Hello Blog!
Do you feel neglected? I'm sure.
Going into my fourth week here, everything is really starting to accelerate. My classes have been requiring a lot more time and focus, and I've been busy making friends and hosting visitors. Since it's been a while since I've posted, I'll give you the overview of the past week or so.
After my dismal yet comical birthday disaster, my roommate Cat decided that a do-over was in order. She offered to take me out and show me some of her favorite places in the city for a post-birthday celebration, which I really appreciated. It seems the roommate I thought I was least likely to get along with has turned out to be the most friendly and welcoming. After some internet searching, I realized that last week was NYC's Restaurant Week where all the great four and five star restaurants in the city offer pris fixe menus for super cheap during the lunch and dinner hours. We made reservations at what looked like a trendy steakhouse called the Kobe Club after viewing photos of celebs like J.C. Chasez and various British hipster songbirds lounging around at the bar. We made the reservations for 10:15, hardly late by New York standards, and after class, I ran home to get ready. Hanging on my door was a card and a bottle of champagne that Cat had bought in honor of the celebration (how nice!). We toasted the evening with Valerie and Kelley, although they couldn't come with us to dinner, and then Cat and I headed over to the restaurant. It WAS trendy. Purple light washed over smoothe black and silver surfaces, beaded curtains fell from doorways, and interesting art adorned the walls. Directly above the main dining room hung a collection of swords pointed straight down on the diners (a detail Martin would NOT have appreciated, I thought), and we got a nice table a little ways away from the danger. Our meal was...in a word....divine. We had beef cheek ravioli, Kobe beef with caramelized onions and applewood smoked bacon, and fresh berries with vanilla creme. It really felt like a celebration, and it didn't do a number on my wallet, so overall, it was a delightful evening.
A few nights later, I had dinner with Vicki, a close college friend of my aunt Holly's. She literally lives five blocks from me, so I walked over and saw her apartment. It was encouraging to see that a single girl could afford a nice apartment in the city! I'd heard otherwise. We had a great dinner at a near-by Thai restaurant that was delicious, and it was so lovely to have conversation about my family with someone who actually knows them! She was so warm and interesting, and I really felt closer to home, just having someone to mull over my experience with. We planned a second outing for next week--Wicked at the Gershwin theater! Can't wait for that.
The next morning, I made my way over to the Met to meet Sarah's friend Justin who goes to GW with her, but is originally from New York. He was waiting for me on the steps outside when I arrived, and we went in together. At first, I was nervous, and felt like I was talking too much, but we found a comfortable pace as we walked through the museum. We had both been before, so we didn't feel too bad about talking while perusing the artworks. He was totally charming, interesting, and funny, and we had a great time talking about music and art. We had lunch in the Met's overpriced cafeteria, and laughed about Sarah and her beautiful, energetic, and sometimes crazy self. We walked across the park (Central Park, that is) afterwards, starting on the East Side of the city and ending up on the West Side just as it started to rain. Thunder clapped overhead, and lightening lit the sky, as it so often does on summer afternoons here. I watched as all the natives ran around with umbrellas and newspapers lifted over their heads, and giggled a little as I got soaked. I guess that's one advantage to being a West Coast-born out-of-towner. I don't mind the rain at all.
That weekend, my friend Marshall came to visit, and I was going crazy with excitement by the time he arrived. He took the Chinatown bus I had braved when I traveled to DC a few weekends earlier, and because it WAS the chinatown bus, he arrived around 3am on Friday. After sitting up nervously all night, it was nice to hear that his bus had arrived and he was on his way to my place via taxi. He called when he was in the lobby, and I ran down to meet him. We were so excited to see each other, and he looked different. All that manual labor for his uncle had bleached his hair a little, and he looked tan. I took him upstairs, and gave him the world's shortest tour of my suite (there's not much to show, you know). We stayed up and talked for a while, and he told me about his crazy chinatown bus experience. It seems everyone who takes that bus has a story to tell. His involved having dinner before the ride with the Czech ambassador to the U.S., and sharing a cab with some club-goers after being dropped off. The next morning, we woke up pretty late, but managed to salvage the day by packing in a ton of sight-seeing. We saw Times Square, Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Center, the MoMa, AND went to a comedy show that evening. Marshall had never been to the city before, so it was all very new and exciting for him. It was nice showing him around and seeing his awe at everything. It made me realize what a fabulous place I live in.
The next morning, we had pastries at a cute Hungarian Pastry shop down the street, and headed over to Central Park and the Guggenheim Museum. Again, it started to rain while we were in the park, and we stopped a park employee as he drove by on his golf cart. "Do you have any extra garbage bags?" Marshall asked. When the man graciously gave them to us, we fashioned two ponchos out of them by ripping holes for our heads and arms. They were perfect! Then we walked around the park with no problem, keeping our clothes dry, but still enjoying the rain. We finally arrived at the Guggenheim and saw an amazing installment of feminist art by Louise Bourgeois highlighting the dichotomy between femininity and the domestic sphere of influence.
Later, Marshall met up with some friends from home while I worked on homework back at the dorm. We met up again around 10:30, and all headed over to the Empire State Building to get a view of the city at night. The elevator moved pretty slowly up the 86 floors to the top, but my ears popped the whole way up nonetheless. We stepped off the elevator and onto the platform to take in the amazing view. Before us, we saw a panoramic view of the city at night. It sprawled out in front of us--the West Side, the East Side, Battery Park, SoHo, Greenwich Village, the East River, Brooklyn, and New Jersey. It was beautiful.
The next morning, Marshall woke up super early and got to his bus, and I spent the rest of the day on homework.
It was lovely having a friend from home in my space in New York. I felt a little closer to home with him around, and it was nice to be myself without explanation.
My friends from high school, Jordan and Sarah, are visiting this weekend, so I'll have another fabulous opportunity to share this city with loved ones from home.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Untitled
It seems like a very long time ago that I arrived in this thriving metropolis to find myself alone in a white room looking out onto a brick wall. It was kind of metaphorical if you ask me--a symbol of my isolation and my inability to look through the window of my own perspective into a boundless future.
But I've come to respect this place. The city is, in many ways, just like me--living and breathing and beating. The subways like the blood running through my veins, deliver precious resources to the hubs--the heart, the liver, the lungs--the museums, the parks, the historic skyscrapers...
It's all a beautifully orchestrated, machine-like entity that never ceases to amaze me.
When I left off last, I was taking in the majestic power of the Lincoln memorial, but I think I'll jump ahead and tell you about my birthday.
I awoke on the 16th to a phone call. "Are you Rachel Adams"? a husky voice barked into the phone. I was annoyed at first, after all, who did this person think he was, calling ME and demanding to know my name? "I have a floral delivery for you downstairs." My attitude understandably changed.
I jumped out of bed, threw on my Oregon sweatshirt and sleepily descended the cold cement stairs in my building. When I arrived in the lobby, a huge plant was waiting for me wrapped in what appeared to be an entire roll of cellophane. I muscled it up the stairs as others in the building looked on, and I unwrapped the gift. The plant was beautiful; a peace plant from my parents, and its mere presence gave our sparsely decorated living room a lively feel. It had a huge red bow on the front and a lovely card. I smiled as I read it.
The rest of the morning brought even more surprises, as I opened mail and packages from friends and family including a collage from Marshall that read, "The friends you miss live at home, but true friends never leave you because they live in your heart". Emails poured in, and I felt very special, having been remembered on that day by so many wonderful people.
Unfortunately, the day took a turn for the worse along about 7:30. My friend Ben from my human rights class had called and confirmed our plans to go out that night, which we had discussed earlier in the week. He said he had a presentation to do at work, but that he would be available around 8:30 and would call back. I did some homework, got dressed, and sat down on my bed for a second. I woke up two hours later, and still, there was no message from Ben. Around about 11pm, I got hungry, and roamed the street for a bit, deciding to salvage the night by getting some elegant food and watching a movie. I bought smoked salmon, crackers, cheese, and fruit, and then decided to head over a liquor store across the street where I've heard they don't card. They must need the business from underage Columbia students. I walked into the store, and felt a little like a small girl about to hit her brother or steal another child's doll or something. I picked out a bottle of wine, and headed to the register with my cash in hand. I guess I figured that if the clerk saw my money, he'd be less likely to ask for I.D. He peered at me as he took my money. "You have I.D."? he asked. I tried to speak assertively. "I didn't bring it with me...I'm 23." He took the money. "Next time," he warned.
I made it out onto the street with my groceries and my wine, and I felt like the last hours of the evening might go off without a hitch. I stepped into the video store, and my phone rang. I set down the groceries and the wine on a futon they had in the middle of the display room. I saw the bags roll off the couch, and as I reached out to catch them, the bottle hit the floor with a smash. Wine spilled out all over their hardwood, and the manager came running over. Needless to say, he was not too happy with me. "Just get your movie and get out," he spat. I pleaded with him to let me help, but he just waved me away.
I guess that was just karma in action....like the universe was saying, "uh-uh, you've still got one year to go, girl."
Finally at home, I settled in with my movie and my spread. A few bites later, my stomach started to churn. I'll spare you the details here, but I spent the rest of the evening and most of the early morning "revisiting" the meals I had eaten over the course of the day.
Happy Birthday...
As I curled up on the cold floor of the bathroom that night, I couldn't help but wallow a bit in self-pity. I thought about all my expectations for that day. I expected to have friends to go out with, I expected my roommates to reach out and seize the opportunity to get closer, and I expected to finally start feeling at home here. It was just too much. All of those things couldn't have possibly happened all in one day, and I thought of all the people in my life that exceed my expectations every day. I remembered just how lucky and blessed I am to have so many wonderful people in my life. I am constantly surrounded by love and support even when I'm 3000 miles away from home in a white room that looks out onto a brick wall.
I thought of my parents, who know me and believe in me even when, especially when, I have trouble believing in myself. I thought of my grandparents who have shared so much of their wisdom with me and who see in me the potential for great success and happiness. I thought of my aunt Cindy and cousin Kim who always make me laugh with their silly jokes and cards. I thought of Paul and Holly and the kids who not only sang "happy birthday" to me over the phone, but who brighten any room with their warmth and affection. I thought of Pat and Michele and Ben and Aidan, who bring joy, energy, and laughter into the lives of our family. I thought of my girlfriends and friends at school who have given me a precious gift in their friendship, and who make me grateful everyday for my luck in finding such true true companions. I thought of Nick, who despite everything, has still remained my closest friend. And I thought of all my family and friends around the world who bless me with their love, support, and affection everyday, and to whom I hope I return even a portion of their gifts.
Thank you to everyone who remembered me on my birthday, and to every one of you who enrich my life in ways I will never be able to express. And as Marshall so eloquently reminded me that day, no matter how far I am from all of you, I always carry you with me.
Peace and Love,
Rachel
But I've come to respect this place. The city is, in many ways, just like me--living and breathing and beating. The subways like the blood running through my veins, deliver precious resources to the hubs--the heart, the liver, the lungs--the museums, the parks, the historic skyscrapers...
It's all a beautifully orchestrated, machine-like entity that never ceases to amaze me.
When I left off last, I was taking in the majestic power of the Lincoln memorial, but I think I'll jump ahead and tell you about my birthday.
I awoke on the 16th to a phone call. "Are you Rachel Adams"? a husky voice barked into the phone. I was annoyed at first, after all, who did this person think he was, calling ME and demanding to know my name? "I have a floral delivery for you downstairs." My attitude understandably changed.
I jumped out of bed, threw on my Oregon sweatshirt and sleepily descended the cold cement stairs in my building. When I arrived in the lobby, a huge plant was waiting for me wrapped in what appeared to be an entire roll of cellophane. I muscled it up the stairs as others in the building looked on, and I unwrapped the gift. The plant was beautiful; a peace plant from my parents, and its mere presence gave our sparsely decorated living room a lively feel. It had a huge red bow on the front and a lovely card. I smiled as I read it.
The rest of the morning brought even more surprises, as I opened mail and packages from friends and family including a collage from Marshall that read, "The friends you miss live at home, but true friends never leave you because they live in your heart". Emails poured in, and I felt very special, having been remembered on that day by so many wonderful people.
Unfortunately, the day took a turn for the worse along about 7:30. My friend Ben from my human rights class had called and confirmed our plans to go out that night, which we had discussed earlier in the week. He said he had a presentation to do at work, but that he would be available around 8:30 and would call back. I did some homework, got dressed, and sat down on my bed for a second. I woke up two hours later, and still, there was no message from Ben. Around about 11pm, I got hungry, and roamed the street for a bit, deciding to salvage the night by getting some elegant food and watching a movie. I bought smoked salmon, crackers, cheese, and fruit, and then decided to head over a liquor store across the street where I've heard they don't card. They must need the business from underage Columbia students. I walked into the store, and felt a little like a small girl about to hit her brother or steal another child's doll or something. I picked out a bottle of wine, and headed to the register with my cash in hand. I guess I figured that if the clerk saw my money, he'd be less likely to ask for I.D. He peered at me as he took my money. "You have I.D."? he asked. I tried to speak assertively. "I didn't bring it with me...I'm 23." He took the money. "Next time," he warned.
I made it out onto the street with my groceries and my wine, and I felt like the last hours of the evening might go off without a hitch. I stepped into the video store, and my phone rang. I set down the groceries and the wine on a futon they had in the middle of the display room. I saw the bags roll off the couch, and as I reached out to catch them, the bottle hit the floor with a smash. Wine spilled out all over their hardwood, and the manager came running over. Needless to say, he was not too happy with me. "Just get your movie and get out," he spat. I pleaded with him to let me help, but he just waved me away.
I guess that was just karma in action....like the universe was saying, "uh-uh, you've still got one year to go, girl."
Finally at home, I settled in with my movie and my spread. A few bites later, my stomach started to churn. I'll spare you the details here, but I spent the rest of the evening and most of the early morning "revisiting" the meals I had eaten over the course of the day.
Happy Birthday...
As I curled up on the cold floor of the bathroom that night, I couldn't help but wallow a bit in self-pity. I thought about all my expectations for that day. I expected to have friends to go out with, I expected my roommates to reach out and seize the opportunity to get closer, and I expected to finally start feeling at home here. It was just too much. All of those things couldn't have possibly happened all in one day, and I thought of all the people in my life that exceed my expectations every day. I remembered just how lucky and blessed I am to have so many wonderful people in my life. I am constantly surrounded by love and support even when I'm 3000 miles away from home in a white room that looks out onto a brick wall.
I thought of my parents, who know me and believe in me even when, especially when, I have trouble believing in myself. I thought of my grandparents who have shared so much of their wisdom with me and who see in me the potential for great success and happiness. I thought of my aunt Cindy and cousin Kim who always make me laugh with their silly jokes and cards. I thought of Paul and Holly and the kids who not only sang "happy birthday" to me over the phone, but who brighten any room with their warmth and affection. I thought of Pat and Michele and Ben and Aidan, who bring joy, energy, and laughter into the lives of our family. I thought of my girlfriends and friends at school who have given me a precious gift in their friendship, and who make me grateful everyday for my luck in finding such true true companions. I thought of Nick, who despite everything, has still remained my closest friend. And I thought of all my family and friends around the world who bless me with their love, support, and affection everyday, and to whom I hope I return even a portion of their gifts.
Thank you to everyone who remembered me on my birthday, and to every one of you who enrich my life in ways I will never be able to express. And as Marshall so eloquently reminded me that day, no matter how far I am from all of you, I always carry you with me.
Peace and Love,
Rachel
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Whirlwind Weekend in Review
Hello Again!
It's been so long since I've posted that I'm afraid I might have to spare some of the details of the last few days. I can't let myself get behind on this!
Late last week, as class finished up and everyone started making plans for the weekend, I decided to head over the the Museum of Natural History and poke around for a while. I arrived fairly early on Friday morning, and already, there were crowds of school children and tourists. The lobby was huge with vaulted marble ceilings and a gigantic T-Rex stood threateningly above our heads. I got in line for tickets, as the museum is one of the few in the city that is not free for Columbia students (the nerve!). After purchasing my ticket, I decided to take the free highlights tour led by a museum volunteer. I joined the group almost immediately, and realized at once that I was the only semi-New York resident. People had come from all over the see the sights, the farthest being from Tokyo and Australia (I can't imagine how long that flight must have been). We departed and arrived first at the museum's dinosaur exhibit. Huge fossil dinos loomed over the crowd including another T-Rex, and many flying creatures which the tour guide specifically called "prehistoric birds" because apparently they are not considered actual dinosaurs. The tour group squished into corners throughout the tour to avoid blocking traffic, and I began to get annoyed with some of the men in the group. What is it about men that compel them to push to the front of every gathering? Aren't they tall enough to see from the back? Of course they are, but they MUST fight for the best view. Our tour guide eventually had to ask the men to move to the back as all the women craned our necks to see around them. I guess that's why businessmen are much more likely to survive plane crashes and other disasters--they push to the front! Of course, all of the men reading this are exceptions to this rule....
After this exhibit, we saw the hall of human origins where models of prehistoric humans stood about five feet tall, and the hall of biodiversity filled with frighteningly lifelike models of all sorts of animals hung from the walls. Overall, the museum was an anthropologists dream, and I spent a good four hours looking around at everything.
After my museum jaunt, I crossed the street to central park, where I walked around the lake and watched people paddling small boats across the water. The lake was beautiful surrounded by the greenery of the park with the city in the background. Central Park is the most amazing place--it's an oasis in the middle of this thriving, hectic, and chaotic city--and it's almost a vacation spot all on its own. Soon, Valerie called and invited me to meet her on 34th to do some shopping. She said she had to get "club clothes," which I found out later meant getting skirts and dresses that barely covered her, and looked as if they were struggling against all odds to hold-in her rear (I sound so old-fashioned). And then I saw a side of Valerie, that I hadn't expected, and did not like.
Valerie cursed in French as we sped around strolling tourists, "These fat Americans can hardly walk, and they take up half the street!", she yelled as a few passers-by gawked at her; appalled. She sprang from store to store, leaving paths of clothes she did not want in a wake behind her, piling my hands full of things to try-on, and fighting with almost every salesperson we came in contact with. At one point, a manager asked her not to try on dresses over her clothes, and she blatantly challenged him to remove her from the store. "I'm not going to wait in that line for the dressing room," she spat, "it will take hours"! At this point, I became so embarrassed to even be associated with her, that I realized I would be having much more fun by myself (the very thing I had been bemoaning this whole week). Around 6:30pm I reminded Valerie that we needed to get to the Times Square ticket office where we had agreed to get tickets to a show for the evening. Just then, her cell rang. "Oui, je pense que....Oui, je peux aller," she spoke quickly, and I could only pick out parts of her conversation, but it sounded as if I was about to get ditched. "I'm going to the Hamptons this weekend!" she announced when she hung up. She told me of the lavish home her friend had rented and how she could eat and drink whatever she wanted and they would pay for the whole weekend. And then she left me there, on the street alone, with no one to see a show with. I ran over to the ticket booth anyhow, but I was too late to get tickets. At that moment, I decided I would leave the city too. I called my friend Sarah from home who goes to George Washington in DC, and asked if I could come visit.
Sarah told me about a bus service that runs round-trip from New York's Chinatown to DC's. The ticket only cost $35, and I left my dorm around 6am the next morning. The cab drove me into Chinatown, but it felt as if I had just stepped off a plane IN China. Dead pigs were being loaded off trucks and hung in the windows of meat shops, huge moving boxes labeled "broccoli" and "green onions" passed by, and I remember thinking that they didn't look too fresh. The street was already packed with Chinese people, and as I turned the corner, six huge buses were parked in front of me with no signs as to which one was headed for DC. Small Chinese men ushered me around, waved me down the street, and shook their heads at my requests for information, and I finally got on the bus where most people were asking, "DC? Is this the bus to DC?" Turns out I was right, and four hours later, Sarah picked me up at the bus station in DC's Chinatown. This one was very different--filled with American businesses that simply had Chinese subtext underneath their English names.
We dropped our things at Sarah's sorority and headed out to the Museum of the American Indian, where Sarah had heard great food was to be had. She was right. The food court was separated by American Indian regions, and the food was so authentic. I had salmon from the Northwest region, and a potato leek salad from the Southwest. Many visitors were eating chicken strips and hamburgers from the "Great Plains" (a.k.a. reservation).
On our way home, we passed the Capitol building where a rally was getting started. As we got closer we realized that it was a rally for Ron Paul, a libertarian candidate whose campaign was recently suspended. The gathering held probably one of the most eclectic (that's a polite way of saying WEIRD) group of people I have ever seen in one place. There were hippies, bikers, moms with their kids, young people, old people, blacks, whites and Asians, etc. Some held signs saying "Ron Paul--the Revolution". Another had a sign that read, "Down with the Queen!" and another read, "Fall Babylon Fall". One man held a sign saying "Back the Unholy Dollar with Gold," and another man ran around yelling "9/11 was an inside job!" Sarah and I were confused to say the least. Then Ron Paul actually got up to speak, and it became clear that Sarah and I had no idea what he was talking about. Apparently he's for a strict interpretation of the Constitution and very little government involvement in personal affairs, but it seems hypocritical to me. On the one hand, he's pro-gun, but he's anti-war. I don't know...it was interesting to say the least.
Sarah and I had a great time for the rest of the weekend hanging out with her friends and walking around the city. DC is a very interesting place. On the one hand, it's filled with the promise of future progress, but on the other hand, it's torn apart by crime and poverty. Sarah and and I walked the six mile monument loop at night on my last evening in DC. We left her room around 10:30pm and went straight to the white house. It was so surreal seeing it in person. It's almost like a fictional place to me. I hear about it, and I know that it exists, but seeing it in person is so unreal. From there, we walked to the Washington Monument, and then to the Jefferson Memorial. Sarah was really moved by the Jefferson, and the quotes from him on the wall were really thought-provoking. Going at night was such an amazing experience. The monuments and memorials were almost deserted except for a few guards, and standing in each place in near silence was incredible. It felt as if we were seeing them the way they were meant to be seen. From the Jefferson, we headed over to the Lincoln Memorial, and even from far away, we could see the massive white statue of Lincoln peering through the columns out onto the city. As we approached the memorial, it began to rain, and just as we made it up the steps, the sky opened up and the rain poured down, smacking against the marble steps. The silence inside the monument was broken by the patter of the rain outside, but it added a drama to the scene that was almost magical. As I stood and looked up at Lincoln, and read his famous address, I felt so small. I was reminded of the last time I had stood in that spot almost twelve years ago.
Mom and I had visited the monuments on a trip to DC for spring break when I was seven or eight. She tells the story today, and she remembers me standing in front of the statue with my mouth open for minutes. I had just learned about Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr. in school, and I was struck by the power of the site even as a child. I remember that day. I remember having such respect for my country--such respect for those who came before me and had the vision and imagination to create a free nation like the U.S. I remember being truly proud and fortunate to be American.
The experience I had this weekend was very different, but very much the same in some ways. I stood there, twelve years older, in that same space with a similar sense of awe and respect. I realized that this place had been there all those years, even though I had not re-visited. It stands there everyday, frequented by thousands of people every year. As the rain poured outside, and Lincoln's words filled my head and my heart, I caught a glimpse of that little girl--free of cynicism, of distrust and concern--and filled with admiration and hope.
There's more to this story, but for now, I'll stop.
And so another year begins....
It's been so long since I've posted that I'm afraid I might have to spare some of the details of the last few days. I can't let myself get behind on this!
Late last week, as class finished up and everyone started making plans for the weekend, I decided to head over the the Museum of Natural History and poke around for a while. I arrived fairly early on Friday morning, and already, there were crowds of school children and tourists. The lobby was huge with vaulted marble ceilings and a gigantic T-Rex stood threateningly above our heads. I got in line for tickets, as the museum is one of the few in the city that is not free for Columbia students (the nerve!). After purchasing my ticket, I decided to take the free highlights tour led by a museum volunteer. I joined the group almost immediately, and realized at once that I was the only semi-New York resident. People had come from all over the see the sights, the farthest being from Tokyo and Australia (I can't imagine how long that flight must have been). We departed and arrived first at the museum's dinosaur exhibit. Huge fossil dinos loomed over the crowd including another T-Rex, and many flying creatures which the tour guide specifically called "prehistoric birds" because apparently they are not considered actual dinosaurs. The tour group squished into corners throughout the tour to avoid blocking traffic, and I began to get annoyed with some of the men in the group. What is it about men that compel them to push to the front of every gathering? Aren't they tall enough to see from the back? Of course they are, but they MUST fight for the best view. Our tour guide eventually had to ask the men to move to the back as all the women craned our necks to see around them. I guess that's why businessmen are much more likely to survive plane crashes and other disasters--they push to the front! Of course, all of the men reading this are exceptions to this rule....
After this exhibit, we saw the hall of human origins where models of prehistoric humans stood about five feet tall, and the hall of biodiversity filled with frighteningly lifelike models of all sorts of animals hung from the walls. Overall, the museum was an anthropologists dream, and I spent a good four hours looking around at everything.
After my museum jaunt, I crossed the street to central park, where I walked around the lake and watched people paddling small boats across the water. The lake was beautiful surrounded by the greenery of the park with the city in the background. Central Park is the most amazing place--it's an oasis in the middle of this thriving, hectic, and chaotic city--and it's almost a vacation spot all on its own. Soon, Valerie called and invited me to meet her on 34th to do some shopping. She said she had to get "club clothes," which I found out later meant getting skirts and dresses that barely covered her, and looked as if they were struggling against all odds to hold-in her rear (I sound so old-fashioned). And then I saw a side of Valerie, that I hadn't expected, and did not like.
Valerie cursed in French as we sped around strolling tourists, "These fat Americans can hardly walk, and they take up half the street!", she yelled as a few passers-by gawked at her; appalled. She sprang from store to store, leaving paths of clothes she did not want in a wake behind her, piling my hands full of things to try-on, and fighting with almost every salesperson we came in contact with. At one point, a manager asked her not to try on dresses over her clothes, and she blatantly challenged him to remove her from the store. "I'm not going to wait in that line for the dressing room," she spat, "it will take hours"! At this point, I became so embarrassed to even be associated with her, that I realized I would be having much more fun by myself (the very thing I had been bemoaning this whole week). Around 6:30pm I reminded Valerie that we needed to get to the Times Square ticket office where we had agreed to get tickets to a show for the evening. Just then, her cell rang. "Oui, je pense que....Oui, je peux aller," she spoke quickly, and I could only pick out parts of her conversation, but it sounded as if I was about to get ditched. "I'm going to the Hamptons this weekend!" she announced when she hung up. She told me of the lavish home her friend had rented and how she could eat and drink whatever she wanted and they would pay for the whole weekend. And then she left me there, on the street alone, with no one to see a show with. I ran over to the ticket booth anyhow, but I was too late to get tickets. At that moment, I decided I would leave the city too. I called my friend Sarah from home who goes to George Washington in DC, and asked if I could come visit.
Sarah told me about a bus service that runs round-trip from New York's Chinatown to DC's. The ticket only cost $35, and I left my dorm around 6am the next morning. The cab drove me into Chinatown, but it felt as if I had just stepped off a plane IN China. Dead pigs were being loaded off trucks and hung in the windows of meat shops, huge moving boxes labeled "broccoli" and "green onions" passed by, and I remember thinking that they didn't look too fresh. The street was already packed with Chinese people, and as I turned the corner, six huge buses were parked in front of me with no signs as to which one was headed for DC. Small Chinese men ushered me around, waved me down the street, and shook their heads at my requests for information, and I finally got on the bus where most people were asking, "DC? Is this the bus to DC?" Turns out I was right, and four hours later, Sarah picked me up at the bus station in DC's Chinatown. This one was very different--filled with American businesses that simply had Chinese subtext underneath their English names.
We dropped our things at Sarah's sorority and headed out to the Museum of the American Indian, where Sarah had heard great food was to be had. She was right. The food court was separated by American Indian regions, and the food was so authentic. I had salmon from the Northwest region, and a potato leek salad from the Southwest. Many visitors were eating chicken strips and hamburgers from the "Great Plains" (a.k.a. reservation).
On our way home, we passed the Capitol building where a rally was getting started. As we got closer we realized that it was a rally for Ron Paul, a libertarian candidate whose campaign was recently suspended. The gathering held probably one of the most eclectic (that's a polite way of saying WEIRD) group of people I have ever seen in one place. There were hippies, bikers, moms with their kids, young people, old people, blacks, whites and Asians, etc. Some held signs saying "Ron Paul--the Revolution". Another had a sign that read, "Down with the Queen!" and another read, "Fall Babylon Fall". One man held a sign saying "Back the Unholy Dollar with Gold," and another man ran around yelling "9/11 was an inside job!" Sarah and I were confused to say the least. Then Ron Paul actually got up to speak, and it became clear that Sarah and I had no idea what he was talking about. Apparently he's for a strict interpretation of the Constitution and very little government involvement in personal affairs, but it seems hypocritical to me. On the one hand, he's pro-gun, but he's anti-war. I don't know...it was interesting to say the least.
Sarah and I had a great time for the rest of the weekend hanging out with her friends and walking around the city. DC is a very interesting place. On the one hand, it's filled with the promise of future progress, but on the other hand, it's torn apart by crime and poverty. Sarah and and I walked the six mile monument loop at night on my last evening in DC. We left her room around 10:30pm and went straight to the white house. It was so surreal seeing it in person. It's almost like a fictional place to me. I hear about it, and I know that it exists, but seeing it in person is so unreal. From there, we walked to the Washington Monument, and then to the Jefferson Memorial. Sarah was really moved by the Jefferson, and the quotes from him on the wall were really thought-provoking. Going at night was such an amazing experience. The monuments and memorials were almost deserted except for a few guards, and standing in each place in near silence was incredible. It felt as if we were seeing them the way they were meant to be seen. From the Jefferson, we headed over to the Lincoln Memorial, and even from far away, we could see the massive white statue of Lincoln peering through the columns out onto the city. As we approached the memorial, it began to rain, and just as we made it up the steps, the sky opened up and the rain poured down, smacking against the marble steps. The silence inside the monument was broken by the patter of the rain outside, but it added a drama to the scene that was almost magical. As I stood and looked up at Lincoln, and read his famous address, I felt so small. I was reminded of the last time I had stood in that spot almost twelve years ago.
Mom and I had visited the monuments on a trip to DC for spring break when I was seven or eight. She tells the story today, and she remembers me standing in front of the statue with my mouth open for minutes. I had just learned about Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr. in school, and I was struck by the power of the site even as a child. I remember that day. I remember having such respect for my country--such respect for those who came before me and had the vision and imagination to create a free nation like the U.S. I remember being truly proud and fortunate to be American.
The experience I had this weekend was very different, but very much the same in some ways. I stood there, twelve years older, in that same space with a similar sense of awe and respect. I realized that this place had been there all those years, even though I had not re-visited. It stands there everyday, frequented by thousands of people every year. As the rain poured outside, and Lincoln's words filled my head and my heart, I caught a glimpse of that little girl--free of cynicism, of distrust and concern--and filled with admiration and hope.
There's more to this story, but for now, I'll stop.
And so another year begins....
Friday, July 11, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Cello Again...
Well hello!
Sorry I skipped a day of blogging yesterday, I was exhausted last night after class.
Yesterday was a big day. I got up really early and got to Starbuck's around 6:30am to finish up my reading before my first class. I ordered my drink and grabbed a table with two chairs next to a window. I'm glad I had my coffee early in the morning--I thought it might be bad form to show up to my Corporate Social Responsibility course with a Starbuck's in hand.
I opened up my articles and started reading, and the more I absorbed, the more excited I became about starting class. I read about corporate social responsibility models, human rights models for philanthropy, the International Declaration of Human Rights, and all sorts of opinion pieces about the role of human rights in business. After a while, an man who looked about thirty asked if he could share my table. The small coffee shop had gotten pretty crowded by 7:30, so I didn't mind. We both continued working for a while, and then he asked me what I was reading. "Oh, CSR?" he said after glancing over at the stack in front of me. "That's interesting. Are you a student?" This line of questioning continued for a while until he started talking about himself instead. He told me that he worked in culinary education and had done some work at Western Culinary in Portland. We had a nice conversation, and I asked him a little about the food industry and if it was really like what I watched on the Food Network. After a while, he got up to leave and left me with his business card. "If you need someone to show you around the city," he said, "shoot me an email." Although he was nice, I don't see that happening. Something tells me that he wasn't exactly interested in business.
My Human Rights class was incredible. We talked about many current issues and debates in both the business world and the world of NGOs, and we watched a film about the UNOCAL gas pipeline in Thailand which has been "patrolled" by the Burmese military for years and has resulted in the torture, expulsion, and death of many Thai villagers. It was both moving and infuriating, which to me, is the mark of a great movie. I met a girl named Sam who is a senior at Columbia, and after talking for a bit, she invited me to her house-warming party this weekend in Brooklyn. I plan on going and bringing Valerie. At the very least, it would be great to see a new part of New York. Sam and I quickly figured out that we were two of three undergrad students in the course, and the rest were grad students. The other undergrad is named Ben, and although he's from New York, he goes to school in Scotland. We walked out of class together and exchanged numbers, so hopefully we'll do something together soon.
Later that night, I had Anthropology, and again, I found myself in a room full of graduate students. I didn't really make any friends in that class. The professor aimed to speak about gender, language, and culture in that class period, but only got through gender in three hours. Let's just say she's rather verbose. The material was interesting though, and I guess I just need to come to class well-rested as to avoid the uncontrollable urge to nap.
This morning, I took the subway (with three transfers!) down to the Whitney Museum to meet Casey (the guy from UCLA). I met him outside, and we went in to the museum together. After waiting in a long line at the admission window, we got to the front and realized that Columbia students get in free! We walked past some disgruntled paying customers and took the elevator all the way to the top. I read aloud from the guidebook that the Whitney collection was gathered by a woman interested in contemporary artworks that were too "edgy" for traditional museums. The guidebook was certainly on-point. The art WAS edgy. We walked through rooms of audio-visual displays, neon lights, ladders that lead to nowhere, toilet seat covers, and large pillow representations of food like BLT sandwiches and huge ice cream cones turned upside down. WHATEVER. After about an hour, we both capitulated and headed back outside where we laughed about a lot of the strange things we'd seen and attempted to appreciate. Still wanting a satisfying artistic experience, we headed down into the subway again and rode a few more stops to 53rd and Lexington. We walked a few blocks to the MoMa, and discovered that admission was, again, free for Columbia students. Here, we saw Cezanne, Picasso, Van Gogh, Raushenburg, Johns, Rothko, Magritte, and Miro. It was incredible. I found myself remembering back to just a few months earlier when I had stood in front of these same paintings with my parents. It's interesting that when you see something for a second time, you realize that it's been there all along, without you. I thought about how many people see those exhibits everyday, while I've been a world away in Oregon. Even though I had been just a few months before, it felt like such a different experience this time--being on my own.
Casey had to get going to meet with Housing after a little bit, and he told me that he's flying home to L.A. tomorrow. I guess his class got canceled and it's too late for him to sign up for another, so he's going home after only four days in the city. I was disappointed because we had had so much fun together, and if that were me, I would do EVERYTHING to try and stay. He just seemed so apathetic about it--like it didn't even really matter to him. I didn't really understand that mentality. Regardless, we said goodbye, and I headed upstairs to the Salvador Dali exhibit which was new. I loved seeing all his surrealist art, prints, and films. I spent about an hour looking at everything, and then had a salad at the snooty but beautiful cafe in the museum.
I've noticed that I've already started to become so much more self-reliant. At Oregon, I was around people all the time. I would have class with friends, study with friends, and come home to my roommates, so there was very little time that I actually spent completely alone. Here, I spend most of my day by myself, and although it was disconcerting at first, I've started to get used to it. It's nice to have time on your own, and I've realized that even if I don't make a cadre of friends here for the next few weeks (even though I'm sure I will), I can befriend this amazing city and this new self that I am starting to discover.
Peace and love,
Rachel
Sorry I skipped a day of blogging yesterday, I was exhausted last night after class.
Yesterday was a big day. I got up really early and got to Starbuck's around 6:30am to finish up my reading before my first class. I ordered my drink and grabbed a table with two chairs next to a window. I'm glad I had my coffee early in the morning--I thought it might be bad form to show up to my Corporate Social Responsibility course with a Starbuck's in hand.
I opened up my articles and started reading, and the more I absorbed, the more excited I became about starting class. I read about corporate social responsibility models, human rights models for philanthropy, the International Declaration of Human Rights, and all sorts of opinion pieces about the role of human rights in business. After a while, an man who looked about thirty asked if he could share my table. The small coffee shop had gotten pretty crowded by 7:30, so I didn't mind. We both continued working for a while, and then he asked me what I was reading. "Oh, CSR?" he said after glancing over at the stack in front of me. "That's interesting. Are you a student?" This line of questioning continued for a while until he started talking about himself instead. He told me that he worked in culinary education and had done some work at Western Culinary in Portland. We had a nice conversation, and I asked him a little about the food industry and if it was really like what I watched on the Food Network. After a while, he got up to leave and left me with his business card. "If you need someone to show you around the city," he said, "shoot me an email." Although he was nice, I don't see that happening. Something tells me that he wasn't exactly interested in business.
My Human Rights class was incredible. We talked about many current issues and debates in both the business world and the world of NGOs, and we watched a film about the UNOCAL gas pipeline in Thailand which has been "patrolled" by the Burmese military for years and has resulted in the torture, expulsion, and death of many Thai villagers. It was both moving and infuriating, which to me, is the mark of a great movie. I met a girl named Sam who is a senior at Columbia, and after talking for a bit, she invited me to her house-warming party this weekend in Brooklyn. I plan on going and bringing Valerie. At the very least, it would be great to see a new part of New York. Sam and I quickly figured out that we were two of three undergrad students in the course, and the rest were grad students. The other undergrad is named Ben, and although he's from New York, he goes to school in Scotland. We walked out of class together and exchanged numbers, so hopefully we'll do something together soon.
Later that night, I had Anthropology, and again, I found myself in a room full of graduate students. I didn't really make any friends in that class. The professor aimed to speak about gender, language, and culture in that class period, but only got through gender in three hours. Let's just say she's rather verbose. The material was interesting though, and I guess I just need to come to class well-rested as to avoid the uncontrollable urge to nap.
This morning, I took the subway (with three transfers!) down to the Whitney Museum to meet Casey (the guy from UCLA). I met him outside, and we went in to the museum together. After waiting in a long line at the admission window, we got to the front and realized that Columbia students get in free! We walked past some disgruntled paying customers and took the elevator all the way to the top. I read aloud from the guidebook that the Whitney collection was gathered by a woman interested in contemporary artworks that were too "edgy" for traditional museums. The guidebook was certainly on-point. The art WAS edgy. We walked through rooms of audio-visual displays, neon lights, ladders that lead to nowhere, toilet seat covers, and large pillow representations of food like BLT sandwiches and huge ice cream cones turned upside down. WHATEVER. After about an hour, we both capitulated and headed back outside where we laughed about a lot of the strange things we'd seen and attempted to appreciate. Still wanting a satisfying artistic experience, we headed down into the subway again and rode a few more stops to 53rd and Lexington. We walked a few blocks to the MoMa, and discovered that admission was, again, free for Columbia students. Here, we saw Cezanne, Picasso, Van Gogh, Raushenburg, Johns, Rothko, Magritte, and Miro. It was incredible. I found myself remembering back to just a few months earlier when I had stood in front of these same paintings with my parents. It's interesting that when you see something for a second time, you realize that it's been there all along, without you. I thought about how many people see those exhibits everyday, while I've been a world away in Oregon. Even though I had been just a few months before, it felt like such a different experience this time--being on my own.
Casey had to get going to meet with Housing after a little bit, and he told me that he's flying home to L.A. tomorrow. I guess his class got canceled and it's too late for him to sign up for another, so he's going home after only four days in the city. I was disappointed because we had had so much fun together, and if that were me, I would do EVERYTHING to try and stay. He just seemed so apathetic about it--like it didn't even really matter to him. I didn't really understand that mentality. Regardless, we said goodbye, and I headed upstairs to the Salvador Dali exhibit which was new. I loved seeing all his surrealist art, prints, and films. I spent about an hour looking at everything, and then had a salad at the snooty but beautiful cafe in the museum.
I've noticed that I've already started to become so much more self-reliant. At Oregon, I was around people all the time. I would have class with friends, study with friends, and come home to my roommates, so there was very little time that I actually spent completely alone. Here, I spend most of my day by myself, and although it was disconcerting at first, I've started to get used to it. It's nice to have time on your own, and I've realized that even if I don't make a cadre of friends here for the next few weeks (even though I'm sure I will), I can befriend this amazing city and this new self that I am starting to discover.
Peace and love,
Rachel
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sheez it's hot!
Hello Hello!
I survived my first full day in the urban jungle! I actually had a great time. I woke up around 10am, and it seems I'm adjusting to the time difference really well. But as most of you know, I can sleep at anytime, so I'm not that surprised.
I put on one of my new dresses that mom and martin bought me for the trip and headed over to Kent Hall where I go my Columbia ID. I waited in a long line of visiting students, but didn't talk with anyone. It probably would have been a great opportunity to meet someone, but it was pretty quiet in the office, and I didn't want the entire place to be able to listen-in on my conversation. My ID popped out of the machine a few minutes later, and I noticed that it said: "Rachel Adams: Athletic Facility Employee." Hmmmm. I informed the lady at the desk that I did not, in fact, work in an athletic facility, and I had to take another picture to replace the old one. Hope the other Rachel Adams doesn't get my picture on her ID!
After that, I headed over to the bookstore where I got some spiral notebooks, binders, and other necessities. All my things say "Columbia University" on them and look either very official or very cheesy--I can't decide which.
After dropping my new things off in my room, I set my sights on the subway and became determined to orient myself in the city. As it was my last day before class started, I wanted to make sure that I took advantage of my free time! I boarded the number 1 subway and switched to the 2 at 96th street, which took me down to Times Square. The platforms were humid and sticky and smelled like body odor and spoiled alcohol, but for some reason, I liked it. I guess the musky smell reminded me of where I was and how independent I'd become. I emerged from the steamy platform to find a glaring array of jumbotrons, billboards, and masses of people all sauntering down the street with their eyes directed upwards. Times Square sprawled out before me, and although it was certainly impressive, it was oddly sad.
I walked down a few blocks to Fifth Avenue and poked in some shops. I find it so amusing that people would actually pay $5,000.00 for a jacket with someone's name on it. I guess some people live in a completely different world than I do. I bought a pretzel from a street vendor and sat on a bench looking up at the massive skyscrapers above me. I walked back to the subway passing 30 Rockefeller Center, the Atlas statue, and many many designer stores. It's certainly a decadent area, and it made me feel special in a way; lucky to have been there.
I took the subway back to my part of town and went grocery shopping down the street with Kelley. The store was incredible. It had rows and rows of fresh produce stacked up like the buildings I had admired earlier, fresh seafood and meat, and beautiful desserts, and yet, it still had the feel of a neighborhood market. It was wonderfully cheap for New York--all my groceries cost about $30.00 all together!
I did some reading back home, and later went out with Valerie. We walked around Broadway together and had Pink Berry--a new taste sensation for me. It's real yogurt--frozen. It has no added sugar or fat, so it's actually pretty good for you, and they have tons of fresh fruit (not frozen!) and other toppings. I had original yogurt with chocolate chips and huge fresh raspberries. It was amazing! I fear it might become a new addiction...
Valerie and I had a great time together--we've really started to connect, and we laughed about so many things together. I love that she is from Canada--it's almost like we're both outsiders here, and we can discover the city together. Then Casey showed up, the guy who helped me with my bags yesterday, and we all talked for a while. We made plans to go to the MoMa together on Wednesday when I don't have class. I'm so looking forward to it!
Just when I finished talking with both my parents about how lonely I was, and how meeting people was so difficult, I had this great evening with two interesting people. I couldn't have asked for more, and it made me feel a little more at home. I'm really looking forward to class tomorrow, and I hope that I can make a few friends there. There have to be some interesting people taking Human Rights, don't you think?
Overall, I'm settling in well, and the moments of loneliness seem to be far and few between. I'm going to try an plan something for my floor this week and send around fliers throughout the dorm. I wish my RA was doing that, but I 'm pretty good at it from being an FA at the UO, so I don't mind organizing it.
I hope you all are well. Thanks for checking in.
Rachel
I survived my first full day in the urban jungle! I actually had a great time. I woke up around 10am, and it seems I'm adjusting to the time difference really well. But as most of you know, I can sleep at anytime, so I'm not that surprised.
I put on one of my new dresses that mom and martin bought me for the trip and headed over to Kent Hall where I go my Columbia ID. I waited in a long line of visiting students, but didn't talk with anyone. It probably would have been a great opportunity to meet someone, but it was pretty quiet in the office, and I didn't want the entire place to be able to listen-in on my conversation. My ID popped out of the machine a few minutes later, and I noticed that it said: "Rachel Adams: Athletic Facility Employee." Hmmmm. I informed the lady at the desk that I did not, in fact, work in an athletic facility, and I had to take another picture to replace the old one. Hope the other Rachel Adams doesn't get my picture on her ID!
After that, I headed over to the bookstore where I got some spiral notebooks, binders, and other necessities. All my things say "Columbia University" on them and look either very official or very cheesy--I can't decide which.
After dropping my new things off in my room, I set my sights on the subway and became determined to orient myself in the city. As it was my last day before class started, I wanted to make sure that I took advantage of my free time! I boarded the number 1 subway and switched to the 2 at 96th street, which took me down to Times Square. The platforms were humid and sticky and smelled like body odor and spoiled alcohol, but for some reason, I liked it. I guess the musky smell reminded me of where I was and how independent I'd become. I emerged from the steamy platform to find a glaring array of jumbotrons, billboards, and masses of people all sauntering down the street with their eyes directed upwards. Times Square sprawled out before me, and although it was certainly impressive, it was oddly sad.
I walked down a few blocks to Fifth Avenue and poked in some shops. I find it so amusing that people would actually pay $5,000.00 for a jacket with someone's name on it. I guess some people live in a completely different world than I do. I bought a pretzel from a street vendor and sat on a bench looking up at the massive skyscrapers above me. I walked back to the subway passing 30 Rockefeller Center, the Atlas statue, and many many designer stores. It's certainly a decadent area, and it made me feel special in a way; lucky to have been there.
I took the subway back to my part of town and went grocery shopping down the street with Kelley. The store was incredible. It had rows and rows of fresh produce stacked up like the buildings I had admired earlier, fresh seafood and meat, and beautiful desserts, and yet, it still had the feel of a neighborhood market. It was wonderfully cheap for New York--all my groceries cost about $30.00 all together!
I did some reading back home, and later went out with Valerie. We walked around Broadway together and had Pink Berry--a new taste sensation for me. It's real yogurt--frozen. It has no added sugar or fat, so it's actually pretty good for you, and they have tons of fresh fruit (not frozen!) and other toppings. I had original yogurt with chocolate chips and huge fresh raspberries. It was amazing! I fear it might become a new addiction...
Valerie and I had a great time together--we've really started to connect, and we laughed about so many things together. I love that she is from Canada--it's almost like we're both outsiders here, and we can discover the city together. Then Casey showed up, the guy who helped me with my bags yesterday, and we all talked for a while. We made plans to go to the MoMa together on Wednesday when I don't have class. I'm so looking forward to it!
Just when I finished talking with both my parents about how lonely I was, and how meeting people was so difficult, I had this great evening with two interesting people. I couldn't have asked for more, and it made me feel a little more at home. I'm really looking forward to class tomorrow, and I hope that I can make a few friends there. There have to be some interesting people taking Human Rights, don't you think?
Overall, I'm settling in well, and the moments of loneliness seem to be far and few between. I'm going to try an plan something for my floor this week and send around fliers throughout the dorm. I wish my RA was doing that, but I 'm pretty good at it from being an FA at the UO, so I don't mind organizing it.
I hope you all are well. Thanks for checking in.
Rachel
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Whew!
Hello Everyone!
Well, I made it safe and sound after a long day of traveling, and I am so ready to crash for the night! But of course, as promised, I will update all of you on my travels before heading off to bed.
I didn't sleep at all last night--I kept falling asleep and instantly waking up to add more things to my list of "to-dos" for the morning. I finally just got back up around 2am and kept packing/downloading photos/etc. Mom and Martin dropped me off at the airport around six, and I had such a hard time saying goodbye! It really hit me that I was actually LEAVING by myself to have this adventure and they wouldn't be there to share it with me. After a short, and tearful goodbye, I gathered my things and headed off to security. Of course I had forgotten that people are making explosives out of hair gel these days, and had to surrender some lotion and hair product (although they were almost empty, so it wasn't a complete loss).
I got to the gate just fine, and boarded almost instantly. I sat next to a young couple who didn't seem to even really like each other that much--they didn't speak for much of the ride, and when they did, they were pretty curt with one another. I decided my time would be best spent napping. I slept the whole way to Denver. Once at the airport, I ran into the bathroom quickly, and as I was washing my hands, someone in the ladies room stole the neck pillow mom had given me for the trip! I had it looped through the handle of my carry-on, and I turned around for a second to grab a paper towel, and when I turned around it was gone! I couldn't believe it. So much for the sisterhood, huh?
I slept most of the way to NY as well, even though it was pretty bumpy. It was funny that I could immediately tell the difference in the people getting on that flight. All the women were wearing huge diamonds, Chanel sunglasses, and perfectly planned outfits (all designer labels). Even the men were dressed to the nines. Among the label-worshipers was an eclectic group of all cultures. The woman sitting next to me at the gate spoke loudly on her cell phone in a distinct Brooklyn accent: "You want me to go wheya?", she shouted, "oh my gawd, I would NEVA!" I have no idea what or where she was talking about, but it all seemed so....New York.
After the plane landed, I gathered my things and headed for baggage claim. I got a cart, and piled all my things up onto it while I waited for the car. The driver turned out to be from Panjab, India, and we talked about my friend Niha who is from Nepal. "Does she look Chinese?", he asked with a laugh. I didn't really know what to say other than that no, she doesn't. He cautioned me to be careful walking around at night as we drove through some seedy parts of town. Eventually, we came out on Broadway, and the Columbia campus with its trees and large pathways sprawled out in front of us. "Oh, this is a great part of town. You'll be safe here. Just don't wander too far by yourself," he warned. He agreed to stay with some of my things while I ran in shifts to get all my bags to the check-in desk. I figured I could trust him because I hadn't paid him for the lift yet (don't worry--I also took down the car number and his name just in case).
I got to check in around 8pm, and a great guy behind the counter oriented me, and signed me in. He told me I'd be living in Hogan Hall, just a block or two down the street. A kid in skinny jeans and a trendy t-shirt was waiting behind me, and as I gathered all my bags, I heard him say that he needed a new room key to his room in Hogan. I asked him if he was going that way, and he said he'd show me how to get there, and even took two of my bags for me! He was really nice, and said he was visiting from UCLA, where he goes to school during the year. He even carried my stuff up to my room (after commenting that I must not be a minimalist)! He had to go somewhere, otherwise I would have asked if I could get him a coke or something for helping me so much. I hope I see him around, he seemed like someone I could really be friends with.
My "suite" has a locked front door out onto the hallway, and opens into the lounge and kitchen area. The bathroom is on the hall, and leads down a narrow hallway to the five doors where all my suit-mates live. I met one almost immediately--her name is Kelley, and she goes to Brown during the year. She wasn't too welcoming at first, but she's warmed since then. Then I met her friend Kimberlynn, who is from San Francisco, and is really nice. I like her a lot. They warned me that one of the suite-mates, Cat, is really stand-offish and that I should probably try to avoid her. Ouch. Cat emerged from her room a while later and half-barked a greeting at me, "You're the new roommate?" I said "yes" and introduced myself, and she just said, "I'm Cat," and walked out. After she left I noticed a sign on a cabinet in the kitchen that said, "Cat's stuff--DON'T TOUCH." I don't plan on it. Melissa came in next, and I guess she's a thirty-year-old grad student who Kelley says is really great, and very motherly. She was in a hurry, but she seemed really nice when I met her. Lastly, I met Valerie, a visiting architecture student from Montreal, and we spoke a little French together! She seems very interesting, and down-to-earth. We're probably going to have dinner tomorrow night. She seems like the one I could most connect with in the house.
My room has an eerie likeness to a prison cell--no, not really, but kind of. Right now, it's just a white box with a horrible florescent light, and the window looks directly out onto a brick wall. Ah, how New York is that? I plan to liven it up a bit tomorrow with all my wall hangings and photos of home.
Then I walked around the area a little bit, and poked into some stores. There's an adorable artisan food store down the block with fresh pasta, a great bakery section, and some hot food. It kind of reminds me of a tiny Whole Foods. Then I ate at Chipotle (thought I'd stick to something familiar for the first night), and then, the best thing of all happened: I stumbled upon the diner from Seinfeld! It's right down the street from my dorm, and you can eat there in the booth where they always sat in the show. I went in and asked the guy at the cash register if this was the actual Seinfeld diner (i know, a very touristy thing to do), and he said, "Yeah, so you gonna eat here or what?" hahaha. I guess I learned my lesson.
I came back and visited with the girls for a while, and now I'm getting ready to sleep. Tomorrow I have to get my Columbia ID, buy my books, and find my classes. I also have a bunch of reading to do for the first day of class, so I better get to bed!
I miss all of you so much already, and I do feel very far from everything I know. I'm struggling a little to feel comfortable with all of this, but each minute, I feel a little more confident that I'm in the right place at the right time. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to take this adventure--I know I will look back on it as one of the most exciting times of my life.
Peace and Love,
Rachel
Well, I made it safe and sound after a long day of traveling, and I am so ready to crash for the night! But of course, as promised, I will update all of you on my travels before heading off to bed.
I didn't sleep at all last night--I kept falling asleep and instantly waking up to add more things to my list of "to-dos" for the morning. I finally just got back up around 2am and kept packing/downloading photos/etc. Mom and Martin dropped me off at the airport around six, and I had such a hard time saying goodbye! It really hit me that I was actually LEAVING by myself to have this adventure and they wouldn't be there to share it with me. After a short, and tearful goodbye, I gathered my things and headed off to security. Of course I had forgotten that people are making explosives out of hair gel these days, and had to surrender some lotion and hair product (although they were almost empty, so it wasn't a complete loss).
I got to the gate just fine, and boarded almost instantly. I sat next to a young couple who didn't seem to even really like each other that much--they didn't speak for much of the ride, and when they did, they were pretty curt with one another. I decided my time would be best spent napping. I slept the whole way to Denver. Once at the airport, I ran into the bathroom quickly, and as I was washing my hands, someone in the ladies room stole the neck pillow mom had given me for the trip! I had it looped through the handle of my carry-on, and I turned around for a second to grab a paper towel, and when I turned around it was gone! I couldn't believe it. So much for the sisterhood, huh?
I slept most of the way to NY as well, even though it was pretty bumpy. It was funny that I could immediately tell the difference in the people getting on that flight. All the women were wearing huge diamonds, Chanel sunglasses, and perfectly planned outfits (all designer labels). Even the men were dressed to the nines. Among the label-worshipers was an eclectic group of all cultures. The woman sitting next to me at the gate spoke loudly on her cell phone in a distinct Brooklyn accent: "You want me to go wheya?", she shouted, "oh my gawd, I would NEVA!" I have no idea what or where she was talking about, but it all seemed so....New York.
After the plane landed, I gathered my things and headed for baggage claim. I got a cart, and piled all my things up onto it while I waited for the car. The driver turned out to be from Panjab, India, and we talked about my friend Niha who is from Nepal. "Does she look Chinese?", he asked with a laugh. I didn't really know what to say other than that no, she doesn't. He cautioned me to be careful walking around at night as we drove through some seedy parts of town. Eventually, we came out on Broadway, and the Columbia campus with its trees and large pathways sprawled out in front of us. "Oh, this is a great part of town. You'll be safe here. Just don't wander too far by yourself," he warned. He agreed to stay with some of my things while I ran in shifts to get all my bags to the check-in desk. I figured I could trust him because I hadn't paid him for the lift yet (don't worry--I also took down the car number and his name just in case).
I got to check in around 8pm, and a great guy behind the counter oriented me, and signed me in. He told me I'd be living in Hogan Hall, just a block or two down the street. A kid in skinny jeans and a trendy t-shirt was waiting behind me, and as I gathered all my bags, I heard him say that he needed a new room key to his room in Hogan. I asked him if he was going that way, and he said he'd show me how to get there, and even took two of my bags for me! He was really nice, and said he was visiting from UCLA, where he goes to school during the year. He even carried my stuff up to my room (after commenting that I must not be a minimalist)! He had to go somewhere, otherwise I would have asked if I could get him a coke or something for helping me so much. I hope I see him around, he seemed like someone I could really be friends with.
My "suite" has a locked front door out onto the hallway, and opens into the lounge and kitchen area. The bathroom is on the hall, and leads down a narrow hallway to the five doors where all my suit-mates live. I met one almost immediately--her name is Kelley, and she goes to Brown during the year. She wasn't too welcoming at first, but she's warmed since then. Then I met her friend Kimberlynn, who is from San Francisco, and is really nice. I like her a lot. They warned me that one of the suite-mates, Cat, is really stand-offish and that I should probably try to avoid her. Ouch. Cat emerged from her room a while later and half-barked a greeting at me, "You're the new roommate?" I said "yes" and introduced myself, and she just said, "I'm Cat," and walked out. After she left I noticed a sign on a cabinet in the kitchen that said, "Cat's stuff--DON'T TOUCH." I don't plan on it. Melissa came in next, and I guess she's a thirty-year-old grad student who Kelley says is really great, and very motherly. She was in a hurry, but she seemed really nice when I met her. Lastly, I met Valerie, a visiting architecture student from Montreal, and we spoke a little French together! She seems very interesting, and down-to-earth. We're probably going to have dinner tomorrow night. She seems like the one I could most connect with in the house.
My room has an eerie likeness to a prison cell--no, not really, but kind of. Right now, it's just a white box with a horrible florescent light, and the window looks directly out onto a brick wall. Ah, how New York is that? I plan to liven it up a bit tomorrow with all my wall hangings and photos of home.
Then I walked around the area a little bit, and poked into some stores. There's an adorable artisan food store down the block with fresh pasta, a great bakery section, and some hot food. It kind of reminds me of a tiny Whole Foods. Then I ate at Chipotle (thought I'd stick to something familiar for the first night), and then, the best thing of all happened: I stumbled upon the diner from Seinfeld! It's right down the street from my dorm, and you can eat there in the booth where they always sat in the show. I went in and asked the guy at the cash register if this was the actual Seinfeld diner (i know, a very touristy thing to do), and he said, "Yeah, so you gonna eat here or what?" hahaha. I guess I learned my lesson.
I came back and visited with the girls for a while, and now I'm getting ready to sleep. Tomorrow I have to get my Columbia ID, buy my books, and find my classes. I also have a bunch of reading to do for the first day of class, so I better get to bed!
I miss all of you so much already, and I do feel very far from everything I know. I'm struggling a little to feel comfortable with all of this, but each minute, I feel a little more confident that I'm in the right place at the right time. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to take this adventure--I know I will look back on it as one of the most exciting times of my life.
Peace and Love,
Rachel
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Welcome to my BLOG!
Hi All,
This is the space that I will be using over the next few weeks to keep you all updated on my adventures in the urban jungle! I'll be treating it like a travel journal, and will post pictures here too, so it's a fast and easy way for you to check in on me!
Instead of sending mass emails, I'll just be using this website, so feel free to check frequently, comment on my posts, and check out my pictures!
The next few weeks are going to be an amazing experience for me, and I can't wait to share it with all of you!
And of course, you can always email me at my address (radams1@uoregon.edu) or call anytime!
Rachel
This is the space that I will be using over the next few weeks to keep you all updated on my adventures in the urban jungle! I'll be treating it like a travel journal, and will post pictures here too, so it's a fast and easy way for you to check in on me!
Instead of sending mass emails, I'll just be using this website, so feel free to check frequently, comment on my posts, and check out my pictures!
The next few weeks are going to be an amazing experience for me, and I can't wait to share it with all of you!
And of course, you can always email me at my address (radams1@uoregon.edu) or call anytime!
Rachel
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)