My Dear Amigos, I Heart You

John is from Missouri, so we forgive him for this behavior.

Texas…Mexico…Minnesota…and of course, New York…it’s so great to have fantastic friends where ever we go!

Eileen shows off her sleek new haircut. Connie can't resist going in for a hug.

Thanks to Connie for this beautiful set of photographs during my trip to New York City last week. There’s nothing quite so comforting and relaxing as hanging out with the ones you love.

Dora's boyfriend is from the Bronx, as if this isn't obvious already! *wink*

I managed to scribble down a few funny things we said while drinking wine and enjoying John’s spicy boiled shrimp:

• On John’s next recipe (inspired by a trip to Martha’s Country Bakery), he declared he would try making “shrimp cupcakes, hush puppy style.”
• “Do I unsheath the Bigfoot?” – John contemplating his high school job at Pizza Hut, which involved tempting situations at the trash dumpster as he stood there, throwing out two-foot-long pizzas.
• “My name is Dora” — The chorus for the rap video we’re going to film inside Mohammed’s bodega near Dora’s house.
• Somehow, discussions between Brenda, Dora and me always come back to David Bowie in the film “The Labyrinth“. (And a video for the truly addicted)
• “Well, this has Charlie puke on it” — Dora looking for a blanket when the couch potatoes got cold.
• Stephanie’s sea sponge <– warning: a link that’s not for the faint of heart. Seriously.

And the winner goes to…..ADAM:

• On Spa Castle, while directing a flaky cab driver: “It’s the building with the hand of god pointing at it.”

Why It’s Good to Visit New York

Brenda and Dora’s smiles…

John’s goofiness, and Eileen’s tolerance/amusement…

Chrissy’s always spot-on fashion sense, and her hilarious spa stories from her extensive travels (and, while we’re at it, let’s plug Merril’s new gig programming movies at the Pacific Standard bar in Park Slope)…

“Being hot” with Adam & Dora at SpaCastle (much more on that in an upcoming post)…

Discussing all things cultural with Concetta, and meeting her awesome new man. And because like me, Connie is often “behind the lens” instead of in front of it, I’m adding her candid photography to the list, which means I actually have photos of me from a trip…but none of Connie…doh!

I love this photo (“Lord, what is she talking about now?“)

And the Connster got a great shot of our toes after a group pedicure outing (Brendan, sadly, didn’t go, but his giant toes are in the photo anyway). If we ever start a band, we’ve got our first album photo right here:

How to Cope with A New York City Heat Wave

Rainbow sprinkles. That’s how!

*Audible Sigh*

We really picked a great week to leave Mexico City and visit New York….

NYC: Today

97° | 79

Mexico City: Today

64° | 48

If You Don’t Hear From Me Much Next Week…

It’s cuz I’m here (well, relatively near here):

And I’m WORKING all week (except for Korean spa day on Friday) right here in lil Chelsea:

Thanks to Spitzer, My Political Disillusionment Is Complete

Holy hay-zeus, could Eliot Spitzer be more stupid? Ain’t no lady of the night worth what he’s experiencing right now!

When the first news broke, I was emailed and IMd by a barrage of friends. Friends who remembered how I loved Spitzer when he was running for governor. Example, from my friend Connie:

“Spitzer your favorite gov was involved in a prostitution ring…oy vey! What a scam he is! I had so much faith in
him in the beginning…. “

And from my friend Marc:
“hear about NY governor elliot spitzer? best scandal of 2008″

And of course, from my better half: “sorry that your hero has fallen.”

Anyway, to make a sad, pitiful story short, I hate American politicians. All of them. As I’ve said before, and I guess I’ll keep saying it again, Politics…Primaries…Blah, Blah, Blah.

Why Do Rich People Love Leather So Much?

One of the best reasons to move from New York City to Mexico City — besides the constant and resplendent sunshine — is the vast improvement in cost of living. We can afford a much bigger apartment (or a house, had we preferred to rent one) in a much better neighborhood (La Condesa). Lord knows I loved you, Astoria, but 31st Drive and Broadway was not exactly a hub of culture/activity/hipness, unless you’re really into car repair shops and White Castle. La Condesa, meanwhile, is.

Where activities are ample, so are the people. Meaning, this is a place where people come to see and be seen. In droves. On the weekends, the parks fill up with families, vendors and music. During the weekdays, tourists and working stiffs dominate the scene. OK, fine, I can handle all that, in fact, I embrace it. It’s fun. But when you add in the other layer of people — mysterious, well-dressed people who don’t appear to be working nor visiting the city for the first time, but instead seem to have countless hours to spend in cafes, or driving their SUVs up and down the streets, or chatting on their cellphones while walking in slow, meandering zigzags on the sidewalks — it can get a tad annoying. Especially all their leather, shiny jewelry and bad perfume. Ah, the super rich. You’re like the Borg, but in Gucci.

Yes, NYC was stuffed to the gills with these types, too, but because I lived far, far away from them, I didn’t have to roll my eyes constantly. Only sometimes, like when I saw the really ancient Upper East Side ladies wearing their giant fur coats and huge sunglasses. Or the girls in Chelsea with stringy hair, jutting clavicles, enormous purses and tank tops that cost $250. *eyes rolling*

Here, well, I can’t so easily escape the super-rich. We hang out and live in the same places. Hence this email I just fired off to my husband:

i went to the organic cafe and got a chicken sandwich to go. it was really crowded — and full of obnoxious rich types. who wears leather all day like that? weirdos. my favorite was the anorexic pregnant woman dressed in head-to-toe skintight black clothing, super high heels (leather, of course) and slicked back hair in a ponytail.

But, looking back, well, I have to admit: I was paying too much for a chicken sandwich. I also desperately wanted to splurge on some organic soaps and lotions. And I had just dropped off my shih-tzu at the groomer’s. Am I only one leather jacket and a pair of high heel boots away from becoming El Borg? ¿Como se dice “Resistance is futile?”

When I Lived with The Royal Tenenbaums

_{(Die Terrasse Originally uploaded by huibuuh)}

Even though I’m moving to another country tomorrow, I’m sitting here, watching television. It’s my last bit of English TV before it’s all in Spanish. “The Royal Tenenbaums” is on Comedy Central, reminding me, yet again, of four things:

1. I used to live on the street where the movie was filmed. It is still the most beautiful block I’ve seen in NYC.
2. The movie is really good, too. So is the soundtrack.
3. I’m going to miss New York more than I’ll let myself admit.
4. I’m also going to miss snow more than I’ll let myself admit.

(Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be in Mexico City. All new adventures, all new country…)

Random Photo: FDNY Testing Ladder Over Tenements

Our temporary corporate housing overlooks a neat series of tenement-style apartments lining 2nd Avenue, where the MTA also happens to be busy building the new 2nd Avenue subway line. You can clearly see here how two lanes of the avenue have been absorbed by the subway construction.

The Fire Department, from what I could tell, was just testing their ladders — there was no actual rescue or fire or anything.

I like that ladder company 43 – serving this ‘hood and Spanish Harlem – is called El Barrio’s Bravest. And that De La Vega designed the logo.

Where in the World Is Joy?

_{(Photo by Mattron on Flickr)}

I’m somewhere in that hazy big mess of concrete, steel, glass and air pollution in New York City. We’re in an Upper East Side hotel this week, as we wait for our Mexican visas to get finalized (allegedly ready tomorrow!) (Note: This photo was uploaded two months ago, but it sorta looks like that today!)

I’m on Day Four of working as a freelancer, and so far, I love it. I work from the hotel room, on the computer, singing out loud to myself, and dance like a maniac whenever the mood strikes me. (Although the guys on the scaffolding fixing the terraces of this building have caught me a couple of times. Yikes — but it was probably more frightening for them than me.) I also get to avoid this bizarre sweltering weather blanketing the Northeast.

So, in other words, I am living a life of comfort and have absolutely no complaints! “For once!” as those who know me might say.

Random Pretty Photos: Central Park’s Conservatory Gardens

One of my more favorite places to visit, in different seasons, is the Conservatory Gardens in Central Park. Today, it was still quite lush and warm, even though it’s autumn.

And, needless to say, there were several ongoing weddings while we were there:

Want Photos of New York in Fall? You Got It

Lately I’ve been getting a lot of search engine traffic for people searching the words “new york in fall.” OK, people: While fall hasn’t officially kicked in yet here — the trees on my street are all still green — I’ve got plenty of photos of autumn splendor in New York. So here ya go.

And yeah, this stuff is weird. It’s from the New York Botanical Gardens Halloween Parade, which is fantastic (and more crowded each year. I think Dora and I managed to go before it jumped the shark). I’m not sure exactly what these creatures are supposed to be, but I call them “pagan……”

Astoria Food: Bulgarian Equals Yum

Oh, Astoria. You fun little neighborhood, you. Tonight we ventured down the barren strip of land known as 11th Street to Bulgara, a B-F-E restaurant serving delicious food in the middle-of-nowhere NYC. It’s perhaps the best Bulgarian food this side of the Ottoman Empire, or at least the East River. Tonight, Brendan, John, Dora and I were the only patrons at the overtly red-themed restaurant, but the solitude allowed us to giddily and unabashedly enjoy the divine cuisine.

Case in point: John was able to proudly admire his shashlik (basically, pork shish kabob), while sipping on his Melnik (a semi-sweet red vino), without wondering what others would think:

The Miles I’ve Walked in Astoria

I’m getting nostalgic again, as I have just taken another long walk through Astoria, and, like always, fought the urge to eat at all the little odd restaurants I walked by, like the unpronounceable place called Djerdan advertising “the best burek in town” (as if there’s stiff competition). I also got yelled at by some construction men on 30th Ave, west of the hospital, for not crossing the street where they were working. (NYC has a law that sidewalks have to be maintained during home building, but, of course, construction laws in Queens were meant to be broken). It’s not a real walk unless you have some sort of run-in with all the ugly new construction going up at a breakneck pace in Astoria.

Astoria has its good points (the food) and its bad points (the ugly new apartment buildings). Yet, it is pretty much the only thing I’ll miss about NYC. It’s really charmed me, over and over, as the most neighborhoodly of neighborhoods in the most diverse county (Queens) in the United States. I told Brendan once “If we hadn’t moved to Astoria, I’m not sure I would have wanted to stay here much longer.”

I ponder often how the population of Astoria — roughly 300,000 peeps — is equal to that of my hometown, Corpus Christi, Texas. But Astoria is crammed into about a 5-mile-wide square space, while Corpus Christi is at least 10 times larger. Like all of NYC, the extreme urban density in Astoria means that you can get all your stuff done in one small block near your apartment. (We have a big grocery store, pharmacy, diner, post office, gas station, etc, all down the street from our house). So, when you finally just let yourself wander around, you’ll find new places, and in Astoria, that usually means new food, too.

I hope I can make it back to the burek place before we leave, but the clock’s ticking pretty fast these days.

Where I’ve been in Astoria (in green). I’ve really only just begun…

Irritating: The Subway Panhandler Who Forces Everyone to Smile

Today I had the pleasure of, again, encountering the Irritating Panhandler Man on my way home on the N train tonight.

“Excuse me, excuse me everyone. I’m a soccer coach — I’m not a drug user! I’m raising funds for the team. Heehee. Some of ya’ll recognize me, I can see it. You know why? Cause this is my favorite train – the N train. N is for Nice, here in Astoria. Right?”

(Awkward pause, as if he’s anticipating applause.)

“Yep, so alright: It’s me! Now, if you don’t want to give me money, all I ask you is give me a smile. That’s right: a smile! I especially love the smiles on the purty faces!”

Then, Irritating Panhandler Man slowly makes his way through the subway car, stopping at each person, demanding that, if they can’t contribute to the soccer team, that they at least give him a big smile.

Anyone who knows me knows I don’t do well in these situations. Last time, I didn’t smile, I stared. I’d like to think I scared him a little bit, even if he kept urging me to smile. “You got lots of things to be happy for, girl…” he told me, before finally giving up and urging the person next to me to smile.

This time, I got to my stop before he got to my seat, but I still had to come up with several plans of action if he did reach me. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my iPod on, so I couldn’t feign ignorance (that’s the reason locals wear iPods on the subway) to his cause. I decided I’d just stare, again, blankly, as if I didn’t speak English, a totally plausible excuse in Astoria. I could pass for Eastern European. Or a Canadian.

But, the train was efficient and beat Irritating Subway Man at his own game. I didn’t have to smile! Or give him money!

Whew.

(I wish I had a tally of every time someone in NYC asked me for money.)