Camping Trip (Camping Out)
Not
everything that is worth recording
Is recorded
Especially the not recorded that is
The backwards
It
would seem it is
Until
recorded.
I
go to New York City
From
Maine
And
‘have been’ ‘for years’ (Decades).
I
go on camping trips
There
I
have been for decades.
Let
us see this correctly:
A...
New York City “Sport” comes
To
Maine
On
camping trips of
Sleeping
on the ground in a tent in the
Rain
with the ‘No Taxis?”
No
doorman
No
metro mash (intentional) transit and
That
kind of open space air where there
Are
those ‘things they call stars
Up
there” (in Maine)
I
understand.
Reverse
this and the expedition (camping trip) is obvious. I wear my Bean Boots.
It rains. I’m glad I did: “They wear, like, these sneakers that
are, like, totally wet”. Okay so I
didn’t wear my gaiters (Maine woods brush slash gear protecting one’s lower
pant legs). My pant cuffs ‘got
wet’. I never have wet pant cuffs.
I
can deal with that. Umbrella too
(two; I brought a ‘back up’). On
the street, in the apartment. Up
the stairs. DOWN the stairs. Look out the windows. “Huh”.
I
am wildlife in a native habitat.
NO. I am visiting wildlife
in their natural habitat. Now we
have the understanding.
Camp
site? On the floor behind the
sofa.
That
leaves food. There is lots of food
To
choose from. I wear a jacket and
tie. With the Bean boots. It’s raining hard. Everyone is wearing ineffective
footgear. Except me. “They like wet feet?”
“OK: Food”.
The
first meal is ramen. Eight blocks
walk. Pouring ‘toad strangler’
‘gully washer’. Storm drains can’t
handle it. We are one minute early
then: “Ahhhh....” inside it is
steaming hot wet packed soaked dripping vapor rising kitchen fast bowls of
hot...
I
have Miso Ramen; thick gravy broth flamboyant ball of slurping noodles huge
portion fights all pouring rain in single one on one combat with the
elements. The local patrons know
this and never look up from their bowls.
Soldiers. Shoulders and
necks arch and cramp from the noodle slurping. So fortified so fast so much the torrent outside is welcome.
We
keep Maine hours at our campsite.
Hike down seven blocks for hot bagels at before dawn. “In twenty minutes the line will be up
the street”. The bagels are Maine
‘camping trail right’ HOT... soft... like you wanted at the top of Mount
Washington
In
the fog that morning
Last
July.
Still
raining.
We
go downtown by bus figuring this time “WHAT?”. Always pick something you can ‘do’ (actually study) at each
visit to the MET. JUST take not
too big a portion; just do that, study that and then... go eat lunch. This time I studied ...only... gold (jewelry)
with garnet gemstones... only.
That’s it. I looked at
Roman and eighteenth century French garnet gemstones set in gold. For the record one may find ‘a
(Victorian) garnet’ ‘set’ in gold in ‘estate jewelry’ and... the jewelry
dealers will be dismissive of it.
Victorian “G & G” (gold & garnets) is okay with me. This day... the study of the Roman ‘G
& G’...is supreme for the education (and sophistication) of my eye.
We
go to Shake Shack for lunch (Lexington).
I mean... really. Its all
phony. Who cares. Then we go back (window shopping
‘antiques’) to the MET on an American ‘silver hilted sword’ pilgrimage. They are way off at the far end of
armor; American silver hilted swords from the Colonial and Revolutionary
era. Ownership “of one” is a New
England collector’s territorial dream.
The MET display is the best ‘clutch of ‘em’. One can see ‘more of them there’ in five minutes than “you’ll ever see in your life.
Hence the pilgrimage (“visit”).
Also... no one bothers your viewing... at all (“wouldn’t know they were
there to look at”).
At
five we hike down for Thai food crossing seven blocks south and arrive at
opening minute. Cheap, fast, good
and... the place is jammed ten minutes later. Everyone in the place (diners and wait staff) all know
what’s going on; it’s “usual”. The
food was “usual” too but kept at a polished flare that assured the ‘know what
they are doing here’ aura.
Part Two
Christmas
day: “Any time you think you need
to get away (from the American Christmas) go to Chinatown”. So we did that by mid (Christmas)
morning. The closer we get the
bigger the ‘crowd’ (retreating ‘skip Christmas’ army) gets. By the eleven morning opening we are
seated. So is everyone else. The Cantonese din is the only
sound. The line is already ‘down
the (Mott) street’. “I guess” I
say to the grad student oral guide of best choices for bang and no buck and
“THESE GUYS” (Mainland Chinese grad student dining researchers) have eaten “ALL
OF IT” too so... “just hold on to the railing and eat”. All Cantonese. Be clear about understanding that. Two steamed soup dumpling, one pan
fried soup dumplings, tofu with ‘lima’ beans & preserved vegetable and
sliced rice cake with pork (these both Mainland ‘nursery food’ ‘reminders of
home’.
The
jerky shop won’t allow photos.
Beef or pork? These are
squashed (“pressed”) squares of “Smoked Meat”. Soft, not chewy, they are not suitable for Maine camping
trips but will quiet a child. We
ate ours (pork) on the spot. If
one mixes those bites with a half dozen soup dumplings “your ok” ‘on the
trail’. If you put the jerky in
your pack ‘for later’... forget
it.
Part Three
“Don’t
you dare tell anyone you like rare books” is always the best mantra especially
in circles where what pair of black leather boots one is wearing ‘cuts’,
‘bleeds’ and ‘snubs’. So I keep my
mouth shut about rare books until asked
About
anything in my universe I’d like to visit.
“Okay”
is the...
And
especially for it IS sophisticated and “probably” “not crowded”
“Rare
Books. Right?”
“Morgan....
Library. They have Thoreau’s Journals.”
“Isn’t
that nice”.
“Dear”.
We
go there. The sophistication and
the crowd are “EXACTLY” as promised.
The walls are lined with enclosed bookcases of rare book that are... all
there...
“Spine
ends out”.
“UNBELIEVEABLE”...
“COLLECTION”
of
... “RARE BOOKS”.
AND
the collection is ‘comprehensive’ TOO.
“Isn’t
that nice”.
“Dear”.
Thoreau
is no where in sight. Nor are
there any shopping carts to put the rare books (“spine ends up”) in...
To
buy.
“I
get it”: The only way I have a
rare book like these is one book at a time one copy of it once. I’m not a rare book collector. I am a rare book dealer. I can DEAL with it. Also:
Guess
what. Morgan, the old change purse
grub, included ‘G & G” (gold and garnets jewelry) in his hoard...
ding. Yes; French Medieval baubles
of gold and garnets are displayed.
“Isn’t that nice... Dear”.
I advance my studies... and certify myself that I am now... ‘ready to
find that’ (‘G & G’)
Good
luck at the flea market. With
that. Oh you don’t think so? GOOD! And stay behind the velvet cord (of all ‘this’ antiques
hunting)... please... too.
We
drop down and across a couple of blocks to Koreatown (32nd) for
lunch. “Yeah” Korean food. I never “DO” ‘Korean barbeque’ so
always tag the soup kitchen tables.
We; party of three, knowingly eat a whole spread of soup... with
familiar ease...: This is
‘especially now’ that one may ‘find it’ in ‘Maine” (out by the jetport...
intermingled with Sushi ...for real).
(The Korean ‘soups’ are on the last page BACK of the menu). Anyway... this is, again, cheap,
authentic, fast, fine and hearty fare from and for the rocky mountainside
landscape setting one remembers from just below the top of Mount Washington...
in the cold fog and drizzle... last July.
So... like... it’s THAT KIND of “KOREAN FOOD”. Don’t worry; it’s the “LAST” on everyone else’s ‘bucket
list’ too.
We
entertain ourselves all the way home by hiking the trail “UP” Fifth and Madison
“SHOPPING” the street scene, the store window displays (an industry and VERY
SERIOUS design/art form) offerings and... occasional venture ‘into’ ‘a
store’. “Yeah can you believe the
CRAP they sell. I look for ‘G & G’... on the streets, in the window displays and... in the stores. No luck with that. “Probably at the flea market Dear”.
All
is not lost. Though.
IN...
the New York metroplex food war... the desperately valiant foot soldier of the
common ‘village family’ home style ‘Italian Restaurant’ (pasta and pizza) IS a
...foot soldier of dependable classic New York (City) dining and
I
know this and
Frequent
this and
Look
for this and
GO
THERE and
“EAT”
And,
to not my surprise... these “PLACES” are being stomped out as if cockroaches...
TOO so... actually they do a better job of ‘staying power’ than one would
credit and that is a
CREDIT
to them. Just go to any area in
the metroplex (Long Island, Westchester, New Jersey and ‘the city’) where there
are no tourists ever and there
will be SEVERAL to choose from and DO...DO... THAT: Choose one and eat there... often. The family of the restaurant will love
you. The food (pasta and pizza) is
classic ...style... REAL NY Italian... NO fancy funk and no funk for the wallet
either. One can tell a good one
because it is always crowded with LOCAL
FAMILIES doing exactly what YOU want to do: EAT. And... by eating around the menu over
several visits one WILL ‘make discoveries’ of that particular’s ‘bests’ and
‘classics’. Even a “great salad”
...I have “found” (find).
We
walk to ours (local) and order two pizzas (‘white w/broccoli and onions’ and
“prosciutto” and eat (79%) of them.
We take the remaining slices “home”. This is not strip mall franchise pizza. This is homemade family village pizza. They don’t make this in Maine. ‘Much at all’. It is a good sighting of New York
wildlife feeding in their natural setting. Too.
Part Four
Talk
about natural setting. The next
morning we do the ‘come back right at you’ “I DARE YOU” Upper West Side...
“Brunch”. Color chalk board hawked
fresh squeezed juices, lengthy description of ‘funny name for that’ Mainer in
New York “ahhhh....”. The waiter is
attentive.... tip hunting attentive.
I feel sorry for the guy.
He’s not hunting ‘G & G’. Or any fine art. Decorative art. ...Any art. I mean “decorator” or “store window” ART... “too”. He don’t know... yet he’s standing in
the middle of it: A real lot of
really good real art... on the Upper West Side. Just about anywhere I go there the ‘someone has art’ drops
right in front of me. And...
there’s a real lot of ‘don’t know’ people who just ‘stand there’. So... like... perfect working
conditions. OK so I’m not the only
one who can spot a thread bare estate rug at forty feet but... if I’m there...
you better be good... quick... and know good-quick too. So we walk around the flea market (77th). I can’t fail. You can fail?
I... can’t fail. There is
just too much good old stuff in that area. It is one of the ‘richest in the world’ and “everything hits
the street”. But you gotta know
what your doing and understand that other people there “do too”. At this flea market, for example; look
for the old ‘were rich’ ladies selling their family things. Oh you don’t think so? Okay. Perfect working conditions (“I have some more of that at
home. I’ll bring it for you.”)
And: Did I say ‘G & G’
again? I ‘looked’ at the flea
market but... zip. I enjoyed
doing that; looking for gold and garnets.
And the old ladies are sweethearts when they realize ‘you know’ and
“buy”.
Just
understand that the ‘secondary market’ (all ‘used’ “stuff”) is always right
there where ever one is. JUST LOOK
AROUND; you will find it. Even in
a strip mall in Kansas.
“Placement” of oneself in a “GOOD” (GREAT) setting of a secondary market
is then understood to be... YOUR DOING.
Meaning.... go to where the good stuff IS and IS being ‘pissed
away’. In New York City, the LOCAL
logistics of managing ‘finding stuff’ in the secondary market is, to a Maine
dealer like me, a “WORKS FOR ME”.
Particularly as I am not seeking New York City museum grade ‘knock out’
“ART”. No. I want traditional NEW ENGLAND art;
decorative art and antiques... quality.
Traditional classic NEW ENGLAND.
Example? Tread bare (old)
“oriental” “rugs”. They are “too
worn” “for New York”. Got it? “Chinese Export Porcelain” (1780-1810)
as in Salem Customs House Hawthorne Yankee Merchant China Trade... “TOO
COMMON”. I find it all over the
place... CHEAP... with “no one” “even looking at it”. But... it is the logistics of ‘doing this’ that will ‘cost’
you. What do I mean by
logistics? Oh... for example... a
warehouse “THERE” and a (several) barns “HERE” (Maine). And much more. Like... “DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?”
way around stuff. Yeah... gonna
have to master that. You know...
like... riding on the subway carrying a dark blue nineteen inch Staffordshire
platter... under your arm. One day
I had to carry a “perfect” shield top slipper foot Salem (Mass.) Federal candle
stand right up Madison. No one
said a thing and the sidewalks were jammed. Don’t worry, no one knows what it is and ...if they do they
do not think you’re an idiot.
On
the last night... we spent four days and five nights...: I make it clear that a
‘whole load’ may be ‘put together’ (a whole load of fresh picked NYC upper west
side antiques for resale may be found and bought) in... less than two days
(“OVERNIGHT”) professionally... so ‘we were taking it easy’ (the holiday). I restate; a commercial full load of
found antiques to take back to Maine to sell... I need under two days to ‘pick’
a ‘load’ and... can come back the next week and do the same. I did that for eighteen years. Around forty-two trips a year. Now I poke it whenever I want. I ‘retired’. There is ‘no’ (very little) competition. Why? “They don’t know”.
On
the last night... we bountifully devoured a table top of Szechuan food at 105th
street. Starting with a fish and
pickle soup and ending with ‘all gone’ we... I know and it is very true; Szechuan is a dangerous table
top to the ‘they don’t know’. Better take it easy on this. Hint? Don’t eat the spices; they are for flavoring the food and
are a large part of each dish.
Don’t eat them. Eat the
food (fishes, mushrooms, meats, veggies).
If one does that well then it will all make sense after a few
‘tries’. The same for pickers
picking New England antiques on the Upper West Side. Don’t buy the faux.
Just buy the real stuff.
We
hiked out the next morning. Nice
trip. It rained a lot. My feet didn’t get wet.
