Some of my favorite moments from my week in New York City. And, yes, there was a lot of memorable eating.
Stained glass at the Cloisters.
Quiet day at Fort Tryon Park.
Poncie takes a bite from the BEST smoked salmon from Russ & Daughters.
View of downtown from the Sky Room at the New Museum.
Secret lemon confit from Morgenstern's Ice Cream.
See the rest here.
Prior to this year, I'd been to New York twice and kind of lived there for a summer*, so I figured I had all the Must Sees covered. Because when it comes to going some place where half the experience is putting up with all the other slow-moving tourists, I always say one and done. Except for the High Line; I can't get enough of that park.
This time I came primarily to visit two particular friends who are both in their second year of medical school, i.e. crazy busy. And while I focused on newer and less popular attractions (the Cloisters, the Morbid Anatomy Museum, etc.), it quickly became apparent that no matter how much they wanted to partake in obscure NYC things, academics prevented them. Luckily, I tend to enjoy my own company.
On an overcast morning that kept one hand at the ready to grab an umbrella, I took the subway down to Battery Park, shouldered my way through the young men offering guidance to confused out-of-towners, and found my way to the ferry dock. Eschewing Liberty Island (the statue is overrated), I disembarked at Ellis Island. Whereas Angel Island feels more like sleepaway camp with its modest wooden buildings, Ellis Island's austere stone structures evoke an early twentieth century sanitarium.
A few photos below.
Main entrance.
Inside the registration room.
Departure.
More wanderings about the city here.
*Okay fine I lived in downtown Jersey City but I worked in Tribeca. That counts for something, right?
After several days of sunshine in Dallas, I moved on to the frigid east coast springtime, starting in Washington, DC. The last time I visited the capital was some time in elementary school, when our family tagged along with my mom, who was attending a conference. Mostly I remember being upset that my poor father (whom we dispatched at some ungodly hour) was unable to procure tickets to visit the White House. Also I made everyone trek to Arlington; I've harbored a fascination with death and cemeteries from a young age.
Highlights from this recent jaunt include: winning science night at The Argonaut (the project not the trivia), visiting NPR HQ (seeing not one but two Tiny Desks and taking a nap on the couch behind my friend's desk), having delicious Spanish food at Jaleo with my mom (again in town for a conference), crashing my friend's family's elaborate Easter celebration, and buying some cool art from the Torpedo Factory Art Gallery in Old Town Alexandria.
Pictures below.
The Reading Room in the Library of Congress.
Jessie Ware (far right) sound checking before her Tiny Desk concert at NPR. Her acoustic rendition of Champagne Kisses was lovely.
Washington Monument.
Inside the National Cathedral.
Faux cherry blossom.
See more of the capital and a few snaps of Old Town Alexandria here.
My roommate took me to the local pasar (market) for a much different glimpse of Jakarta than we get at the glitzy shopping centers that we tend to frequent. Stuffy and smelly, the multi-level market and surrounding streets are packed full of all kinds of goods - meats, fruits and other types of food, as well as fabric, knockoff shoes and accessories, random house wares, etc. I picked up a couple batik items for souvenirs, but left the street food alone despite the enticing aroma; a previous eating experience had already depleted most of my Immodium supply.
Tailor's stall.
Unidentified bones in the meat market.
Makeshift kitchen. I like the dilapidated payphone.
Makeshift table.
Martabak - an omelette fried in a thin pancake.
Eat. Swim. Sun. Repeat.
Add a little shopping, snoozing and boozing, and last weekend's jaunt to our friend's villa in Bali can be summed up by the above.
I had previously stayed with said friend on my last (and first) visit during the great 'round the world trip of 2013, and she didn't disappoint by taking us around to all new places to eat. (This is to say new to me; not necessarily recently opened). Being the only part of Indonesia that is predominantly Hindu rather than Muslim, a significant amount of pork was consumed by all. After spending time in Jakarta you do start to miss it.
Highlights include decadent ribs at Naughty Nuri's in Ubud followed by cocktails and an inspirational tasting menu at Room 4 Dessert, as well as brunching on traditional food at Nasi Ayam Kedewatan (everything tastes better when consumed in a neat little hut) and a lovely farewell dinner of freshly grilled seafood at the beachside Menega Cafe, where our prime table rested not even fifty feet from the waves lapping up on the shore and a five-piece Indo mariachi group played English-language hits by the likes of John "Lemon."
I tried to photo-document the weekend, but only ended up with the paltry five pictures below. Guess I was too busy stuffing my face and basking under the blue sky that's never visible in Jakarta.
Church visible from the villa balcony.
Dog watches his owner's kids surfing.
The ribs.
The pool at the villa.
Brunch at Nasi Ayam Kedewatan.
My mom managed to find a book on self-guided walking tours in Jakarta at the library and, despite everyone's derision and skepticism (see previous post), I convinced one of my roommates to tag along with me.
We began not far from Plaza Indonesia in central Jakarta (the first and swankiest of the city's shopping centers) , and wound our way east through the affluent residential Menteng neighborhood, passing numerous parks, embassies and even Obama's childhood school (there is a statue of him as a 10 year old named Barry). Vast mansions, some vestiges from the early 20th century expat community and others new, hid behind tall wrought iron fences. Under the canopies of the leafy green trees and isolated from the noise of traffic, it was easy to forget where we were.
Our tour ended at the antiques market at Surabaya, where my friend helped haggle the price of the mask I bought from $25 to $10. But, more importantly, the leisurely afternoon helped thaw some of the more persistent and negative impressions my roommates have of the city, which will hopefully translate into more future excursions.
Until next time...
See the rest here.
"What do you think of Jakarta so far?"
I've been here for almost a week now, but I'm still no closer to being able to answer that question than I was when the city first enveloped me in its warm, sweaty hug after disembarking my delayed flight from Tokyo. The only thing I know for certain is that I must tread carefully when I answer.
My friends graciously pick me up despite the late hour and take me back to the three-bedroom apartment we are sharing. We pause at a traffic light near the Fairmont Hotel, and a trio of children selling roses comes and presses their faces up against the vehicle's tinted windows. They are two boys and a girl, dark-skinned, and I cannot resist thinking of Slumdog Millionnaire. I wonder who keeps the money they earn.
Shortly after, we arrive home. A door from the kitchen leads to a small outdoor patio where the washing machine and dryer are located. I notice two other doors opposite the machines and ask what they're for.
"The live-in maid, if we had one."
She opens them. One leads to a squat toilet. The other - windowless, lacking an AC unit - is a bedroom smaller than the closet in the master suite that is my quarters for the month.
Our fifteenth floor unit would have a nice view if it weren't for the perpetual haze that clings to the skyline and ensures that daytime is always bright but never sunny. I imagine the layer of grime stuck to the outsides of our windows coating my lungs and wonder if I should be wearing a mask. Noise from below echoes upward, and in another time and place I'd think the building were being swarmed by cicadas. But, no, the source is the neverending, slow-crawling traffic that makes the Bay Area rush hour seem tame; the dull hum of hundreds of engines and throttles punctuated by honking.
Each morning we head down to the lobby around 7am and hail a taxi to take us to the bakery kitchen. Sometimes it can take up to an hour to secure one, but luckily the distance is not so great. My other friend, who lives in north Jakarta, has the worst commute. Depending on the weather and time of day, she could fly to Singapore and back in the time it takes to get between home and work.
We visit one of the coffee shops that our bakery fills wholesale orders for. Inside it's chic, trendy and would not feel out of place in SoMa. Outside, drivers wait with their cars while their employers eat and drink their fill. I think again of the pitiful maid's quarters, and of Downton Abbey; instead of upstairs and downstairs people like they have on the show, here society seems to be divided into inside and outside people.
My middle class upbringing makes me hypersensitive to such blatant socioeconomic disparity, which is perhaps why I find it jarring to be in a place where everyone is either ultra-rich or super-poor. In other words, having grown up without maids, nannies and chauffeurs, it's strange to be in a place where having a full household staff is the norm. As for what it's like outside the home, only in India have I seen such similar juxtaposition of abject poverty with luxury apartment buildings and hotels. The powers that be appear to prioritize feeding the beast of consumerism rather than locking down the infrastructure necessary to get Indonesia off the developing countries list.
Being a pedestrian in Jakarta is like playing a live-action hybrid of Frogger and Super Mario. Crosswalks are virtually nonexistent and the lanes amorphous, such that you must constantly check in both directions. Sidewalks, also a rarity, are uneven, unlit and often missing paving stones. And in addition to keeping your wits about you, you must hold tight to your belongings - speeding motos have been known to snatch bags just as vans may be used for kidnapping.
There is no regulated trash collection. Many burn it themselves on the street (a big contributor to the air pollution), or simply leave it for enterprising individuals to root through and re-sell what they can. (Fun fact: street vendors rely on pre-used oil, generally from KFC).
As a foreigner, as much as I am privy to the class differences, I am also complicit in them. The US dollar is so strong here that I can get manicures, massages and spa treatments - frivolous things that I never do at home for financial reasons - for cheap. I can afford to be driven everywhere and dine out or order in for every meal. It's nice being pampered, to be sure, but it leaves a dull ache in the back of my mind because I know that I'm not experiencing the "real" Indonesia.
But what is the real Indonesia? Corruption, homophobia, discrimination - CVs must include headshots, height, weight and religion. The people that I've met so far, though, are nice.
The default social activity here is going to one of the city's many shopping centers. In fact, locals get dressed up for it. Trendy restaurants open in malls like they're rolling out the red carpet down Valencia Street. But when you compare what's outside, the smog, scammers and traffic jams, to the brightly lit, immaculate interiors and cool filtered air, it makes sense. For a few hours, it's nice check your problems at the door and be surrounded by all that is bright and shiny and new in a safe, sterile evironment.