Ok everyone. Take the old 'roller-coaster' cliche, and make a more creative one. Now, take this sentence: "Man have these last few days in Holland been one heck of a roller-coaster ride!" and substitute my tired, lazy attempt at illustrating a point, and substitute your own...
I hope you get the idea! Well, now it is up to me to try and convey why...
When last I wrote, we were staying in Hilversum, Brooke and I, and I was still feeling a... tension as I tried to feel as though I was completely part of this corner of my world, my life, my past. It is such a complex sort of experience that I've been having here. I feel as though I've come home, that this place is part of me, and me a part of it. I feel like I know Holland, like we've been friends for years, and even though I haven't been privy to every detail of it's life while we've been apart, because we were friends so long ago, I have an essential sense of it's essense that I have and will coninue to carry throughout my life. I feel really like Holland is another home for me, it is a place I know, and love and am welcome in.
However, while I feel all this, there is also a sense that I'll never REALLY be a part of it, that I am just too far removed to ever completely dissolve into the place- you'll always be able to see little granules of me floating around in the glass, and know that I haven't and cannot be totally incorporated. I feel like that last piece in a puzzel- that one where you can see exactly where it gos, because there's only one space yet, but the piece was cut just that slight bit too big, and even when you punch and push and sqeeze it, it never sits totally flush with the rest of the picture.
I've cried a lot. I've cried because I'm happy, I've cried because I'm lost, I've cried because I want someone to see me, but I feel like something inside of me is reaching out and pulling everyone's eyelids down. I've had such amazing, precious moments of pure, liquid contentment. I've had moments where happiness and joy have flooded over me and all I wanted was to bask in it forever. I've felt so welcome and loved and cared for in Marc, Astrid, Myrthe and Malou's home. I've really felt a part of something, part of a family, part of a world.
They took us to a Dutch market, where we watched men scuttle around cutting wedges of beautiful, BEAUTIFUL cheese, and we gasped at the twinkle of the oh-so-fresh fruit and vegetables, and sighed at the smell of warm stroopwaffles. They took us for coffee in the town centre, and we sat in the square with the sun on our backs and the tick-tack of shoppers' feet in our ears. They shared the most wonderful dinners with us, dinners that melted along, moving fluidly from the meal to conversation punctuated by good bread and amazing cheese. They've shared their home, their minds and their hearts, and I love them all very dearly.
At the retirement home where my Great Oma lives there is a small chapel. Here they hold church services, presumably every Sunday. However, last Sunday there was (for a reason I am actually unaware of) a special twist to the service. My Great Opa was a successful Dutch composer, so on the anniversary of his and Great Oma's wedding, their son and his church choir travelled up from Luxumbourg, and at this particular Sunday church service, they sang all the normal hymns, as well as a couple of Great Opa, Herman Strategier's compositions.
Myself, Marc, Myrthe, Malou and Brooke all travelled together to see this, and this adventure ofcourse carried with it the added experience of meeting the grand matriarch of that part of my family for the first time in conscious memory. I was scared... she had always been a somewhat of a 'larger than life' figure for me in my life. I hear about her, I hear of her, I very occassionaly hear from her- but she's always been a distant figure, more almost of an idea... It was very daunting, and very intimidating to meet someone who is so important in the lives of so many people who have so much to do with my life and how it has unfolded and who I have become.
Well, I probably could have handled it better, but what's done is done, and she has too many people to love and to think about to waste her time thinking I was stupid or dull or silly. I was so glad to have met her, and touched her hand, and kissed her cheek. As I sat near her, and listened to her speak, felt in my gut the same feeling I always felt for my grandfather (on my Dad's side), and I realised 'wow, she really is family'.
Sitting in that church, I understood not a single word of the Dutch sermon (I lie, I understood 'Amen'), but as I sat there, surrounded by my new-found family, listening to voices flitting about giving life to my Great Opa's music, I felt an incredible sense of contentment, and pride- pride particularly being something I didn't expect to feel.
Now everyone, put your metaphor hats on again. I want to say that now came a crossroad in our journey, but just how revoltingly uncreative is that!?!? So, once again, insert your own, and I will continue...
So, Brooke and I had reached a point where I in particular could no longer ignore my rather naive and embarrassing lack of judgement and foresight concerning this particular leg of the trip. How could I not have known that we could never share this place, because it could NEVER be, that we would have anywhere near the same experiences of it. She could never feel the things I was feeling- she has none of the links or connections or secret hidden ties that make this place and these people resonate so very deeply and so wonderfully strongly for me. She could love Holland, she could love it with all her heart and soul, but she was never going to feel it the way I did, because it will never hold her past. I also had no idea how personal and internal this experience was going to be for me, and I had no idea how intense either. It is so emotional for me- emotions I don't really understand completely, or rather, that I can't explain, rationalise and articulate. I didn't realise it would be so complicated and complex! Anyway, as these things slowly began to emerge from the darkness, and the light revealed the truth of them, Brooke and I started to realise that maybe plans needed to change! No matter how much fun she was having here, we could never reconcile the two experiences into one cohesive enough to share with eachother. Holland was not something for us to do with eachother, because we couldn´t hold it at the same time- I needed to hold it one way, and she another, and it was getting twisted and contorted as we tried to juggle the two approaches.
Basically, after a great deal of reflection, thought, and emotional upheaval, we decided it best to accept that some things are too personal to be able to share- some things need to be felt and moved through alone. Brooke would travel down to the south of France to stay with her neighbours from back home at their farm summer house, and then would tour around the UK, while I stayed back in Holland and completed my exploration of the motherland.
But before she left, we had Amsterdam to come to! Here in Amsterdam, we encountered yet more open houses and open hearts. My mother had a friend in primary school, back here in Holland. Mum left when she was twelve, but still to this day, she keeps in contact with that friend. The miles and miles of space, or time, of events and changes and growth that have occured over these years, and still they remain features in eachother´s lives. I think that is so special! And here I am now, in that friend´s home, sitting on her computer, writing about the wonderful thing she shares with my Mum! Anyway, as soon as we arrived here, I felt INSTANTLY at home. Anne-Marie is so open and honest and leaves no room for the bullshit and farting around that consumes us so much of the time. She is so genuine and real, and I felt my insecurities, those little nibbles at the back of my neck that tell me to regret something or hold something back, I felt them all being banished to the woods somewhere. There are so many wonderful people in the world.
Brooke and I went on a canal cruise. It was lovely, and it was good for me, to take the time to get into the groove of the city, to slowly adjust my breathe to move in time with that of the place I am in, rather than hitting the ground running and coming out the other end having taken on nothing of the essence. I really love Amsterdam. It is my favourite of any city have seen so far. Normally I find cities to be harsh, grating, raspy and they make me so, so tired and lonely. I can have fun, A LOT of fun in a city, but I always feel there is a marked lack of humanity and homliness that drains me. But Amsterdam to me feels like a city- it has all the perks and advantages and wonderful features of a city- but it also has a dense, aromatic, lucious humanity and soul. It doesn't feel dry and isolating, but rather it moisturises itself and opens its arms to you. It's a city with a heart, and I feel safe and secure and comfortable here.
We also saw the van Gogh museum, which was good to have seen, and I know I learned from it- but it wasn't the most inspiring experience of my life.
The next morning, I dropped Brooke at the train station, and said goodbye to my travel partner for about 27 days! It will be so odd to turn around and not have her there! It will be strange to want to say something, and not have her sitting around the corner to say it to. It will be interesting to see how different things feel when you are seeing them completely on your own, and don't have another person to share it with. I'd never travelled before I left on this trip, and I still have never travelled on my own. So, it's going to be yet another learning curve- something which there has been no shortage of this past month and a half!
After I said goodbye, I went to the Anne Frank Huis. I didn't expect to be moved as much as I was. It is an incredibly impressive museum. The space holds so much, so many memories, feelings, emotions, experiences, thoughts, fears, events, sadnesses. You really feel it- it hit me like a brick wall. To enter a space, and really, in your gut, feel the people who once occupied it, to feel their hearts and their thoughts... it was pretty special. Not only was I incredibly moved, but I was really inspired. To think that one person, one little girl's experiences, ideas, words could reach out of the masses, and touch the hearts of so many hundreds of thousands of people across the world and across time- that seems pretty inspiring to me! Just one girl, and she saw so much, and she shared it so successfully with so many. I love those moments, those occasions when I feel really and truly as though on some level, in some way, I have connected with another human being, with another life, with another world through whatever medium or process or event- I think those moments are what make life really special, and really worthwhile.
The pictures she pasted on her walls to brighten up her bedroom are still there, behind perspex. I looked at all the movie stars, and cartoons, and then I got to the end of one wall, and staring back at me was a big sulphur-crested cockatoo! A little wave from home... good times.
After that I wondered around Amsterdam, and saw some more lovely things. I went to many a park, and relaxed many a time. It really is SO beautiful here. Anne-Marie and Pieter invited me to have dinner with their friends. It was lovely, and I could continue to practice my Dutch by trying to deduce what they were saying to eachother! When we came home, Anne-Marie sat on the couch with me, and I regressed back to infancy. She couldn't babysit when I was a child, so she made up for it now, and went through some 'My First Word' books with me as we both committed me to a stern resolution that I WILL learn Dutch- to some degree at least. That was so nice, so special, to sit with someone who has shared my Mum's life for years, and learn with her, and laugh with her, and have her further my education, and connect me deeper to my roots and to my heritage! I sounded like a moron a lot, trying to pronounce these ridiculous sounds, and trying to unlearn the basic rules of English, because the Dutch ones are the exact opposite, but walls were not to be seen, and I enjoyed that time so much.
Now I am off to explore Amsterdam some more.
Thanks for reading...
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
"I don't need a number, I just want to dance with my shirt off..."
Here I sit, my last morning in New York City, my last morning in the United States of America, my last morning on this continent.
It's raining quite hard outside, and as Brooke said earlier "New York doesn't want us to go- it's crying". All though, if I know New York, and I think I do by now, I think it has better things to think about than whether or not we're walking all over its face...
But that's getting ahead of myself, because I still have stories to tell from back in Pennsylvania... the first of which involves lobsters, muscles and cherry cobbler. So, we woke up on our second morning in Kate's home and we were put to work almost immediately! The label 'free-loader' had been shaken a little to excitedly in my face by my dear friend Kate, but we weren't going to submit to such pigeon-holing and even Bee got down and dirty sweeping grit from the porch and walking through muddy grass. We swept and squirted and wiped and rinsed until the Queen would be happy to shove her guts with sea critters. Then the guests arrived, and they were lovely people. It was great for me to meet yet more people, and to keep seeing first hand that human beings have so much to offer, so many stories, so many words, so many expressions and gestures and impressions. I learn so much from all these, I gain so much from it all, and I spent so long being too scared and too lazy to expose myself to it all, that I missed out on a lot. But not any more! I haven't had a single experience of another human being this entire trip that didn't offer me something, and I'm through with letting myself deny the opportunities.
Anyway, the clam-bake was a lot of fun, we laughed and chatted and drank mojitas. Then Bee and I went inside and gorged ourselves on about a tonne of garlic bread, which was deeply satisfying!
The next day, Kate drove us up to Amish country. We farted around for a few hours, trying to find a little farm-house she had been to a few years earlier that did tours and the like. When we finally asked directions, we discovered that the reason we hadn't seen it, the reason it had alluded us as we drove past was because a few years before, Target had turned up and bought off a huge wedge of the land and built a massive store, and an even bigger parking lot on it. So is the way of the world...
So we walked around the farm a little bit before our tour of the house started. Then we go to experience one of those beautiful little gifts from the universe, when a perfect little nugget of wonder drops down in front of you. We were walking along the gravel path, and Brooke's eyes cast themselves downward for whatever reason, and somehow, by some unimaginable force of... whatever, happened to land on a tiny little chip of wood, and she somehow had the presence of mind to recognise the symbols on this little piece of wood... she gasped, and we all looked as she held up this little notch that said "Brooke" followed by a smily face. What the HELL were the chances!?!?! OH MY GOD! It was incredible. It totally made my day, if not my week. It doesn't get better than that. That was beautiful!
We went on the tour, learnt a lot about the Amish, and I discovered that I really do love education for the sake of education. I've really been enjoying learning things and just knowing them, adding to my general knowledge about the world. I think it really adds to who I am as a whole, and makes me a stronger person in general.
After we drove around like rampant paparazzi as Kate tried to convince Brooke to snap as many passing Amish as possible, despite the fact that they believe it a sin to be photographed (Bee decided she could create a graven image of the old man on his cart, because he hadn't much longer anyway, but the little boy could not have his faith disturbed!!), we went to Longwood Gardens, a massive garden that used to be a private property of the Du pont family. It was SO beautiful, so full of meticulous thought and care and passion for beauty. You could feel the care and the love that was poured into each little cranny of the place, you could feel the warmth and the heart and the honesty. I loved it there!
The next day, Kate stuck us on the train to Philladelphia, and we were in for an intense day of American history! The Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, the National Constitution Centre, a performance of 'Freedom Rising'... we were marinated in America's past and soaked in their passion and ardour for it. It was interesting intellectually. I never really knew about it all, and it means SO much, to SO many people that it was kind of lazy of me not to. So, I felt better having learnt some of it. But there is a very strong and very present element to it all that one can simply never feel not being American. They experience something, they feel something at their very core that I don't think anyone of any other nationality can ever really comprehend. They feel something beyond pride, something more than identification... it's like, this IS them... this is who they are. It is kind of nice, because so much of the time, America seems to be this disperate, fractured country full of internal conflict and battles, but when you touch on this history, this shared past, it all falls away, and suddenly everyone is united and linked on this deeper layer. They become one people, and you can feel them linking arms under the surface. I won't ever feel anything like what they feel for their country, for their past, for the people who forged both of these. I won't ever understand how they can look at things I don't really agree with, and feel this almost otherworldy pride and admiration. I don't think patriotism exists like this anywhere else in the world, I really think it is idiosyncratic to the USA, and it was really very interesting.
So, we woke at the crack of dawn, and trotted off in the car. It was maybe three hours to Washington, and once we were there, we spent the day wondering around, taking in all the expected sites really- Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, White House, Capitol Building etc etc etc... we all know that sites like this aren't really my thing. I do think that Americans who visit places like Washington would get a lot from it, but otherwise, it's a bit... hollow. But, it was interesting! It was incredibly hot though, and the sun was so harsh, I felt like hot pokers had been poked through my eyeballs, and sharpened needles through my cheeks from squinting. We ended up letting a bus drive us past all the final sites, before we went back to the hotel to crash. Actually, getting back to the hotel was quite an Odyssey- the gods did not want us to return to the oh-so-appetising prospect of Chinese takeout. We finally got there though, and man was that Chinese tasty...
We were going to spend two days in Washington, but I think we squeezed all we were going to out of it the first day, so we got up early, took advantage of the free breakfast on the way out of the hotel, and headed home.
I had not had a dose of nature for a long time now, so Kate dropped me at the foot of a trail that ran alongside the Brandywine River back in Downsingtown, Pennsylvania. I walked a few miles, and once again found that each step was a little recharge, each breath of 'real' air was another little boost to my system. It was terribly beautiful. A lot of people used this trail to run, or walk, or with their dogs, but the further along I got, the more the people dwindled, and the more I felt myself unfold and unwind. I guess I really do need this time to myself. Even when I am having a wonderful time, and every moment is happy and precious and good, I still need to have some time that belongs to me, that I own, a space where I can sit and there is only space around me... If I don't get it, then all the goodness I have felt before, it is like it is wasted... like my life and my experiences are sort of running out the bottom of a sieve, andmy time to myself, my time to reflect is when I can tip these things into a vase or a vessel of some sort. The longer it goes without these moments, the more I lose. But I am learning how to get this space without having to actually be alone... to construct a little world to temporarily retreat into... I think I am learning to be a lot less high maintenance. It is a skill I desired for so long... a characteristic I really felt I wanted to acquire to be more of the person I wanted to be. I think I am learning it very quickly on this trip- to just let go, and make the most of the things you are given, not to need things in such particular ways, and to be able to make it work, to get what you need simply with the ingredients in the pantry, instead of using all your energy trying to get every single ingredient on the recipe...
Anyway, I diverge. So, I was walking along the Brandywine, and it really was lovely. Pennsylvania is very beautiful, in an elvish, fairy-land sort of way. You just want to sprinkle some fairy dust, sprout some wings and dance on the tree tops. I stopped along the way back, and crept down through the trees to the river itself... and I got down to my underwear and swam in the water. It was very special for me, as people who have known me would know, to be able to let go like that, and to just embrace the moment and worry not what someone might think if they walked down past me. The water was so crisp and fresh, and it felt like the hug I had been needing for weeks. I crawled out of the water, and dried off up in a tree as I wrote in my journal. Someone did come down as I wrote up there in my underwear. They turned around and went back pretty quick, but the moral of the story is, that I barely looked up from my page, and I certainly didn't extend any thought to the moment beyond that.
That was our last day with Kate and Jorg. We chatted more that night, but then the next morning, it was time to go! I already miss them so much. They were such special people, people who I am richer for having met and having known. Kate read aloud to Jorg a thankyou letter I had written to them both. She got to the part in which I said "you opened your home to us despite the fact you didn't know usin the slightest"- she turned to me and said "There is no such thing as people we don't know". What a perfect way of looking at the world! What a wonderful thing to feel about people, and about yourself, and what a perfect way to sum up the overall lesson I gained from my time in their home.
Back in New York we were to finish the American leg of our trip. We went back to the Lower Easr Side, East Village, Greenwich Village- all my favourite areas in New York, all the parts that define and represent New York for me, and all the parts that make me feel really good about that place. We ate lunch in Washington Park, where the uni students come for lunch, and where little quartets or trios had scattered themselves like diamonds about the place, playing jazz or tap dancing or beating their drums. It was wonderful, in a totally non-wanky or pretentious way! just really honest and genuine and free. We walked around Union Square and I bought myself a little etching from one of the artists at his stall.
We went to the movies that night. Brooke saw My Sister's Keeper, and I had the ULTIMATE New York experience as I sat in a tiny little theatre in the stomach of massive 25 cinema complex and watched Larry David limp around streets I had just wondered, lamenting the frailty of life and the redundancy of living in Woody Allen's latest movie 'Whatever Works'. It was SO good, exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed. The film talks about accepting the fact that life is hard, and people need to find whatever they can to make it through, and it is up to each person to accept and to embrace the choices made by the people in their lives, because we love them, and we want them to be happy and we need to love them for finding nuggets of joy and satisfaction in this world... well, that's what it spoke about for me, and it made me feel a lot better about myself and own choices, as I realised that I don't need to try to adhere to some kind of external measure of the 'right' way to be happy... and it also really helped me in terms of travelling with Brooke. We are so different, and have SUCH a drastically different approach to life and happiness and being comfortable and satisfied, and while I try my hardest to accept and embrace her choices and decisions and attitudes, it has been quite difficult for me grappling with the sheer immensity of difference that exists between our mindsets... and such a film sort of helped me come to better terms with it. I think. I hope!
The next day we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. the board said it was $20 for a single admission, followed by 'recommended, access to all special exhibitions'. We weren't about to let such a mysterious message go unexplored, and when we asked about it, we found out that at this museum, you can pay whatever amount you like, as long as you pay something, but they ofcourse recommend that you each person pay $20. We paid $5 each.
The museum was wonderful. There was so much there. It was really special to share the art with Brooke, to talk about it with her, to discuss our ideas about it... this has always been something we avoided talking about, because we think so differently about it, but we shared it on this day, and it meant a lot to me to be able to. I learnt a lot also, my mind was opened up to new ideas and new approaches. It was great. And I got to see two Jackson Pollocks!!!! Jackson Pollock has always been one of my favourite, FAVOURITE artists, and seeing his work, right there, in all it's glory, I felt everything that made me love him in the first place, and more. When I look at a Pollock, I feel connected to him. I feel like there is someone out there in the world, or there was someone, who has reached out tentacles, right from their soul, that have wound and spiraled all through the world, and through time, and have reached me, and pierced my chest right through to my own soul, and there they have laced themselves and they'll link us forever. It's just a moment in time, when I feel like someone can really see me, and I can see them, and for one second, everything is perfect, and I am safe and warm and at home. So, that was pretty special for me.
That night I ate a whole tub of icecream, and it kicked arse.
The next day was kind of a dud. As much as I enjoyed America and New York and as much as I'd seen and learned and experienced... I was ready to move on! I was ready for Holland, for Europe, for another world. I think by that point, I had gotten all I could get from America at this point in my life.
We just kind of meandered about waiting for time to whittle itself away and carry us toward our new home.
We caught the subway the next day all the way to JFK airport. As we sat with our bags tucked between our legs watching America creep by our eyes for the last time, a man across the aisle sleepily dragged a lighter from his pocket and put a flame to the end of the previously unlit cigarette that had been drooping from his lips and filled the carriage with death-vapour along with a sea of outraged and disapproving faces. No one said anything, we all just looked at eachother, completely dumbfounded, as this man sat there, and started to fall asleep with this lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. ON A SUBWAY! I couldn't believe that no one in New York City told this man to snuff it... I so wished I was the kind of person who could do that... but I wasn't, and I'm not! Eventually a guard sorted it out, but it was bizarre... only in America.
American Airlines serves revolting food, and doesn't serve it well. Put that in your pocket-books to remember for the future!
Then, about two days ago, we arrived here in Holland! We arrived at about 10.30, and once we'd weaved our way through the various checkpoints, we emerged to see my lovely second cousin (or something along those lines...) beaming behind the bars, with a 'Welcome' balloon and two white shirts draped over the railing, one reading "Madeline Welcome in Holland", and the other "Brooke Welcome in Holland", and I knew I was home! Astrid, Malou's mother and my... great Aunt maybe!... she drove us to their home, which has now become our home also! Myrthe is Malou's older sister, about six months older than me. I was sleeping when she got home... clearly I'm making a wonderful impression on my new found family! Hopefully it is not an omen for what I will be in her life this whole time... a distant sleeping mirage of a person! But they are all so lovely and welcoming and kind. I have been a little bit stressed and scared... maybe terrified even fits during those moments when I was really sleep-deprived! I have been so terrified that they don't like me, and that they won't like me. I want SO badly to fit in here, to be a part of this world and these people who I love on a level that I can't really explain. They are my family, and it means a lot to me to have their approval, to have them think well of me. But me being stressed won't help the cause, that is for sure! So I am trying to let go a little bit, to airate my exterior a little, and let some fresh air in so I can breathe, and so I can relax and be myself. If I wind myself too tight... I'll end up flinging myself somewhere where I can't bring myself back down again. I was so comfortable with Kate and Jorg in their home because I was able to simply accept that I am who I am, and I don't need to 'perform' or fulfill certain criteria... but it's harder now, as I feel like I do need to achieve something specific... I'll work it out.
We slept all day yesterday, and today we rode the pushbikes through the rain to the Media Museum and had all sorts of wonderful fun recording news broadcasts in Dutch and taking photos with our faces replacing those of famous Dutch people I had never seen. It was a lot of fun fun fun... and then I rode through the streets for a little while, being pounded by the rain, feeling incredibly Dutch and comfortable...
So, that's where I'm at... I think I'll have a lot to tell soon about Holland and my time here... so I'll write when I can!!
Thanks for reading!
Mad.
It's raining quite hard outside, and as Brooke said earlier "New York doesn't want us to go- it's crying". All though, if I know New York, and I think I do by now, I think it has better things to think about than whether or not we're walking all over its face...
But that's getting ahead of myself, because I still have stories to tell from back in Pennsylvania... the first of which involves lobsters, muscles and cherry cobbler. So, we woke up on our second morning in Kate's home and we were put to work almost immediately! The label 'free-loader' had been shaken a little to excitedly in my face by my dear friend Kate, but we weren't going to submit to such pigeon-holing and even Bee got down and dirty sweeping grit from the porch and walking through muddy grass. We swept and squirted and wiped and rinsed until the Queen would be happy to shove her guts with sea critters. Then the guests arrived, and they were lovely people. It was great for me to meet yet more people, and to keep seeing first hand that human beings have so much to offer, so many stories, so many words, so many expressions and gestures and impressions. I learn so much from all these, I gain so much from it all, and I spent so long being too scared and too lazy to expose myself to it all, that I missed out on a lot. But not any more! I haven't had a single experience of another human being this entire trip that didn't offer me something, and I'm through with letting myself deny the opportunities.
Anyway, the clam-bake was a lot of fun, we laughed and chatted and drank mojitas. Then Bee and I went inside and gorged ourselves on about a tonne of garlic bread, which was deeply satisfying!
The next day, Kate drove us up to Amish country. We farted around for a few hours, trying to find a little farm-house she had been to a few years earlier that did tours and the like. When we finally asked directions, we discovered that the reason we hadn't seen it, the reason it had alluded us as we drove past was because a few years before, Target had turned up and bought off a huge wedge of the land and built a massive store, and an even bigger parking lot on it. So is the way of the world...
So we walked around the farm a little bit before our tour of the house started. Then we go to experience one of those beautiful little gifts from the universe, when a perfect little nugget of wonder drops down in front of you. We were walking along the gravel path, and Brooke's eyes cast themselves downward for whatever reason, and somehow, by some unimaginable force of... whatever, happened to land on a tiny little chip of wood, and she somehow had the presence of mind to recognise the symbols on this little piece of wood... she gasped, and we all looked as she held up this little notch that said "Brooke" followed by a smily face. What the HELL were the chances!?!?! OH MY GOD! It was incredible. It totally made my day, if not my week. It doesn't get better than that. That was beautiful!
We went on the tour, learnt a lot about the Amish, and I discovered that I really do love education for the sake of education. I've really been enjoying learning things and just knowing them, adding to my general knowledge about the world. I think it really adds to who I am as a whole, and makes me a stronger person in general.
After we drove around like rampant paparazzi as Kate tried to convince Brooke to snap as many passing Amish as possible, despite the fact that they believe it a sin to be photographed (Bee decided she could create a graven image of the old man on his cart, because he hadn't much longer anyway, but the little boy could not have his faith disturbed!!), we went to Longwood Gardens, a massive garden that used to be a private property of the Du pont family. It was SO beautiful, so full of meticulous thought and care and passion for beauty. You could feel the care and the love that was poured into each little cranny of the place, you could feel the warmth and the heart and the honesty. I loved it there!
The next day, Kate stuck us on the train to Philladelphia, and we were in for an intense day of American history! The Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, the National Constitution Centre, a performance of 'Freedom Rising'... we were marinated in America's past and soaked in their passion and ardour for it. It was interesting intellectually. I never really knew about it all, and it means SO much, to SO many people that it was kind of lazy of me not to. So, I felt better having learnt some of it. But there is a very strong and very present element to it all that one can simply never feel not being American. They experience something, they feel something at their very core that I don't think anyone of any other nationality can ever really comprehend. They feel something beyond pride, something more than identification... it's like, this IS them... this is who they are. It is kind of nice, because so much of the time, America seems to be this disperate, fractured country full of internal conflict and battles, but when you touch on this history, this shared past, it all falls away, and suddenly everyone is united and linked on this deeper layer. They become one people, and you can feel them linking arms under the surface. I won't ever feel anything like what they feel for their country, for their past, for the people who forged both of these. I won't ever understand how they can look at things I don't really agree with, and feel this almost otherworldy pride and admiration. I don't think patriotism exists like this anywhere else in the world, I really think it is idiosyncratic to the USA, and it was really very interesting.
Now I write to you from Holland! But we'll get to that later I think...
So, we woke at the crack of dawn, and trotted off in the car. It was maybe three hours to Washington, and once we were there, we spent the day wondering around, taking in all the expected sites really- Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, White House, Capitol Building etc etc etc... we all know that sites like this aren't really my thing. I do think that Americans who visit places like Washington would get a lot from it, but otherwise, it's a bit... hollow. But, it was interesting! It was incredibly hot though, and the sun was so harsh, I felt like hot pokers had been poked through my eyeballs, and sharpened needles through my cheeks from squinting. We ended up letting a bus drive us past all the final sites, before we went back to the hotel to crash. Actually, getting back to the hotel was quite an Odyssey- the gods did not want us to return to the oh-so-appetising prospect of Chinese takeout. We finally got there though, and man was that Chinese tasty...
We were going to spend two days in Washington, but I think we squeezed all we were going to out of it the first day, so we got up early, took advantage of the free breakfast on the way out of the hotel, and headed home.
I had not had a dose of nature for a long time now, so Kate dropped me at the foot of a trail that ran alongside the Brandywine River back in Downsingtown, Pennsylvania. I walked a few miles, and once again found that each step was a little recharge, each breath of 'real' air was another little boost to my system. It was terribly beautiful. A lot of people used this trail to run, or walk, or with their dogs, but the further along I got, the more the people dwindled, and the more I felt myself unfold and unwind. I guess I really do need this time to myself. Even when I am having a wonderful time, and every moment is happy and precious and good, I still need to have some time that belongs to me, that I own, a space where I can sit and there is only space around me... If I don't get it, then all the goodness I have felt before, it is like it is wasted... like my life and my experiences are sort of running out the bottom of a sieve, andmy time to myself, my time to reflect is when I can tip these things into a vase or a vessel of some sort. The longer it goes without these moments, the more I lose. But I am learning how to get this space without having to actually be alone... to construct a little world to temporarily retreat into... I think I am learning to be a lot less high maintenance. It is a skill I desired for so long... a characteristic I really felt I wanted to acquire to be more of the person I wanted to be. I think I am learning it very quickly on this trip- to just let go, and make the most of the things you are given, not to need things in such particular ways, and to be able to make it work, to get what you need simply with the ingredients in the pantry, instead of using all your energy trying to get every single ingredient on the recipe...
Anyway, I diverge. So, I was walking along the Brandywine, and it really was lovely. Pennsylvania is very beautiful, in an elvish, fairy-land sort of way. You just want to sprinkle some fairy dust, sprout some wings and dance on the tree tops. I stopped along the way back, and crept down through the trees to the river itself... and I got down to my underwear and swam in the water. It was very special for me, as people who have known me would know, to be able to let go like that, and to just embrace the moment and worry not what someone might think if they walked down past me. The water was so crisp and fresh, and it felt like the hug I had been needing for weeks. I crawled out of the water, and dried off up in a tree as I wrote in my journal. Someone did come down as I wrote up there in my underwear. They turned around and went back pretty quick, but the moral of the story is, that I barely looked up from my page, and I certainly didn't extend any thought to the moment beyond that.
That was our last day with Kate and Jorg. We chatted more that night, but then the next morning, it was time to go! I already miss them so much. They were such special people, people who I am richer for having met and having known. Kate read aloud to Jorg a thankyou letter I had written to them both. She got to the part in which I said "you opened your home to us despite the fact you didn't know usin the slightest"- she turned to me and said "There is no such thing as people we don't know". What a perfect way of looking at the world! What a wonderful thing to feel about people, and about yourself, and what a perfect way to sum up the overall lesson I gained from my time in their home.
Back in New York we were to finish the American leg of our trip. We went back to the Lower Easr Side, East Village, Greenwich Village- all my favourite areas in New York, all the parts that define and represent New York for me, and all the parts that make me feel really good about that place. We ate lunch in Washington Park, where the uni students come for lunch, and where little quartets or trios had scattered themselves like diamonds about the place, playing jazz or tap dancing or beating their drums. It was wonderful, in a totally non-wanky or pretentious way! just really honest and genuine and free. We walked around Union Square and I bought myself a little etching from one of the artists at his stall.
We went to the movies that night. Brooke saw My Sister's Keeper, and I had the ULTIMATE New York experience as I sat in a tiny little theatre in the stomach of massive 25 cinema complex and watched Larry David limp around streets I had just wondered, lamenting the frailty of life and the redundancy of living in Woody Allen's latest movie 'Whatever Works'. It was SO good, exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed. The film talks about accepting the fact that life is hard, and people need to find whatever they can to make it through, and it is up to each person to accept and to embrace the choices made by the people in their lives, because we love them, and we want them to be happy and we need to love them for finding nuggets of joy and satisfaction in this world... well, that's what it spoke about for me, and it made me feel a lot better about myself and own choices, as I realised that I don't need to try to adhere to some kind of external measure of the 'right' way to be happy... and it also really helped me in terms of travelling with Brooke. We are so different, and have SUCH a drastically different approach to life and happiness and being comfortable and satisfied, and while I try my hardest to accept and embrace her choices and decisions and attitudes, it has been quite difficult for me grappling with the sheer immensity of difference that exists between our mindsets... and such a film sort of helped me come to better terms with it. I think. I hope!
The next day we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. the board said it was $20 for a single admission, followed by 'recommended, access to all special exhibitions'. We weren't about to let such a mysterious message go unexplored, and when we asked about it, we found out that at this museum, you can pay whatever amount you like, as long as you pay something, but they ofcourse recommend that you each person pay $20. We paid $5 each.
The museum was wonderful. There was so much there. It was really special to share the art with Brooke, to talk about it with her, to discuss our ideas about it... this has always been something we avoided talking about, because we think so differently about it, but we shared it on this day, and it meant a lot to me to be able to. I learnt a lot also, my mind was opened up to new ideas and new approaches. It was great. And I got to see two Jackson Pollocks!!!! Jackson Pollock has always been one of my favourite, FAVOURITE artists, and seeing his work, right there, in all it's glory, I felt everything that made me love him in the first place, and more. When I look at a Pollock, I feel connected to him. I feel like there is someone out there in the world, or there was someone, who has reached out tentacles, right from their soul, that have wound and spiraled all through the world, and through time, and have reached me, and pierced my chest right through to my own soul, and there they have laced themselves and they'll link us forever. It's just a moment in time, when I feel like someone can really see me, and I can see them, and for one second, everything is perfect, and I am safe and warm and at home. So, that was pretty special for me.
That night I ate a whole tub of icecream, and it kicked arse.
The next day was kind of a dud. As much as I enjoyed America and New York and as much as I'd seen and learned and experienced... I was ready to move on! I was ready for Holland, for Europe, for another world. I think by that point, I had gotten all I could get from America at this point in my life.
We just kind of meandered about waiting for time to whittle itself away and carry us toward our new home.
We caught the subway the next day all the way to JFK airport. As we sat with our bags tucked between our legs watching America creep by our eyes for the last time, a man across the aisle sleepily dragged a lighter from his pocket and put a flame to the end of the previously unlit cigarette that had been drooping from his lips and filled the carriage with death-vapour along with a sea of outraged and disapproving faces. No one said anything, we all just looked at eachother, completely dumbfounded, as this man sat there, and started to fall asleep with this lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. ON A SUBWAY! I couldn't believe that no one in New York City told this man to snuff it... I so wished I was the kind of person who could do that... but I wasn't, and I'm not! Eventually a guard sorted it out, but it was bizarre... only in America.
American Airlines serves revolting food, and doesn't serve it well. Put that in your pocket-books to remember for the future!
Then, about two days ago, we arrived here in Holland! We arrived at about 10.30, and once we'd weaved our way through the various checkpoints, we emerged to see my lovely second cousin (or something along those lines...) beaming behind the bars, with a 'Welcome' balloon and two white shirts draped over the railing, one reading "Madeline Welcome in Holland", and the other "Brooke Welcome in Holland", and I knew I was home! Astrid, Malou's mother and my... great Aunt maybe!... she drove us to their home, which has now become our home also! Myrthe is Malou's older sister, about six months older than me. I was sleeping when she got home... clearly I'm making a wonderful impression on my new found family! Hopefully it is not an omen for what I will be in her life this whole time... a distant sleeping mirage of a person! But they are all so lovely and welcoming and kind. I have been a little bit stressed and scared... maybe terrified even fits during those moments when I was really sleep-deprived! I have been so terrified that they don't like me, and that they won't like me. I want SO badly to fit in here, to be a part of this world and these people who I love on a level that I can't really explain. They are my family, and it means a lot to me to have their approval, to have them think well of me. But me being stressed won't help the cause, that is for sure! So I am trying to let go a little bit, to airate my exterior a little, and let some fresh air in so I can breathe, and so I can relax and be myself. If I wind myself too tight... I'll end up flinging myself somewhere where I can't bring myself back down again. I was so comfortable with Kate and Jorg in their home because I was able to simply accept that I am who I am, and I don't need to 'perform' or fulfill certain criteria... but it's harder now, as I feel like I do need to achieve something specific... I'll work it out.
We slept all day yesterday, and today we rode the pushbikes through the rain to the Media Museum and had all sorts of wonderful fun recording news broadcasts in Dutch and taking photos with our faces replacing those of famous Dutch people I had never seen. It was a lot of fun fun fun... and then I rode through the streets for a little while, being pounded by the rain, feeling incredibly Dutch and comfortable...
So, that's where I'm at... I think I'll have a lot to tell soon about Holland and my time here... so I'll write when I can!!
Thanks for reading!
Mad.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
"I saddled up my pony right, and rode into the ghostly night..."
I wish it were easier to come up with good first lines for these things... it always throws me when I can't open well...
Anyway, here's what we've been up to since I wrote last- if I can remember it all.
We woke up the morning after my last post, and off we went to see the Statue of Liberty. Being our stingy back-packing selves, we opted out of the ferry ride to Liberty Island itself, in favour of a gratis trip past the statue over to Staten Island. I've never really been into this whole site-seeing thing... so it was enough for me to cruise on by and look at her, and not have to fork out my hard-earned cash to grovel at her feet. It was kind of cool really... to see this icon, this symbol of... well, I won't go on about the symbolism of it, as it really means little to me personally, but anyway, I was kind of chuffed to be seeing it with my own eyes, in the 'flesh'. So, we just floated past her, and then floated back- New York creeping off into the distance and then edging it's way back around us. Then we dawdled off to Ground Zero, which was somewhat of a non-event. There really isn't anything there except construction workers reconstructing, and a lot of detours and redirected traffic... Part of me was expecting there to be some sort of energy or overwhelming vibe there, because people are so SO passionate and emotional and opinionated about 9/11 over here, but, well, the fact of the matter is that there wasn't- not that I was feeling anyway. Then we were going to head off to the Empire State Building, but Brooke was distracted by Century 21, a MASSIVE department store that sells discounted name-brands... and there went those plans! She had a ball, picking and scraping through the logos and symbols and titles that represent quality, or status, or success, or whatever and handing over less money for them than would be asked for somewhere else. I have never been in a world quite like that place. Already we're in New York, where personal space is some kind of alien concept, a foreign language that they don't understand, but now we're also in a bargain hothouse, and I don't even know how to describe what they're like in there! I felt like I was packed in a sack of potatoes, that was then being vacuum sealed shut. I swear, people actually elbowed me and pushed me out of their way to get to their cheap Chanel sunglasses.
Needless to say, I waited for Brooke outside!
After that experience, I was ready to head back home for an early night... I think we got pizza that night actually- our first taste of New York pizza. Mum's is 20 million times nicer, and far more impressive.
Next day we were off to the Empire State Building. We've spent so much time waiting in lines, and waiting for buses, and waiting on planes, that I have no sense of the length of it anymore, but the lines at that place were epic, and it probably took about two hours to get to the top. Once we were up there, well, it was a little underwhelming in terms of impact, and pretty overwhelming in terms of sheer numbers of people, and the revolting lack of space to even breathe out. This tourist thing really doesn't work for me... I try to get into it, because I feel almost like I should be into it. I feel I should be impressed with these things, because there is so much hype, and so much talk surrounding them- surely there must be a reason for it, right? I mean, if I'm not feeling it, I must be missing something...? But, with the sites, I just feel like I've ticked something off a rather shallow list, and achieved little else aside from that. I suppose that is essentially what it is about, but I guess that's just not enough for me- it's not satisfying, and it's not why I'm travelling, and it certainly is not what travelling is about for me and for my life. I feel kind of gross and squirmy when I'm there in the tourist crowds... there's this little pretentious and condescending voice inside me just screaming and wailing "it's meant to be deeper than this!"
But, there is also a part of me, the part of me that is slowly whittling away at the pedestal which the snobby side of me lounges around on, that still does find it that little bit neat just to be able to say "yep, I've seen that", even if it didn't change my life.
That's one thing I'm learning- there doesn't always have to be lightning and fireworks and deep soul-wrenching upheaval for something to be worthwhile. Sometimes we just have fun because it's fun, and it makes us smile. Ofcourse I knew that before, but I have always had a tendency to get up on my high horse and look down on things for not being 'meaningful' enough... what a bore... yawn Madeline, yawn...
Anyway. So, after the Empire State Building, which despite everything I just said, was slightly lame, we trotted off to the Guggenheim Museum.
Well, we tried to go to MoMA first, but when we arrived, we were informed that it was Tuesday (days of the week become obsolete when you're travelling... I haven't known what day it is for the past two weeks I'd say...), and that the gallery closes on a Tuesday- so we moved on to my old pal Frank. I've waited to get to the Guggenheim for years now, I really love and admire Frank Lloyd Wright, and I've always been really inspired and moved by his ideas, and his work and his artistic vision. All his ideas about nature and the way humans relate and interact with it, and depend upon it for emotional and creative nourishment... blah blah blah, I just love him. And it was really special for me to be in that space. I felt all the things I expected to feel, there was a serenity, a peace and a symmetry in there- everything felt balanced, I felt balanced. And I felt inspired. And there just so happened to be a special commemorative exhibition about Frank Lloyd Wright, so I was flooded with him! It is a special place I think, a place that sort of filled up my tank a little, like now I had the fuel to get out and make something. I felt creatively recharged.
The next day we went down to Chinatown and Little Italy. By this time, I was totally and completely drained. We moved hostels that morning, further uptown, right in the very centre of Harlem... I hadn't been sleeping very well, and the fact is, that I was not made to go and go and go and go all day every day without any time to gather myself and rebuild the chipped and broken pieces... so, I was a bit of a zombie that day, and having people stepping on my toes, following me around their cramped and crowded stores pestering me in broken and shouted english to buy their crappy New York mugs didn't exactly bring me back to life. I was a pain in the butt, and Brooke is a hero to have put up with me.
Sometime around this day- it may have been the day before- I got a message from Mum about the full moon in Capricorn, and how she had told it to say hello to me when it reached New York. That night, I looked up into the sky, and there was no moon to be seen. I craned my neck, and I walked around blocks and I navigated my view around various skyscrapers... but I was suffering lunar deprevation... and the more I couldn't find it, the more the smog and light pollution of that city hid it from me, the more fragile I became until I was a sobbing heap in the middle of the street in Harlem, with my poor, dear friend desperately trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, as I spluttered and stuttered and carried on like a jerk. Anyway, that pretty much sums up my emotional state at that point in time... I was a little drained I guess!
So, that night, I was all ready to curl up in bed at our new hostel. A moment is needed now to describe this new hostel, which was shockingly cheap, as we paid a dollar less for two nights than we had for one in Wyoming... The bathroom was one health inspection away from having that building incinerated. We were in a 14 bed dorm, on a floor with 2 other 14 bed dorms, all sharing this one bathroom. Apparantly everyone who stays in that hostel is prematurely balding, because stepping into that bathroom, you were wading through an inch of hair-thickened, not unlikely disease ridden water that felt like it was seeping into your skin and rotting you from the inside... man was it filthy in there. I've never had a shower and felt like I would have been cleaner had I rolled around in the gutter- until I stayed there. Anyway, I'm raving, and exaggerating. It was pretty gross, but I guess it could have been worse!
The story I am trying to tell has nothing to do with bathrooms! So, I was pretty broken and tired, and ready to stay in bed for a month and never see New York again. But, as has happened a lot on this journey, just when I needed something, it up and offered itself. There was a woman in the bed at my feet who, as I've found an awful lot of Americans to be, was incredibly open and friendly and excited to share herself and her words with us, got to talking, and we had a whole night of conversation ahead of us. Another girl on top of our American friend joined in too, and turned out to be a fellow Australian, which was really nice. So, we talked with them for quite a few hours- well, listened mostly. Something I'm enjoying so very, very much is how open and truthful and honest people are. I love how readily people will open up their hearts and share them with other people, just for the sake of it, just for that feeling of satisfaction and completeness you get from connecting with another human being. I've always had so many walls, and I'm just loving meeting people who don't have any- or maybe they just don't put so much energy into holding their walls up, and they let them lower and bend when it's right and when it's good. I'm also really enjoying the discovery that my walls aren't as inpenetrable as I once thought, and that actually, I've smashed them pretty close to ground level, which is something I never thought I could achieve.
So, Steph and 'Queen Ebony' as she identified herself opened up a lot, and shared a lot, and I learned a lot, and I felt kind of 'saved'. I felt like this was what I set out to find, and to 'achieve', and that this was what travel was for me, seeing things and meeting people and hearing things and being exposed to ideas and experiences that wouldn't be open to me in my own little shell. I went to sleep that night feeling very satisfied and at peace with myself and what I was making of this adventure.
Next day we had a little time to ourselves. I cruised Greenwich Village, which was ultra cool, and was more of the New York I was expecting and looking for. Then we ate some ridiculously overpriced, but even more ridiculously good food. Then we went off to Grand Central Station to meet up with Mel and Ned- Mum's friend's niece and her boyfriend. Somewhat of a loose connection, that turned out so perfectly. I forgot to take my phone with me, and as this was a 'blind friend date', no one knew what anyone else looked like. Brooke borrowed a pen from a bearded man doing a crossword, and wrote 'Melanie' on a train schedule, and I stood for 15 minutes with our makeshift sign in front of my face hoping to heck they'd find us eventually and we wouldn't have to slink back home with our tails between our legs. We actually had one woman approach us, who was meeting a Melanie, and thought maybe her friend had sent us in her place... what were the chances? Anyway, they turned up, and found us, and then they took us out for a really wonderful night. They were awfully friendly, and all too happy to share their infinite knowledge about New York. They showed us the Lower East Side, which really is just my perfect definition of New York, and it convinced us that we had to rethink our plans, and come back to do New York properly before we leave the States. We went out to dinner in Little Italy, and then found the only bar in the area that would let us in without ID. It was called 'Lucy's', and what made my little heart sing was that 'Lucy' actually owned the place, served us our drinks, and as the evening progressed she came over to our table, bought us a pitcher of beer and as she handed it over told us we were to "drink it very slowly, don't you get too drunk".
Anyway, they were really lovely people, and I'm STILL amazed at just how accepting people are, and how readily they embrace you and make you feel at home. Ned's friend also joined us, and had many a story to tell...
We zipped up the road and bought New York pizza at 1 A.M, and I felt very cool... ha ha ha. Then we caught an epically expensive taxi home, and I slept terribly.
The next morning, it was time to head out of New York, and come on down to Pennsylvania. We packed our bags, and lugged them on three different subways down to Chinatown, where our bus was leaving from.
It was THE most bizzare setup I could have imagined for a bus station- straight out of a film. We had the address for where the bus was leaving from, and as we walked down Pike Street, past number 1, past number 2, looking for number 3, two Chinese women sitting on milk crates looked up at us and started yelling "Where you going!?!?!" We told them, showed them our tickets: "You come back 2 o'clock". So we did... and as we waited, more and more people came by, and the same thing... and as the people gathered with their bags and their tickets, the women asked everyone who walked by "Where you going!?!?" and sold tickets to those who needed them... then the bus came, and the women screamed out the destination for a while, opened up the luggage compartments for our bags, and we were off to Philidelphia... what the hell was that... man was it bizzare.
So, here in Pennsylvania, we are staying with the sister of Brooke's neighbour and her husband. I can't even begin to describe how happy I am here! It's so beautiful out here. I really needed to get out of the city, and to breathe a little bit. The trees are glorious, the air is so fresh and clean and real. The houses are so adorable, I could eat them up like little cookies... people are so friendly, they don't push you or knock you and don't always look at you like you're in their way or holding them back. I enjoyed New York a great deal, but it sort of sucks the life out of you to be somewhere that impersonal and that fast-paced too long. Kate and Jorge are so very, very lovely. They are characters, that is for sure. Both have had pretty full lives, and are more than willing to share their stories and their opinions. They've opened their home to us like I can't believe. It is so strange to be in a home, an actual home... and OH MY GOD we have OUR OWN BEDROOMS! I actually have my own space, where I can be BY MYSELF- something I was beginning to feel I would never experience again! Kate is quite the host, she's looking after us almost too well.
But we don't get off scott-free! Oh no. She's holding a party here tomorrow night- a New-England Clam Bake, and we have our duties for the party well set out. We've already carved a whale out of a watermelon to hold the vodka-soaked fruit salad. His name is Davo, and he's my pride and joy at the moment- that whale kicks some serious butt. Tomorrow we're making bibs for everyone to wear as they eat their lobster and whatever other seafood they're cooking...
Anyway, it's wonderful here. It's wonderful to have someone tell us where to go and what to see for just a little while- not to be expected to know it all on our own. You miss a lot that way.
They took us to the theatre today, and we watched a play, which was really a lot of fun, and a nice change of pace from aimlessly walking around city streets. We've had many a conversation now with many an 'aged' person, and I'm loving it.
What I love even more is how comfortable and at ease I feel. I feel like I'm sitting at home with my family, and I love that I've reached a point in my life where I am comfortable enough with myself and with who I am, that I can be comfortable around other people. It makes for a much more meaningful and satisfying experience, and I can just embrace anything. It really opens the world up to you, when you're not always worrying about what someone is, or might be thinking about you. I've had so much fun, and been so happy and so much of that would not have been possible for me only a few months ago, because I would have been so wrapped up in worrying about doing things 'right' or being 'right'... and it's just such a waste of time and energy. Maybe that doesn't make sense in words, but I know what I'm saying in my heart, and I know it's good!
So, that is where I'm at now... We're here for about 5 more days, and then, we've revised our plans so that instead of staying in Boston and New Jersey for the remainder of our U.S. leg, we are going back to New York. We feel like we didn't have the knowledge, or I guess, the hindsight to do it properly, and to finish it satisfactorily, so we're having a break, and going back with the right ammunition to really make the most of it, and do it right. Then we're off to Holland, which I am pretty ultra-psyched for.
As maybe you can tell, it's pretty late right now, and I am kind of tired, and I don't edit these things before I post them- I just write and click. So, it is what it is... there you go.
I'm working on getting some photos up while I'm here- wish me luck!!
Thanks for reading...
Mad.
Anyway, here's what we've been up to since I wrote last- if I can remember it all.
We woke up the morning after my last post, and off we went to see the Statue of Liberty. Being our stingy back-packing selves, we opted out of the ferry ride to Liberty Island itself, in favour of a gratis trip past the statue over to Staten Island. I've never really been into this whole site-seeing thing... so it was enough for me to cruise on by and look at her, and not have to fork out my hard-earned cash to grovel at her feet. It was kind of cool really... to see this icon, this symbol of... well, I won't go on about the symbolism of it, as it really means little to me personally, but anyway, I was kind of chuffed to be seeing it with my own eyes, in the 'flesh'. So, we just floated past her, and then floated back- New York creeping off into the distance and then edging it's way back around us. Then we dawdled off to Ground Zero, which was somewhat of a non-event. There really isn't anything there except construction workers reconstructing, and a lot of detours and redirected traffic... Part of me was expecting there to be some sort of energy or overwhelming vibe there, because people are so SO passionate and emotional and opinionated about 9/11 over here, but, well, the fact of the matter is that there wasn't- not that I was feeling anyway. Then we were going to head off to the Empire State Building, but Brooke was distracted by Century 21, a MASSIVE department store that sells discounted name-brands... and there went those plans! She had a ball, picking and scraping through the logos and symbols and titles that represent quality, or status, or success, or whatever and handing over less money for them than would be asked for somewhere else. I have never been in a world quite like that place. Already we're in New York, where personal space is some kind of alien concept, a foreign language that they don't understand, but now we're also in a bargain hothouse, and I don't even know how to describe what they're like in there! I felt like I was packed in a sack of potatoes, that was then being vacuum sealed shut. I swear, people actually elbowed me and pushed me out of their way to get to their cheap Chanel sunglasses.
Needless to say, I waited for Brooke outside!
After that experience, I was ready to head back home for an early night... I think we got pizza that night actually- our first taste of New York pizza. Mum's is 20 million times nicer, and far more impressive.
Next day we were off to the Empire State Building. We've spent so much time waiting in lines, and waiting for buses, and waiting on planes, that I have no sense of the length of it anymore, but the lines at that place were epic, and it probably took about two hours to get to the top. Once we were up there, well, it was a little underwhelming in terms of impact, and pretty overwhelming in terms of sheer numbers of people, and the revolting lack of space to even breathe out. This tourist thing really doesn't work for me... I try to get into it, because I feel almost like I should be into it. I feel I should be impressed with these things, because there is so much hype, and so much talk surrounding them- surely there must be a reason for it, right? I mean, if I'm not feeling it, I must be missing something...? But, with the sites, I just feel like I've ticked something off a rather shallow list, and achieved little else aside from that. I suppose that is essentially what it is about, but I guess that's just not enough for me- it's not satisfying, and it's not why I'm travelling, and it certainly is not what travelling is about for me and for my life. I feel kind of gross and squirmy when I'm there in the tourist crowds... there's this little pretentious and condescending voice inside me just screaming and wailing "it's meant to be deeper than this!"
But, there is also a part of me, the part of me that is slowly whittling away at the pedestal which the snobby side of me lounges around on, that still does find it that little bit neat just to be able to say "yep, I've seen that", even if it didn't change my life.
That's one thing I'm learning- there doesn't always have to be lightning and fireworks and deep soul-wrenching upheaval for something to be worthwhile. Sometimes we just have fun because it's fun, and it makes us smile. Ofcourse I knew that before, but I have always had a tendency to get up on my high horse and look down on things for not being 'meaningful' enough... what a bore... yawn Madeline, yawn...
Anyway. So, after the Empire State Building, which despite everything I just said, was slightly lame, we trotted off to the Guggenheim Museum.
Well, we tried to go to MoMA first, but when we arrived, we were informed that it was Tuesday (days of the week become obsolete when you're travelling... I haven't known what day it is for the past two weeks I'd say...), and that the gallery closes on a Tuesday- so we moved on to my old pal Frank. I've waited to get to the Guggenheim for years now, I really love and admire Frank Lloyd Wright, and I've always been really inspired and moved by his ideas, and his work and his artistic vision. All his ideas about nature and the way humans relate and interact with it, and depend upon it for emotional and creative nourishment... blah blah blah, I just love him. And it was really special for me to be in that space. I felt all the things I expected to feel, there was a serenity, a peace and a symmetry in there- everything felt balanced, I felt balanced. And I felt inspired. And there just so happened to be a special commemorative exhibition about Frank Lloyd Wright, so I was flooded with him! It is a special place I think, a place that sort of filled up my tank a little, like now I had the fuel to get out and make something. I felt creatively recharged.
The next day we went down to Chinatown and Little Italy. By this time, I was totally and completely drained. We moved hostels that morning, further uptown, right in the very centre of Harlem... I hadn't been sleeping very well, and the fact is, that I was not made to go and go and go and go all day every day without any time to gather myself and rebuild the chipped and broken pieces... so, I was a bit of a zombie that day, and having people stepping on my toes, following me around their cramped and crowded stores pestering me in broken and shouted english to buy their crappy New York mugs didn't exactly bring me back to life. I was a pain in the butt, and Brooke is a hero to have put up with me.
Sometime around this day- it may have been the day before- I got a message from Mum about the full moon in Capricorn, and how she had told it to say hello to me when it reached New York. That night, I looked up into the sky, and there was no moon to be seen. I craned my neck, and I walked around blocks and I navigated my view around various skyscrapers... but I was suffering lunar deprevation... and the more I couldn't find it, the more the smog and light pollution of that city hid it from me, the more fragile I became until I was a sobbing heap in the middle of the street in Harlem, with my poor, dear friend desperately trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, as I spluttered and stuttered and carried on like a jerk. Anyway, that pretty much sums up my emotional state at that point in time... I was a little drained I guess!
So, that night, I was all ready to curl up in bed at our new hostel. A moment is needed now to describe this new hostel, which was shockingly cheap, as we paid a dollar less for two nights than we had for one in Wyoming... The bathroom was one health inspection away from having that building incinerated. We were in a 14 bed dorm, on a floor with 2 other 14 bed dorms, all sharing this one bathroom. Apparantly everyone who stays in that hostel is prematurely balding, because stepping into that bathroom, you were wading through an inch of hair-thickened, not unlikely disease ridden water that felt like it was seeping into your skin and rotting you from the inside... man was it filthy in there. I've never had a shower and felt like I would have been cleaner had I rolled around in the gutter- until I stayed there. Anyway, I'm raving, and exaggerating. It was pretty gross, but I guess it could have been worse!
The story I am trying to tell has nothing to do with bathrooms! So, I was pretty broken and tired, and ready to stay in bed for a month and never see New York again. But, as has happened a lot on this journey, just when I needed something, it up and offered itself. There was a woman in the bed at my feet who, as I've found an awful lot of Americans to be, was incredibly open and friendly and excited to share herself and her words with us, got to talking, and we had a whole night of conversation ahead of us. Another girl on top of our American friend joined in too, and turned out to be a fellow Australian, which was really nice. So, we talked with them for quite a few hours- well, listened mostly. Something I'm enjoying so very, very much is how open and truthful and honest people are. I love how readily people will open up their hearts and share them with other people, just for the sake of it, just for that feeling of satisfaction and completeness you get from connecting with another human being. I've always had so many walls, and I'm just loving meeting people who don't have any- or maybe they just don't put so much energy into holding their walls up, and they let them lower and bend when it's right and when it's good. I'm also really enjoying the discovery that my walls aren't as inpenetrable as I once thought, and that actually, I've smashed them pretty close to ground level, which is something I never thought I could achieve.
So, Steph and 'Queen Ebony' as she identified herself opened up a lot, and shared a lot, and I learned a lot, and I felt kind of 'saved'. I felt like this was what I set out to find, and to 'achieve', and that this was what travel was for me, seeing things and meeting people and hearing things and being exposed to ideas and experiences that wouldn't be open to me in my own little shell. I went to sleep that night feeling very satisfied and at peace with myself and what I was making of this adventure.
Next day we had a little time to ourselves. I cruised Greenwich Village, which was ultra cool, and was more of the New York I was expecting and looking for. Then we ate some ridiculously overpriced, but even more ridiculously good food. Then we went off to Grand Central Station to meet up with Mel and Ned- Mum's friend's niece and her boyfriend. Somewhat of a loose connection, that turned out so perfectly. I forgot to take my phone with me, and as this was a 'blind friend date', no one knew what anyone else looked like. Brooke borrowed a pen from a bearded man doing a crossword, and wrote 'Melanie' on a train schedule, and I stood for 15 minutes with our makeshift sign in front of my face hoping to heck they'd find us eventually and we wouldn't have to slink back home with our tails between our legs. We actually had one woman approach us, who was meeting a Melanie, and thought maybe her friend had sent us in her place... what were the chances? Anyway, they turned up, and found us, and then they took us out for a really wonderful night. They were awfully friendly, and all too happy to share their infinite knowledge about New York. They showed us the Lower East Side, which really is just my perfect definition of New York, and it convinced us that we had to rethink our plans, and come back to do New York properly before we leave the States. We went out to dinner in Little Italy, and then found the only bar in the area that would let us in without ID. It was called 'Lucy's', and what made my little heart sing was that 'Lucy' actually owned the place, served us our drinks, and as the evening progressed she came over to our table, bought us a pitcher of beer and as she handed it over told us we were to "drink it very slowly, don't you get too drunk".
Anyway, they were really lovely people, and I'm STILL amazed at just how accepting people are, and how readily they embrace you and make you feel at home. Ned's friend also joined us, and had many a story to tell...
We zipped up the road and bought New York pizza at 1 A.M, and I felt very cool... ha ha ha. Then we caught an epically expensive taxi home, and I slept terribly.
The next morning, it was time to head out of New York, and come on down to Pennsylvania. We packed our bags, and lugged them on three different subways down to Chinatown, where our bus was leaving from.
It was THE most bizzare setup I could have imagined for a bus station- straight out of a film. We had the address for where the bus was leaving from, and as we walked down Pike Street, past number 1, past number 2, looking for number 3, two Chinese women sitting on milk crates looked up at us and started yelling "Where you going!?!?!" We told them, showed them our tickets: "You come back 2 o'clock". So we did... and as we waited, more and more people came by, and the same thing... and as the people gathered with their bags and their tickets, the women asked everyone who walked by "Where you going!?!?" and sold tickets to those who needed them... then the bus came, and the women screamed out the destination for a while, opened up the luggage compartments for our bags, and we were off to Philidelphia... what the hell was that... man was it bizzare.
So, here in Pennsylvania, we are staying with the sister of Brooke's neighbour and her husband. I can't even begin to describe how happy I am here! It's so beautiful out here. I really needed to get out of the city, and to breathe a little bit. The trees are glorious, the air is so fresh and clean and real. The houses are so adorable, I could eat them up like little cookies... people are so friendly, they don't push you or knock you and don't always look at you like you're in their way or holding them back. I enjoyed New York a great deal, but it sort of sucks the life out of you to be somewhere that impersonal and that fast-paced too long. Kate and Jorge are so very, very lovely. They are characters, that is for sure. Both have had pretty full lives, and are more than willing to share their stories and their opinions. They've opened their home to us like I can't believe. It is so strange to be in a home, an actual home... and OH MY GOD we have OUR OWN BEDROOMS! I actually have my own space, where I can be BY MYSELF- something I was beginning to feel I would never experience again! Kate is quite the host, she's looking after us almost too well.
But we don't get off scott-free! Oh no. She's holding a party here tomorrow night- a New-England Clam Bake, and we have our duties for the party well set out. We've already carved a whale out of a watermelon to hold the vodka-soaked fruit salad. His name is Davo, and he's my pride and joy at the moment- that whale kicks some serious butt. Tomorrow we're making bibs for everyone to wear as they eat their lobster and whatever other seafood they're cooking...
Anyway, it's wonderful here. It's wonderful to have someone tell us where to go and what to see for just a little while- not to be expected to know it all on our own. You miss a lot that way.
They took us to the theatre today, and we watched a play, which was really a lot of fun, and a nice change of pace from aimlessly walking around city streets. We've had many a conversation now with many an 'aged' person, and I'm loving it.
What I love even more is how comfortable and at ease I feel. I feel like I'm sitting at home with my family, and I love that I've reached a point in my life where I am comfortable enough with myself and with who I am, that I can be comfortable around other people. It makes for a much more meaningful and satisfying experience, and I can just embrace anything. It really opens the world up to you, when you're not always worrying about what someone is, or might be thinking about you. I've had so much fun, and been so happy and so much of that would not have been possible for me only a few months ago, because I would have been so wrapped up in worrying about doing things 'right' or being 'right'... and it's just such a waste of time and energy. Maybe that doesn't make sense in words, but I know what I'm saying in my heart, and I know it's good!
So, that is where I'm at now... We're here for about 5 more days, and then, we've revised our plans so that instead of staying in Boston and New Jersey for the remainder of our U.S. leg, we are going back to New York. We feel like we didn't have the knowledge, or I guess, the hindsight to do it properly, and to finish it satisfactorily, so we're having a break, and going back with the right ammunition to really make the most of it, and do it right. Then we're off to Holland, which I am pretty ultra-psyched for.
As maybe you can tell, it's pretty late right now, and I am kind of tired, and I don't edit these things before I post them- I just write and click. So, it is what it is... there you go.
I'm working on getting some photos up while I'm here- wish me luck!!
Thanks for reading...
Mad.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
"Fingertips and Mountaintops..."
Well, it's been a while since my last post... and the past days have seen the mountains, hills and prairies of Wyoming morph into skyscrapers, fire-escapes and masses of street-side garbage in New York. Right now I am sitting in an all female hostel in Harlem, where the workers live and share their space and time with the people who come to stay.
After my last post, Brooke and I weren't yet done with our hiking, and we walked for five hours in amongst the forest and canyons and waterfalls and raging rivers of the Grand Teton National Park. It was pretty special, which remains true of all of Wyoming, which is a place I will carry in my heart forever.
The day we left, I was ready to move on and see new things, but felt as though I was leaving behind a dear friend, or part of my family- it's becoming a habit for me lately, leaving behind things I love maybe a little too much...
We were heading out of Wyoming half-way through Thursday. We forgot to tip the shuttle driver, and he wasn't very happy with us. This tipping thing is something I'll never get a handle on, or feel comfortable with. As a rule of thumb, I just avoid anything that relies on the service of another human being, and then tips can be forgotten!
The plane we flew out of Jackson on was small enough to fit in a kid's toy-chest and drove right through the heart of a storm. We were thrown around like we were in a washing machine, only we came out feeling like dirty laundry rather than clean...
We had to transfer at Denver, but the bad weather that had just beaten us up wasn't finished messing with our day, and our flight to New York was delayed by about two hours. So in Denver we sat... and waited... we met some nice folks who were heading home, and proved to be like pretty much all Americans we've encountered and all too happy and excited to share stories, advice, guidance and ideas about their country.
I dropped the ball quite severely on the plane ride over to New York. I suddenly felt the size of the world I was moving about it, and wished for somewhere safe and warm I could crawl down into and soothe my over-stimulated mind. I felt like I was thrown into the middle of an ocean, with nothing around me to hold onto and keep my head up... so my only option was to tread water... but damn were my arms and legs tired.
Anyway, Bee saved us, she stepped up to the plate in epic proportions, and if she hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. I was this meek little shell of a person, and when we arrived in New York, already ten minutes after check-out closed for the night in our hostel, I was absolutely NO help, in any regard. She organised us a shuttle, which we nearly missed because our bags were not coming through the claim area, and we made yet another enemy in the public service sphere by not tipping the driver again- it's awfully hard to train your brain to habitually do something that you've never done before, never even thought about before. We ran around to locate an ATM because we had to pay the hostel in cash... and then we had to haul those bags us 7 flights of stairs, because, obviously, our room was on the top floor of a building with a lift that just didn't come when you pressed the button. Our three nights in that hostel saw our legs walk MANY a stair...
I woke the next morning ready for New York. I was going to do it, going to get out there and feel this place... but Bee was not quite so ready, as I had pretty successfully sucked all the life out of her the night before and left her with little to work with. We decided it best to ease into it, not rush ourselves... let New York grow on us, and seep into our skin, rather than try to cram it down our throats. We cruised around Times Square, the energy of which was pretty interesting. It feels exciting in the middle of the city, there is a lot of energy and movement, and you feel almost like there is this hot poker up your butt pushing you forward and forward and forward... like you can't stop moving or something will come up behind you and REALLY make you wish you hadn't. But even though your consumed with this energy and this drive, it makes you tired, makes you feel like your cells are... drooping.
We also checked out Central Park which was really interesting in that it feels like this little bubble floating above the city. You step in through the liquid walls and you're in another dimension. It really was like as soon as you step over the threshold, people are letting themselves breathe out, and not holding it all in their lungs anymore. Suddenly they can stop running, and let their bodies sigh and heave a little bit... it's really very nice in there, I loved the atmosphere.
That afternoon I lost it a little again, and felt like I was wasting my trip, wasting this opportunity, like I wasn't making everything I could out of it and constantly saturating myself with AMAZING sights and sounds and thoughts and events. I felt like I was letting myself down, like I could never be the kind of person who grabs the world by the throat and shakes everything out of it until they're completely satisfied, and completely whole.
I met a German man (Dan) and an Austrian woman (Manuella) in our dorm, and agreed to go out 'on the town' with them. So, we went. I felt pretty chuffed with myself, to be honest. I felt better, to be out, hitting the pubs in NEW YORK CITY. We got knocked back from one place, as we are underage in this country, but got into the next, and then the next, in which we went down into the basement and saw a live punk band. It was pretty cool... there is a real gritty, dense feel in the pubs. It feels very textured, like you could take a bite out of the air and chew it like toffee. I might not ever be the kind of person who feels the need to go out and pour grog down my throat and scream till my lungs hurt if I want anyone to hear me, but I felt good to have felt what it feels like to do that. I realised that night that I am the person that I am, but that does not mean I have to close myself off to everything that is not normally a factor in who that person is. I can feel content in myself, and in who I am, as long as I am open to everything, try things, let myself feel things that I maybe wouldn't have thought I wanted to feel beforehand, or that I was too scared to let myself feel beforehand. I feel like every single thing I see, hear, feel, touch, it may not all fill me with this other-wordly inspiration and wonder and sense of achievement, but I can feel it all adding layers to me. I can feel extra coats being brushed out over myself, new carpets being laid down... That's what counts I think. I think I need to stop expecting everything to be INCREDIBLE to be good, or to be worthwhile. Not everything has to turn my world upsidedown and inside out to be something that 'counts'.
Yesterday we woke incredibly late as a result of the night beforehand, and the day was pretty much over by the time we got out. We went down to Coney Island, which was pretty much a non-event. There was a Fourth of July festival there, so basically there were just a LOT of people, making RIDICULOUS amounts of mess, and a lot of muggy beach sun and air.
Then we went back uptown, and settled in for the night- on a closed off highway with MILLIONS of people who lined the road, the gutters, the sidewalk waiting for the Macy's Fourth of July fireworks. We waited I think around the four hour mark, and by the time they actually went off, there really were just millions of people gathered along this deserted highway by the river watching the lights in the sky. I could feel them like cannons firing in my legs, and I felt like I little girl lost in wonder at the fairy-dust exploding in the air.
After they finished, countless people turned on their heels, their joint motivation shifting from waiting, to getting the hell out of there. It was a pretty cool experience actually, as all these people joined as one, and I felt like I was a part of it, this organism that was totally united, and melting out into the streets of New York. Buses and cars and bikes were all stopped in their tracks as this entity decided it wouldn't be restricted to the sidewalk, and would instead take control of the roads.
The subway held more people than physics should have accepted, and I spent however long with my face pressed against other people's armpits and faces.
I slept like a log last night, nothing could shake me.
This morning we moved to the hostel I mentioned at the start, and we zipped over to Jersey to try and find some cheaper shopping. New York is all well and good for shopping if you have the extra cash for designer clothes and boutique dresses... but we're not really in that boat!
We had a bit of a cruise in the Upper West Side, Bleecker Street... and as Bee pointed out, you can very much tell what kind of area your in by looking at the cars that line the sidewalk, and my eyes saw a lot of Mercedez, and whatever other cars are fancy... I don't know.
But I really liked it in that area. It felt like the New York I expected. It felt richer... more pungent than Times Square and the places near there. It felt deeper and mustier... the kind of place where people could be inspired and creative and expressive. It made me want a cappucino so bad... oh how I miss cappucinos. Here they just drink brewed black coffee... anything else is super expensive, and lord knows what you're actually drinking if you get it, because the dairy situation over here is something out of this world. I think I got one proper coffee the day we landed in LA, and it was terrible, so I don't bother trying anymore, and if I need one, I just get their crappy-arse plunger coffee... can you tell it's getting on in the evening over here?
Anyway, tomorrow we're off to see the sites, the statue, Empire State Building, World Trade Center memorial... maybe we'll see the UN and City Hall, depends how much time we have. Staying in Harlem, we do kind of have to get back before dark...
So, that is all I have to report. As you can see, we haven't been up to anything much 'New Yorky' during our time in New York, but we've still got about a week here before we (hopefully) head down to stay with a woman Brooke knows in Pennsylvania. So, there's plenty of time!
I wanted to put some photos up today, but we can't do it at this hostel... maybe the next... we'll see.
Hope I wasn't too boring, or too detailed!
I miss everyone SO much. I've cried quite a few times now...
Sending lots of love, and lots of thoughts.
Mad.
After my last post, Brooke and I weren't yet done with our hiking, and we walked for five hours in amongst the forest and canyons and waterfalls and raging rivers of the Grand Teton National Park. It was pretty special, which remains true of all of Wyoming, which is a place I will carry in my heart forever.
The day we left, I was ready to move on and see new things, but felt as though I was leaving behind a dear friend, or part of my family- it's becoming a habit for me lately, leaving behind things I love maybe a little too much...
We were heading out of Wyoming half-way through Thursday. We forgot to tip the shuttle driver, and he wasn't very happy with us. This tipping thing is something I'll never get a handle on, or feel comfortable with. As a rule of thumb, I just avoid anything that relies on the service of another human being, and then tips can be forgotten!
The plane we flew out of Jackson on was small enough to fit in a kid's toy-chest and drove right through the heart of a storm. We were thrown around like we were in a washing machine, only we came out feeling like dirty laundry rather than clean...
We had to transfer at Denver, but the bad weather that had just beaten us up wasn't finished messing with our day, and our flight to New York was delayed by about two hours. So in Denver we sat... and waited... we met some nice folks who were heading home, and proved to be like pretty much all Americans we've encountered and all too happy and excited to share stories, advice, guidance and ideas about their country.
I dropped the ball quite severely on the plane ride over to New York. I suddenly felt the size of the world I was moving about it, and wished for somewhere safe and warm I could crawl down into and soothe my over-stimulated mind. I felt like I was thrown into the middle of an ocean, with nothing around me to hold onto and keep my head up... so my only option was to tread water... but damn were my arms and legs tired.
Anyway, Bee saved us, she stepped up to the plate in epic proportions, and if she hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. I was this meek little shell of a person, and when we arrived in New York, already ten minutes after check-out closed for the night in our hostel, I was absolutely NO help, in any regard. She organised us a shuttle, which we nearly missed because our bags were not coming through the claim area, and we made yet another enemy in the public service sphere by not tipping the driver again- it's awfully hard to train your brain to habitually do something that you've never done before, never even thought about before. We ran around to locate an ATM because we had to pay the hostel in cash... and then we had to haul those bags us 7 flights of stairs, because, obviously, our room was on the top floor of a building with a lift that just didn't come when you pressed the button. Our three nights in that hostel saw our legs walk MANY a stair...
I woke the next morning ready for New York. I was going to do it, going to get out there and feel this place... but Bee was not quite so ready, as I had pretty successfully sucked all the life out of her the night before and left her with little to work with. We decided it best to ease into it, not rush ourselves... let New York grow on us, and seep into our skin, rather than try to cram it down our throats. We cruised around Times Square, the energy of which was pretty interesting. It feels exciting in the middle of the city, there is a lot of energy and movement, and you feel almost like there is this hot poker up your butt pushing you forward and forward and forward... like you can't stop moving or something will come up behind you and REALLY make you wish you hadn't. But even though your consumed with this energy and this drive, it makes you tired, makes you feel like your cells are... drooping.
We also checked out Central Park which was really interesting in that it feels like this little bubble floating above the city. You step in through the liquid walls and you're in another dimension. It really was like as soon as you step over the threshold, people are letting themselves breathe out, and not holding it all in their lungs anymore. Suddenly they can stop running, and let their bodies sigh and heave a little bit... it's really very nice in there, I loved the atmosphere.
That afternoon I lost it a little again, and felt like I was wasting my trip, wasting this opportunity, like I wasn't making everything I could out of it and constantly saturating myself with AMAZING sights and sounds and thoughts and events. I felt like I was letting myself down, like I could never be the kind of person who grabs the world by the throat and shakes everything out of it until they're completely satisfied, and completely whole.
I met a German man (Dan) and an Austrian woman (Manuella) in our dorm, and agreed to go out 'on the town' with them. So, we went. I felt pretty chuffed with myself, to be honest. I felt better, to be out, hitting the pubs in NEW YORK CITY. We got knocked back from one place, as we are underage in this country, but got into the next, and then the next, in which we went down into the basement and saw a live punk band. It was pretty cool... there is a real gritty, dense feel in the pubs. It feels very textured, like you could take a bite out of the air and chew it like toffee. I might not ever be the kind of person who feels the need to go out and pour grog down my throat and scream till my lungs hurt if I want anyone to hear me, but I felt good to have felt what it feels like to do that. I realised that night that I am the person that I am, but that does not mean I have to close myself off to everything that is not normally a factor in who that person is. I can feel content in myself, and in who I am, as long as I am open to everything, try things, let myself feel things that I maybe wouldn't have thought I wanted to feel beforehand, or that I was too scared to let myself feel beforehand. I feel like every single thing I see, hear, feel, touch, it may not all fill me with this other-wordly inspiration and wonder and sense of achievement, but I can feel it all adding layers to me. I can feel extra coats being brushed out over myself, new carpets being laid down... That's what counts I think. I think I need to stop expecting everything to be INCREDIBLE to be good, or to be worthwhile. Not everything has to turn my world upsidedown and inside out to be something that 'counts'.
Yesterday we woke incredibly late as a result of the night beforehand, and the day was pretty much over by the time we got out. We went down to Coney Island, which was pretty much a non-event. There was a Fourth of July festival there, so basically there were just a LOT of people, making RIDICULOUS amounts of mess, and a lot of muggy beach sun and air.
Then we went back uptown, and settled in for the night- on a closed off highway with MILLIONS of people who lined the road, the gutters, the sidewalk waiting for the Macy's Fourth of July fireworks. We waited I think around the four hour mark, and by the time they actually went off, there really were just millions of people gathered along this deserted highway by the river watching the lights in the sky. I could feel them like cannons firing in my legs, and I felt like I little girl lost in wonder at the fairy-dust exploding in the air.
After they finished, countless people turned on their heels, their joint motivation shifting from waiting, to getting the hell out of there. It was a pretty cool experience actually, as all these people joined as one, and I felt like I was a part of it, this organism that was totally united, and melting out into the streets of New York. Buses and cars and bikes were all stopped in their tracks as this entity decided it wouldn't be restricted to the sidewalk, and would instead take control of the roads.
The subway held more people than physics should have accepted, and I spent however long with my face pressed against other people's armpits and faces.
I slept like a log last night, nothing could shake me.
This morning we moved to the hostel I mentioned at the start, and we zipped over to Jersey to try and find some cheaper shopping. New York is all well and good for shopping if you have the extra cash for designer clothes and boutique dresses... but we're not really in that boat!
We had a bit of a cruise in the Upper West Side, Bleecker Street... and as Bee pointed out, you can very much tell what kind of area your in by looking at the cars that line the sidewalk, and my eyes saw a lot of Mercedez, and whatever other cars are fancy... I don't know.
But I really liked it in that area. It felt like the New York I expected. It felt richer... more pungent than Times Square and the places near there. It felt deeper and mustier... the kind of place where people could be inspired and creative and expressive. It made me want a cappucino so bad... oh how I miss cappucinos. Here they just drink brewed black coffee... anything else is super expensive, and lord knows what you're actually drinking if you get it, because the dairy situation over here is something out of this world. I think I got one proper coffee the day we landed in LA, and it was terrible, so I don't bother trying anymore, and if I need one, I just get their crappy-arse plunger coffee... can you tell it's getting on in the evening over here?
Anyway, tomorrow we're off to see the sites, the statue, Empire State Building, World Trade Center memorial... maybe we'll see the UN and City Hall, depends how much time we have. Staying in Harlem, we do kind of have to get back before dark...
So, that is all I have to report. As you can see, we haven't been up to anything much 'New Yorky' during our time in New York, but we've still got about a week here before we (hopefully) head down to stay with a woman Brooke knows in Pennsylvania. So, there's plenty of time!
I wanted to put some photos up today, but we can't do it at this hostel... maybe the next... we'll see.
Hope I wasn't too boring, or too detailed!
I miss everyone SO much. I've cried quite a few times now...
Sending lots of love, and lots of thoughts.
Mad.
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