Blue Skies Smiling

Summer has finally fled New York, and the beautifully cool air has been reminding me of Ireland. I've been hard at work on my writing, but still trying to get outside more.

A few nights ago, the sky at sunset reminded me of one particular day on Inishmaan.

Sunset over NYC

Storm passing by Inishmaan

It's hard to see from the photo, but looking out into the distance, beyond the railing, the blue sky over the Hudson was almost the exact color blue in the Inishmaan photo, with a layer of flat clouds drawing a parallel line over the horizon. There are guardrails in the Inishmaan photo, too, but they're made of a different kind of material. And across the water there's another bit of land. For Inishmaan, it's Inisheer.
For us, it's New Jersey.

In other news, I went camping for the first time last weekend. Synge would be proud, I think. He had great respect for the nomad:

This old man I have spoken of wanders about Wicklow. As he sleeps by Lough Bray and the nightjar burrs and snipe drum over his head and the grouse crow, and heather whispers round him, he hears in their voices the chant of singers in dark changers of Japan and the clamour of tambourines and the flying limbs of dancers he knew in Algeria, and the rustle of golden fabrics of the east.

Granted, I was just a nomad for one night, but for me (an admittedly anxious person to begin with, afraid of bugs, the dark, and things that go bump in the night) it was a great accomplishment. And I had a great time and even got 8 hours of sleep!

As soon as I have the photos uploaded I'll share my camping experience, as well as hiking through a ghost town in the woods, just an hour outside NYC!

Hiking at Bear Mountain

We Weathered the Storm

So as you've probably heard by now, Irene was not the mega disaster city officials feared it would be. Though millions did lose power, trees fell, streets and towns flooded, and a few deaths were caused (I believe the unofficial count now is 16, but I'm not sure on that), it really could have been much, much worse.

NYC officials defended the decision to shut down subways and buses, as some of the train yards in low-lying areas did get flooded, and had the trains been there, it would have been a real mess.

I spent the night in with Kyle, eating pretzels and Cadbury chocolate, baking muffins with flax seeds and sunflower seeds because I forgot to buy bread, and watching a Parks and Recreation marathon. I wonder how Leslie Knope would handle a hurricane. Probably she'd try to save the penguins from the zoo, first.

Leslie saves the penguins from the Pawnee Zoo

Damage in my neighborhood was really minimal:

Columbia University Campus - not too bad

Riverside Park - a little swampy

A few trees down

All in all, New York City fared pretty well. There are even a bunch of places open for brunch today. You know us New Yorkers. We can't live without our bagel and shmear.

No ferries from Aran needed for me this time around. Thanks anyway, Mr. O'Brien. I'll let you know next time I need a ride.

The Big Wind is on her Way!

Taking a break from my blog hiatus to update on Hurricane Irene.

The NY Times is answering questions about how to prepare for the hurricane, HERE. 

Friday in New York we enjoyed a sunny day of calm before the storm - Hurricane Irene is on her way to possibly pummel New York and the east coast of the U.S. We don't know much right now about the storm's expected trajectory or what category hurricane it will be by the time it gets to us, but NYC Governor Cuomo has ordered evacuations of low-lands and shoreline residences in the Rockaways, Battery Park, and Coney Island, as well as other parts of lower Manhattan.

A calm East River, looking across at Manhattan from Astoria Park

The entire subway and bus system is also going to begin shutting down Saturday at noon in preparation for the storm, along with the LIRR and NJ Transit.

New York isn't used to all this talk of hurricanes, and all the last-minute panic got me thinking about how so many places in the world, including the Aran Islands, are used to wet and wild weather on a more routine basis. The islands themselves have survived countless storms. The Night of the Big Wind in 1839 brought incredibly destructive hurricane force winds and rain to the islands. An ice age melt left these stones deposited all over the islands:

Ice Age deposits. "Tourists"

Other places in the world are more prepared, both logistically and mentally, to deal with this kind of a weather event. I have a feeling that most New Yorkers are not sure if we've adequately prepared ourselves.

Maybe if I had a curragh I'd feel better.

Curraghs at the old pier on Inishmaan

Every few years a hurricane grazes us here in NYC, but usually does not cause this level of alarm. This is the first time we've had evacuations, and the first time the MTA has issued a total shutdown. In my last blog post I wrote about how a somewhat heavy rainstorm got the subway stuck underground for an hour. No wonder the MTA has cancelled service.

Grocery stores this afternoon were swarmed with confused shoppers buying up the city's supply of canned beans and peanut butter, bottled water and batteries.

No more bread at the Gristedes at 103rd and Broadway!

As long as my power doesn't go out, I'll update again soon.

If you don't hear from me by Monday, send over one of the Doolin Ferries to come get me!

The Happy Hooker - how much does a one way ticket from Manhattan to Inishmore cost?

 

Be back soon!

Letters to Aran will be on hiatus until Labor Day weekend as I write, plan work, research, and gear up for the fall, and then I will return with more posts about Synge, Aran, theatre, and NYC!

Summer Sunset, Killeany Harbor, Inishmore

How Rain Conquered the MTA

Life on the Aran Islands, historically and even now to a degree, has been dictated by the weather. Stormy seas, wind, and rain, could seriously impact the lives of the islanders. Over time the islanders had to adapt to their living conditions, and the local mythology (and even ancient Celtic spirituality) expressed the power of the elements.

Rain-streaked window, Inishmaan

View from my room - sliver of sky

It's funny - so much of the time, in this city of New York, on this island of Manhattan, we fool ourselves into thinking that we're more powerful than the elements. When it rains we can take shelter in apartments, coffee shops, restaurants. We can have groceries, take-out, clothing, pretty much anything delivered to our door. I can't tell you how many times I've stepped outside to see glistening pavement, having been completely unaware that it had rained. My window looks out across at a brick wall, and I only see a sliver of sky, so most of the time I don't know it's raining unless I hear the pitter patter of raindrops hitting my air conditioner. In this modern age in this modern city, it is possible to be completely oblivious to the weather.

This past Tuesday proved that New York City hasn't got the weather beat.

I was on my way downtown to see Jerusalem, a play with many Celtic influences (more on that later). I left my apartment with plenty of time to make it to meet my mom, sister, and boyfriend for dinner before the show. In fact, I left enough time so that I'd be ten minutes early (call me obsessive, but I like being early for things). I knew it was raining outside (I'd checked the forecast online, and also I heard the rain on my A/C), so I brought my rain jacket, umbrella, and wore shoes that handle water well.

I scowled at a woman who was walking in front of me and twirling her umbrella, sending water droplets flying into my face. What a jerk, I thought.

I made it to the subway, relatively dry, only having had to walk one block to get to the station. All was going according to plan.

But you know what they say. We plan, and God laughs.

Oh 1 train - why do you hate me?

In between the 103rd st and 96th st stations, the 1 train stopped. This happens from time to time when there's train traffic. Usually nothing to be concerned about. But two minutes turned into five, five into ten, ten into twenty, twenty into forty. Forty minutes stuck underground, in a tight, enclosed space crowded with fifty other people, feels much longer. Not to mention the anxiety of New Yorkers in general. We're all on tight schedules. Forty minutes seriously derails our plans (pun intended). People were beginning to get angry. Kids were whining, babies crying. We weren't being told much by the announcer, just that there was a "signal problem" at the station and they were "working on it" and "we should hopefully be moving soon." All those uncertain terms and the announcer's increasingly unsure tone didn't reassure me. After a few more minutes the announcer squawked - we were all to walk to the rear car of the train - then walk through the tracks to get back to 103rd st. The train was being taken out of service.

Due to water damage - from the rain.

I had to pick my jaw up off the floor.

As we all began to shuffle through a space that looks like this:

but feels like this:

...people were getting angrier and angrier at the situation, rolling their eyes at people walking slowly through the cars, cursing the MTA for their ineptitude. People began taking photos and video on their phones in disbelief. An irate man and an MTA worker got into an argument, and the MTA worker left the car in a huff, muttering some choice words under his breath.

The general feeling on the subway: Zillions of tax dollars to maintain the subway system, enduring fare hikes amidst service cutbacks, and it had been undone by some rain? It was even raining that hard!

Thankfully we didn't have to walk through the tracks. The damage was repaired and the train lurched forward, and everything was okay. Fifty-five minutes later.

The shock and disbelief finally turned into humor. A feeling of camaraderie erupted on the train. People began joking about the situation, how ridiculous the whole thing was. People I'd usually never talk to on the subway became instant friends. We'd all been through this surreal experience together, and now life would continue.

For me it was a reminder that I don't live in New York City - I live on the planet Earth. And weather exists, and weather affects me, and sometimes things break down. We may have lots of services, choices, and conveniences, but we can't make the rain go away.

From the Garden to the Gaeltacht - Synge and Wicklow

During my trip this past summer, I traveled from Aran to the Wicklow countryside, in the east of Ireland. I wanted to see what was "home" to Synge - what he had grown  up around, what made the Aran Islands seem so wild and exotic to him. I wondered, as I took the ferry to Rossaveal, the shuttle bus to Galway, the GoBus to Dublin, the train to Rathdrum, and a cab to Avondale, how Synge made this journey a hundred years ago. For me it took from 8am to 6pm (with wait times in between connections). I imagine it took him much longer to make his way back east.

The rainbow that wished me farewell on the ferry from Aran

Synge used to walk and cycle around Wicklow. Synge's walks in these areas, and the people he encountered, inspired the plots and characters of many of his plays (in addition to his time spent on Aran). In his Wicklow writings he mentions places such as Glenmalure, Sally Gap, and Rathdrum. I wasn't able to make it to all the places he talks about, but I did see enough of the area to get a good feel for it.

The Wicklow landscape is so different from Aran. Aran is bare, exposed, gray-brown-green, angry waves, and raw slabs of stone.

Inishmaan, Aran Islands

Wicklow is called "The Garden of Ireland," for good reason. Trees and bushes and ivy and grass and flowers abound.

Golden field near Avondale, Rathdrum, County Wicklow

The Wicklow mountain peaks scrape the clouds. The gaps between the mountains form secluded glens.

Upper Lake in Wicklow National Park

Wicklow is wooded, with green trees, carpets of grass and moss, and bubbling streams, and rolling fields.

Trees, grass, moss galore! Wicklow, Ireland.

The Avonbeg River, flowing through Glenmalure, Wicklow, Ireland

It's no wonder to me now, after having seen the place Synge came from, why Aran was so strange to him. If Wicklow were a chalkboard, Aran is what it looks like after the eraser dust settles.

Considering where I was coming from, it was a real change for me, too.

NYC

Next time: more on Synge's plays that were inspired by Wicklow...

Sailor Monuments and Garden People

Last week I took a walk on a hot, humid summer evening through Riverside Park, heading south. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just to walk. It's been my experience lately that just taking an unplanned walk somewhere, whether it's Aran or NYC, can lead me to unexpected discoveries.

First I came across the garden at 91st Street, famous as the meeting place in the movie You've Got Mail where Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks finally lock lips.

Photo courtesy of the Garden People

It's truly a beautiful spot, and the flowers were in full bloom. I noticed some people moving about amongst the flowers behind the metal fence, gardening and weeding, who didn't look like NYC Parks employees. They were wearing their own clothes and straw hats. I approached one of them who had a clipboard, and it turns out that they are The Garden People, a group of volunteers who take care of this garden. I put down my name, and plan to go volunteer this weekend or next. I got the green thumb from my day gardening at Killeany Lodge, I suppose. And before I try to make some sort of window herb garden in my apartment, it will be great to learn from some more experienced gardeners how it's done.

I've had this parsley plant since Saturday. If I can keep it alive for two weeks, I think about adding some basil.

Poor little parsley plant in a barely sunny New York City apartment window

But I really am looking forward to working on a garden in New York, especially a garden as beautiful as the one on 91st Street. I can imagine that it would give me some sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing I helped to make my neighborhood a greener, prettier place. So I'll let you know how that goes.

The other discovery I made wasn't exactly a new one: I walked past the Soldiers and Sailors monument a few blocks down on 89th street. The monument commemorates those who fought for the Union during the Civil War. The monument is inscribed with the names of the enlisted who fought and died, and it's about 29 meters tall.

Soldiers and Sailors Monument, Riverside Park, New York City

Seeing this monument dedicated to soldiers and sailors immediately brought to my mind the monuments on Inishmore that line the roads in both Eochaill and Killeany. These were erected to commemorate sailors lost at sea, and are also inscribed with the names of the dead.

The scale and construction are certainly different, but the sentiments are similar. A stone structure, something that seems permanent and solid, to commemorate lives that have been lost.

The more I look, the more connections abound between Aran and New York. People are people, no matter where you live.

Outdoor Spaces - Connections Across the Pond - Aran and NYC

No matter where we are, what time period, what part of the globe, humans have always had an impact on their natural surroundings, and have worked with what was available to fit our needs. Even the pre-Christian islanders who first settled on the Aran Islands changed their landscape forever.

The islands are said to have been covered once by thick forests, which, like much of the mainland, early peoples cleared to use for lumber, and to create farmland.

Now the trees on Aran mostly look like this one.

The sheets of limestone were broken up to clear the land, and walls were constructed out of the stone debris to divide the fields between families, clans, tribes, etc. This was what was practical, useful, and necessary to do to meet their needs for survival.

Stone-wall fields. Inishmaan.

Flowers on the Highline.

Oddly enough, I started thinking about all this again a few days ago when I took a stroll on the Highline Park. The Highline is an elevated park built on the long defunct railroad tracks on the west side of the city. (According to the Highline website, the last train ran in 1980 pulling three carloads of frozen turkeys). It runs from 12th Street to 30th Street, through the neighborhood of Chelsea. Sections of it have opened piece by piece as construction goes on.

I've only been to the park a handful of times, but I think it's fantastic. The narrow space is used well, with sections of green grass, colorful flowers, trees, bushes, and spots to take in views of the city.

The Highline, bustling with activity. Views of the Manhattan streets.

I like how certain elements of the design complement the setting: old train tracks peek through flower beds, benches rise up out of the concrete floor like gears on a train,

Notice the seemingly undulating pathway on the right of the flowerbed

and clever design elements show up when you least expect them, like this geometric bird feeder.

Birdfeeder. The Highline Park, NYC

I remembered that there's also a semi-elevated, sloping, green grassy lawn just outside of Lincoln Center, near the Met Opera House, across from the Lincoln Center Performing Arts Library. They've named it the Illumination Lawn. I had coffee on the Illumination Lawn (hehe, I love the name) with one of my good friends during his lunch break from work at the Apple Store.

Lincoln Center Illumination Lawn

So how does this tie in to Aran?

I'm not a psychologist or sociologist or urban planner, but I think what New Yorkers are craving is space (at least this New Yorker, anyhow). Green space. Outdoor space. Pretty space. Space to be, away from the busyness of the city streets. And since space is limited in this city, where else is there for parks to be built but...UP!

Like the Aran Islanders, we're working with what's in our environment to fulfill a basic need. The need for parks may not be as crucial for survival as the need for viable farmland, but we New Yorkers sure do need some space to relax, because relaxation can lead to happiness, and happiness - I believe - to a better, longer life.

Happy Emily on the Highline

If you know of any other interesting/inventive outdoor spaces like this in NYC, or anywhere, please share!

Slán go fóill, Arainn!

I am sitting in a pub in Galway having a glass of Bulmers to celebrate the last night of Aran Adventure 2011. Instead of doing a rushed recap of everything I've done in the past few weeks, I offer these two lists: ten things I know I'll miss about Aran, and ten things I've missed about New York.

Ten things I'll miss about Aran:

1) Hiking to pre-Christian forts, monastic sites, and remote, wild places
2) Sitting and watching the waves crashing against the cliffs
3) Feeling connected to nature
4) Stillness/Silence
5) Spontaneous singing in pubs
6) Wearing comfortable hiking clothes every day, and not even worrying for one minute about my hair
7) Daylight lasting until almost 11pm (at least in the summer)
8) The color of the water
9) Irish cider (had to throw that in there. It's so delicious!)
10) Feeling amazed on an almost daily basis

Ten things I've missed about New York:


1) My family/friends
2) My bed/apartment/home
3) Reliable internet (lame, I know, but it's true)
4) Businesses, coffee shops, public transportation, past 6pm
5) My writing routine
6) Cooking healthy meals every day
7) Wearing skirts/non-sensible shoes
8) A relatively more predictable climate
9) My favorite places in NYC: Central Park, BAM, the Village...
10) Feeling amazed on an almost daily basis.

It's been a great adventure, and I'm happy to return to home.

Slán go fóill, Arainn.

Ferries Galore! Aran and NYC

Circle Line Ferry Port, NYC

Yesterday, for our anniversary, Kyle took me on the Circle Line Cruise around Manhattan. It's a 3 hour ferry ride that circumambulates the entire island of Manhattan. I loved it! I learned so much about New York City that I didn't know: on the north side of Manhattan there's so much lush greenery! We went under 20 BRIDGES during the three hours. The East River isn't a real river, it was constructed for shipping purposes. And Manhattan didn't used to be an island - the river on the north was carved out, again for shipping.

Me on the Circle Line, gazing at the NJ Palisades

Of course, I couldn't stop comparing it in my mind to the journey on the Aran Islands ferry, which is much rockier, but also shorter (40 min). But both are crowded with tourists from all different countries. The views from the water of the land are different, to be sure...

Aran Islands Ferry, at port in Kilronan

Kilronan, from the Ferry

Downtown Manhattan from the ferry

So different, but beautiful in their own ways.

Manhattanhenge and Celtic Mythology

Photo from Hayden Planetarium Website 

Last night at 8:17pm marked Manhattanhenge, the day of the year when the setting sun aligns perfectly with the New York City Street grid. Kyle and I went down to 57th street to see what it was all about. It was hard to see, and I think the clouds or the New Jersey skyline may have obstructed some of the view. But we saw the beginnings of Manhattanhenge at around 8:10, when the huge red sun was perfectly centered between the buildings at the end of 57th street.

In Celtic mythology, the sun is of utmost importance, and the setting sun in particular is seen as a gateway to the "Otherworld." That's why so many of the structures on Inis Mor such as the wedge tombs and Dun Aengus open westward - the sun's rays which shine from the west towards the east are meant to enter these structures and fill them with sacred light.

On days when the setting sun aligns perfectly with an ancient structure (such as the summer solstice at Stonehenge), it's believed that this was a particularly holy day during which some sort of rituals were performed to worship the gods.

I don't think New Yorkers performed any rituals during Manhattanhenge, except maybe to stand in the middle of the avenues when the stoplights turned red to admire the sunset and try to snap a few photos amidst the honking of cab drivers.

I am excited that I'll be in Inis Mor this summer during the summer solstice. I wonder what rituals or celebrations I'll see, if any, at the sacred monuments on Aran...