Saturday, July 31, 2010

Greetings From France

I can see the Pyrenees from where I write this. I wish I could download my photos so you could have a visual of my experiences thus far. They have been magnifique.

Yesterday we went into Toulouse and did a little shopping. Sadly, all clothing is American. We had a great lunch: cold tomato soup and lentil salad washed down with rose. We relaxed by the pool but not before I made travel plans to drive to Barcelona for two days. Yes, drive. A little stick shift French car through the Pyrenees. I have Costa Rica to thank for my lack of fear. They have marked roads here, good ones. The train was all booked, and flights were expensive. I'm staying at a fancy hotel in the old district that allegedly has parking. If it doesn't I shall cry.

We're off to see a chateau and pick up dinner makings. Then I'm doing nothing the rest of the day except eat, drink, read, and socialize.

Au revoir...

Monday, July 26, 2010

A Great Read

I stumbled onto a short novel called A Meaningful Life by L.J. Davis. Aside from bring darkly comic (an unbeatable combination for me), it had special meaning because it takes places several blocks from our old house in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Mr. Davis bought a rooming house on Greene and Washington in 1971 and began the impossible task of renovating it on his own. This was on the Bed-Stuy border, a no-man's land of crumbling real estate and lost souls trying to live as best they could. Davis still lives in Brooklyn in the same house I believe. What he paid $7,000 for is no doubt worth $1.5 million now. The neighborhood is very different these days, expensive to live in and with a certain cachet that Davis might not comprehend (or want to). I know I can't, and I moved there in 1985. Even with crack dealers living across the street in a house the plumbing had been stripped from, it was already a fairly mild environment. Sure there were bums staggering around, but there was also Mr. Ferguson, a southern gent who grew roses and clipped them for the neighborhood ladies. Before we left in 1996, Range Rovers began parking on the block. What had been extreme diversity is now a very narrow slice of life. Age, income, race, occupation--whatever defines an area, has been packaged and can be purchased at the now chi-chi corner store.

Well, I'm glad we lived there when we did, and that the kids grew up there for a while and saw that everyone wasn't all like them, and didn't even necessarily like them. Mariel went to P.S. 20 for three years and got a good education there, one that prepared her for real life, not the fauxburban one that we live in now.

Moving back to NYC poses challenges, especially after living in tropical paradise for six years and the woods for eight. NYC is crowded and filthy and nature is an after-thought. The tourists gawking at the World Trade Center site raise shadenfreude to a new art. The streets are slicked with human and dog effluvia, so much so that we remove our shoes when we walk into the apartment. There's little greenery, but, there's life, lots of it. And diversity, entertainment, culture, jobs; even the welcome oases of parks and small gardens.

We may move back to Brownstone Brooklyn eventually. Most of our friends live there. We can't afford to buy anything now but we could rent. We're no longer hipsters (our hips are crumbling), but we remember the days when Fulton Street had few services, when alarms blared night and day and when saying you were from Fort Greene raised eyebrows. I could look up L.J. Davis and we could chat about the really olden days. We could grab a Starbucks and marvel at the changes we've seen.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Free Travel Voucher

For my hardship on Amtrak the other day, I am receiving a travel voucher to be used within the year.
Customer Service actually called me and asked about my experience.

Astonished, I hung up. I've asked for refunds from customer service in my time, and I may have received a few, but this is the first time a company has extended the offer to me without me asking. I I own a slice of this company, so it's nice to know it's heart is in the right place, if not it's bottom line.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Travel Travails

After my last nightmare trip to New York, I vowed never to drive again. I'd take the bus or the train and relax while someone else did the work. I would sleep, read, snack, annoy other passengers by making phone calls. Hah!

I took the train this weekend and I must say, it was awful. The trip down wasn't bad, but the trip back definitely tried my soul. Here's what my $45.50 got me.

The trip starts off on time and I have a seat by myself. Suddenly it's pouring--who knew the weather would be so extreme. It gives everyone something to talk about.

After New Haven, things start to go bad. There's track work. There's signal trouble. There's only one track open and two trains. Blah blah blah. At least they're announcing something, even if it's lies.

We stop. We go. We stop. We go 5 miles an hour for an hour. They say we'll be delayed, but that once we get beyond New London, we'll go at a normal clip, and maybe even make up some of the time.

Harry has already arrived to pick me up when they announce that a tree has gone down at Westerly and that service is suspended indefinitely. Driving on I-95 suddenly seems like a great way to travel. The conductor announces that we've received special permission to pull into the New London station where we may choose to disembark or stay on the train. The train will back up to the middle of nowhere to allow work crews to get by. By this time, rumors are swirling that there are four hot dogs left in the dining car, along with a bag of potato chips and some soda.

I got off the train. Not everybody did. I called Harry and told him how to navigate to the station in New London, about 40 minutes from where he was waiting for me. Props to Harry for good driving and having the patience to drive through two states to pick me up. Thankfully, I'll be moving permanently to NYC at the end of August and won't have to worry about transportation from E.G. to NY. We'll have to come to RI to close on the house, but Marty can drive and maybe we'll time it so it doesn't take five hours.

Anything can happen (and has), but at least in a car you can look for alternate routes.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Only the Strong Survive

It's a tough town but someone has to live in it.

I took the train to Penn Station Thursday afternoon where my prince met me to whisk me away for dinner at Becco. It was as noisy as a construction site. We started with mint juleps and went on to order a bottle of Prosecco. Food? Yeah, we had that. We had the pasta special: all you can eat from among three choices. We dropped my bag off at the apartment and went over to Battery Park City in search of a nightcap. They were actually rolling up the sidewalks at 11:00 pm. That I was was awake at this hour is shocking. You can take the girl out of Rhode island AND Rhode Island out of the girl.

The next morning I jogged along the river before breakfast. Marty went off to work, and I hatched plans for the day, which involved copious amounts of shopping. I went to the supermarket to buy dinner for the evening, which I needed to cook early because I wanted the food to be nice and marinated and cold by dinnertime. The Prix Fixe Menu started with ice-cold cocktails and the proverbial cheese and crackers. The next course was shrimp on a bed of shredded fresh mozzarella cheese, followed by a tortellini salad.

Earlier, I went up to Macy's to look at chaise longues and kitchenware. I found a chaise I really liked--so me, and on sale. I resisted the urge to buy it on the spot because we were going to Brooklyn the next day to shop the antique stores on Atlantic Avenue. In the meantime, I did some damage in the Cellar, buying 4 mexican-glass tumblers and one very sharp knife.

On Saturday morning, we'd return to Macy's because the trains to Brooklyn were running in reverse. This was fortuitous, because we bought the chaise, which happened to be even cheaper than I'd thought. It is petite in size, comes in a subtle animal print (mainly brown) and has a curved shape. Oh, and it's comfortable, too. I will spend many hours reading and napping on this piece of furniture.

After buying the chaise, we returned to the cellar to buy more tumblers, a set of dishes and another really sharp knife. We returned to the apartment and ordered a pizza. Then it was out for more shopping, mainly for food. We'd planned on having middle eastern yummies purchased in Brooklyn, but since we never made it to the hip outer borough, we had to settle for something else. I made a wonderful spinach salad and Marty perfectly simmered some Nathan's hot dogs, purchased at the Amish Market where preservatives are allowed.

We went to the New Amsterdam Branch of the NYPL and got library cards. This was the high point of the day. I hope you know I believe your library card is the most valuable card in your wallet.

Before dinner, however, we fell unconscious due to all the steamy shopping. We got up around 8 o'clock and had dinner, washed down by gigantic gin and vodka tonics mixed in our new tumblers.

It's early Sunday morning. I've already had my coffee (in new mugs) and plan to go for a jog. Today should be quieter, although I'm taking Marty to Syms for new duds and I have to buy another plastic pitcher at Bed, Bath and beyond for under $7 including tax. I can't pass up these bargains! Then I hope to read a lot in air-conditioned comfort, maybe nap. We have a dinner reservation at ma peche at 7 pm. It's a chic new restaurant they probably don't want us to come to because it'll dilute their hipsterness. They can always sit us behind a large plant.

I return to Rhode Island tomorrow, further in debt but having lived.

Monday, July 12, 2010

A Week and a World Away

Sunset at Murray Harbour, Canada

Dinner at Windows on the Water, Montague

Turbo on the Grass

Rossignol Winery, PEI

Miles to go ...

...before we sleep.

The closing went off without a hitch. It was a long day, but it all came together, bankers and attorneys notwithstanding. We drove back to RI to meet the kids for dinner and celebrate the purchase of 37 Maple Avenue. We went to Hemenways on the water for a little al fresco dining.

We spent the next day doing errands to get ready for vacation. At 6:30 am Sunday we began our journey to Murray Harbour, Prince Edward Island, Canada. Some 14 hours later, we arrived. The next morning was cool and sunny. Marty and I sipped coffee outside overlooking the harbor. The house is nice, and suitable for us all. It has three bedrooms and is even Turbo-friendly. We discovered that the northeast has been under an intense record-breaking heat alert, but in Murray Harbour it was 80 degrees and breezy. We all ran or biked everyday. Tuesday was the only day with rain, and it wasn't even dreary. Marty, Mariel and I went to a local winery and sipped samples before buying several bottles.

We drank a lot of beer. The drinking age in Canada is 19, so Mark was legal. Harry was not, but we allowed him to imbibe anyway under the close scrutiny of his liberal parents. My parents treated me the same way when I was a teenager. They would allow me to drink with them at home or in a restaurant, not that I did very often, or even wanted to. By the time I got to college, I was an experienced drinker, and almost never drank to excess. What was the point? I had nothing to prove.

We watched the Tour de France and World Cup Soccer. We spent a lot of time together as a family doing nothing but reading, eating and talking. It was a nice change of pace from the usual scenario where we don't spend time together due to work and other commitments. It probably won't happen again any time soon.

The drive home was another 14-hour torture, but nobody complained. One thing we're not is a family of complainers. We go with the flow and deal with what's thrown at us. It's not a bad way to live.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Bankers with ADHD

I think we're buying a house today. Let's just say Marty and I are driving to Jeffersonville this morning and meeting with our broker at 1 pm to do a walk-through. At 3 pm we are to close if the money's there. I say "if" because even though I have a receipt for a wire transfer from my bank, I'm not completely convinced the money will actually be in Jeffersonville.

Yesterday I went to the bank to get a bank check for cash. This is how my attorney originally said I should do it, so I did it that way. When I spoke to my attorney's assistant, she said oh no, the money won't go in as cash; it won't clear for 2 weeks! This is of course baloney since banks can't hold money that long any more. But they can hold money for a certain period, which would jeopardize the closing.

I went back to the bank. After about an hour, alternating between agitation and unconsciousness, I said I had to leave to take my son to work. This was a lie, but I felt like I was going to kill the banker and decided to play it safe. As it happened, I was picking up a prescription for ativan at the drug store, so I decided to pop one. I figure it couldn't hurt. As I was getting back in my car, the bank called and said everything was all set. Could I come in and sign one more thing? Sure.

I signed one thing three times because she was so slow, the people she needed to countersign the wire kept leaving work for the day. These are bankers after all. I suggested she count out a pile of $100 bills and throw them in a sack. Finally, she told me to go home and she'd bring me the receipt. Now that's service! She finally showed up close to 8 pm. Do you see why I'm worried?

It doesn't really matter. It's not like we'll be homeless if the closing doesn't happen today. On Sunday we're leaving for a much-needed vacation where all I have to do is watch the clouds blow by. I won't need to concern myself with lawyers, guns and money. I won't need ativan either.