Onward and Upward in the Neighborhood!

After many years of a view over low rooftops, the blow has finally fallen; the die is cast, etc. The local developer finally got enough money together to start construction on what is going to be a 33-story apartment house on the site of the former and much beloved Metropolitan Café and Columbus Bakery! Plus ça change,,,,

But—The upside is that I have a bird's-eye view of the details of building construction to which, like most city dwellers who aren't actually in the business, I never paid much attention in the past. I can see how much really skilled labor is involved, and even, as a dance, theater, and art enthusiast, a certain amount of choreography and design. I especially like the arrangement of the black netting recently installed to catch flying débris. A few years ago there was a construction disaster in this part of town, only a couple of blocks away, wherein a crane toppled into a building under construction, destroyed a brownstone, killed one person, and heavily damaged some other surrounding buildings. I'm hoping that enough precautions have now been taken so that nothing like that can happen here. Fortunately, my building is far enough from any cranes anyway.

This is what it may eventually look like:

959 First Avenue : Curbed NY

At least I'm still going to have almost all of my light. 

The East, Mysterious Once Again

It's not exactly full-blown international intrigue on East 52nd Street, but for a number of weeks there has been a police presence directly across the street from me in front of the Thai embassy.  The building itself has been closed for quite a while, owing to the political unrest back home in Thailand. This gives our otherwise low-key neighborhood a faintly sinister air. In typical Manhattan fashion, the embassy is flanked by a decorous brownstone on its left and a modest little shoe repair shop on its right. There are usually two of New York's Finest lounging in front of the neat white building. From my window vantage point, their body language indicates extreme boredom.
  

A few weeks back, from time to time, there have been some quiet protest groups; in fact, a few times parade-type barriers have been set up in front of my building and a few flags have been waved and placards worn. But nothing lately. However, a friend, whose upcoming travel itinerary formerly included Bangkok, has been notified that Thailand will be bypassed. The fate of the goings-on across the street has yet to be determined.

Syttende Mai—Good Neighbors

My Manhattan Street in Turtle Bay (Midtown East) has some establishments that are more genteel, less raucous, than many others in New Yawk, New Yawk. We have the apparently decorous Turtle Bay Music School and, right across the way from me, the Norwegian Seamen's Church (Sjømannskirken). They wish all visitors "Hjertelig velkommen," which, thanks to cognates, needs no translation. Today, May 17, Norwegian Constitution Day, known simply by its date, syttende mai (seventeenth of May), gives them a chance to cut loose in a remarkably quiet and orderly way, as opposed to the generally riotous parades and celebrations of other ethnic groups which the city hosts periodically. They don't need Fifth or Sixth Avenue; one crosstown block is sufficient for them, and their charming parade, well populated with towheaded, flag-waving youngsters, lasts only a few minutes. Con Edison's periodic tearing up of the street makes a lot more noise than they do. Long may they remain in the neighborhood! (They always clean up after themselves, too!)

Il Porcellino in New York City

I saw the Florentine bronze "Porcellino" in its home in Italy quite a number of years before it appeared, in 1972, in my neighborhood Sutton Place Park. This one doesn't have its nose rubbed to a coppery shine like its ancestor's, although I did see someone doing a rub—considered good luck—while I was sitting on a nearby bench on a recent sunny Saturday afternoon. Porcellino means "piglet" in italiano, but this is more a wild boar than a cuddly Babe-type piglet! The surrounding flora and fauna, consisting of vines, reptiles, and insects, are worth a close perusal. The whole work is a bit menacing, though lovable for its associations. A civic-minded philanthropist with a whimsical turn of mind donated this as well as a Peter Pan statue in Carl Schurz park. 

It was definitely a cross-cultural afternoon, as I was listening to Strauss's Arabella  from the Metropolitan Opera on my iPhone, and following the libretto. I guess I really should have been listening to that valentine to the city of Florence, Gianni Schicchi.

Manhattan Pastorale

No, we're not in the Adirondacks. These Canada geese are visiting us right here on the east side of Roosevelt Island, smack in the middle of the East River.  Hadn't visited Roosevelt Island in many years, and it has become quite an outpost, more for families than for singles, with many good-looking high-rise apartment houses and attractive plantings. At the southern tip, a memorial park for Franklin D. Roosevelt is under construction.  

The island seems to have all the amenities, especially for family life. I wouldn't call it the best place for living solo, though it has the added attraction of being much quieter than the rest of Manhattan. And a couple of minutes on the Roosevelt Island tramway (assuming it's in working order) will get you to this peaceful oasis.

Burning Bright

It’s easy to see why kids, both big and little, love fire engines. They are usually kept lovingly polished and shining. Even at rest in their garages they can’t help catching the eye. Many of New York’s fire trucks have slogans painted above the front windshields. One of my favorites is an engine in the Broadway theater district that proudly states, “Never missed a performance!”

Of far more importance than the spectacular vehicles used in their essential work are the firemen themselves. We New Yorkers consider them heroes, and rightly so. The horrors of 9/11 showed their strength and courage fully, but these men have always had our respect and admiration.

Like the rest of us, they have to do grocery shopping, and I often see them making purchases at the Fairway I frequent. That’s why this beautiful fire engine was parked by the stop near that storied food market, where I was waiting for the Broadway bus.

For further musings on Fairway, with or without our great firemen:

http://mobilemanhattanite.blogspot.com/2008/03/fairway-oy-veh.html

http://mobilemanhattanite.blogspot.com/2010/08/fairway-redux.html

Putting Zs Into "Das Rheingold"

Overactive imagination at work again: Sat down to enjoy Das Rheingold at the Met the other night, and noticed that an elderly gentlemen a few seats to my right was already asleep. I had always supposed that, at least, people waited until the opera actually started before they dropped off. O.K., he wasn’t bothering me and he wasn’t even snoring.

Shortly after the show started, I noticed that another man, just to my left, was bent far over, also apparently asleep as well. I was afraid that he would fall against me, but that didn’t happen.  As the excellent performance progressed, I noticed that he wasn’t waking up. Was he dead? Immediately, ominous thoughts of summoning an usher who would call for an EMT flooded my mind. Would I have to stay around and be a witness? He had come to the opera alone. Would I have to do the Good Samaritan thing? I trusted that the applause at the end would wake him up first.

Of course, he wasn’t dead at all and even stirred a few times during Rheingold’s two and one-half hours. He fled as soon as the curtain came down. I wonder if he remembered anything of the very fine performance. Even the Met’s infamous Robert Lepage Machine, much despised by the critics, made very little noise. There were only a few slight rumbles as the Rhine maidens descended into the deep at the end of their scene. The audience, except for the two snoozers, responded with vociferous appreciation at the opera's conclusion.