I've spent quite a bit of time going to flea markets, garage sales and thrift stores and I was curious what a New York City flea market would be like. For those of you who have never been to one: it's wonderful. Tables and tables full of unique, stuff-you-don't-see-everyday items. Beaver skulls (plural!). Thousands of antique print blocks. Vintage furs. 1940s pin-up calendars. Antique typewriters. Porcelain signs. People are walking around in this weird community of eccentric people and you hear every language and accent as you pass through their little shops, whether from the patron or their tiny radio. As work permits, I'll be going back!
Skype occupied my afternoon and then I went to Famous Famiglia across the street for some pasta due to a carb craving. Well, it looked good when I got there. Heck, it tasted good after I left. But I wasn't especially excited to see them cook the pasta, spoon the sauce on top of the pasta--- and then place it in a microwave for a minute or two. Did I really just eat microwaved pasta only a short train ride from Little Italy?
In better news though, I discovered that my floor does, in fact, have a kitchen! There's no oven, but there are utensils and pots and pans. I think I'll be doing some cooking in there in the next week. The availability of incredible quality and variety of food in this city has been making me feel guilty about not having the facilities for cooking!
After dinner, I rode the train up to Columbus Circle (near one of Trump's buildings and at the corner of Central Park) with my longboard. As soon as I walked out of the subway it started to rain, but I kept going and it eventually stopped. I did a few laps around the southern tip of the park, trying to avoid the especially huge, difficult hills and, more importantly, all of the road hazards the Central Park horses leave behind.
I decided to head back downtown and headed towards the subway but happened upon a ska/jazz trio playing in front of Trump's building and was blown away. Moon Hooch, as they were called, consist of three guys: one drummer and two sax players. I intended to stay for a few minutes, watch and move on. I think I ended up watching them for a little over an hour.
Even more than the music, I enjoyed the people watching aspect of it. Older people who had probably been around in the prime days of jazz were smiling and throwing dollar bills into their collection plate, young kids were dancing around, totally devoid of any self-consciousness.
I had to pull myself away eventually, so I found a quiet sidewalk that ran parallel to Central Park and skated up into the Upper West Side and then back down again. I did some skating on the street for a while but after realizing I had a mostly open (and less dangerous) sidewalk at my disposal, I rode that for the rest of the time.
Totally content, I waited for the C train back down to 34th. It's amazing how unexpected this city can be and the people in it. There's a guy in there singing old Motown hits and playing a drum set. All of the sudden 4 or 5 women in their mid to late 40s come out of nowhere and turn the platform into some sort of Mid-life Crisis Discotheque. Oh, no, it doesn't stop there... that would be too expected. This 8 or 9 year old kid comes down the steps and starts dancing like a machine. He's shimmying and dropping to the floor and dancing, in my estimations, very well for a kid his age. Half the people start singing along or dancing (the other half stare glumly at the floor, unflinching). Then the train comes and everyone goes their own way.
EDIT: I forgot to add what I learned today!
1. Despite the invention of iPods at least ten years ago and the use of Walkmen in the 1990s, people DO still carry a boombox on their shoulder like it's the 1980s.
2. When looking to eat Italian, go to Little Italy. Just because a place claims to be the "Official Pizza of the New York Yankees" doesn't mean they're authentic.
3. New York City street musicians are well-worth watching, even if you only have a minute.
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