June Trip: Food

I shopped, I ate, I ran. I didn't photograph all the food, but here's some of it. I ate a late lunch at Becco, one of the wonderful Lidia's restaurants, having been specifically instructed (by my friend with the sunken living-room) to have her "Symphony of Pasta." I did. It was... symphonic, especially the wild mushroom ravioli in the truffle/sage butter. I ate the best empanada ever at Ruben's, and I will make sure to go back there next time I visit NYC. I had the sweetest man make an effort to zest some lemon on my cream cheese/smoked salmon bagel, because I love it that way, and because Murray's Bagels are my new favourites. I had breakfast one day at Le Pain Quotidient, because I needed a homey brekkie, and there it was, with plain yoghurt, berries, soft boiled eggs and peppermint tea. I nearly teared up, it was so perfect.

Have I said it yet? I love NY.

Bat Over Gotham City

Bruce the Bat had quite the week. He took his first plane flight, learnt the importance of the landing gear, appreciated clouds, saw sights and made friends.

June Trip: Lower East Side, and Points More Easterly

I didn't want to regiment my time in NYC, I mean, where do you start and where do you end? But there were two things I had to do.

The first was to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art's refurbished Islamic wing. I have a thing for Persian miniatures, and all things of a Persian esthetic. It was splendid, truly beautifully arranged. Carpets, paintings, calligraphy, armour, and the exquisite miniatures, each placed low on the wall, with a stool before it, so you could just sit and soak each one in. I didn't visit any other galleries in this visit.

The second venue I wanted to visit was the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. This is all part of my interest in my past, and that of my Italian grandfather, who emigrated through Ellis Island in 1920. He later returned to Rome to meet and marry my nonna, and to raise his family. I was always puzzled as a child as to why he spoke English with a New York accent!

What struck me was how little seems to have changed. In fact, it was this lack of change that helped the museum come to be. The upper floors of many tenements were locked up and left intact, as landlords, in the face of improved living condition laws, and unwilling to improve their properties, simply locked up what couldn't be improved upon, and rented out only lower floors to shop-keepers. The tour I went on, which lasted about an hour, told the story of a Jewish family in the 1860s, and an Italian family in the 1930s. These were actual families who lived in the recreated apartments we visited. It was haunting and remarkable.

While wondering around taking these pictures, I inadvertently wondered into this sweet spot. Nice... real nice.

June Trip: Night

In New York, I saw three excellent shows on three consecutive nights.

Freud's Last Session
"You were led to God by a biscuit tin."

Freud's Last Session at the New World Stages was written by Mark St. Germain and starred the excellent Martin Rayner as Freud and Mark H. Dold as C.S. Lewis in an imagined conversation between those two men, two weeks before Freud died, just at the start of WWII.

I'm a confirmed Freudian and no longer a fan of C.S. Lewis, since reading some of his Christian literature, in which he describes humans as "small and dirty." But I loved his Narnia novels as a child, and an affection for that complicated man remains. So to consider that these two men, on such opposing sides in matters of God, might have met, and the prickliness and compassion they might have shared on the eve of that dreadful war, was irresistible. It was an excellent show, marred only slightly by two giant blond German gentlemen who talked non stop through the entire play. Granted, they were talking about the play, explaining it to each other, but still.... but still I didn't shush them. It was my first night in New York. I was in ecstacy. I wasn't in the mood to argue. After I bought two copies of this excellent play, which were already signed by the author. The two actors graciously signed them then for me, and one copy has been delivered into the hands of my favourite Freudian of all, Dr. G!






















Anything Goes

"You're the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gallery
You're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane!"

On the second night I saw Cole Porter's Anything Goes, which satisfied beyond pleasure my need for a big, tap-dancing, all-singing fest of Big Apple gorgeousness. It's been my favourite musical for years, but this was the first opportunity I had to see it live. Stephanie J. Block as Reno is my new girl crush; I do wish she was the voice on the cast recording, which I purchased. She's warm and sexy and just lights up the stage. Everyone was excellent, including Joel Grey as Moonface Martin.

Coming out of the Stephen Sondheim Theatre on 43rd, I made my way to Broadway, to revel in the day-bright colour and lights.

But then I looked behind me and was captivated by the glorious Chrysler Building. I walked for a long time towards it.

This is what I love about New York. I can buy perfectly delicious apricots in the wee hours, and end the evening on a sweet and juicy note.

Venus in Fur

“Be then my slave, and know what it means to be delivered into the hands of a woman.”

I ended my theatre going on a particularly juicy note on the third night, when I saw the delicious and provocative two-hander, Venus in Fur by David Ives, starring Nina Arianda (she just won the Tony for this) and Hugh Dancy. Inspired by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's 1870 novel (which also inspired the term "masochism"), it portrayed a frustrated director/playwright, who auditions an actress/force-of-nature for his play inspired by von Sacher-Masoch's work. The begin to inhabit the characters, the actress (or is she his Muse?) becoming all manner of things to him, as the sexual power-play begins. It was excellent.

June Trip

It was good to be aloft again. I'd love to be able to actually fly, so taking off is always a rush. I haven't flown in five years, as I battled the mystery of vertigo and was cautious about what I put my body through.

To clarify, this isn't about fear of heights, it's about a nauseating lack of balance and chronic dizziness brought about by a chiropractic adjustment.

But, it seems to be in remission, and I have felt relief for about five weeks now. I was eager to try flying again, having been assured that my vestibular function was intact. What isn't intact is how my brain reads certain sensations, so I didn't tell anyone how truly scared shitless I was about this first flight, which I was taking alone, as I wanted it. But... it went well! I'm so relieved.

New York was as wonderful as ever. I looked up, I ate, I shopped, I walked, I luxuriated in excellent theatre... I crossed Delancey. A heap of posts will follow about some of what I did, but certainly not all of it. I'm also covering the balance of the week, which I spent in Montreal. Hope you like lots of photographs! To keep you intrigued, a certain bat makes an appearance... or two.

(As we took off from Toronto's little downtown Billy Bishop airport, I saw my home. Awww!)

 

There's a Dalek in my Bedroom!

"Exteeeerminate!"

(I don't expect you to get this... no worries, just move on to another post.)

I have held out for years against air conditioning, saving energy, blah blah blah, lots of good intentions. Well, something had to give as the summers get hotter, and this is perfect for the unbearable nights, of which there are at least a handful each summer. We just had two of those hot, close nights. My ridiculously huge air conditioning dalek makes me feel good and makes me laugh. Perfect bedroom company, I'd say.

Shyeah, I'm Back!

I expected to be blogging before this. But a hectic week in New York City and Montreal, eight shows in two weeks, getting sick, and catching up at work kept me busy. Tonight I whittled the photos down to 112. Stand by for lots and lots of piccies.

Best Sensations

“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.”

Freya Stark

It was a hectic spring, working, spring spring cleaning, decluttering, getting the yearly appointments out of the way (eyes, doctor, taxes, etc.) and so, as I stretch out my toes to find a cool spot in a comfy hotel room, it's with a delicious sense of freedom.

Freedom. Nothing like it.

As for being alone, not quite. I'll be catching up with an old friend, meeting up with an old friend, and doubtless making some new ones.

Hols

“Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone.”

The Dhammapada

Ready, Bruce?

Oysters and Bowling

The kind of evening I love... mixing it up.

We started off at this blog's favourite step-down living room for Prosecco and the freshest oysters.

Our host is a great shucker. We were feting one special friend who marries in two weeks time. She regaled us with the story of how she found her wedding dress at Kleinburg's in New York. It seems we've ALL watched Say Yes to the Dress. And... she did. What a beautiful bride she'll be.

















Then it was on to bowling, beer, fries, pizza and wings.

















As bowling shoes go, these weren't too scary.

















This was my expression when I realized how awful I was. I've only bowled twice before. But then...


















I scored my first strike! A good feeling. My technique is laughable. One of my legs pops up backwards in a very strange way apparently. Oh well. It works! STRIKE! :)

That Old Black Magic Called Geneology

I'm not sure where it will take me, but I'm currently tracking my Italian nonno's (grandfather's) arrival at Ellis Island in 1920, and his home on Rend Avenue, Brooklyn. He was 16 years old. I don't think Rend Avenue exists anymore, but I'm on the hunt for that too.













I'm also following the journey of a non-blood relative, but one who was part of an incredible family tragedy that took place in Pennsylvania. He had married my great aunt, and, after her early death, ended up in Ohio.

Between online newspapers, the Ellis Island Foundation, and ancestry.ca, I hope to find some interesting facts about these American ties.

If I do, I'll be sure to share them here, as I will also share any dead ends I come up against, in the hope of getting answers.

Sigh... If I had a super power, it would be time travel.

What it's All About

Great art is a wondrous thing. I don't know how it works, but it works on me. I don't have to understand it, or even always like it, but I relish where it takes my thoughts and feelings. I can't live without it.

As it happened, I saw two more operas this spring.

The Canadian Opera Company's Semele caused a bit of a sensation. Visual artist Zhang Huan set the Handel opera in a 400-year-old temple. An actual Ming dynasty temple. The story behind the production was fascinating: a Chinese man, who lived with his wife and son some 20 or 25 years ago in the temple, was executed by firing squad for killing his wife's suspected lover. The widow sold the temple bit by bit to survive. Zhang bought what was remained of it and reconstructed it in his studio in Shanghai. The opera itself has a story set in Greek myth, about a silly girl who wishes for immortality. Her lover just HAPPENS to be the god Jupiter, but Juno, his wife, isn't happy about that - no wonder - and sets about her revenge. Zhang saw a link and so his production was born. He brought the universality of suffering and the impermanence of life to the stage in a manner I cannot imagine bettered. The overture was played as a silent black and white film was projected. The temple's story was told by the villagers and the widow. As a time lapse sequence showed the reconstruction of the temple in Zhang's studio, so the curtain lifted, and there it was. I was surprised to find tears in my eyes.

There was some fuss about the saucier goings on in the production: the temple's horizontal beams were all huge, two-headed phalluses, a two-person-operated donkey sported a ginormous erection, etc., etc., but it seemed that the greater part of the audience were as struck as I was. Of course, the vocal pyrotechnics and delicious stage presence of such stars as Jane Archibald, sent it over the top.

The final touch was the addition of a temple sweeper, a woman who silently appeared on stage at the start and end of the performance. She was, in fact, the widow herself. Just another stunning night of theatre at the COC (OK, some of you know that I may be biased, but I mean it).

A fraction of the production costs of Semele provided a no-less thrilling evening when I saw Against the Grain's production of Britten's The Turn of the Screw. This is a small, roguish company, made up of a handful of Toronto's finest opera/music talents, many of whom have been associated with the COC in some way. They've been around a couple of years, and their Bohème, which was performed in a pub, garnered attention and respect, and I could kick myself for not seeing it. It's not too late though! Waste no time, readers: do yourselves a favour and check them out next time they're in production.

The Turn of the Screw was performed at the Helen Gardiner Phelan Playhouse in a space that could hold no more than about 90, by my estimation. A long room, flanked on both sides by three rows of seats, with the performance area running down the middle, was simply decorated with broken tiles on the floor, and dried leaves gathered, no doubt, from the University of Toronto's playing fields just outside. The costumes were period, the piano was orchestral, the acting filmic, the singing excellent, the effect chilling. Afterwards, our small group retired to that lovely sunken living room to talk animatedly about opera, theatre and much more into the small hours.

Life is good. Art is necessary.

New Bedside Tables, Because, Admit it, This is the Stuff you Live for, When you're a Reader of my Blog

Ruh Roh:

Hooray!





















 Ok, so I have a stigmata-like blister on my palm, thanks to IKEA's aluminum-foil quality screws, but the blue is surprising and perfect for the bedroom. Very pleased. And a little smug. For reference, these are Hemnes "chest with two drawers."

Magical Night