All about just getting out and DISCOVERING your OWN city experience. We avoid tour guides funneling you through popular attractions. Instead we celebrate stumbling upon unheralded or magical spots that might mean more to you.
.... 'cause you ain't gettin' an Uber to nojazzfest...
April 30, 2017
For everything that the first weekend of Jazz Fest lacked in terms of draw, we were treated to a nearly perfect weather weekend by New Orleans standards. It made for great urban trekking.
We saw people wearing their knee high rubber boots. These were the pro's; they've been there, done that. But this weekend was dry, with a prevailing southwesterly breeze that made it, in the shade, downright cool. But that didn't make it any easier
It also added another item to our gotta have it checklist; band-aids. Karen, with feet that yearn to breathe free, wore flip flops and, by day two brandished two patches of raw skin at the strap marks.
www.nojazzfest.com - can that be an accidental?
One impression from this past fest surrounds the paucity of actual jazz. Relegated to smaller tents, old time and blues were the venues that seemed to focus most on what I recognize as jazz; improvisation on standards. The rest of the acts centered on pop, rock and rap. Weird, but in hindsight, I get it. Jazz was foundational to the way music evolved to where it is today. But what it is today shows what I miss most in today's music - the improvisation on a standard. Why do I need to go to a live show to hear the same music I hear on the radio or Spotify? I want interpretation, augmentation and amelioration. So the shortening (in the URL) of New Orleans Jazz Fest.to NO Jazz Fest, is telling, both in the styles showcased and in the performances of the pop which evolved from jazz.
Food
This might be the reason to go to Jazz Fest. You see the largest collection of eclectic, Cajun or New Orleans fusion assembled in one place. You could wander the French quarter endlessly and not find the diversity of vendors displayed here. What are cracklings? That's fried pork skin - think bacon popcorn. Shrimp etouffee - think hand held pot pies. If you want motivation for an epic urban trek, let the guilt of consuming 5000 calories of butter laden hand food propel your tired legs to take those extra steps.
The monitoring of steps brings up the primary benefit of long walks; we often call it the perfect exercise. One article recently showed how tech will not help you get fit or lose weight, but for me, having a visual record of the exertion lets me see that each step adds up, and provides motivation for more exercise.
I've tried the apple watch, the Android watches - both Sony and Samsung, and several fitness watches including Fitbit, Fitbit HR and Fitbit HR2.
What's the title about?
Strangely, every Uber driver I trailed to hail cancelled after accepting the ride. One even after I saw him drive by. Was it me? No one really hazarded a guess, except to say no Uber driver wanted to get caught in traffic. My suggestion is to change your destination to a nearby restaurant, such as the ones at the corner, so that the driver doesn't think you are Jazzfest bound.
My cousin said "New York reveals itself so easily, not like L.A. or other cities which can begrudgingly release their charms." While this is true - New York rewards you the minute you step outside your Midtown Hotel with wonders like Grand Central Station and Rockefeller Center - it can also be coy; a multitude of layers, so that on a street that you've wandered 100 times you suddenly notice something new.
Muddied by prospects of rain, our post- Ess-a-Bagel plan for a Manhattan trek became hop onto the Lexington Avenue 6 for a ride to the Brooklyn Bridge and an unfruitful quest for discount TKTS at the Seaport. Then through of charity marchers in teal t-shirts. impeding our crossing as we headed towards Smorgasburg. Coming down the bridge into Brooklyn, we noticed the ferry at the base of the bridge and decided to take a boat ride to the food fest. This doubled as a break from the rain (type 32, steady random dripping - enough to dampen your shirt and hair, but not enough to demand an umbrella or shelter).
Coming off the bridge is a little disorienting with all the motor traffic, but if you head off the most direct route to the landing, you're suddenly in a quiet neighborhood. At an apparent dead end, you find an wandering elevated ramp providing access to DUMBO, the East River ferry port. At the ferry port, a curious fountain varietal - a whirlpool vortex representing the treacherous swirling East River currents - provided a moment to wonder. These types of found moments exhibit why, even though you've taken the route 100 times, it never gets boring - one new turn can yield a bright new discovery.
Smorgasburg is its own post - a weekly Saturday food festival which springs up in the East River Park. We've been here before and keep coming back because, well, the food, but also the setting with its panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. I went for duck, this time. Karen reprised our long wait for slow smoked beef ribs, Alberto had crispy pork bits on dense corn and potato, and Karen B snagged some dumplings and a sweet Kimchee pickle fusion. People watching, drinks in the beer garden. Thusly replenished, we moved on.
A brief detour up and down Williamsburg's main drag and then catch the L train to Union Square, with SoHo in our sights. This time, our progress through NYU's campus is interrupted by a multicultural parade which dissects or path.
In SoHo, the girls find great deals in a hidden boutique at 65 - at 65 E Spring at Cleveland. Then back up Bleeker to the East Village for drinks and nourishment at the Spotted Pig. Can we make it home on foot? Maybe if gelato at Eataly is our waypoint?..., but after the sugar fest, we find that 12 hours of walking might be enough, and cab the return trip to our hotel.
Restaurant & Food Stops
Ess-A-Bagel - 3rd & 49th - It's true that New York water must have something to do with the quality of bagels here. Beyond that, though it doesn't have the historical credentials of Katz's, Ess-A-Bagel stands out among breakfast delis, mostly because of the smoked fish varieties and the overall superiority of their bagels. Chewy, without being doughy. Crisp, without being hard. Thoughtfully flavored without being overpowered. They say that the Everything Bagel is the scrapple of the bagel world, but that doesn't dissuade me from the toasted wheat everything with smoked trout. I'm trying to eat fewer carbs, but this is kryptonite.
Smorgasburg - East River Park, Williamsburg - A juried collection of food venders who hawk their unusual or featured dishes. We opted out of the International Food Festival on 9th Avenue to come here instead. There is only one of each food type, so you get a panoply instead of the commonly repeated favorites. Everything from duck fries to ramenburgers eaten overlooking the Manhattan skyline.
The Spotted Pig - W 11th & Greenwich Street - Craft cocktails - specifically the Manhattan - with the buzz of a local favorite gastropub. "Without reservations, we can seat you between 10:30 and 11:00 tonight. Would that be okay?" We'll just sit at the bar, and in the true European style, once we find our hangout, we stay. British style deviled eggs, string fries and gorgonzola burgers.
Many see Aruba as simply another Caribbean Island destination. While similarities to other protectorates abound, its geography and politics make it a different experience from the US & British Virgin Islands, Bahamas, and Jamaica.
First, its Dutch colonial status means that citizens receive substantial benefits in terms of education and basic standards of living. For the island, this prompted a highly defensive posture towards immigration; population has only grown marginally, and then only due to the periodic influx of construction workers, spawned by the development of hotels. So you don't see the pervasive poverty and consequently, crime and hostility towards foreigners that you find in other island nations. This is perfect for us. It means we can trek the island without fear for our lives.
Downtown Orangstad
The capital city, Orangstad, is really an urban concentration which accounts for most of the residential section of the island. Stretching to the north and south along the western side of the island, it's the center and the settlements to the north and south are more like indistinct suburban neighborhoods. It's small - 67 square miles; not even as large as Nantucket. The downtown area is populated with a tramway running along winding streets constructed in an homage to Dutch style architecture with brightly painted houses and storefronts sporting gambrel roofs with curved eaves. This is the section of town that gets flooded by the cruise ships disgorging their sunburned and overfed cargo on a daily basis. Walking around during this tide of sunburn red is distinctly like Tokyo rush hour.
But I felt comfortable taking a walk past the tourist trap and into the neighborhoods beyond which are quiet. I was looking for a FitBit charger, and I found as a faux i-store in the center of the island which looked promising, I made a mental note of its location from Google Maps, on a central north south road, and left my phone with Karen to make her work calls in the room and set out for a nice roam.
You have to be careful roaming because, without a point of reference on this flat island, the streets tend to meander. With no gridiron, and the sun to set the east-west axis hidden by clouds, I quickly found myself WAY off track. No catastrophe. Working my way back I marveled at the neat, clean homes and streets of the citizenry so unlike what I see in other island nations. I also noted that what looked like red mud all over the streets and sidewalks was, in fact, spent firecracker casings. It was after New Years' and, according to one of our drivers, Arubans LOVE their fireworks. For the 5 days we were there, we heard constant staccato reports of firecrackers and saw nightly volunteer firework displays above the neighborhood skylines.
As cheery as the fireworks appeared, I saw it as evidence of a more inimical trend; the Chinese have bought everything here. All of the stores, convenience markets and even local restaurants, bear peculiar signs; Hong Fing Home Goods, Shanghai Hardware, Guilin Market and so on. Strange to see such Sino economic dominance in the shadow of the US. It makes me feel that they are eating the US' lunch. From this and other trips abroad, I start to think that perhaps our view of the the US as the pre-eminent global economy is a romantic fairy tale. Xièxiè.
Sunset at Pinchos
We are still tourists, and we always want to report to recommendations we get from our friends, so we decided our first trek would involve walking through town, then down along the quay, to have sunset cocktails at Pinchos. Here's my TripAdvisor Review.
Set astride a dock, access is from a beach onto a gated dock. You wander over the water to the host's station. We didn't have a reservation, so we asked to sit at the bar to catch the daily ritual. With few clouds, we were treated to a complete sunset. A friendly, if somewhat slow and dysfunctional bar and kitchen staff, managed to serve us strong drinks and hot food without significant mishap. Our bartender, a huge Aruban, was the entertainment part of the experience, while a more diminutive barmaid actually served us and checked on our orders.
Right there on the bar, in our view, was a rudimentary cook top which served as the kitchen. Here is where the components of food are assembled without the assistance of a complete kitchen. Ingenious! We weren't going to eat a meal here, but the scent of fresh vegetables sauteing caused us to change our minds. My view is: always order the local specialties. Hidden on a menu populated with dishes, meats and fish familiar to Americans, was Aruban fishcakes.
I like fishcakes because I know it will be local catch that doesn't normally pass diner scrutiny the way popular names like Red Snapper, Grouper, Tuna or Mahi Mahi do. More common Aruba catch like Barracuda, Shark or Blue Marlin, as well as other local pan fish, aren't recognized as edible by Americans, so they make it into the local fish soup, ceviche or fish cakes. Most restaurants on the island, and we did visit a few of the exceptions, serve imported fish or at a minimum supplement. There's simply not a large enough fishing fleet or local fauna to feed all the tourists who come here to eat.
The fishcakes were good, without any expired fish flavor, and were mildly seasoned so inoffensive, though not dramatic. Our other plates included the black angus sliders: which were predictably filling, and unique only in that they were served with an assortment of unusual condiments - aruban spicy ketchup, a hollandaise style aoli. They forgot our sauteed vegetables, ironically, since that got us started on eating in the first place, and we ate those last after we weren't really hungry anymore. When leaving after nightfall we noticed underwater lights. While murky, you could easily spend time mesmerized by that microcosm of large fish balancing catching and eating smaller fish, while trying to escape being eaten by even larger fish. As you might imagine, at Pinchos we enjoyed the drinks, venue and view more than the cuisine or service.
Further, the sunset highlighted an unusual scene - three massive oil derricks anchored in mothballs 10 miles offshore in the lee of the island. It was hard to escape that vista since the rigs are visible from most of the beaches on the west side of the island.
In fact, Aruba's history is quite oil-soaked. Amoco Oil built a WWI refinery here, which operated at full capacity through WWII. The main road is named after L.G. Smith, the man who built and ran the refinery. Economic realities diminished the use of the facility, which had been mothballed off and on for 70 years, until Citgo came and re-opened the facility in 2016 to serve as a mid-point refinery for Venezuelan heavy crude. This seems like a tragic development as, until this time, one of the most picturesque points on Aruba - Baby Beach in San Nicholas - was merely compromised by a post-industrial spectre. With the plant in operation, processin
g 235,000 barrels a day, expect the skyline to contain streams of gaseous effluent, as I witnessed on January 3.
Rainy Day Trek to Palm Beach Aruba
Rain had driven the cruise ship passengers into the shopping district. To get away from them we set out to walk up to the High Rise Hotel district which is where the most beautiful beaches are reported. January is the rainy season on this desert island, and the streets quickly get overwhelmed by downpours, so we also had to dodge passenger car and bus launched walls of water. It's surprising for a country with so little crime that the walking aspect of the island doesn't get much appreciation. 1.) Along the quay, past the cruise ship terminals and storage facilities, you lose the sidewalks and bike paths that run along the shore. And because there is no beach on this part of the island, just rocky coast, there is no circumnavigation by sand. 2.) So we wove our way through waterside resorts until fencing prevented it, and bailed out onto the main road. 3.) We found an entry back to the beach and off the road at Eagle Beach, which we followed until we saw the high-rise hotels and decided to see what all the buzz was about. 4.) Palm Beach, unfortunately, sits across from the high density hotels. It's what you'd expect from tourist areas; gaudy restaurants, trinket and t-shirt shops and vendors, and a huge mall sporting high end luxury goods. It's even hard to find a place to buy bottled water, though I found a liquor store selling expensive refrigerated varieties. On the other hand, compared to other tropical locales, we were not accosted by poverty stricken vendors demanding handouts or aggressively hawking. I guess there is a balancing point between authentic and over-developed which is difficult to strike.
Since we had gotten off the beach, it took a little maneuvering to try and find a pedestrian friendly route back. Not wanting to backtrack all the way to where we entered the tourist zone, we zigged and zagged until we found a nondescript alley that served as a delivery access for the tourist junket dock. From there we cut through the Marriott resorts and walked to the end of Palm Beach, where the Ritz-Carlton beckoned with a cosmo for Karen; there has to be a reward for every epic walk.
