Ladders Leading to Nowhere

November turned out to be just as exciting. That Tuesday was the opening night of MTC's Nightingale, a one-woman show written and performed by Lynn Redgrave. She'd gone through a lot during the rehearsal process, and due to a medical problem she performed the play "on book" (with the script in front of her). Nevertheless, it was a lovely evening; she's such a gifted storyteller that it was enchanting just to listen. The opening night party was great as well, though it was admittedly a bit more reserved than the one for The Royal Family, being on a Tuesday instead of a Thursday. And the theatrical surprises didn't stop there! That Friday, my mom's friend Sherri was in town. An avid theater-goer herself, she invited me to come along to a show with her. We saw Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking at the Roundabout Theatre, which was a ton of fun. Ms. Fisher made fun of herself (and Star Wars - endlessly), but told an engaging story too. Afterward, we had some delicious dessert at an Italian eatery across the way, a perfect ending to the evening.

The next week marked the much-anticipated arrival of my good friend Jamie. Now, this is a pretty well traveled guy we're talking about here, his passport stamped in places ranging from Spain to Peru. Yet he'd never set foot in the Big Apple! Obviously, this was going to be a weekend of adventure. We started off pretty low-key though - or at least, I did. I had to work on Friday, so Jaime took in a lot of the sites on his own (things like the Empire State Building and a tour of the U. N. Building). We met up for some Thai food on 9th Avenue afterward, and he caught me up on his adventures. Then we set out for the KGB bar. This tiny little dive is a fascinating place (read the history if you have a moment) and can be somewhat difficult to find at first (it's on the second floor of a building with plenty of character). It's known for it's soviet-themed decor but mostly for it's awesome literary reading series; It boasts some sort of reading nearly every night of the week. Sadly, we made it just in time to see the crowds of the last reading leave, but we had fun soaking up the ambiance anyway. Hopefully I'll make it back sometime to check them out!

Saturday was when the real adventures began. First, we headed down to SOHO. It's a pretty wild experience going below ground in my Inwood neighborhood and reemerging in this swanky area of galleries and eateries; I'm still constantly amazed with the diversity found within this thirteen mile-long island. SOHO is always full of surprises too, as we soon found out. While Jamie and I made our way up from the Canal Street station, we noticed a fenced in lot along the Avenue of the Americas (which is actually 6th Ave, but don't call it that this far downtown or people look at you funny - not that I know this from experience or anything...). Now, that's not that unusual, even in this neck of the woods. But along the fencing there were sheets of plywood studded with hundreds and hundreds of tiny shimmering discs... and that just begged to be investigated. Upon closer inspection, we saw that in addition to the discs, there was an entrance. Turns out we had inadvertently stumbled upon LentSpace, a bizarre art project/nursery concocted by some developers who had the land but weren't sure what to do with it yet. So, until they do decide, it sits as this odd sort of urban sculpture garden (piles of rock and ladders sunk into concrete qualify as art... right?). Oh and there are baby trees strewn about too. A few parts intriguing... several parts odd... definitely New York.

To be continued!

Talking With Strangers

So, it’s 2010. I’m snowed in during a blizzard and realize my blog hasn’t been updated since… October? Alright, four months is where I draw the line (you may have been wondering where that line was exactly – now you know). I’m going to try and catch this up as efficiently as possible without sacrificing any details, so bear with me – and enjoy!


After a thoroughly soaked through Halloween parade and a late night rendezvous with friends in the village, I was eager to sleep through Sunday. My bed was cozy and warm, and a distinct chill had crept into the air, a chill that made the thought of leaving the house nightmarish at best. However, that Sunday happened to be the New York City Marathon, and I’d promised myself that I’d get to witness this awesome feat in the flesh. Somehow, I managed to get myself going (maybe the guilt in realizing that by the time I opened my eyes several thousand runners had already traversed 26 miles). I’d so glad I did.

I’d already scouted out the route during the week, so I hopped the A train with a specific spot in mind. I was headed for mile 23, a notoriously brutal part of the course that batters runners with the rolling hills of Central Park West. I figured any extra encouragement at this juncture would be much appreciated.

Instead of trying to get across town via subway (always a nightmare) I got off around the American Museum of Natural History (which I’ve yet to visit) at 81st, and decided to walk across the park itself. This was actually a strangely eerie experience. Other would-be-spectators started to appear and join in my journey, and eventually we began to resemble a sort of slow, east-west exodus, all moving silently towards the distant murmur of cheers. Or at least, we were mostly silent. I couldn't help but smile as I watched one anxious child bolt ahead from his father then wait a few hundred paces ahead until he caught up, only to start all over again. The boy seemed infinitely amused at this simple game, and shrieked with laughter every few steps. Once, as he began to sprint away, he slipped on some wet leaves and went down hard. He lay still for just a split second - a second in which the father's pulse visibly quickened - but then bounced back up again. The dad sighed as he watched the boy bound away, and I chuckled out loud. He smiled in return, and I told him I wished I had that kind of energy. By way of reply, he told me that they had to take the boy to the hospital again the night before, for breathing trouble - he was just glad he could run at all.

By the time we reached the actual course, our odd band of travelers was full of excitement, eager to join the raucous crowds cheering on the runners. I was amazed at the number of people already lining the sidelines. And they took their encouragement duties very seriously! They loved to yell “You can do it!” to those who were struggling and went wild each time they got someone to pick up the pace. There was no silent watching allowed either; you were scowled at if you weren’t cheering, and would soon be prodded to join in. That wasn’t difficult though – watching all of these amazing runners whizzing by made you want to jump in full force. A few were sporting some Halloween outfits (Winne the Pooh was my favorite) and many had written their names across their chests so people could call out personal encouragement. It was a wonderful time, inspiring and exhausting even to watch. But a great way to spend a Sunday morning.

Trick or...Parade?

It’s listed as one of the top One Hundred Things to Do Before You Die. It attracts over two million visitors each year, disrupts traffic all over town, and boasts some of the most elaborate displays of puppetry to found anywhere in the U.S.. Yes, I’m talking about none other than New York’s Village Halloween Parade, and yes, this was the adventure that Stephanie and I chose to partake in the last weekend of October.

Originally, our game plan had involved elaborate paper mache costumes that would shock and awe all those who looked upon us. Alas, work, visitors, and other New York adventures got in the way and we arrived at the 31st with nothing to show for ourselves. Resilient, we quickly assembled some costumes with old clothes and cheap eye-shadow-turned-face-paint. Stephanie ended up as a wandering gypsy woman, and I was a unicorn (with a somewhat dubious head-piece – I think I looked more like an uncoordinated rabbit that had an unfortunate run in with a poll).

Pleased with our quick thinking, we headed down to the village. As we drew nearer, more and more interesting folk appeared in the subway cars – Santa Clause and the Mario Brothers, to name a few. When we finally stepped off onto the platform, there wasn’t an un-costumed face in sight. The press of people was so thick that it took a good ten minutes to get through the turn styles and up the stairs. When we finally did emerge, the first thing I noticed was the ubiquitous police presence. Everywhere you looked there were officers, giving directions, keeping the crowd flowing, and making it clear that this was going to be a safe event.

After some wandering and crowd weaving, we eventually made it to a holding pen for parade walkers (we weren’t about to just watch this – we wanted to march!). At first, it was just fun looking at all the bizarre outfits swirling around us. There was a Satyr that looked remarkably real, and a glowing firefly too. But the pen was packed pretty tight, and despite the party vibe and thumping music coming from the float next to us, our feet were starting to feel it after a half hour of waiting. The rain sealed the deal for us – we were busting out! (And by busting out I mean saying a lot of “excuse me”, “pardon me”, “excuse me” as we squirmed through the press of people and clambered unceremoniously over the side barricades). Once we were free of the pen, it was easy to slip into the actual parade. We walked next to a zombie pirate ship for awhile, then tailed an LGBT marching band, and got stuck behind a huge group of “Thriller” dancers. All in all, it probably would have been more fun if the rain wasn’t coming down in sheets by this time. Sufficiently soaked and satisfied with the experience, we soon turned our attention to escaping the parade itself – a feat which proved even more challenging than getting in. Despite the rain, the crowd watching was between five and ten people deep, and protected by barricades. It took us a good half mile of walking before we glimpsed a weak spot and made a break for it.

Once we were free of the parade, we shuffled along bovine-like with the herds of people milling through the village. Eventually we came to a little Mexican Restaurant where we relaxed and dried off while eating super-spicy salsa. We met up with friends after that, then began the long trek home (there was a line above ground for the subway). Needless to say, there were lots of rowdy, intoxicated riders packed in with us. We found their loud antics amusing, to say the least, but we were just as excited when we found out that yes, the train would be going express. Joyous high fives all around!

Wandering the City

It's been a few weeks. It's actually been quite a full few weeks too, so I'll do my best to get this up to date. And thus, this entry goes out to my Grandpa – hopefully I won't be so negligent in my writing in the future!

Aidan's visit was relaxing. We took it easy, opting for lazy mornings over sight-seeing and movies over Broadway shows. Really, after six weeks apart, it was just nice to spend time together again. Of course, being the couple that we are, we still managed to get in our fair share of adventure. Among other things (including a fruitless SoHo cupcake search), one such adventure was our Sunday trek out to Brooklyn. The train ride was long, but the invitation from our Michigan friends (Alex and Zan) had included a homemade dinner, and a sneak peak at the new dance piece they were putting together – an irresistible combination. So when Sunday morning rolled around we got ourselves out of bed at a reasonable hour, whipped up a carrot cake, and hopped the downtown A train.

Once we finally got above ground on the other side of the river, Aidan and I found ourselves in a semi-industrial neighborhood. It’s amazing how other-worldly different neighborhoods (and boroughs) can feel in New York, especially when you remember how small the city actually is. But it was nice taking in the different sights as we made our way over to the small but impressive studio space their company was rehearsing in. We climbed the creaky stairs and settled in for the show which, to our delight, incorporated big wheels! The piece turned out to be both playful and moving, full of all the energy and unique movement of the best kinds of modern dance. You learn so much from sitting in on rehearsals as well: back story, tricky spots, differing opinions and the reasoning behind choices. It really fleshes out the experience (and almost always leaves me aching to create my own work!)

Afterwards, we helped pack the props into their car and headed over to their home in Park Slope. It was a beautiful, large, first floor apartment with a bay window – and a yard! We had a wonderfully autumnal meal of vegetarian chili with avocado (I still need to swipe the recipe) with thick carrot cake slices for dessert. And the conversation was just as good; it was so refreshing to talk to another young “artsy” couple that was making it work in the city. Every once in a while you need a reminder that yeah, even though there are rough days, you can get through them – and it’s worth it in the end.

Aidan stayed until Tuesday morning, when he boarded a terribly early flight back to Ann Arbor. But I wasn’t left without company for long. That Friday, my friend Julie arrived in Times Square ready to take on the city. Our first item on the agenda was the Broadway show “In the Heights”, winner of the 2008 Tony Award for best new musical. With a few hours to kill before curtain, I led Julie away from the bright lights and over to the sleek bars of ninth avenue. We snacked and sauntered around Hell’s Kitchen for a bit before heading over to the theater. The show was fun, full of romance, impressive dancing, and numerous references to upper Manhattan (the set looked like my street corner)!

And that was just the beginning. On Saturday, we really hit the town. After showing off the farmer’s market, headed down to the Hell’s Kitchen flea market (which was disappointingly small) and then over to Bryant Park, the New York Public Library, and the fashion district. We popped into all sorts of little boutiques, each of us succumbing to a least one fun purchase. Then later on we happened upon a street fair that we wandered through all the way to the edge of the park. Now, it wasn’t a particularly nice day out – cold, gray, with occasional spits of rain – but Central Park in the fall isn’t something to be missed. We wandered through the east side paths for a good twenty blocks, taking in the foliage, the carriages, and the harvest festival. We finally emerged around 81^st, where we quickly found a diner to soothe our grumbling stomachs. Then, it was on to the Met! Julie had never been to the enormous museum before (or the city, for that matter) so it was a lot of fun to point out the big highlights, like the Egyptian Temple and the Sculpture courtyard. However, I had never visited on a Saturday before, and the press of tourists was overwhelming at times. Nevertheless, we got in a good amount of browsing, and by the time we left, it was getting dark.

Originally, we had planned to go over to the Guggenheim (which is free Saturday evenings from 5:45-7:45pm), but it would seem that every other person in the city had the same idea; the line was around the avenue length block. Fortunately, we had our trusty Time Out with us, and were able to find a suitable alternative. Switching gears from visual to performing art, we headed down to the Public Theatre for a free staged reading of a LAByrinth play. Not without its flaws, the show was nonetheless engaging, and I’m glad that Julie’s first experience with staged readings was at such a great theatre.

On Sunday we headed up to Fort Tryon Park, strolled through the Heather Garden, and had a delicious brunch at the New Leaf Café (our “splurge” meal). Then it was off to SoHo for more gallery hopping and boutique shopping. It was a much prettier afternoon, and it was all too easy to pass the hours strolling through the gorgeous neighborhood. Eventually we made our way over to the west village as well, ending up at the Chelsea Market. I could spend days there! I love all of the eccentric little food and culinary supply shops. I must say I was impressed with my own restraint; I only ended up with some thai spices and shortbread!

We ended our whirlwind tour of the city with some karaoke at our favorite local spot, The Piper’s Kilt. It was a thoroughly fun and exhausting weekend, and I was so happy that Julie was able to make it out. Of course, the next weekend was just as packed…

To be continued!

Time to Start Checking 'Em Off

I am both overwhelmed and enthralled by Time Out New York's 101 things to do in New York city in the fall list. So many adventures, so little time! (Have a favorite? Help me out and recommend a number you want me to try!)

Unicorns and Openings and Mothers, oh my!

Continuing where I left off…

The rest of Saturday was spent relaxing. The first thing I did once I got back from my biking adventure was to cook up some tasty lunch with my market goods. I’ve recently gotten into sauteing vegetables with garlic, shallots, and a splash of wine, then putting them over pasta (I kept a stash of pre-cooked penne in the fridge in case I’m in a big rush). It’s a quick, easy fix that still tastes amazing, and I’m perfecting it every time.

Sunday started off much the same, although this time the rain clouds were nowhere to be seen. The sunshine also made for a perfect excuse to explore the neighborhood, something I’d been meaning to do for a while. After eating my fill, I strapped on my backpack and headed down Broadway. To be honest, I didn’t find too many interesting bits that direction (seems that 207th is the happening place). The walk was nice though, and by the time I got to the 190th street subway I was just bored enough to be curious about the large throngs of people entering the half-hidden entrance. Following their lead, I was packed into a giant elevator that let me out at the entrance of Fort Tyron Park, where I finally got to see what all the fuss was about: The 2009 Medieval Festival.

It was the perfect event to stumble upon. Brightly colored pennants snapped in the breeze as I strolled along the booths, admiring the intricate costumes of warriors, maidens, and knights. Although it was already quite crowded, I managed to dodge the wooden swords of rambunctious children and miss the projectiles of the tiny toy catapults for sale—mostly. I took my time browsing through the abundance of masks and jewelry and silver figurines, enjoying the high spirits of the vendors and the sounds of lutes and lyres. And then of course, there was the food. Turkey legs dripped and simmered over open-fire spits while fried dough crackled and popped in boiling oil. The spicy smell of mulled wine was overwhelming at first, but it mingled nicely with the cacophony of autumn fair-food deliciousness.

After wandering the length of the fair (and spying a unicorn!), I returned to the jousting arena and promptly settled down with a sugary elephant ear. There was no jousting at the moment, so I settled for the somewhat amateur hawking demonstration that was going on. The two men seemed to be better trainers than entertainers. I stayed just long enough to eat my treat and lick every last bit of cinnamon off my fingers, then made one last loop of the grounds and headed for home. After a short nap, I returned with my roommate Stephanie, and we did get to see a bit of jousting. We left soon after though, opting for a relaxing evening at home.

On Monday it was back to work. There I learned that Tony Roberts, one of the actors in the MTC production of THE ROYAL FAMILY, had suffered a minor seizure during the Sunday matinee, a literal “is there a doctor in the house?” moment (his understudy took over for the evening show). Everyone was glad he was alright, though the plan for opening night (four days away) was still unclear.

That evening, I headed over to NYU with another intern to see their production of KISS OF THE SPIDER WOMAN. I knew I was going to be a hard audience member to please, as I directed the same show this past March at the University of Michigan, through the producing organization MUSKET. I did not expect to be so thoroughly disappointed, however. Without going into the details (again, this is not a theater criticism blog!), all I can say is that it made me miss the high standards of Umich. The opening talk with Terrence McNally (librettist) and John Kander (music and lyrics) was very interesting though, and I was glad I went.

Then on Wednesday it was Stephanie's birthday. I somehow managed to get out of work that evening, and was able to meet her at Red Bamboo, a swanky little vegetarian place in the village that specializes in meat-like dishes. It's a tiny hole-in-the-wall place, and you end up sitting very close to your neighbors (we struck up a fun conversation with ours though, so we didn't mind). Once we got settled, we ordered some tasty "crab" rangoon for our appetizer and then had "beef" stir-fry, and portabello mushrooms for the main course. We had both been eyeing the vegan desserts, but we were completely stuffed after our meal so we passed this time. After that, we made our way up to a theater district bar called Deacon Brodie's (a popular techie hangout, I'm told). It was lots of fun meeting up with all of Steph's friends, telling stories and playing strange games. Steph even got some birthday wishes from a troupe of European tourists!

That late night wouldn't have been so bad if the next day wasn't opening night for THE ROYAL FAMILY. The atmosphere in the office that day was akin to Christmas eve; everyone was giddy and excited. Fortunately, the day passed quickly, and by the time we left it was confirmed that Tony Roberts would be able to make the performance. Most people went to the show (with an early 6:45pm curtain), but I already had plans to attend a Umich alumni event, so I decided to just show up to the after party. Unfortunately, the alumni event was a disappointment; there were too many people in too small of a space, it was too loud, and there was no where to sit. We ate our Ann Arbor food (Cottage Inn pizza and Pizza House breadsticks - the highlight of the evening!) and left soon after.

The after party was a totally different story. It was at Planet Hollywood in Times Square, and everyone was dressed to the nines (see the picture above of me and some fellow interns). Waiters roamed the crowd, armed with wine and tasty snacks, including milkshake shots. It was lots of fun, as was the after-after party at Sardi's where the MTC staff hung out until the wee hours. It was very interesting reading the reviews (released once the curtain goes down on opening night); they were mostly positive, with a few surprising quibbles. The New York Times review is good example of this - check it out if you have a moment.

It was a thoroughly exhausting two days, but the fun wasn't over yet. Friday night, my mom flew into the city. I met her at the airport and took her out to the Piper's Kilt for a late dinner, where we got to catch up and enjoy "the best hamburger in inwood" (or in my case, the veggie wrap!). On Saturday we woke up early and hit the town. First, I showed off the Farmer's Market and cooked up a scrumtous lunch of veggies and multi-grain bread. Once the dishes were all cleaned up, we headed downtown, with no particular destination in mind. I had avoided making any solid plans for the day, prefering instead the freedom to wander. It worked out wonderfully, as we got to explore Times Square before stumbling into a street festival. After walking up and down the merchandise, we continued on to Bryant Park. I showed off the reading rooms and the library, and we both enjoyed the juxtaposition of events taking place, namely wedding photographs and a halloween costume contest. Soon after that we headed down to Washington Square Park, where we checked out the dog run and met up with Stephanie for some Thai food.

The next day we stayed closer to home, exploring Inwood. We had a lovely brunch at the Garden Cafe, and then walked up to the Cloisters and all through Fort Tyron Park. I had never ventured that deeply into the grounds, and we ending up finding some wonderful spots, like the bloom-filled Heather Garden. Showing off my neighboorhood, I was reminded of how happy I was with it. The combination of nature and city is perfect for me. Mom seemed to like it too - I know she was eyeing those dog runs and thinking how much our puppies would enjoy it!

It was harder to say goodbye than I thought it would be, but I know we both had a lot of fun. This week should be a bit slower, at least until Friday - then Aidan arrives!

Bikes Make Friends

It’s been a raucous week here in New York, full of the sorts of ups, downs, laughs and good times that make you remember why you came.

Last Friday, I worked my first full shift at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Patron’s Lounge, a private club for supporters of the theatre who have donated a minimum of one thousand dollars. Nestled between the main floor and the mezzanine of the Friedman Theatre on 47^th Street, the lounge is a great perk of the Patron’s Program. It offers true theatre-lovers a chance to mingle with one another before the show and during intermission, and ensures they have a place to hang their coats and relax before curtain time. The complimentary coffee, wine, and snacks sweeten the deal too!

Working in the Patron’s Lounge (or PLO for short) is one way for MTC interns to make a little extra money during our internship, so I was figured I would give it a try. I was admittedly somewhat less than eager to spend the night pouring drinks for rich people though. Stuffy seniors demanding food, endless bottles to uncork - not exactly my idea of a fun time, I thought.

As happens with so many assumptions, turns out mine were completely wrong.

The Patrons proved to be wonderful people, a true pleasure to spend time with. One couple regaled me with stories of the trip they took to London to see plays at the West End, how much they enjoyed the show WAR HORSE and how different the theatre scene is over there. Another woman and I chatted about how much she liked the program because it allowed her and her friend to have consistent evenings out. Everyone was curious to hear what I thought of the play as well. They brought back their own thoughts after the two intermissions and discussed the show thoughtfully and intelligently, which was a breath of fresh air. Everyone was genuinely interested that I was an intern as well, and it was obvious that they felt enough a part of the theatre to welcome me into the “family” (some had been patrons for over twenty years!). It was a good reminder that these people donate because they love the theatre and want to ensure its continued success. Working PLO was a great way to connect with them directly, and I have to say I enjoyed every minute.

Afterwards, I met up with a few fellow interns and headed out to one of the many swanky midtown bars off of 9^th Avenue. Loud, fast dance music surrounded us as we descended from the street into the main room. It’s curved walls and soft lighting gave it the look of some sort of desert bunker – in a hip way. The long, sleek bar was stocked only with giant vats of fruit-infused vodka (the bar’s specialty) which added to the surreal look. We didn’t stay downstairs long though, choosing instead to head upstairs to the dancing. It was a good time; the DJ spun bizarre remixes while even more bizarre videos were projected on the walls. I stayed just long enough unwind from the week, then said goodnite and grabbed the A train home.

The forecast for Saturday had promised perpetual thunderstorms, so I decided to lay aside my bike ride plans and sleep in. When I finally tumbled out of bed, the air was thick with the promise of rain, but there didn’t seem to be any downpour yet. Feeling invigorated after my rest, I figured that at the very least I could check out the farmer’s market via pedal and make a plan of action after that.

The fall harvest was definitely in, and the crowd was hopping at the 207th Street Farmer's Market. Determined to expand my horizons, I checked out some different stands (although I of course had to return to my staples, including the irresistible cider vendor). I ended up with a bag of button mushrooms, a couple peppers, an onion, a stellar loaf of multi-grain bread, a birthday bottle of ice wine for Stephanie and a healthy bunch of yellow and red tomatoes. It was quite a haul, and stuffing it all in my backpack was a bit of a challenge. As I was doing this, I headed back to my bike, where I happened to run into a woman unlocking hers. We struck up a conversation about how dangerous it was to come to the market hungry, and she showed off her amazingly large saddle bag, totally loaded up with vegetables. Totally the right kind of accessory!

With the rain still at bay, I made up my mind to go ahead with the bike ride (it’s only water after all). I stopped back at my apartment first to drop off my purchases and suit up. A few minutes later I was standing outside my building, struggling with my helmet strap, when I was startled by a loud shout from across the street. I looked around to see what was up and spotted a short, gray-haired woman waving at me. “Hey you,” she called. “Good job, wearing a helmet!” I smiled and waved back, so she promptly crossed the street and introduced herself. Turned out her name is Johanna, and she’s the pastor at the beautiful church across the way. An avid biker herself, we had a great time talking about how important helmets are and the reservoirs she “bags” on the weekends. She even invited me to come along on one of these day trips where the church’s small cycling club throws their bikes on her four-bike rack and heads out of the city. It sounded like a great time – I definitely plan to take her up on the offer!

After that, I hopped on my bike and headed west towards the river. I’m only a few blocks away from the Riverside path that runs the length of Manhattan, so my plan was to find the start of this trail and follow it down for a few miles. The last time I’d done this with Aidan, we’d only been able to find stairs that lead up to the elevated path. I was sure there must be way to get on it without hauling my bike up stairs though, so I traveled north towards Inwood Park, looking for a cross over. It took a little looking around, but eventually I spotted a little semi-paved path peaking out of the brush. Pleased with my investigative skills, I headed down it.

The trail was lovely. Narrow, right next to the river, with the trees on either side seeming to arch up over the top... I was certain I had found the hidden way and was already planning how to smuggly brag about it on my blog. However, while plotting out my tale, I failed to notice the lack of bikers. Or the abundance of fishermen. It was only after I cleared the woods that I began to suspect my mistake, and even then I pushed on out of sheer stubbornness. That too was cut short though when the path dead-ended into the rail-road tracks. Hopping off of my bike, I stared in dismay at the large rocks lining the railroad bed and was forced to admit that my secret path was actually the route fisherman took to get right up along the bank.

Now, I am positive that had my morning not been so lovely and had my veins not been coursing with pedaling-induced adrenaline, I would have made a different decision at this juncture. But in the moment, hefting my bike on my shoulder and walking along the tracks in search of the path seemed perfectly logical; after all, the fisherman had to get in from somewhere and it made sense that it would be the big Riverside path. At the very least, I knew that the trail I wanted was directly underneath the George Washington bridge looming large in the distance. So away I went, staying way to the side of the actual tracks.

It was hard going. Those rocks are not meant for walking, and certainly not for walking with a giant, oddly shaped object across your shoulder. It took a good fifteen minutes before my perpetual optimism started to wear thin. I kept eyeballing the tall fencing on either side, looking for a man-made hole to escape through. There were none. Thoughts of eternal wandering along the New York rails flitted through my head. I wondered if this was just an exercise in stupidity and decided that maybe I should give in, turn around, and go back the way I came. But then up ahead, I spotted it - the path! Bikers zoomed across, joggers seemed to bob along. Grinning, I congratulated myself on my superior geographical skills and my spirit of adventure. Finally! Only problem was, this path was crossing the railroad tracks perpendicularly - at an elevation of about forty feet.

Once again, I blame the pedaling high. (Biking is obviously a gateway drug into more stupid acts of adventure, so please cycle with caution.) Readjusting my bike, I lumbered over to the fencing and looked carefully at some weaker rusted points. It wasn't long before I found the loose sheet of fencing, propped up to make it look like nothing was amiss. I slipped through the hole to the other side (this is a bit of writing flourish, I admit, because one does not "slip" through any sort of opening, let alone one this size, with unwieldy two-wheeled cargo - wiggled, squirmed, yanked, and heaved are all more accurate descriptors). The fun didn't stop there though, since the "other side" was one of those massive sheer rock formations that make northern Manhattan so beautiful. It was pretty impressive, and more than a little daunting, but knowing now that someone had done this before me, I wasn't about to give up. So up I went.

It was slow going. The rock face was mossy and damp, so I took my time finding solid footing. I clung to saplings for support, and eased my bike up along the rock when I couldn't carry it any longer. After what seemed like ages, I reached the top. A few steps later, and I was on the path. It would be an understatement to say I was glowing with accomplishment though, much to my dismay, there were no crowds of impressed fans waiting to cheer me on. But nothing could get me down after all that. Once I took a moment to catch my breath, I hopped on the bike and began a long (and long-awaited), leisurely ride along the river.

There were lots of people out, despite the gray skies. After a while, I stopped at a rock outcropping along the bank (a shorter one this time) where I sat down and took a moment to take in the beautiful scenery: the just-changing leaves, the gray-blue water lapping at the shore. I sipped some cider and stretched my muscles. Just then, a gentle rain began to fall.

To be continued!