The Music of the Subway, and other highlights of my stay.
The Music of the Subway, and other highlights of my stay.
It’s not my favourite building in the city, that would be the magnificent Chrysler Building.
The Empire State is undoubtably more important though.
It’s the best navigation tool to the West, South and East of Midtown. Nearby is Times Square, Grand Central, Penn Station, Union Square and my favourite coffee shop.
In a city overflowing with things that stick up into the sky, being able to always identify at least one of those things is more important than you may think.
In my Chicago: 1893 class at UNC we read a number of novels which described the approach to late Nineteenth Century Chicago. They wrote of a sudden accumulation of railroad lines, massive factories, rows of terrace houses. Each pointed to a change in colour of the air- an orange haze floating above the city. Monumental structures of steel and stone.
Chicago of today is nothing like this.
The days of industry seem far less behind New York City, however.
My first day in New York City was madness.
I had no real intention other than to take in as much of the city as possible. Early on, I stumbled upon the most prominent symbol of Christmas in America- the Christmas tree and ice rink at Rockefeller Center.
Rockefeller is a strange place.
A monument to the legacy of the family’s empire, the the Center is a series of spectacular Art-Deco skyscrapers arranged in a grid upon a large stone plaza. While not aligning with the Manhattan grid, the right angles of the plaza give the impression of continuity with the city.
I was beckoned in by a battery of American flags that line the Fifth Avenue facade. Private security guards were everywhere, as well as conscientious cleaners keeping the stone pavement clean of detritus. People of all shapes and colours- laughing, smiling, properly happy to be where they were. Christmas carols were in the air.
Then in the very centre of it all, under a looming 260 metre tower and seven storey Christmas tree, the simple, innocent spectacle of people skating on the ice.
It was seemingly the civic centre of the city- a public space. It was also entirely concocted, as staged as the NBC television shows filmed inside the buildings.
As a public space, it would succeed beautifully. As a private space dedicated more than anything to preserving a family’s legacy, I found it a little creepy.
Right, well, I made it to New York City, y’see.
I’ve been here for just over a week now and have had nary a moment to breath.
It would be a waste not to write about it while I’m here, however.
If there’s one observation that I’ve been able to make throughout this whole trip, it’s that all the stereotypes are true. Things are obviously more complicated, but each city has lived up to its reputation. The little details of American college life that movies and television pick up on are all steeped in reality.
Whether it’s art that’s imitating life or life imitating art, I’m not sure. The degree by which everyday life is saturated by jargon and imagery from American popular culture here makes it difficult to tell.
New York City is no different in this respect.
Everything I’ve heard about it is true- particularly how relentless its activity is. It never stops.
So I’m not sure if I have anything terribly new to add.
But I’ll try.
Before mid terms kick off, and the sun buggered off, we drove down to Lake Jordan.
It may have been man made, but it was still absurdly beautiful. The drive encompassed some great, twisting roads through lovely Carolina countryside.
Gaining a car for the day revealed what I’m tentatively going to call the ‘real’ America. Beforehand, my experience has been limited to the places I choose to travel. I’ve been a tourist and seen many of the great cities, I’ve ridden the Amtrak to gain a sense of a time long passed and I’ve lived in an eclectic college town.
On Saturday though, we piled into a Dodge Grand Caravan and came closer to the real American experience. We were in a car, for one thing, which is far more important than it sounds. This meant that we could travel to Target and other strip malls to stock up on the sort of food (that’s uh, shit food) that most people eat here. It meant that we could take in the immense Interstate highways that are so essential to everyday life here. It meant that we could grab drive-thru lunch. We could explore the deliberately isolated, suburban housing communities where most white Americans live (Each with a pick up truck and American flag out the front). There’s a whole world of suburbia that quite happily exists outside the reach of public transport, poor people and the city. It’s the America of cinema and TV. Seeing it in the flesh, it’s difficult to shake the sensation that you’re on a movie set.
Sure, we have our Glenmore Parks back home. But there’s something a bit more sinister about these sorts of places in America. There’s a sense that fear drives this lifestyle. Fear of contact with undesirables.
Out and about campus.
I’m in two minds about alcohol in the United States.
21 is ridiculous, since everybody ignores the law except for the police.
But it’s hard to care when the booze is so bloody cheap.
I mean, $12 for 12 (imported! ha!) beers?
It’s a tough one.
What’s in Raleigh?
Well, Fleet Foxes WERE there.
But there’s a lot of bloody rain.
And the fortress-like State Capitol.
And a surprisingly large amount of seriously good restaurants and cafes.
And just about no public transport whatsoever.
This one’s for Dad.
I nearly puked.
Greenery about campus.
I miss the buzz of Sydney, but UNC can be astonishingly beautiful.
This Civil War memorial, ‘Silent Sam’, freaks me out a little bit.
It faces North at the entrance to campus.
Can’t say I’d ever appreciate Lady Duty calling me to her bosom.
A Waffle Excursion. An important thing to keep in mind about America is that the TACKIEST looking places are generally the best. Case in point: Ye Olde Waffle Shoppe on Franklin Street. Back home, one wouldn’t dream of going anywhere with such blatantly fake Tudor furnishings. But for a fix of great big crispy waffles, topped with beautiful tinned apples, ‘powdered sugar’ and liberal amounts of ‘syrup’, this is the best place in town.
This gives me an opportunity to introduce you to some of the people I spend a lot of time with.
Getting into Carolina spirit.
On left: Rachel, from Luxemburg, but studies in England.
Middle: Tom, from the University of East Anglia.
Right: Some mad Australian.
A detour off beautiful Hawthorne Boulevard in Portland, Oregon.
America has never been more in the gutter, but there’s little doubt about which direction this city faces.
