Werther and Werthest

Just back from the Met simulcast of Werther. I'll spare you my meager ability to offer comments on the production ("It's THE MET" should say enough ) except that I will say that Jonas Kaufmann is a God.

Here's the co(s)mic tickle from my trip to the multiplex in the mall.

I did my usual absolutely zero research and settled in to my high-backed stadium chair, enjoying the pre-show.  For the 10 minutes or so before the performance begins they use the cameras and booms to take a look around the audience in New York. As with the crowd in Raleigh, it's mostly gray, white, dyed or no hair on top of mostly pink, mostly wrinkled faces. You see people in extreme close-up talking to each other, reading programs, making their way to seats, texting, waving at the camera, staring at the chandeliers, and even napping. Sophisticated, well dressed, some even looking a little blase about the whole thing. And then there was an image of a 17 year old, sitting on the edge of the chair, with bright eyes and glowing smooth skin, and with a smile that was almost a laugh. Tears popped out of my eyes.

Remorse at my own lost innocence? An involuntary ecstatic reaction to the sight of such apparent joy? Maybe I should have only smoked half that joint? Imagine my surprise when, in the first appearance of the melancholy poet Werther, he is knocked into a swoon by the sound of children singing and compares their innocent radiant beauty to the cynical state he inhabits. I'm probably the only person in history to stifle a laugh at this show.

The Werthest part was when the sound feed from New York went away for the last 7 or 8 minutes. ( Sorry, I couldn't resist).  We all sat there like we were at a silent movie, and the theater offered passes for the encore on Wednesday or another simulcast.  I came home and looked up the ending on the bigass hard drive, listened and wept. Spoiler alert, those same children's voices provide the decidedly disturbing musical finish to the story. 

On the Road in the 1970's

With all the discussion about the new movie,  The Monuments Men, I was reminded of conversations with Fred Pleasants in the early 1970’s in which he referred to the fact that after the WWII he was part of a group getting all the stolen Nazi art back where it belonged. A little poking around on the www revealed that he had most certainly been one of the Monuments ( I think that’s what they were called then) and had been in charge of the Munich Distribution Center and was also part of the group that earlier drew up plans for the government to remove art treasures to safer locations if need arose.  I wrote to Fred’s nephew, and in response to my asking if he had had any stories, said that he had heard that Fred had put the Holy Hungarian Bent Cross Crown on his head. 

I'll forward you a photoshopped version when I get it done.

A few days after that, the Getty Museum published this article about their collection as it related to the Monuments Men.The Art of Search and Rescue At the top of the article was a picture identifying Dr. Frederick Pleasants in possession of the 40,000th painting that they had dealt with there. I posted a comment on the site and they responded asking for more information about him, as they had none, but liked the picture..

So, who was Fred, anyway? In my life’s story, meeting him was the second life-changing encounter through hitch-hiking in less than six months. Early in 1971, while I was staying in Albuquerque, I had met Edward at the Union 76 Truckstop where I-25 crosses I -40. Three days later I joined him on last leg of his westward hitching journey, destination The Haight, San Francisco. That led to a Spring in a top floor collective apartment just at the edge of the Golden Gate Park, inhabited by a fringe group of The Cockettes known as The Angels of Light. There are some videos (NSFW) on YouTube. 

A short pause while I return from the whirl of memories associated with that crazy time and those crazy people. Food stamps were a basic, many people in the house had convinced the welfare program that they had mental problems that made it impossible for them to be employed, thinking they were pulling off a great hoax. In fact many of them were unemployable. Did I mention that they were all radical queers with a penchant for free street theater?  Back to Fred.

Edward and I left the city and hitched across the country to the Northeast Kingdom in Vermont to set up tent-keeping in woods at the edge of property owned by friends of Edward.  After a few months of unsuccessful attempts at finding a way to support ourselves, we had worn our welcome thin and had agreed that if we couldn’t find something in the way of work that day we would have to pull up stakes and head to Ohio, where I had a welcoming friend.  We were hitching on a dirt road several miles from any pavement heading up across a pass to a neighboring town. A new light green Mercedes sedan was taking Fred to some property he owned along the way, being driven by his “man” Stanley Spurgis. Before we parted company he had asked us to come and mend some decorative fencing along his driveway in Greensboro.  The next morning we walked and hitched the four or so miles and arrived exactly at the appointed hour,  apparently falling right into line with what Fred thought was appropriate.  It was months before we got around to mending that fence and in the meantime he introduced us to a whole circle of people around Caspian Lake who had summer camps, cottages, and castles which needed care.  In addition to that he had a shack on his property cut up in pieces which we were able to load onto a friend’s truck, drag into the woods and reassemble with the walls a bit taller on a new platform. We got in just after the first snow had fallen. No water, no electricity, an Ashley Auromatic wood stove, 12x12 tar-paper shack. It was heaven. Or, with all the snow, at least like being in the clouds.

By the time the next winter was rolling around, we had passed the hut to a friend who moved it yet again,  hitched to Tucson and back to Vermont with an 80 pound dog for a visit with Fred who then arranged for housing and employment for the two of us at The Arizona Inn in Tucson.   From free-range hippie to liveried servant was a yearly cycle for a while, with a month or so off in either direction to cross the country. Eventually we settled into Tucson.  Fred died in 1976.

The wheels set rolling by those two hitch hiking experiences are still in motion though friendships and affinities and shared histories and remembrances of the far too many no longer with us.

[ I wrote this while staying here while in town to attend a memorial party. Taking a little break on the patio , I fell into conversation with Lauren, my hostess at the AirBnB rental. She self identified as a neo pagan and so I asked her if she knew anything of Sig Lonegren, a good friend who writes and teaches about all things geomantic. It turns out she had a serendipity encounter with Sig in 1984 that changed things dramatically in her life in a way that still resonates today and had visited him a few years ago in Glastonbury.  Sig is Fred’s nephew. You can’t make this stuff up. ]

Manahatta week two

At the TKTS booth, Times Square

MONDAY

Chad, Rob, and I had a quick visit at Tommy's office, where we collected some theater tickets, then crossed the island to Lincoln Center for a farewell lunch with Art and Paul. Afterwards we walked across The Park, pausing at the skating rink. There was talk of a glass of wine or so at The Plaza, but I advocated for The Pierre. When we walked into the lobby on the side street, the greeting at the reception area was smiling, cordial and enthusiastic at a level that I wouldn't expect anywhere. The service of a glass of wine, a glass of water, and a glass of champagne was memorable, including some tasty complimentary nibbles ( "Festive Olives",  Russet potato chips, and chunks of Parm ). Picture the waiter, smiling, holding a tray with three glasses and two bottles. The glasses are placed, and each bottle is on the tray so that he can pick it up and present the label to the appropriate person.  He then serves it while the other bottle is still on the tray. Graceful, casual and precise and not a penny more than one might pay anywhere north of 14th Street.

By this time of day there was already considerable talk about the next snow storm coming in so that by the time we got to Buyer and Cellar for the 7:30 show Chatt determined it would be best to drive home to Boston after the show.

Buyer and Cellar, by the way, is hilarious. Michael Urie's performance as Barbara Streisand, her gate keeper, James Brolin, himself as the "storekeeper" in Bab's basement mall, and as his very gay boyfriend was a marvel to behold. As much with the shape of his body as anything, he moved from one character to the other in a schizophrenic second. Those in need of a good laugh should proceed directly to the theater. 

The Boston bound duo dropped us off at Katz's for a second go round of pastrami and half-sour pickles.

TUESDAY - SNOW DAY

A day of continual snow and wind kept us close to home, so I tidied up the first week blog, watched a little internet-tv, and kind of huddled close to the space heater while Rob too a series of naps.  By the time it was dark we made our way to East 12th Osteria where they were very glad to see us because all their reservations had cancelled. 

The snow had stopped but the wind had picked up and the temperature dropped by the time we started our  7 block scurry home.

WEDNESDAY - FREEZING COLD DAY

By morning it my car looked like this.

After spending some time in the morning trying to staunch the river of very cold air coming through the air conditioners at the front and rear of the apartment, I suited up and swept the very fluffy snow off the car. The good part of the snow was that there was just enough to cancel alternate side of the street parking for the rest of the week, so I didn't have to move the car from right in front of the apartment until we left town.

Early in the evening I headed uptown for a bit  of socializing. First to Jim and Nancy. for a quick drink and chat about all things New York.  I didn't include their last name because one fun part of the conversation was Jim confirming and adding to the idiosyncrasies of Miss Streisand, he having been to the Malibu digs and walked around the property with HER.  I wouldn't want him to be sued. 
It's been a very long time since I was in an apartment building elevator with two little perches in the corner to rest on the way up and a begloved operator who stayed at the 11th floor with me until Jim opened the door. The fire in the fireplace made the already spectacular view across the park  just a bit more so. 

After far too little time as far as I was concerned, I had to head out to meet up with Tommy for dinner and catch-up chat at his favorite Italian eatery,  Restaurant Gennaro. It's interesting how many small to medium-sized restaurants are now operating on a cash only basis. This place and Katz's are two that come to mind.  Hundreds of people spending $20 -$200 is a lot of cash.

THURSDAY

When I lived hereabouts in the 70's and 80's The Russian and Turkish Baths, sometimes called the 10th street baths, was for men only with the exception of Wednesday after noon and some other time. Now it's coed except for a few times a week. Thursday 12-5 is men only. This place is and always has been far from glamorous. Plywood on poured concrete for the benches in the Russian room which is so hot you have to constantly pour buckets of very cold water on yourself and keep the top of your head covered with a wet towel. Why this feels so good, I don't know, but it does. There are four other smaller rooms with different degrees of temperature and humidity and icy plunge.  By mid-afternoon the place was very busy with all kinds on men, some just like the ones who where there long ago, Jews with peyos hanging ( one had his head shaved except for those curly-cues ) , enormous highly muscled, clean shaven younger men speaking Russian, and a few neighborhood regulars  of a philosophical bent. There were also some new types; a few magazine model beauties,  a demi-celebrity ( Pauli Shore ), and some fairly flamboyant gay  men.  Picture a slim 5'6" man with a towel  turban , arms outstreched like wings, as he crosses the room full of mostly naked men, greeting his friend with the four syllable version of "Hi" ( Hah-y-ee-ee!)

A couple of hours and three or fours cups of sweat later, we headed over to B & H Dairy for a bowl of soup and some challah. The Lower East Side still provides lots of opportunity for living the village life in the city, by which I mean that, among other things, you can have conversation with the shopkeeper or the cook at the grill. For instance, when Rob asked for water with no ice, the guy behind the counter returned and announced, "Ice with no water, right?" or when we were nearing finishing, Rob spoke to a different person, "I'd like to take this with me." "Go ahead." was the reply. Rob complained that the knife didn't match his pattern but that we did need a salt shaker, etc.

It's always important to have a nap either after The Baths or before The Opera. We did just that for both reasons.

Rob, and certaily I, had never seen Rusalka and so off we went. I know now that Disney gave the same story a happy ending in The Little Mermaid. It is indeed pointless for me to offer critical comment on anything that happens in that house. Opera is notoriously ridiculous in the realm of realistic stories and this one was no exception. It's nice to know what they're singing about and amazing to think of everything behind it,  but it's the singing itself that really puts you over the top.

It was late enough by the finish that we had little choice but Fiorello's again, but that's really not such a bad thing.

While trying to help Rob with some function on his flip phone, I encountered the word "prepend" as one of the options. Do you know what it means? I looked it up then and have already forgotten.

FRIDAY

The first order of business was a couple of hours at the Metropolitan Museum. We made three displays our agenda.
The American West in Bronze, with the Charlie Russell's and the Remington's and such. Having spent a fair amount of time in a house loaded with Russell's work, it was interesting to see it in the context of others.
Jewels by JAR, After 30 or so precious-stone encrusted forms from nature my eyes started to glaze over from all the twinkle.
The Refusal of Time, a mutli-media William Kentridge installation which continues to provide food for thought. Nancy recommended this one and I'm certainly glad she did, because I never would have even thought of going.

Another walk across the park, this time from East to West, got us to lunch and chat with Stephen Pascal, who was a good friend of Uncle Richard and who edited The Grand Surprise, which included a fairly large number of letters to Richard. Stephen worked with Leo Lerman at Conde Nast for many years, so his take on what's going on is always very entertaining.  We were sworn to secrecy for some of the details. It's always a delight to spend some time with him.

We rushed downtown and back up, got to the theater early and adjourned to the Hyatt bar over Times Square to have a drink and wait for Tommy to join us for Pippin. If you can't enjoy yourself at this show, you need to adjust your meds. It can actually be said that there is something for everyone. It's English Pantomime meets Cirque d' Soliel on Broadway.

A return visit to Sardi's for a nibble put the cap on a fine NYC day.

SATURDAY

Another lazy start to the day and then up to Lincoln Center to meet up with Josh and Danny for a screening of Stranger By The Lake. OK, gay themed movies at art houses and high-culture movie venues have been around for a while. But ECUs of organs inserted and a money shot left me at Lincoln Center...this was something new. Aside from the shock to the above, which, BTW, was totally appropriate for a story set in a gay cruising spot, this is a very interesting movie. Josh pointed out that it  probably met the criteria for a Dogme 95 movie, meaning no artificial light, no music unless it would be part of the scene, no sets, no tracks for following, and quite a few other rules. The wind was musical and the sound of breathing was terrifying.

Danny had work to do, so the three of us stepped into Bar Boulud, more to get out of the snow than anything, and had a snack while we talked about the movie.  

By the time we were ready to make a transfer at Columbus Circle, Rob realized that he had left his bag somewhere, probably at the theater.  Happily it was at the snack counter when we got back and then we changed plans and decided to walk down to the TKTS booth at Times Square, but by the time we got there all the shows were ones we had seen.

We stopped by Veniero's to pick up some treats for the road, and after all the walking and the weather finally decided to just do a little cheese/cracker dinner at the apartment accompanied by some TV sort of stuff.

SUNDAY

Rob returned to the Russian and Turkish baths for the morning men-only hours and I bought us some tickets for a matinee of The Glass Menagerie.

While Rob had his post baths nap I did a tour of the neighborhood wanting to revisit a few places from times long gone by. The line at Russ and Daughthers, if you can call 25 people smushed into a tiny space holding their numbered tickets for sevice a line, propelled me directly back on to the street. Moishe's Bakery is still there. If you enlarge the picture at the link you'll notice how derelict the building is. But the goods are still the goods. Again in the realm of village life there were several amusing conversations between Moishe, the owner and customers. The best of these as follows. Customer speaking to a clerk, "Could I have a pound of those cookies?" Moise, from around the corner, " You could have a pound and a half." My hopes for challah French toast at B&H were dashed by the wall of people waiting for at stool. For those who know or remember it, the entrance to The Saint is now an Apple Bank lobby.

The Glass Menagerie a perfectly suitable last event. The set, even before the play began, told the whole story, the outline of the apartment floating on a black pool with a Caligari fire-escape providing all the exits and entrances. It made our mezzanine seats even better. The performances were all that you might expect from top-tier actors, even if some might quibble about interpretation.

We got back downtown in time for prix-fixe dinner at Lanza's, which is as close to the dearly departed Luna as any restaurant you might find. Kind of beat up interior with a big menu of delicious food.

MONDAY

We did a final loop down to Houston, picked up a couple of Pastrami sandwiches for the road and an assortment of smoked fish from Russ and Daughters before I dropped Rob off at JFK and hightailed it down to Hyattsville for a couple of days with Joe and Tom.

I hope you enjoyed the ride......I certainly did. Now I'm looking forward to letting my credit cards cool down a bit. 

Manahatta 2014

Long ago (December, actually), in a place far away ( Abaco, Bahamas, actually ) Rob set  me on the task of finding an apartment in New York for a couple of weeks. And so.........

Sunday - on the way

I spent the night with Joe and Tom in Hyattsville. Tom stayed home to take down the last of the 18,000  holiday lights still tightly wrapped  around a few of the trees in front of the house while Joe and I took the metro to the National Gallery to have a look at The Dying Gaul. Even though it was in the Rotunda and the museum seemed busy, there were hardly any people taking the time to look at this 1st century astonishment in marble which is on loan from the Capitoline Museum.  Here's a link to some images. The Dying Gaul. In addition from the amazing quality of the work itself, and the fact that he looked like one of The Village People (clone from the 70's) was the equally amazing revelation that the the Gauls apparently went into battle wearing only their weapons, aka naked.

After a stroll on The Mall with the multi-lingual, multi-shaded, multi-generational crowd, we headed back to Hyattsville, had a reprise of Joe's delicious pot roast sandwiched between a couple of nice visits with Randy and Rose at their amazing house ( worthy of a blog itself as they go through the process of earthquake repair on a house from the plantation era ).

Monday - arriving

An easy ride up and out of Maryland, I like going avoiding I-95 by heading west through Annapolis and then up the Easter Shore on US 301. I bumped on to the island before 2 PM, was parked on the street, unloaded,  and in possession of the keys, so I adjourned immediately to Veniero's for a double chocolate cannoli and a double espresso while Ruben finished fluffing the apartment. Rob arrived just about when expected and we unpacked and settled in.

The apartment itself is OK and not much more. Clearly held by someone as a rental. The beds are new and fine, the linens good as well. There is not a reading light in the apartment, some of the plugs don't have cover plates, hideous tiny coffee maker and, worst of all, the bottles left as welcome gifts are labeled "Wine Product 6% Alcohol" The bathrooms work. There are only 4 apartments so there's not much noise from neighbors aside from the very occasional slamming of the front door.  And there is plenty of safe on street parking. 

After a bit of digging around I found a nearby restaurant owned by someone I met on the porch at The Cave. (Another blog-worthy zone, too be sure.) At any rate, we found ourselves at Back Forty on $1 Oyster night....and they were delicious. Peter wasn't there, but I could see he's on to something good here. You can tell when employees have real respect for the people they work for.

Tuesday
After coffee and cookies at the apartment we walked down to Houston through the old neighborhood formerly full of empty lots and derelict buildings, now full of "pocket parks" and tony bars and restaurants. When living near here in the 70's and 80's, I don't think I made it east of Avenue B because of the dicey nature of the some of the residents.  Near the entrance to F train, the dusty bocce courts where men of a certain age used to gather and play is now an official park with a kiosk selling coffee, bocce courts gone.  A four stop ride delivered us to Metro-Tech in Brooklyn and the TKTS booth, where we got tickets for evening show of Kinky Boots and a next day matinee of  Waiting for Godot.
Back on Manahatta we got off downtown and wandered around the edge of the financial district until we got to Fraunces Tavern and Museum, had a just OK lunch and toured the remembrance of Washington's Farewell to his officers.

After a nap in the Loisida digs we headed up to Broadway for Kinky Boots. It was certainly witty, the songs were certainly songs, some of the burlesque humor-costumes-dancing was certainly fun and there was one standout comedic performance. End of the day, it was just like so many musicals...enough said.

   

I like Sardi's after theater.  A well built cocktail, Steak Tartare and professional service in a room full of history.

 I think we hit the sack about 1.

Wednesday

On our way uptown for the matinee, I introduced Rob to Mt. Vernon, a preserved historical hotel at 61st and Lex. Surrounded by high rises and near the Queensboro Bridge and Bloomingdale's, it remains from a time when the city ended at 14th street and people came up the East River to get into the country.  Rob has done several million house tours and was delighted to learn four or five new things and had only a few points of disagreement with the presentation.






Waiting for Godot, (pronounced "Gahdo") was the afternoon event. It's amazing how nothing happening for hours on end can be so captivating. But with talent like Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, and Billy Crudup it's just astounding to watch the  actors creating a believable world out of nothing but words and making us care about people who we would ordinarily shun. I might try to see it again.

We had our first glitch in subway riding  on our way up to Tom's, when we encountered stairs and stations full of people not moving at the Times Square transfer .  Rob had been around when Paul and Tom were still looking for a place and saw a few of the disasters that were presented before they scored big time with their digs looking into north end of Central Park. We had a nice Japanese dinner in his neighborhood and did a lot of talking.

Art and Paul arrived and had a celebration dinner at Daniel, New York, revolving around the anniversary of the beginning the bar business which served them  so well for decades and resolved itself with the sale of real estate recently. I ordered up a bottle of the house Champagne to be at the table with a note to the the effect that "half retirement is better than no retirement at all." but forgot to have them sign the note with my name, so until we talked the next morning they were somewhat perplexed about why Daniel would treat them so nicely and know so much about them.


Thursday
At precisely 10 AM I pushed the send button on my phone, got connected and was able to buy two of the 50 available $20 Senior Rush tickets for the evening performance at The Met, enabling us to join Art and Paul for that event.

Inasmuch as I had to move the car, and because neither of them had been there before, Rob, Paul, and I took a ride up the Hudson to the top of the island and a visit to The Cloisters, an amazing collection in a spectacular facility in a precious location.  Paul informed us that the reason he was so quiet was not because he had a hangover, but because he was still drunk from the "complimentary" champagne, wine, and cocktails of the night before. 

Next stop and in the same neighborhood was the Morris-Jumel Mansion, surviving on Mannahatta at the highest point in the island since 1765. It housed both British and American soldiers at different time of the Revolutionary War.

Here's a link to Wikipedia article about the lady of the house. Lies! Divorce! Scandal! Napoleon!

Eliza, Jumel




Madama Butterfly! I don't think there's any need for me repeat the constantly extolled virtues of time at that opera house, so I'll be brief. The Orchestra! The Music! The Singers! The Costumes! The Met Titles! The $20 Seats!

We adjourned afterwards to Cafe Fiorello, a perennial after opera favorite. This time, in addition to the usual solid food and drink, we were highly entertained by our waiter, Linden. The most memorable part of his interaction with us occurred when he addressed Paul, the last of us to order, somewhat like this and for obvious comedic effect, "And you sir have the chance, if you order correctly, to win a new BMW X5...." which at that point was greeted by all us with explosive laughter and astonishment in light of the fact that Paul is on his way to pick up his new BMW X5 two days after they get back from New York. As it turned out he didn't order the right thing, so he'll have to make due with just one.

The day also included two different $15 cab rides. One from Avenue C & 8th to Seventh Avenue & 9th..... straight across town. The other from Lincoln Center ( which is about 55 blocks north of the earlier drop off location ) to Avenue C & 8th Street, .

Friday
The day started as they all seem to at the apartment with coffee and biscotti from Venieros.

After we picked up tickets on the cheap in Brooklyn we got off the subway on Delancey and did one of the tours at The Tenement Museum. Our tour featured the story of an outsider Irish family moving into what was then Little Germany and also featured lots of information about life at the time. Fascinating. We wandered around the edge of Little Italy and eventually found Saint Patrick's Old Cathedral. 
A lack of cabs and a bit of delay in the subway caused us to be a late meeting up with Art and Paul for a visit to The Oyster Bar. The late part is always annoying for all concerned, but more annoying by far was the fact The Oyster Bar is closed for major renovation. We had a decent enough lunch at Cipriani overlooking the great hall at Grand Central, took a peak at the Campbell Apartment and parted company.
As we made our way to the Garden at the UN, Rob and I passed a couple of interesting spots.
Cipriani 42nd Street The amazing party space in a former bank lobby right across the street from Grand Central.
The Ford Foundation Building An innovative space credited with establishing the idea of interior garden spaces in public buildings.
Alas, the UN property is also under big renovations so we headed downtown for a little rest before theatre.

No Man's Land featured the same cast as was in Waiting for Godot in another landmark play. It is nothing short of amazing that they can do these two plays in rep, alternating shows. Consummate professionalism.

Katz's Delicatessen is right at our subway stop ( and also directly across the street from Sally's 2nd Street apartment, where so many people I know got their first access to all things wonderful in New York ) so it made for a fine stop on the way home.


Saturday
Die Fledermaus  started at 1 and proceeded to present a most enjoyable, easy to digest, romp of a musical extravaganza. All the usual excellence with extra opulence and confetti guns showering the stage with large gold glitter flakes. Paul was seated next to the mother of one of the principals and "The Tenor" was someone we all knew from the movie about a Met audition, both of which added some fun....not that it needed it. There is a speaking-only character at the beginning of Act III who addressed the audience as the drunken jailer. Hilarious! Two names that I can recall who have played the part in the past are Sid Caesar and Peter Falk.

We met up with Karl and Katie and had a little bit of dinner in the only place we could find that wasn't booked for the night. With an extra hour after that we crossed over to their hotel and had a cocktail before heading out to see The Gentlemen's Guide to Love and Murder. For no particular overindulgence that I can think of or that was apparent, I ended having to fall into a cab after act one and get home. I was seeing double and not particularly coherent, but I made it back and woke up 4 hours later on top of the bed with all the lights on and the bathroom fan running....felt fine.

Sunday
The plan for the day was a regathering at the The Frick Collection at 1 PM to see The Girl With The Pearl Earring on it's last day there.

Rob and I went past Bloomingdale's to see the windows full of couture designed football helmets in honor of the Superbowl. They will be auctioned for some charity or another.




We got to The Frick early enough to call the others and warn them about the line down the street and around the corner and the cold wind. They decide to stay in.

Rob and I took a walk in The Park on some wooded trails and along the road behind the Metropolitan Museum to spend a little time in the The Neue Galerie, where there was a big Kandinsky show and a room full of Gustav Klimt on loan from the Lauder collection. Some of the sets at Die Fledermaus were based on Klimt.

Chad and Matt (Chatt) arrived about 10 minutes after Rob and I got back downtown and found parking right in front of the apartment. We had a couple of Gin and bitters out of coffee cups at the apartment and then walked up to 26 Seats Bistro and had a delightful French-locovore meal.  All abed before midnight.

And that is the end of Week One. Had enough? Not me! 

ABACO

For those familiar with some of the personal dynamics, you'll be glad to know there was no bloodshed. Well, actually there was a fair amount of blood shed, mostly by Art as a result of a full body attack by the noseums and the resultant hideous itchiness. All of us got a lot of bites, but Art has the blood that's both attractive and reactive. When I say a lot of bites I mean hundreds. But that was a bit later

Rob arrived at Marsh Harbor on a different itinerary, but caught up with us before we had finished the first bloody Mary.  While Art went off to try to get computer access and a phone that would work here, the rest of the crew started out on a stroll. Rob and I eventually made it to the grocery store, piled up $500 of provisions, got it back with a cab just as Art was finishing his skipper's meeting, loaded up the ship, and started watching the lovely using men on a nearby catamaran doing their work cleaning up after a 42 day crossing from South Africa.

Jubilation is newish with three cabins and two heads, a surprisingly well equipped kitchen with a freezer as well as a fridge ( alas, no ice maker and a only a percolator to make coffee ), air conditioning while connected to shore, lots of laminate paneling, a very spiffy chart-plotter and auto-pilot, and a dodger that one can actually see through.

We cast off from Marsh Harbor somewhat after noon and made our way to Treasure Cay through beautiful almost emerald green water, with hardly another boat in sight.

The approach to the harbor was listed as a bit tricky because of low water and, sure enough, just before the entrance to the harbor we managed to get briefly hung up on a shifting sand bar.

We picked up a mooring...this was one of our neighbors

We took the dink to head into "town", meaning checking in with the harbor master and strolling over to the wonderful white sand beach, where Rob had a dip and the rest of us had a couple of rum punches.

Next morning Rob made us a nice breakfast, which we ate on deck .The animal highlight of the morning was a large dolphin which swam up to the boat, rolled over and seemed to want to rub its white belly on the white bottom of our grey dinghy ( near-sighted and in love? ) After another short stall on the way out we head out through a series of passes and the amazing array of shades of green and blue water, clear enough to see the bottom in all but the deepest parts. We got a slip at the Green Turtle Club in White Harbor and Marina, rented a golf cart and took it into town to visit a museum, where I was reminded of the connection between the Bahamas and Cayo Hueso, including pictures of the sister cities celebration in Key West during the time I lived there

Most of these outer islands were populated, after the elimination of the native peoples by way of disease and slavery, as the American Revolution unfolded, people loyal to the crown took advantage of land grants and in many cases brought their black slaves with them. The two portraits on the wall of this museum are actual people who moved here.

The range of housing throughout the islands is summarized quite well by the following two photos.

Dinner at the club was great food and fun service. After we had been caught adjusting the lights and the ceiling fans and the furniture, the hostess mockingly and with great humor announced that she was going to pray for us. After dinner, while were seated in the bar, she came from around the corner and said, " I could feel that you were there." .The bar was festooned with burgees of a million clubs and the walls were papered with US dollars, signed by visitors. The bartender's first attempt at Grand Marnier proved to be Maker's Mark ( both brown bottles with an M in the name ? ).

We shoved off just after 11 the next morning, made our way back out through the narrow somewhat shallow channel and into the multicolored sea

( including a stretch where the vivid green of the sea was reflected right up to the bottom of a cloud )

Then came a part of that journey which included a bit of time in open ocean which is called the Whale Cay Passage whose nautical characteristic is that in certain weather the deep ocean rising to the shallow Sea of Abaco creates a situation called  "raging", which includes very big waves moving from all directions at once. This is common enough that it is required that we call and get permission to travel through that area and report back once through the passage. The breeze was fresh, so Art decided that we should put up the main sail and sail. .A bit after we had turned off the motor and because of the wind direction and our course, it was time to haul in the sail. As we turned upwind and began that process, the seas went from about 3 feet to about 6 feet and the wind increased in a similar proportion, which lead to a whole lot of just on the edge of frantic moves to deal with tangled lines and a main sail that just didn't want to fall back into the lazy jack. After heading back into the lee of Great Guana things were calm enough to have a little lunch.

Docking at Settlement Harbor was a bit of a goat rodeo, enhanced by a squall which sprang up and stayed around just long enough to push Jubilation in all sorts of ways, and amplified by a few misteps on the part of the crew (us). One of the bow lines was not properly attached and came loose, which sent Rob flat on his back ( luckily not into the drink).

Perforce of all this we got to meet the people in the next slip as we were trying not to damage their boat. It was good they were there as they has to grab our dinghy and use their boat hook ( now with a decided curve)to fend off.
Dinner at the club with Ed and Janet was delightful for the company as well as the delicious conch salad. 

They told us a bit about their very amazing life....professors who designed a walking device for young people with mobility issues which has allowed them to travel extensively in a number of unusual formats, now transitoning into life as authors of " sexy adventures",(The Long Road to Paris) ,meanwhile spending several months a year sailing around the blue and green world called The Bahamas.

The wind blew strong all through the night.

After breakfast aboard ship, Paul and I headed out to find a golf cart, where we encountered a totally different attitude about rentals than at Green Turtle Cay -- no driver's license, no deposit, no need to refill with gas, no instructions…. just a key that is attached to a bottle opener.  In a culture so totally infused with alcohol, I wonder how long it will be before cannabis is legal.

After breakfast it was off to Nippers, famous for their brawl-inducing eponymous cocktail. Art, Paul and I had two, overlooking the reef and big ocean on a deck that had quite a few lubricated guests even before the lunch hour.

               After two it looks like this

Food there was very good, burgers, a tuna sandwich and lobster salad were all judged perfect.

Back in the cart we headed to the north end of the island for a visit to Baker's Bay, created for big cruise ships, who abandoned the idea in light of the above described ocean condition,  now being developed into a residential community.... very upscale if tending toward Disney Bahamas...with the really good selection of wines at really not good prices. Nothing is cheap, but life is rich.

It was amusing to see the local people dressed up and almost complaining as if the weather were cold....but perhaps 70 degrees is cold.
By now all of us now had many many noseum bites, but for Rob and me they were only red spots.....Art and Paul were plagued by itching madness and applied various creams and ointments to not great effect...especially for Art who had to resort to pharmaceuticals in order to get a good night's sleep.

Art got to enjoy a couple of Cuban cigars and while smoking one of them and talking with Ed on the dock, said, "Of course my cardiologist doesn't approve."  Ed replied, "My cardiologist is dead."

Next morning broke with a couple of delightful squalls, seeming to indicate the break up of the weather system that had been producing the very strong winds.

A bit more push-push-push got us clear of the dock and we headed out into the Sea of Abaco, which was still showing a pretty good chop as we headed south into the wind. Again and again the multicolored water, clear enough to see bottom even at 12 feet.

The wind wasn't all that cooperative during this visit, but we enjoyed what we got.

Hope Town was certainly the busiest place we visited. The harbor moorings seemed to all be full, many vessels looking capable of big ocean cruising. 

The marina put us right on the main dock, which made for direct access to the bar.

As the bartender shifts were changing, Chef Niel engaged us in conversation.  A delightful witty man with a deep local history. He's an Albury, "They're horrible people but they make good boats."  with a pretty amazing personal story, including losing over 300 pounds over the course of two years.  Once it was clear that we were all gay, he had a few very clever offerings.  "When my mother was freaking out about my being who I am I told her, 'Look, I'm a chef. If somebody doesn't like what I make they come to me and complain. So, if you don't like who I am, complain to the Creator.' "  He also described a woman as being "so butch she had to kick start her vibrator."  After two drinks we adjourned to Jubilation for a hefty nap in advance of a perfectly fine dinner.  I believe our table of four was the only one for whole evening and Neil joined us for more chat as we had cordials. Paul reeled off to bed a bit in advance of the rest. Here's a few snaps from around town, starting with our marina.

Sunday is still very much observed. There were two active churches, one surrounded by bicycles and full of highly dressed black people carrying on in a polite Pentecostal way, the other full of white people, the men in suits and without a sound coming out of the church. We passed a spot where two blacks were seated and were given a handshake and "Compliments of the Season" by a white couple heading into a restaurant for after-church brunch.  The only other commercial circumstance that was open was the very well stocked liquor store.

The Abaco Inn is a couple of miles down the Cay from Hope Town and set on the Atlantic side. Dinner was delicious, the breeze and crashing surf even more so.  Having drivers from the Inn and ferries from the Marina made for a very relaxing evening. I was solo as I made my way back to Jubilation, along the dimly lit dock, surveying my options for getting aboard ship.  The black skipper of the boat across the dock spoke "How was dinner?"   I jumped, "Whew, I didn't see you." He replied while laughing,  "I should have smiled."  His was an interesting story too.

Here are a few of the Christmas decorations from around the Abacos.

 

 

And here we are at the last dinner in Abaco.