Later, we gazed into the window display of a T-shirt store with two shirts we liked: “Guns don’t kill people; people with mustaches kill people,” and another with a drawing of Tony Danza standing in the palm of an outstretched hand that read “Hold Me Closer, Tiny Danza.”  This kept me in stitches for a couple blocks, though I stopped short of buying the shirt at 28 bucks.  Upon our return, it occurred to me that “Danza” might have more than one meaning, so I looked it up at www.urbandictionary.com.  So my bud Tony had another film career before TV, I still think it’s funny…

Anyway, on we walked.  Thank goodness for McDonald’s and free bathroomage! We passed by GoBo, another notable vegetarian hangout, but being full already, it was impossible to purchase another appetizer in a touristy exchange for use the loo.

Cemetery gate in Greenwich Village

02 Aug: Sunday. The Big Day. Ron bought fruit and coffee breakfast at 55th St. Deli. We were up at 5:30 after not sleeping much as I couldn’t manage the AC unit in the dark and we slept thinking it just wasn’t working. Heavy cloud cover and cool…exactly as hoped for! We put our Roswell Alien Chase shirts on and hailed a cab to City Hall park.

Manhattan Bridge as seen from a cab going south along the East River.

Objective: over and back in the quickest possible time!

At City Hall Park, we met Tom Biggers and Ray (sorry dude, I forgot your last name), the current and past presidents of NYPD Running Club. Enjoyed the awesome sights in the park…the incredible City Hall building, a black squirrel, the huge fountain, Nathan Hale Revolutionary War statue/memorial, etc. The crowd of more than 800 entrants began to gather. We met Jean from Albuquerque, cousin of Dr. Sonia Cunningham, nursing professor at UTBrownsville and mother of deceased NYPD Sgt. Keith A. Ferguson, in whose honor the 5K was held. Sonia has set up an endowed chair in Keith’s name. We met an officer who had been Keith’s co-worker and he explained that Keith was the Sgt. of one of 12 trucks that NYPD has for the entire city. The trucks are used to do a variety of tasks including search & rescue, diving, medical assistance for civilians and first responders, all sorts of things. We met Keith’s father who is ret. NYPD (“It was just a job to me but Keith LOVED it”). He said Keith was very fit and had not long before his fatal heart attack, had gone through Navy SEAL BUDs training to enhance his police work. There was never a sign of a heart problem. Sonia and Laird, Keith’s brother, thanked us very warmly for coming. Sonia gave us both logo backpacks. We gave her the 29 cell phones that we’d collected from local people. She is collecting them to recycle for the scholarship. It was a great honor to do this and gave our trip a much bigger meaning.

Ron met Blaze, the K9, who carried his kong toy everywhere. We saw Blaze with a police horse which was a very nice sight. Since that happened on the way to the start, we didn’t get a photo.

Imagine our surprise at finding someone wearing a Zia t-shirt! Jean is Dr. Cunningham’s friend who has lived in Albuquerque for several years.

The stunning NYC City Hall and Park. This is the oldest city hall in the US which is still being used for its original purpose. Secured like Fort Knox; don’t expect to just walk in without significant fore-planning.

It RAINED while we were waiting, putting our timing chips on our shoes, and talking with various people. By the time we gathered at the end of Brooklyn Bridge walkway, we were all thoroughly soaked. A uniformed officer played bagpipes and we walked from the fountain to the bottom of Brooklyn Bridge, in City Hall park. Very moving occasion. The formally uniformed NYPD officer who’d been standing around all morning now stood with Sonia, Laird, and Ray. He sang the national anthem and it was incredible. He declined the offer of a microphone; didn’t need it despite the noise of rain and a little traffic. I couldn’t see the flag but it was there and we stood with hands over hearts. People started cheering after he hit the high note in fine fashion. Then there was a prayer, which I couldn’t hear. Ray started the race and was yelling, “the race begins at the pole,” but there were lots of poles and I wasn’t sure which, so I just fell into the fray and started running. Ron started way ahead (they asked people to line up in order of typical mile speed), and I didn’t see him until he’d been by the turnaround and we high-fived, in Brooklyn. Running on the bridge was quite a thrill. Cars rumbled just a story below, visible to the right and left of the elevated center walkway. Someone said to be careful of slipping on the wooden planks but it wasn’t slippery at all. We both hit a good pace and ran the best race possible. It got tough coming up the incline on the way back, but I thought about Sonia and the reason we were there, and that made it easy to push through and keep a pace. I’d planned to sprint in from the beginning of City Hall sidewalk, and when someone holding the flag there said “go, New Mexico!” it gave me a boost to give it more oomph than usual. I was so tired afterward, I accidentally threw the timing chips into the trash and we dug them out. It wasn’t until later reflection that day that we realized how much water weight we were carrying; our shoes, socks, shirts and shorts never did dry out despite laying them in front of the AC unit for the rest of the day, into the next morning. During the awards ceremony, even though it had quit raining, I kept wringing the bottoms of my shorts out and there was no end to the water.

NYPD officers direct contestants to the finish line.

Ron finished 5th in 24:58, blowing past his goal of being in top 10 in 50-59 group. I finished 6th of 77 in 26:35, missing my goal of a top 5 finish. There were more than 800 registered for the race. It was fun to see officers in SWAT gear staffing the last turn to the finish. We left after exchanging heartfelt farewells with Sonia and Laird.

Such an honor to meet Sonia after several email exchanges and learning about the legacy of her son, NYPD Sgt. Keith Ferguson.

After the Met, we took a short walk to Jackrabbit Sports on Lex Ave., where we both got fitted for running shoes. Ron got his first Sauconys and I got another pair of Asics. Got a great deal on a Brooks running shirt thanks to a marathon promo. Dan, our fitter, explained how to take the bus across Central Park to the Upper West Side.

The bus took us across Central Park to Broadway, where we visited Zabar’s. Ron ate his first halavah. We sampled the first anchovy I’ve ever liked. Bought goodies for Ron’s mom and our housesitter/his sis, including marzipan fruit. Incredible to see their vast selection of olive, olive oil, vinegar, homemade stews/soups, fish (both prepped and raw). Incredible that a grocery store can be a tourist attraction! I wish I’d snapped a pic inside Zabar’s but it was packed with preoccupied locals and it would have been rude to interrupt their shopping.

The Upper West Side is the first place I’d ever been in NYC, and remains a favorite.  Between Fairway Market and Zabar’s, the grocery shopping can’t be beat.  But I think its greatest appeal is the almost surreal experience of taking just a few paces off one of the main north-south thorouhfares—Broadway, Amsterdam, or Central Park West, say—and the roar and bustle of the city disappears.  In its place are the cool shade of stately brownstones and tall trees, and incidental sounds of people living life.  Most of the trees are ringed by low, decorative fences, circling meticulously tended flowers, punctuated by signs politely pleading to bypassers, “please curb your dog.”  Steps away, another world.

Ron stands on one of the artful entrances to an Upper West Side apartment building.

Back on Broadway is a landmark that I call a favorite because of its uniqueness.  A small diner advertises Chinese and Creole food, using a lighted sign written in Spanish.  Now, there is a landmark one might not find outside of an old US city!

We boarded the Broadway bus again and returned to the Wellington.  People can say what they want about buses…but it’s one sure way to see a variety of local residents.

After a short nap, we decided to do more “discovery walking.”  Helped by a very good natured bellhop plus a total stranger who saw us looking at our map in the subway station and asked where we were going–she laughed when we told her–we eventually found our way to the legendary McSorley’s Ale House in the East Village.  We consumed McSorleys dark & light, reportedly brewed in their basement since 1800-something and sold in twos in what feels like 10 ounce mugs.  Diet friendly, that’s what I’ll call it.

A short walk from McSorley’s, we happened upon the Burp Castle, and wandered in thanks to my being drawn like a moth to a light bulb by their “punny”  sign.  It’s a fun little microbrew place with murals on all the walls showing the history of beer.

Now that is some CROWN MOULDING. Quite the norm in NYC, but I’m endlessly fascinated by the level of artistry in the most common architectural details.

From Burp Castle we took a short walk to uintessence, a raw restaurant and, for me, a “place de la resistance.”  The spinach taco appetizers were outstanding.  I had a Mexican plate (the most amazing taco, burrito and rice ever), and Ron had a soup with mole flavoring.  Dessert was strawberry cacao pie a la mode.  He’s still talking about it.  Pecan crust, yum!  It was ALL delectable!  On the subway part way home; we missed a transfer at Union Station so went above ground and caught a cab to the hotel.

Me, about to be transported to food nirvana at Quintessence

Classic car on a classic street.

Ironic signs have magnetic appeal to me. I couldn’t resist snapping a photo of the very open door, with people milling around. Obviously, it’s there for a serious reason, nevertheless I think we’re allowed to be silly on vacation! Another favorite NYC/irony sign is DO NOT STAND ON THE FOOT in the Statue of Liberty museum.

01 Aug: Greeted morning with coffee and fruit from a deli, as would be the case every morning. Ron got up and went there while I was still asleep. They asked if he wanted coffee “regular,” he said OK, and they proceeded to pour milk into it (Ron hates it when I use the cutesy expression for how I like my coffee. Suffice to say, I add nothing). We took a short run in Central Park, purposely short to save our best for the race on Sunday. There were scores of runners on the roads, some with numbers, all going the same direction. A course was set with cones and people in reflective vests. We fell into a gap in the crowd and jogged along. Later, we learned it was NYC Track Club’s training run for their ½ marathon. The whole run is 20 mi. but you can join and run segments with a pacer at 8, 9, 10 min, etc. miles. A solo sax player performed under a bridge. What a soulful sound! So much fun to see all the dogs and their people taking their morning constitutional in the park as well.

After the short run, we walked from the park to Broadway with plans of meeting Rupert Jee at Hello Deli. You’ve probably seen him on Late Show with David Letterman. On the way, we saw one of many historical NYFD stations. Engine 23 at 215 W. 58th St. is the only one we snapped a photo of.

The Hello Deli wasn’t open on posted Saturday hours, but three blocks of Broadway just around the corner were blocked off for an open air market.

Ron ate his first falafel (cold, what’s up with that), and bought a HUGE hunk of spiced Italian sausage with bun, peppers and onions. Couldn’t finish it. We bought a necklace for Kim from a Kenyan woman who talked about how she loves NYC and how it’s home now, because when her husband died, “they buried him here.” I bought a wraparound skirt. We both got sunglasses.

Back to hotel to shower. Then took cab to Met Art Museum. Watched a solo vocalist on the steps. Bought an awful snow cone so we’d have change to give him. Incredible voice! Sang all the standards: Unchained Melody, Hit the Road Jack, My Girl, and more.

At the Met, we saw maybe half of what was there. Laughed at a little boy who had to point to Hercules’s privates. Every room more awe inspiring than the next. As much a human history as an art museum.

According to http://www.nycfire.net/engine23/history.htm, Engine 23 has been at this location since 03 July, 1906. This photo shows me standing by their sobering 9/11 memorial plaque.

We took each other’s pics in front of Ed Sullivan Theatre and marveled at the ornately decorated ceiling.

The Wellington, our home for three nights. The address is obvious. Just two blocks south of Central Park, it was a perfectly central landing pad. The cashiers and bellhops were so helpful and friendly.

Incredibly good solo vocal performance on the steps of the Met. It’s not necessary to pay, or should I say pay a lot, for concerts of all sorts in the city!

The Met, looking impossibly small in Wordpress-approved format.

A real chariot!

Highlights of Ron & Eve’s NYC/Sgt. Keith Ferguson Memorial Criminal Justice Endowed Chair NYPD 5K across the Brooklyn Bridge, July 31-Aug. 3, 2009

31 July: Left early AM to El Paso after spending half the night and part of the morning cleaning up after a flash flood. Flight delayed from Dallas to La Guardia due to thunderstorms in NYC but we didn’t care! We were fortunate to have a great flight companion in Susan from Philly, who’s lived on the Upper West Side for 20 years. She produces TV programs as an independent contractor, most recently After the First 48 for A&E. She gave us recommendations of restaurants.

Checked in at the Wellington (55th St. & 7th Ave., by Carnegie Hall) and went to Restaurant Row on 9th St. Strolled til we found good guitarist at a Brazilian restaurant. Steamed mussels made for a delicious appetizer. Supper was grilled veggies and the Brazilian version of a mojito for Eve; Xingo beer and grilled tilapia for Ron.

On the walk back, we passed some hopping nightspots, some catering to an all-male patron base, one with a stunning aquarium in the foyer, visible from the sidewalk. We saw at least one “woman” who wasn’t. Had we met Art Garfunkel or Paul Simon, I’d point out that 7th Ave. is rather cleaned up these days, but on 54th St. not far away, there were the ladies they sang about. A block from the Wellington, we stopped at one of the ubiquitous lovely delis and admired the cannolis. Walked into Ray’s Pizza and inhaled. (More yum).

The Wellington Hotel is just steps from Carnegie Hall. Next to it is the Russian Tea Room (yellow flag).  The red signs tell pedestrians when they may and may not stand there—there are lots of detailed instructional signs on the streets of commercial/retail districts.