Stars in Our Eyes

When I moved to New York, I took it as a given that there would be some trade-offs. Like never having to search for parking... but having to sit through 15 additional stops when the A train runs local. Or always having something to do in 'the city that never sleeps'... but actually wanting it to quiet down so I could sleep occasionally. And of course, to be near all those bright Broadway lights, I knew I'd have to give up the stars. Not a huge deal; after all, this sort of give-and-take was to be expected... or so I thought.

One November day as I was coming home from work, I noticed a flyer for the Inwood Astronomy Project. I was thrilled to discover that not only did they have a star-gazing event every Saturday night, but that they were also hosting a special viewing for the Lenoid Metor Shower that week. I'm a total science geek at heart, and instantly decided that I was going to convince/force my roommates to come with me. Turns out, they were actually pretty excited too, and we decided to make an evening of it and invite some friends over as well.

When the night finally arrived, we kicked off the evening by cooking up a delicious vegan dinner of orange-glazed tofu, kiwi-Lime soaked asparagus, watercress salad and brown rice. We also baked some vegan cookies, but promptly stuffed them in a ziplock to save them for star-gazing. Then we bundled up, grabbed some thick blankets, and headed out. Turns out the correct entrance to the park is only a block from our apartment, but somehow someone overlooked it and dragged everyone all the way up to Indian Road Cafe before realizing her mistake (that person may or may not have been me; I plead the fifth). But the adventure didn't stop once we reached the park. Inwood Hill Park is a "forever wild" park, meaning that that park service tries to minimize the human footprint on the ecosystem. One way they do this? No streetlights. Awesome for astronomy... no so awesome for finding the astronomy club, especially considering that the 'Hill' portion of Inwood Hill Park is mighty step, and over 200 yards up. But if you looked closely along the path, you could just make out the little orange flags leading the way, so we headed off into the brush.

After a few wrong turns, we eventually made it to the top of the park where we were met by several telescopes and about twenty or so stargazers laying out in a tiny meadow. We spread our blankets, broke out the cookies, and settled in to scan the sky. As a regular viewer of the always-impressive Perseids (which are visible every August), I knew that the somewhat less spectacular Lenoids would be an adjustment. It was a new moon though, so the hope was that without the interference of moonshine, a lot more would actually be visible. But as we played silly sentence games to pass the time, some heavy cloud cover started to obscure the view and our optimism began to fade. After an hour, the November chill was also really starting to seep through our blankets, and we still hadn't seen any meteors. Once the yawns set in, we knew it was time to pack it in. No one complained as we sleepily headed down the path though... between the cookies, the games, the great meal and great company, who needed stars?

The Seas of Manhattan

After a Saturday packed with such random fun, you wouldn't think we'd be able to fit much more craziness into Jaime's visit.

You'd be wrong.

A few weeks before he arrived, I had agreed to take part in a chashama window project called A Moral Aquarium on 37th Street. Chashama is a wonderful organization that helps artists in a variety of ways, including offering subsidized rehearsal space, performance venues, and opportunities to enliven abandoned store fronts by putting up exhibitions or shows - window projects. The one I was involved with (created by Dillon de Give) basically turned this tiny little storefront into an aquarium, complete with paper mache coral, seaweed, sand, and every other underwater environ staple you could imagine. Performers dressed in sea-creature garb "swam" around inside the space, enacting (and sometimes reacting to) pre-recorded interviews with passerby that focused on an instance when the person had been faced with a moral dilemma.

So, not your typical Sunday in the park.

Fortunately, Jaime was totally game. My roommate, Brittany, even got in on the fun, and once we all arrived at the little spot in the fashion district, the only problem was deciding who got to be which creature. We soon discovered which ones we clicked with though; Jaime totally fit the large purple lobster get up. Brittany loved the jellyfish tendrils. And I was (unexpectedly? naturally?) drawn to the hammerhead. Then the real fun began.

Sure, there were a lot of folks who passed by without noticing. Or who pretended not to notice. But you'd be amazed at how many did pause to take a look; performance art can really make people stop in their tracks. Some laughed, some shook their heads. My favorites were the "car-gawkers" who peered out at us from their vehicles on 37th street. There was no staring shame from these folks; when you've got some distance and a car door between you and the sea-creature freaks, you feel pretty invincible. That's what made it fun though... acting, jumping around for them. Then just at the last moment, right as the light changed, we'd crack open the glass door they hadn't paid attention to and reach out to them... talk about your great facial expressions! Of course, the kids were awesome too. They whole "moral" idea behind it may have been a little over their heads, but the total joy they felt at seeing these unexpected creatures was beautiful to watch.

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty stellar NYC weekend.

A Circus Grows in Brooklyn

The other day, an elderly woman boarded the train I was riding home after a long rehearsal. I wouldn't have paid her any special attention, except that she didn't manage to grab a hold of the pole before the train lurched forward. She was thrown at least five feet, landing hard on her back. Instantaneously, the people on either side of the aisle leapt up, helped her to her feet and sat her down in one of the empty seats. They made sure she was alright, dusted off her handbag, and after she gave a reassuring smile everyone went back to their books or ipods.

That same afternoon, I was sitting at one of Schnipper's Quality Kitchen's street tables outside the New York Times building, half-reading, half-mulling over some impending decisions, when a woman approached me. "Sweetie, are you alright? You look sad," she said, obviously concerned. I assured her I was fine, that I was just thinking over some things, to which she responded,"Well, you're very pretty, too pretty to look so sad. I just know that everything's gonna be okay for you." Then she wished me good afternoon, and went on her way.

Anyone who tells you New York is only full of mean people obviously hasn't lived here.

Getting back to my November adventure: Jaime and I took our time wandering through Brooklyn, following Flatbush avenue and stopping to look at any graffiti or odd house that interested us. Eventually we stopped for some hot chocolate (and a chance to warm up/dry off) before heading to our real destination: Galapagos Art Space. This unique performance venue in DUMBO, Brooklyn (which stands for "Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass") boasts an indoor lake (with "island" tables in the middle of it) and quirky, out-there shows. We planned to see one show at 7:00 PM, then stay for their weekly "Floating Kabarette" at 10:00 PM, but we ended up getting there a bit early; they were still teching the first show. Of course, DUMBO is full of all sorts of fun little nooks and crannies, so we just ambled over across the alley to what looked like a party in a warehouse. I mean, that kind of randomness is what NYC adventures are all about right?

The warehouse actually turned out to be The Powerhouse Arena, a sort of gallery/performance space/book store hybrid, which was amazingly beautiful. And the party was actually the culmination of Page Turner: The Asian American Literary Festival. Not a bad event to stumble upon, when you consider they welcomed us right in to the free drinks, snacks, and readings from such notables as Tony-winner David Henry Hwang and Pulitzer-Prize winner Jhumpa Lahiri. I can think of worse ways to kill time.

Unfortunately, the first show at Galapagos was a bit of a wash - not near as much fun as waiting around for it was. After it finished, we decided to find some food and see if we felt up for the second round. We were pretty hungry at this point, and would have settled for just about anything. However, inexplicably, we happened to stumble upon one of the most legendary Brooklyn pizza joints, Grimaldi's. Even more inexplicable: there was no wait (sometimes, it takes upwards of an hour to get into this little pizza place). Needless to say, it was incredible. The pizza itself was classic New York, with its big, floppy slices and tons of cheese. It was only surpassed by the enormus cannoli we split afterwards (yes, somehow after downing an entire pizza, we found room for dessert too). Un-believable.

By the time we headed out for the Galapagos Floating Kabarette, we were stuffed but determined to give the venue another shot. We were glad we did; this show more than made up for the first. How to describe it? It was sort of an underground circus/burlesque show with singing, and lots of aerial acts. And free hair cuts. And remember, there's an indoor lake too.

Yeah, it was sorta wild. And lotsa awesome.

After staying way too late at the crazy show, Jaime and I slowly made our way back to Inwood (choosing to go by subway rather than foot this time, thankfully). But the adventures didn't stop there... little did Jaime know that he was going to make his theatrical debut the very next day!