City of Wonders

For me, one of the coolest things ever has to be a US immigration stamp in my passport, dated 25th December, 2007. (a momentary flare of anxiety as they imprint our index fingers to run through the database - and then I think, hang on; I've never actually been fingerprinted at any time!)

I can't think of a better way to spent a Christmas day than sipping champagne on a long haul flight to New York with Crysse. Apologies to global warming campaigners etc. - but my carbon footprint is otherwise smaller than probably most people living in the west (not currently running a fridge has to count for some green brownie points) and after all, it was a once-in-a-lifetime special treat...

(Yes, I know I'd love to go back - but will I?)

Much of our journey from Newark to the New Yorker Hotel seems not a million miles away from London's Vauxhall Bridge underpass; at this level the scruffiness surprises us, used to airbrushed Hollywood New York. Likewise the hotel - the stately lobby (below) gives way to tatty corridors in want of a good clean, let alone several coats of paint, little touches like our richly tiled bathroom floor and art deco bathroom suite briefly reviving the sense of opulence that must have pervaded it once. It's like sitting with an ageing actress in her dressingroom after watching a mediocre performance with flashes of former brilliance - there's more compassion than contempt.

It's not until the following day that I step outside our hotel and get the buzz... the buzz I didn't pick up at all our first night, my senses too dulled by exhaustion.

It's as if we've stepped into the film set of New York, the glamour burned away by the reality of the sidewalks under our feet, leaving the real romance of the city to be ingested greedily...

This is our first writing trip where we both focus on digital image nearly as much as writing - Crysse always takes a camera, but pictures have been more a kind of holiday snaps backdrop. Now, blogging has upped the ante on images to complement writing. That doesn't stop me being as self-indulgent with pix as I am with writing (see below left - and actually, I don't care, I think I was right, it is an interesting image, snapped en route to the Poetry cafe in Greenwich village.)

On our last day, considering skating in Bryant Park (the only place in New York where skating is free) I catch a cop (above right) in Bryant Square without thinking to ask his permission - less posed for the tourists and more laconically bored than in Crysse's, I think...

Christmas trees everywhere - hotel lobbies, Bryant Park (below left), the square at the Rockefeller Center (below right), Macy's and Bloomingdales frothy decadence, with shoppers speedy as commuters chasing trains...
New York does Christmas in style. Sure, it's OTT and flamboyant, but there are no tacky plastic cartoon characters (OK, a Shrek above Macy's main entrance, which we didn't see until our last day) or competitions between inhabitants to see who can out-Christmas their neighbour. Maybe it's because New York, and Manhattan in particular, is less residential - in Queen's, returning to JFK airport in a luxury black Lincoln, I did see one plastic bonanza...

The hip-hop (body-popping?) troupe (below) we come across in search of a coffee bar seems to emphasise that the life of New York happens on the sidewalk as you go nowhere in particular, just as it does the world over.

The most precious thing we have is time - and the leisure to absorb these little gems...

We decide not to tour United Nations, but it was worth going there just for the pic below of the knotted gun.

Numerous pictures taken that I now have no idea where I took it, or what exactly it is - I'm pretty sure this one (left) isn't the Seagram Building, which doesn't exactly narrow it down hugely. The architecture of New York is absolutely amazing - and I don't mean just the sky-reaching towers of glass. Little (by comparison) gothic and art deco delights hunker down between the monoliths, even a Gaudi-esque surprise or two...

Grand Central Station, Times Square, the Chrysler Building, the Rockefeller Centre, the Empire State Building... Madison Avenue, Broadway, Central Park, Fifth Avenue...

Being in New York is like visiting a place you've been in a vivid dream, a sense of almost deja vue as we cover familiar landmarks, sampling a culture so close to our our own - and yet so different...

festivity avoidance

This may be my last posting of the year... and given that the weeks since I moved have had very scanty coverage, then a kind of year round-up is really not going to happen... A swift

precis of the last few weeks is the most I can manage!

My new living space is gorgeous. A fantastic creative space....
Through the gap between buildings, you can see the Malverns from my spare room (below left).

My second foray to the top of Bredon Hill was accidentally extended to include sunset (above right) - a treat which meant reorienting to find the way down relied heavily on my sense of direction (not always a good move, but aside from a bit of stumbling about in the dark, on this occasion proved uneventful).
Crysse came to stay and sample my hospitality - subsidised by the pub down the road (the food is excellent; lets me off the hook from catering - a bonus as I don't have a fridge yet, with only the very basics in my kitchen!) Shopping in Evesham, ostensibly for suitable thermal clothing for our New York trip, provided this cool jacket (above left) on time for our live n' lippy performance as part of Howard's 'resonate' evening.

Life is full of upheavals and reversals as life spirals around... I wrote a piece for Anita Mason's Frome Hundred anthology called 'Aversion to Sunrise'; it feels as though that is undergoing a reversal... Winter sunrises do help greatly - in that they don't happen that early in the morning... above right is the morning vista from Crysse's conservatory-cum-spare room, a view of Frome which was an unexpected delight when I stayed with her a couple of weeks ago.

The digital camera can't quite do justice to the subtleties of either a sunrise or a sunset, but maybe this shot taken as I pulled out of the Byre and headed down the lane to drive to work gives a flavour; such spectacular glory it inspired me to haul my carcass out of bed at 6.30 on a Saturday to go chase the sunrise from Bredon Hill...

Extensive cloud cover muted most of the effect... Except the sustenance for the soul. Tramping around in solitary splendour, I startled a herd of fifteen deer, the largest gathering I've seen anywhere other than Rum. I met a runner from Eckington who comes up every Saturday; maybe we'll meet again.
Definitely a day of celebration and thanks for the joy in my life.

Today, the trekking theme continued; not such an early start, but a similar distance. Up through woods on the ridge between Weston and Sand Bay and along the promontory. Such a gift to spend so much of a December weekend out of doors; funny the changes hep C has wrought in my life...
The mist wreathing mutated and gyrated over sea and horizon, offering sometimes clear vistas and sometimes the murk of nothingness as if we stepped on the edge of the world...

The theme of stepping through gateways to alternative realities continued; passing through a doorway at Woodspring Priory we passed from the bare (if impressive) fan vaulting into the elegant festive splendour of the reading room.

If this is an alternative Christmas, give me more!

potential indefinite intermission

I rather like the unexpected strangeness of these two images together... linking two very different hikes on Bredon Hill.

Internet use at work takes intricate organisation, so I had decided to flag up an indefinite intermission. However, Crysse showed me how to begin and save posts to publish once they're crafted, so that could help solve the problem... as well as being reminded how to edit existing posts - I thought they couldn't be changed after a certain number of days...
Just getting the photos above posted was a saga and a half - we downloaded from my camera onto Crysse's computer and she emailed them to me... (blogger was having a funny five minutes, so I couldn't get logged on from her computer).

On the plus side... well, I wrote in my notebook:

Every day on my way to work my heart takes flight... and every night on my return, I'm equally enchanted by the night landscape.
I'm 'exploring in the margins' - in the margins of the working week, in the margins of the routes between home(s) and work, in the margins of solitude around working and mainly living in Kit's space...
this period of adjustment feels as if I'm a constantly shaken kaliedescope.

I live in Worcester and work in Gloucestershire (a little unnerving to see so much rain raising water levels again last week... being constantly 'between homes' means I'm well prepared for floods, with extra warm clothes etc. in my car at all times - and my riding boots have taken up residence there, too).
my own lovely (large!) haven is close by Bredon Hill... on the outskirts of a tiny village with no shops (but three pubs; hmmm! - which I can't take full advantage of; treatment hasn't cleared the virus).
I was in shock for several hours after that news, but there is so much magic in my life at the moment that I don't feel too down-in-the-mouth about such sore disappointment. Earlier the same day, I had news that a friend had died suddenly the night before; at the time, as well as a terrible shock, it felt like an ominous omen.
An omen perhaps, but also a reminder that worse things happen than a tough old virus refusing to let go of its haven in my bloodstream. David's life's work on mythologies across the globe is now forever incomplete after over twenty years work, and we will never hear his melodious voice relating his lovely stories in clipped, precise words from an incredibly neat typescript... except in our hearts and memories.
Like the stubborn virus that lurks in my bloodstream, I'm tough. Tougher than I ever believed... and it took finding out I had this surreptitious organism undermining my health to delve into the inner resources that have resculpted my inner and outer landscapes.
Maybe hello to an old friend is more appropriate than formulating new battle plans...

Last, but by no means least, live n' lippy have another outing on Sunday, part of the media arts showcase organised by Howard.
A bit tricky to rehearse without access to the dvd... but it should be fun all the same.