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:

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?”

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.)

There Goes My Neighborhood

Astoria, I Adore Ya

NYP — WITH numerous new developments and loft conversions – not to mention a slow but steady influx of new restaurants, bars and residents – Long Island City has generated the lion’s share of buzz about Queens. But just north of that emerging district lies Astoria, an area that’s long attracted a diverse mix of immigrants (Greeks, Italians, Arabs) and, in recent years, a steady stream of Manhattan rent refugees – young professionals drawn in by affordable prices, great restaurants and a quick commute to Midtown.

And now, a new trend is emerging in Astoria: shiny, new condo developments.

As I Prepare to Leave New York City…

In a couple of weeks, I’m moving to Mexico City with the huzzband. Because, you know, New York City isn’t loco enough for the two of us.

I’ve been in a reflective mood lately — ruminating these past 4 years and 7 months spent in la gran manzana. Just as when I left (almighty) Texas, there are things I will miss and not miss about New York, and things I have mastered, and have not mastered about life here. So let’s start with the bragging:

God Bless Working at Home

Dear Lady Luck –

Thank you so much for letting me work for a company that allows me to work at home. And, going farther back in our relationship, thank you for letting me enter a field of work that requires only an internet connection to be productive and, thusly, a wage earner.

As you know, today every single subway line was affected by flooding, stranding many people in the 102-degree heat index weather.

But not me. Or Brendan!

Again, thank you. I’d write more, but I’m working, from my air-conditioned apartment. I’m sure looking forward to that “commute” home. Wink-wink!

– Joy

Random Pretty Photos: NEON in Your Face

My faithful readers will have seen two of these before, in other galleries I’ve thrown together. But the last one, which I took this weekend at Socrates Sculpture Park, inspired me to re-crop them and do a series. You like? It woke me up, that’s for sure. All of these shots taken in Astoria, Queens. My current muse. I’ll miss her!
1. Almost-neon blue milkcrates.

2. Totally neon bale of hay.

3. Over-the-top neon pink waterhose

Photos: Replica of a Hurricane Katrina House

This afternoon we wandered over to the Socrates Sculpture Park to check out one of the newest installations — a “ghostly full-scale latex replica of a demolished Lower Ninth Ward shotgun-style home” by sculptor Takashi Horisaki.

I don’t know if it struck me as ghostly, but it was certainly cool to explore. See my photos:

Why Some People Should Be Banned from Owning Property

In this country, just about anyone can own property. As long as they have the money.  But if I were president, or some other politico with the ability to create broad, sweeping laws, I’d make a law that not everyone can own land. First, they’d have to pass a series of tests to make sure they would never do this.  

What Else Lurks (and Squeaks) Behind the Furniture?

This winter we had a wee mouse problem. So, we set up mousetraps all over the place, and tried to remember to check on them each morning. We caught a lot of mice, and our rodent infestation abated. Or we thought.

My Astoria Photos: On About.com!

I consider it quite the compliment to see some of my Astoria photos in this gallery on About.com Queens.

OK, so, yes you could say I have a bit of an inside edge. But, I just looooove seeing my name as the photographer’s credit!

My photos in the gallery:

Triboro Bridge from Astoria Park (the one above)

Socrates Sculpture Park Summer Solstice

Pretty Victorian Home

What Often Replaces Pretty Victorian Homes after Being Torn Down

Summer Solstice Photos – Astoria, NY – Socrates Sculpture Park

I’m so blessed to live a mere block from Socrates Sculpture Park. The photo opportunties abound. If you’ve ever wanted to visit, go. And yes, go on nights that they have events. Bring the kids, the dog, the picnic blanket, some cash for the unexpected goodies (weird food, lemonade), and the camera.

Wanna see what I mean? My slideshow:

Summer Solstice ‘07-Blog