The North Woods

I woke up too late to head to the Socrates Sculpture Park like I had planned. And the weather was too nice to sit inside. So Liz and I took a leisurely stroll around the park, up to the Harlem Meer and then ascended the rocky steps into the north woods.

If you want to have the illusion of solitude in the city, this is the place to go. The woods sit atop a sizable hill, and so only a handful of adventurers make their way up there. We stumbled upon this funny building:

It's a lumpy, brick and mortar building that seems to be used only as a protective shelter for a tall flagpole. At least, that was our best guess when we saw it and puzzled over it. Actually, it's known as Blockhouse No. 1, and it used to be a protective fort, and part of a much larger structure. It was built to help protect the city during the War of 1812.

The building is situated on some high, rocky terrain, which turns out to be a great place to lay on a prematurely warm winter's afternoon and watch planes go by.

I also learned that, if, on a Saturday, you're on a long wander and you want a super chocolaty cookie, then Le Vain is the place to go. It was probably the chocolatiest cookie I've ever eaten. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my customary picture-of-food-with-a-bite-taken-out-of-it. They've got a line that goes a ways down the block, and that's always a good sign:

Lastly, the landscape of the park is always fascinating to me.

Subway Daemons

You can see the most remarkable things if only you open your eyes. The other day I had a job interview in Chelsea, which is pretty far from home. I arrived almost half an hour early, and you can only wander around CVS for so long before they think you're trying to steal something. So I shambled out onto the sidewalk without a thought in my head as to what I should do for my remaining twenty minutes. That's when I just happened to notice this little creature:

What luck, to run across such a portly and officious little police woman (though I've vacillated about its gender, since its features, and its adiposity, are decidedly masculine, but there are two fairly distinct indicators of ladyhood). She even comes complete with gun, badge, and nightstick. I stepped back a pace to get a picture of her milieu:

As you can see, she perches to the left of the Subway elevator, guarding the door from nighttime rapscallions. It wasn't until after the interview on my way back to East Harlem that I realized that I had missed her companion, who stands above the elevator looking downwards.

Upon further research, I learned that these two are just part of a much more extensive art installation at that station called Life Underground. I couldn't help but think of the daemons found in Greek Mythology. These are lesser gods or spirits who attend and protect mortals, or take stewardship over some natural feature. We don't have many wooded groves to oversee in the city, so I guess these daemons protect their local subway stop from danger.

Funded!

Money. It's been the biggest obstacle barring me from my end-of-the-year round-the-world voyage. Well, obstacle, consider yourself overcome!

I spent the last week in marathon job interviews and phone calls, and I've now landed a big-boy job with a real live salary, an office, and benefits. No more invoices! No more waiting on the mail for my paycheck! No more calculating my own taxes! No more working next to the snoring guy in the library! I might even go to the dentist! And I'm starting on Monday!

But here's the real kicker - I still get to take the trip. At the end of an über-intimidating, ten person, group interview, my supervisor-to-be asked what the deal was with the three month "vacation" I was taking. I gave it a quick sum-uppance. To which he shrugged his shoulders and simply said, "Okay."

The sweetest two syllables ever to come out of anyone's mouth.

So they're going to let me work while I travel - bonkers, right? I am blessed. Blessed blessed blessed.

Note: I don't want to gloat. I'm privileged. Note my white American maleness. And I now have an obligation to make some contribution to the world that put me into this position. But sometimes, I do have to lean back in my office chair and acknowledge that it is, in fact, good to be me.

Prospect Park

Admittedly, I had been the one to suggest we spend an afternoon in Prospect Park. However, she was the one that was training for a marathon, and she needed to get her long run in. And so we thought, what the heck? Why not kill two birds with one stone and run the eight miles in the park?

The fact that we didn't rethink our decision once the snow started falling - that was a mutual thing. And good thing, too, because running through Prospect Park in a snowstorm might make for pretty poor picture-taking, but it's pretty fun nonetheless.

We started out at the Grand Army Plaza, the home of these beauties:

The arch above is the Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch, a tribute to those who fought for the Union in the Civil War.

The Grand Army Plaza opens up into the park, around which we ran. Twice. Like champs. I may or may not have tripped my running partner. The injuries may or may not have been severe.

Okay, they weren't that severe.

We took a ten-second look inside the lovely Brooklyn Library, then wised up and went home - shivering and exhausted, but happy, all the way.

Roosevelt Island

We needed some way to celebrate the life of Martin Luther King, Jr., right? So we met up at Bloomingdale's. Luckily, someone had the foresight to make a reservation at Serendipity. We ate awkward sandwiches and went into sugar shock over a frozen hot chocolate and some absurd ice cream sundae. Our waiter was wearing green contact lenses. They deceived me, and I thought I had witnessed the eighth wonder - the world's greenest eyes.

Once again, I failed to take the picture until after the food was eaten. I need to get with it. This is getting gross.

It was a blustery, cold day, so why not hop on the tram over to Roosevelt Island? I'm always in the mood to check something off my list of northeastern adventures, so I tagged along for a glide across the East River.

Over the years, Roosevelt Island's residents have called it Minnehanonck, Varkens Eylandt, Blackwell's Island, and Welfare Island. It has been home to a New York Penitentiary, Penitentiary Hospital, and the New York City Lunatic Asylum. The penitentiary has jailed, at various times, Emma Goldman, Mae West, Boss Tweed, and Billie Holiday. The Asylum, in one of the city's less-proud moments, housed 1,700 patients - twice its designed capacity.

Before our excursion, my only knowledge of Roosevelt Island came from the movie Dark Water, so I was expecting our trip to be replete with creepy little girl ghosts. The experience was, unfortunately, little-girl-ghost-free, but there are still plenty of otherworldly things on the island. The first is the Queensboro Bridge, which passes directly over the island.

I wonder what it's like living with the imposing specter of the bridge looming over you all the time.

There's a lovely esplanade down both sides of the lower part of the island, so you get a nice view of Manhattan on one side, and a bunch of what appear to be abandoned hospital buildings on the other.

The hospital is pretty otherworldly as well. They've spray-painted the letters for the buildings on their sides. It looks as if Roosevelt Island underwent the apocalypse before the rest of us, and the abandoned buildings have been overtaken by some kind of futuristic gang.

One building of particular interest, fenced off from the rest, and which I believe the city is turning into a memorial of some kind, appears to have been bombed at some point. Check out the video below.

What's strange about the bombed-out building is its close proximity to the FDR Memorial at the bottom of the island, which is fairly grand and sweeping.

It was brisk. It was time to go home. It was time to get Liz to give me back my coat.

Brookyland

I finally have 37 things to do for the 37 weeks before I leave for Africa. Check them out here. Thanks to all the people that made amazing suggestions. A lot of them made it into my list.

I've already checked a few things off the list. The first was the Brooklyn Flea Market. There was something in the air. Everyone suddenly and independently decided they wanted to go to the Brooklyn Flea. And by everyone I mean les copains that jaunted off to Williamsburg for the day on Saturday.

Williamsburg is striking and disarming the moment you step off the train. Here are some of the things we saw right off the bat:

The Brooklyn Flea is less of a market and more of a strange world inhabited by fanciful creatures:

It's also a massive coagulation of old stuff. One person's trash is another's treasure:

We smelled some fantastic, old, leather jackets. We rifled through vinyl records, old maps, and grade-school flashcards.

I bought 30 family photos from the 40s of unknown, ordinary people. Pictures taken on family outings, graduation days, pictures of nurses and soldiers, people in canoes and on grassy lawns. An assemblage of histories lost to time except for a handful of mysterious snapshots. I impose upon these pictures stories of my own, and the characters in my stories may as well be the real people in the pictures. 

The guy selling the pictures said he acquired them dirt cheap at auctions, yard sales, and estate sales. I feel a little wrong co-opting these individuals' histories into my own life. I'm currently arranging the photos into a collage on my bedroom wall - I'll post something about that when I'm done.

A few blocks from the flea market is Pies 'n Thighs, which comes highly recommended:

I'm a poor foodie-photographer. I always forget to take the picture until I've taken a bite out of the food. Gross.

Overwhelmed at the fact that we had the entire world available to us in our wanderings, we explored a funny little store across the street that had some weird pillows:

In a wonderful lapse of judgment, we decided to walk three miles to Ample Hills. It was the Sabbath, so the very Hasidic neighborhood was extremely quiet and still. There is a huge disjuncture between the two preeminent cultures of Williamsburg: Orthodox Jews and young, white hipsters. I've never seen so many sidelocks. Or so many Buddy Hollies.

I'm not too proud to wear a woman's scarf. It was cold.

Finally, Ample Hills.

Once again, taking pictures of half-eaten food. Yum.

Tiny Wonders

The beginning of my year was a real flurry of activity - of sound and fury - regarding my round-the-world voyage. However, now that I've decided to leave in October, I have nine months to save money and just... live.

After spending a few days twiddling my thumbs, I've decided that's no way to spend nine months. Nine months of dead air on a blog is probably a bad idea, too.

So here's my plan: I have thirty seven weekends between now and October 1st. In those thirty seven weekends, I plan to really explore New York and environs, and have some much smaller-scale adventures, from several hours to several days in length. Here's my list of things I intend to accomplish/places I intend to visit, blogging about each one along the way, of course:

1. New York Aquarium
2. The Great Saunter
3. Brooklyn Flea Market
4. Williamsburg
5. Greenwood Cemetery
6. Brooklyn Botanic Gardens
7. City Island
8. The Cloisters
9. Montreal
10. Niagara Falls
11. Governor's Island
12. Castle Gould/Sands Point, NY
13. Explore Roosevelt Island
14. See a movie at IFC
15. PS 1 Contemporary Art Center
16. Walk the length of Staten Island
17. Prospect Park
18. Montauk Point State Park
19. Boston
20. Socrates Sculpture Park

I'm still 17 short. What are some of your favorite things to do in the Great Northeast that 1) I probably haven't done before and 2) are a little more off the beaten path?

Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn

The Boy Is Back In Town

I had a lovely, three-week stay at Edwards Headquarters in Bountiful, Utah. But now I'm back in the city. Thank goodness for the stay. Thank goodness that I'm back.

New York has a bewitching effect on me. It knocks me around. It changes me, as if without my permission. Being here makes everything seem possible.

It was strange going back home after just two months in the city. When my frame of reference changed, I realized that I had changed. I spoke differently, carried myself differently, and was a lot less patient with crowds on the sidewalk. It's nice to be back now in a place where that kind of thinking is acceptable.

Now that I'm here, the rest of the world feels like it's a mere hop, skip, and a jump away. No wonder - New York is pretty representative of the world. 36% of New Yorkers are actually foreign-born. And only 44% of New Yorkers are white. New York is the principal entry point for immigration into the United States. Want to travel around the world? Easy - just take the train to midtown.

My return marks a new chapter in my life. For the next nine months, all I have to do is work and prepare for my journey. I see those nine months, yawning out in front of me, the way that a trader must have felt staring down the endless Silk Road, at the beginning of his journey. Until now, there has always been a new conquest every few months. New semesters come every three-to-five months. On my mission, my fate was up for grabs every six weeks with the next transfer.

Those nine months are unconstructed. What a blessing. I'm free to make anything with them I please. Let's hope they're stunning. And that the next three are even spent sleeping on strangers' couches in foreign lands.

How To Avoid A Nervous Breakdown

In my last post I presented the problem: one month is too short a time to really enjoy travelling. After some thought, and some helpful advice, I've settled on a solution: spend THREE months travelling instead! (Some of you presented some more conservative - and more rational - alternatives. Too bad about my balls-to-the-wall attitude about this trip.)

Obviously, this approach comes with more than a few difficulties.

Difficulty #1: Money.

In food and lodging alone, a trip of this duration will cost about $3000 more than my shorter version. Add in little banalities like my rent back home, my cell phone, and paying back my student loans, and it comes up to about 6000 more buckaroos than I was originally planning on.

Fortunately, I currently have a great job that not only pays the bills, but allows me to work when and wherever I want. (I'm under contract building a web app to help people find outdoor adventures near them.) Contracting is the best. If only the halcyon days could last forever. Unfortunately, my current gig will be finished within the month. Which brings me to...

Difficulty #2: Timing.

The longer travel itinerary would require me to leave in October. This is for a couple of reasons. First, I need more time to save money. Second, you can only visit Antarctica during the austral summer, which lasts from November to February. Leaving in October would land me in Antarctica right when it's at its warmest. Perfect, right?

Only one little hang-up. Leaving in October leaves eight months of unemployment between the end of my current job and the moment my plane takes off from JFK. The problem should be pretty obvious: without a job, you can't live. And you certainly can't save up for a circumnavigation of the globe.

Easily solved, you say. Just get a job for the eight intervening months! Except that, in the software industry, salaried employees are expected to stay on board for at least two years from their hiring dates. If I say hasta la vista after eight months, my name is mud and I never work in New York again.

Solution: More Contract Work

But not this kind of work-from-home job.

I would really love to get a salaried, 9-5 kind of job right now. But it's simply not going to jive with the whole continent-hopping thing.

The long and short of it is that I need another job that is similar to my current one. It may be a long shot, but it may not. Yesterday I started putting out feelers on the job boards. I'm also in the middle of a redesign on my résumé website to improve its search engine optimization. Hopefully that will draw some interest. My pièce de résistance, however, is a JavaScript data framework that I developed over the holidays called GeniusJS. Hopefully, all of this, combined with a little ingenuity and a lot of pavement-pounding, will yield the 6-month contract/work-from-home kind of job that will make my voyage possible.

The Upside

The good news is that I'm now even more excited for the adventure ahead. And I've gotten some great new ideas, as well: first, to couch-surf my way as much as possible. Second, to travel by plane as little as possible. Additionally, if I can get the kind of job I need, I can spend three weeks at a time in each place - enough to live, to make friends, and to go on excursions along the way.

I'm so blessed to have friends and family that have already helped me a ton. They've pointed out resources for helping me get to Antarctica, given me great ideas for modes of travelling, and poured out lots of support. I'm going to make another appeal: if anyone needs a web developer for the short term (or for the long term and doesn't mind if he doesn't come into the office Oct-Dec), or knows of a friend who does, I'd love to hear about it.

What Was I Thinking?

Within the last few days, numerous people have pointed out something to me that should have been obvious all along: one month is simply not enough time to really see the whole world.

They have a point. According to my rough calculations, the trip I have in mind involves 85 hours of flight time, including layovers. There are only 448 waking hours in a month. Therefore, 19% of my time would be spent on planes or in airports. Add in bus and cab rides, trying to find my hotel, and packing and unpacking, and one can see that easily 25% or more of my severely jet-lagged time would be spent on actual transport. This means that I would be much less likely to have all of the adventurous, hallmark experiences I'm hoping to have, such as:

1. Eating brains
2. Making new friends
3. Learning about other religions
4. Getting food poisoning
5. Going to church
6. Getting robbed
7. Having an appendectomy with a rusty scalpel in a tin lean-to

So I'm forced to reconsider my priorities. In the words of Jeff Alley,

Are you trying to see the world? Or just accomplish this? I feel like you're reading the Book of Mormon to get it done. Instead of reading to understand it.

I'm not proud of it, but part of me just wants to mark off a checklist, so that on my future résumés and online dating profiles I can emblazon the words "I've circumnavigated the globe and visited every continent."

However, when I daydream about this adventure, I don't envision myself bleary-eyed at 4 AM, watching in-flight movies, eating Planters peanuts, and grasping with quivering fingers for my rapidly evaporating sanity. Though that sounds cool in a kind of desperate, modern, David Foster Wallace way, too.

Rather, I see myself giving away food to Indian beggar children. Or sitting on an Australian beach watching the waves come in. Or standing atop a mountain in Patagonia. All of which I may not have time to do if I limit my time to one month.

What would you do? I have a solution I'm playing around with, but I think I'll just talk about it in my next post.