Powerful

I love cities. Big or small, London or Edinburgh, New York or Amsterdam, I love the people, the energy and the life. What I dont like ironically enough are crowds. Like at all! I was in Venice a couple of weeks ago and about went mad being surrounded and shoved by so many tourists. It was awful!

So, what do i do to combat that you ask? Ah, behold yet another hidden treasure of the ipod. Invisibility!

My favorite way to walk around any city, whether sight-seeing, shopping or just wandering aimlessly is to have my head phones in place and my music flowing through my ears. It makes me feel completely powerful. I slip out of the rat-race and into my own world fit with my own personal sountrack to accompany the mayhem going on around me. It's totally exhilarating. I'll walk and walk and the hours and kilometers just pass by as I weave effortlessly through a sea of people, cars and buildings. Focused, centered and free.

Day 1 - NYC

On the way to Greece we had a full day layover in New York City. Rather than sit around fabulous Newark airport all day, we ventured into the city to have lunch with some friends and give my wife the chance to get the all-important pedicure.

We took the train in during morning rush hour, arrived at Penn Station and walked down to Chelsea, which is one of our favorite areas and also the home of Bloomies nails, E's favorite mani-pedi shop. We ducked into The Garden of Eden, which is one of my favorite grocery shops ever! Grocery doesn't do it justice, it's really just a tiny Euro-style market. Anyway, we popped in to get something to eat on the run, and awaited Bloomies 10am opening.

This may sound shitty, but my favorite way to spend my time in New York is by myself, walking around all day listening to my ipod. Few things in my life beat that. There's a sort of magic to the feeling of being in this hugely dense metropolis, surrounded by millions of people, yet feeling like in a world of my own with my own personal soundtrack setting the mood. It's the best. Anyway, I knew the day would go fast, so I didn't get the chance to hit may favorite shops (Barney's, Bloomindale's and Prada) but I did get to get away for a bit and walk down to one of my favorite parks, Madison Square Park. It's beautifully situated at the intersection of 5 streets and anchored by the stately and timeless Flatiron Building. Here are some of my NYC pics.











The rest of the day entailed a bit more walking, a nice lunch with my wife and 2 close friends, then a mad rush back to the airport to make our 5:30pm flight to Athens.

Coming home

I'll briefly acknowledge the fact that I have been really slacking in blog posts for the last 2 weeks. Sorry to all my many fans. I'll be good.

My wife has been out of town for a few days and tonight I went to the airport to pick her up. I really love airports, so when I go, I usually try to get there early and just soak in the experience. I could actually write post after post about airports, and maybe that can be sort of a fall back for when I'm feeling tapped out of topics.

Anyway, one of my favorite things to do at airports, ours in particular, is to watch people exit the secured area and come up that long escalator to the baggage claim area. That's where you'll see the fat old men holding up signs with things like "Mr. Davison" or "RPI Printing". You'll see kids straining to see gramma and grampa or mum and dad. You'll see Joe husband returning from his business trip, sometimes with family there to greet him, sometimes not. These days you might have a family awaiting the return of one of their sons in uniform returning from military service in Iraq. Kids coming back from chaperoned school trips. And the common business guy flying from one strange town to another,never sure where he is or why he is.

What I like in all of those scenarios is the common element amongst really all of these folks. Everyone always looks happy. Except for the poor business bastard. Whether they're coming home from holiday, business or war, they always seem happy to arrive where they are. I'm guessing it's not so much for the place, but for the people waiting for them at the top of the escalator.

Buffets

Americans are obsessed with buffets. Immigrants living in America have too become infatuated with the "all you can eat" concept of the buffet. A ton of food at a reasonable price. What else can one ask for?

Buffets can be categorized by food type or meal spicificity like how you might find breakfast buffets, seafood buffets or pizza and pasta buffets. Then there are the ethnicity based buffets, like Indian, Thai, Italian or the kings of them all, the Chinese buffet. Buffets can also be just general full menu spreads, serving anything from soups and salads, to pot roast or fried chicken and naturally several types of desserts. There are of course wedding and Casino buffets too, but there's just only so much one can write about buffets.

Most buffet restaurants seem to cater to a slightly lower income crowd who might also not be as knowledgable on proper dietary guidelines as taught in primary school. They can be a fun place to go people watch although sort of mean-spirited.

One such chain of general purpose buffets is called The Golden Corral. It's a place I visit with some of my colleagues from work maybe 4 times a year. The three most common consumer archetypes at an establishment of this type would be:

1. The obese elderly or mentally challenged day care/nursing home tour group
2. The 30-50 something male laborer/painter/construction guy
3. The starry-eyed Latin American or Eastern European immigrant

Not as common would be the group I take, which consists of 3-6 well dressed and fairly fit designers, using napkins and forks AND knives. I had never been to such a place before 3 years ago, which was something that I was proud of. I was always sort of grossed out by buffets and particularly the fact that they all had that glass "sneeze guard" over all the food, which means that people must really sneeze and that guard couldn't possibly deflect all of the sneeze particles. Well, one regretful visit led to a return and then several more followed.

Since then it has become a sort of tradition that we take all the newbies to the "GC" as we call it, to sort of break them in and test their will and eating prowess. Today was one of those such days. Our newest designer is a fit young lad who suitably had never been to the GC. We built up the experience for him before hand, and as we arrived, paid, grabbed our stack of clean plates and sat at our table, he knew we had only told him the good parts. Ed our server came by just to ask us if we wanted a basket of rolls and to let us know that if we needed anything to ask him, "my name's Ed, just ask for anything".

My mates and I grabbed our "round 1" plates and headed for the buffet. Newbie was bringing up the rear and crossed paths with Ed again. He says to Ed, "yeah, I need to follow the veterans to see how this is done". To which Ed responds "If it ain't nailed down, you can eat it".

Well put Ed, well put indeed.

Town & Country

I live in an area of the city that would be considered an urban neighborhood. It's well within the peripheral expressway and only but 3 miles or so from the city center. At the turn of the last century (18s - 19s), this area was actually where the wealthy city folk would buy land and build their country manors in order to get back to the country and revive their souls from the madness of the city. In the century following, as the city grew and absorbed this area and growing well past, my neighborhood became more densely built, gained more infrastructure and many more residents. This probably conjures up images of row houses or brownstones, graffiti, stoop occupying drunks and traffic noise.

Actually, my neighborhood is one of 100+ year old houses with yards with huge trees, most lovingly restored or modernized. There are families and children, retirees, singles, you name it. Just a 5 minute walk up my street is our central business district which has a small movie theater, a number of restaurants, a grocery store, 2 coffee shops, banks, a barber shop, a small library and most importantly, my favorite ice cream shop. An evening stroll will undoubtedly have me cross paths with several acquaintances, neighbors and friends.

I go to my coffee shop and they know how I like my latte. I go to my barber and he knows that I like my hair cut short, like Steve McQueen's in Bullitt. My ice cream "barrista" Molly always serves me up a massive portion of mocha chip and carefully balances the precarious lot of lactic goodness onto a small cone below. What I consider this is a true community.

What I find sadly ironic is that most of my coworkers live out in the suburbs, well beyond the periphery, in a land of matching cookie-cutter houses built in mowed down forests and fields and surrounded by massive thoroughfares and shopping plazas. On the rare occasion that my wife and I are forced to venture out of "the shire" due to invitation or the need to visit some store that only exists out there, we'll have panic attacks at the sheer madness of congestion and creepily homogeneous appearance to everything. When I care enough to ask suburban residents why they choose to live all the way out there they'll typically say that they live there because they like their "communities" (usually walled in enclaves named things like Arbor Centre or Crowne Pointe) and they want to be far away from the city, it's noise, traffic and crime.

I'm not sure I know what they're talking about.

NYC

I was flying back from NY last week and while I was at the airport, I picked up a copy of my favorite men's fashion magazine, GQ Style. Now, this isn't the usual GQ, it's a British quarterly version that is heavily fashion focused, and not just pretty pictures, but tons of great reading. The one they put out last fall was all about the concept of luxury and it was extremely well written. These issues tend to have not only great contributing writing, but also some poignant historical quotes that seem contemporary and applicable today.

The issue I just picked up is entitled The London Look. Not very clever title, but again, very well done, great writing, interviews and pictorials. Not the best fashion spreads either, but you cant have everything I guess. One of the things I really like is how cleverly the editors seamlessly marry current interviews and stories with quotes, exerpts and commentaries that are 100+ years old. I've often thought I would like to be one of these guest design editors or something. Maybe not as cool as it sounds.

Anyway, the articles within this 300 page tome were all preaching the virtues ole London-town. Well, morelike current London. In the last few years London has experienced a boom that has increased the population to over 15 million people. There has been a rebirth of the design, arts and overall cultural scene. The pound and the overall economy is strong as ever. Moreover, with the resurgence of the British fashion scene, London is poised to take over the world as THE city. The capitol of the world. Well, as much as I love London (actually, it's more of a love/hate relationship), I have a hard time handing the reins over that easily.

Paris is the fashion capitol of the world (and my favorite city), with Milan a close second. London's got some great restaurants, endless shopping and obviously they've got the financial thing pretty well covered. But, if I had to pick one place to crown king of the world, it would undoubtedly be New York City. Many more posts to come about New York and all my reasons why.

The Landau

Not sure how this one popped up in conversation today, but when Tanner and I digress, you never know what sewer you'll end up in. At least this is postable.

I got to thinking about cars and specifically cars from the early 80s, even more specifically American makes. Cars that even though shitty, were bejeweled or embellished with details considered luxurious. It's the manifestations of this type of luxury that I find hilarious.

The concept of luxury as applied to cars began years before with all the chrome found on Deusenbergs, Packards and Cadillacs, then migrated through the 50s with Buicks, Mercurys and Fords. The 60s and 70s led to less chrome and more minimalistic design. Ok, sure, there were some pretty iconic Muscle cars during those years, but most cars were pretty basic. Politics seemed to play more of a role in automotive design back then and it's pretty apparent. The 60s and 70s saw the US battling a failing war, economy and fuel crisis, and gave way to the Reagan years of prosperity and the wildly popular theory of trickle down economics. That and the whole preppy, country club, frat boy, Thurston Howell display of wealth. Let's not forget, the 80s were when Trump began to make his real mark and he's still an icon of classless wealth.

This cultural mindset is what paved the way for such design triumphs like "boot buckles" and the famed Landau top. A prime example was a Cadillac Seville from 1983 that had a hideous sloping trunk and was often adorned with a pseudo spare tire, and if you could swing it, gold belts that were made to invoke a nostalgic homage to the autos of yesteryear, or the desire to be Captain Hook. See exhibit A.



Next was the Landau top. Now, most people are familiar with the cabriolet concept, and like it or not, it is at least fucntional. During the 80s it became en vogue to upholster the rooves of cars to give the impression that they too were cabriolets, but were in reality not. Just hard top cars with canvas rooves. 'What do you mean Simon? Are you telling me that that 1982 Lincoln Town Car isn't a convertible?!?' Puzzling, I know. The one that really gets me though was the Landau. What the hell is that? It's bascically a portion of a vinyl top that covers only the rear portion of the roof. Why? Well, a little research tells us this...

"Usually found on luxury cars, a landau roof enhances the outside appearance by adding an element of formality to a car's roofline. Instead of a full covering of the roof area, a landau roof usually covers the rear section."

Exhibit B



So, it seems the term Landau was actually a historical reference back to coach-building and referred to an open carriage coach, which had a retractble roof, the distinguishing characteristic being the the elegant S shape made by the bars locking in place when closed. Personally, I think it would take a hell of alot more than a Landau to make an '81 Buick Regal look classy, but who am I to judge.

In conclusion, just because there might be history or meaning behind something, that doesn't necessarily make it good. And these cars are oftentimes so hideous, I just cant look away. Plus I love how you can see where this image of regality has worked it's way into current popular culture and the mouths of rappers.

Bill

I dont know how or why I was compelled to share this amusing little story today, but I figured I'd just go with it.

I had a friend and former co-worker named Mike, who used to live in what's called a "transitional" neighborhood. This means that poor angry people live there and now are being displaced by rich people who are replacing crack houses with coffeeshops.

Mike was a free spirit who did things at times that most people would only ever have a passing thought about, if that. Take for example Mike putting woodgrained contact paper on the lower half of his brand new Audi TT (because he thought the woody look would be hilarious), hanging out with a charming young girl that happened to have a cleft palette (because he thought it was amusing to hear her speak) or emptying the entirety of the refrigerator at his rented flat and puncturing a hole into its side to pass a hose through in order to dispense beer from the keg that took up the entire volume of the interior. He also seemed to happen upon funny, random occurences that he'd share.

One in particular that still makes me laugh went like this...

Mike was leaving his flat to walk to work one autumn morning, closed the gate behind him and began his short jaunt to our office. He wasn't but say 300 meters from home, when he noticed two kids across the street walking their dog (a largish pitbull that was more walking the kids then the contrary). The dog was getting the better of the brother and sister and was obviously hungry too which didn't help matters. The dog pulled and pulled and finally slipped from the grasp of the kids, got away and ran around the corner into a schoolyard, at which point the kids began chasing him. The young boy caught up to the hungry dog moments later and almost in horror yells to his sister "eeeeewwwww, Bill be eatin' leafiz!!!"

I'm laughing even now 6 years later just writing this! Where do I begin as to why?

One, I love the Snoop Doggism of pluralizing "leaves" to "leafiz". I also love that they're dismayed at the fact that the dog is eating the leafiz, as opposed to a dead cat or a stray chicken bone. But I think my favorite thing is that they named their dog Bill. Not Rover, or Buster or Buddy. But, Bill. Probably the most common man's name...for a dog.

Indian Food

I really like Indian food. I live very near my favorite Indian restaurant, Ambar India, and carry out food from there on average once a week. I suppose most of what we get there would be considered southern Indian, but to me it's all just the same, delicious.

Ironically, I have not always liked Indian food and in fact once so detested the smell of curry wafting out of the ventilation stacks of the 5 other Indian restaurants near me that I would cross the street dodging curry fumes like they were Tsetse flies.

I like the fact that no matter what your mood, occasion or time of day, Indian food can satisfy your needs. Always there, always ready to please. It's pretty much always consistent in its taste and preparation. Sure it differs quite a bit from one area of the world to the next, but again, still delicious. It's almost as universal as pizza.

It's this overall reliability in the food though that puzzles me. Not so much in the food really, but in the proprietors of MY Indian restaurant. I have been a faithful diner at Ambar for around 7 years. Since I moved 1/2 mile away 6 years ago, I would say that my wife and I on average have carried out food from there at least once a week. I call it in, I give my name (I enunciate very clearly so they can understand what I'm saying), I leave my telephone number, they tell me it'll be 15-20 minutes or so and I hang up. After about 15 minutes I drive up (yes, a bit lazy I know), park across the street illegally and run in. This is where the mystery strikes me every time. I walk up to the counter and the all look at me like I'm from another planet. I tell them "yes, hi, um I'm here to pick up an order for Chase". They look at me, then look on the tags of the several bags of food carefully lined up on the counter searching for my name. Eventually they find it, I pay and I leave.

This is what kills me! No matter how many times I go there and no matter how many pleasantries I try to exchange with the proprietors, for some reason they never, EVER remember me?!? What's up with that?

The little things...

Life, by nature, has it's ups and downs. At the current pace of the world it seems that people dont make the time to stop and appreciate the little things in life. Myself I tend to work a very long workweek, but make sure to take a bit of time everyday to unwind, but that is more of a "macro" activity.

There was a film done by a husband and wife team of designers, Charles and Ray Eames, called the Powers of 10. The film is all visual and it starts at the vantage point of the universe, zooming slowly by powers of 10 (hence the name), to the galaxy, then the solar system, then the earth, etc working it's way through to the cellular structure of a leaf and ultimately ending at a universe scene sort of like the opening.

I like this sort of "micro" view of the world. I use this micro level of observation to find opportunities throughout the day to get tiny pieces of happiness, as fuel for healthy living. So, with that, here's a brief list of things I get micro-joys from:

songs that incorporate whistling
tiny, round stones
well manicured grass
shiny things
serendipitous correspondence
level blinds
crusty french bread
the foam swirls on my latte
well constructed sleeves
the pleasing "click" sound on a shampoo bottle cap
the legs of wine in a glass
the smell of vinyl inflatables
rubberbands
purring
brush strokes
lawn gnomes
the popping sounds of an open fire
magnets
sparkling water
walking through leaves
old couples
flashlights
unread magazines
very small video screens
grid systems
maple helicopters
escapee balloons
round things
getting into a freshly made bed
the 2 dimples on a woman's lower back
a perfect snowflake that lands on me
well chosen fonts
the color of mimolette
the aroma of freshly baked cookies
finding pennies