The Met and Gray's Papaya

I don't mean to ramble on in these letters, and I hope no one feels obligated to read my nonsense. I am trying to sit down a couple times a weeks and spit out all things that I've been doing and thinking, ... but maybe you are just the kind of person who is willing to spend a few precious moments of your life staring at another email from someone in their mid-twenties about traveling and the interesting things they think they are doing.

If you are that person please let me pick up where I left off in New York City before I get to my first week Paris.

After see Phantom of the Opera on 44th street, Victoria and I decided to hike the 40 or so blocks up to the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art (located on the eastern edge of Central Park at 80th & 5th). One freezing hour later, we lumbered up the steps, and waded our way through sea of tourists, (who knew the Met was a hot Saturday night date spot) to find out the "suggested" admission, was pretty far from suggested. Posing as intellectually-driven students we "donated" $20 to the musuem and began our evening in the buildings northern Egyptian wing.

Note on the Metropolitian Museum of Art: It has a permanent collection containing more than two million works of art, divided into nineteen curatorial departments. The main building, often referred to simply as "the Met," is one of the world's largest art galleries. We arrived at 4 p.m., and the musuem closed at 9. We didn't get to see everything is an understatement, but what we did get to see surpassed my expectations.

The highlight of the Egyptian wing was definetly the Temple of Dendur. Dismantled by the Egyptian government to save it from rising waters caused by the building of the Aswan High Dam, the large sandstone temple was given to the United States in 1965 and assembled in the Met's Sackler Wing in 1978. The Temple dominates a large room in the northern wing and is partially surrounded by a reflecting pool. It is illuminated by a wall of windows opening onto Central Park and is a beauty to behold in person. The craftmanship and detail of most of the art in the exhibit blew with away with how ancient everything around me was.

After wandering through the Asian exhibit, I founding myself alone in the European Masters area of the museum. Mostly empty, I felt I had all the time in the world to view Rembrandt, Raphael, Poussain, and Velazquez. Mostly religious art from the 15th to 18th centuries, the historical scenes depicted astounded me. Finding Victoria taking a well-deserved rest, we moved on to the Nineteeth-Century European Painting Wing that housed some of the world's most popular and well-known romantic artists and impressionists. We gazed as Van Gogh, Manet, Picasso, Degas, Seruat, and Renoir.

Note on art: I am far from an art expert. But apparently years of forced education must of left some kind of impression, (art pun intended) upon my brain. Names and images jumped out at me as if somehow familiar. I became suddenly interested in the difference between Monet and Manet. Picasso painting began to look less like kindergarten scribble and more like art. I realized Van Gogh really did paint the same tree from different times and angles, in "Cypresses" and "Starry Night". It was the most interesting thing to stand 15 feet from Georges Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" and it look powerfully colorful and crystal clear, but upper further inspection from inches away... notice in was nothing but drab, blurred blotches. But on a completely serious note, I truly enjoyed myself. I was unrushed to leave to say the least.

Nine o'clock snuck up quickly and we quietly obeyed the friendly staff as the ushered us out of the Modern and Comtempary Art exhibit. After a quick subway and unintended walk around the east side of Mid-town, we met up with my sister and Greg at 33rd & 8th.

From the corner of my eye, a flashing, yellow sign caught my attention. Could it be?!? Would days of fruitless searching soon be over? AY'S AYA is all I could make out from the angle of the avenue from my vantage point on 8th. I took off immediately, almost breaking from a brisk walk into a jogger's gait.

Note on my sudden change: During my summer in Helsinki I got into the habit of download movies on my laptop to watch to fall asleep to in the evening. I came upon the complete series of Anthony Bourdain's Travel Channel show titled "No Reservations". Bourdain is a wise-cracking chef who visits overseas countries, cities worldwide, and places within the States, where hosts treat him to local culture and cuisine. During Bourdain episode about his home city, New York, he takes his crew to visit Gray's Papaya. Since that moment I made it my mission to eat a hot dog in that same Gray's Papaya and experience firsthand what Tony is making a fuss about. Days of searching and asking locals about the location were to no avail, ... that is until this one glorious moment....

The sign appears four short blocks away, I can make that is two minutes, I think to myself. I am oblivious to the fact I am leading three foreigners, through Hell's Kitchen (North Carolina might as well be another country) because all that is presently running through my twisted mind is the horrible yellow neon of that marquee.

GRAY'S PAPAYA reveals itself in all its terrifying glory as I cross 37th. I race towards the door and in my excitement I stumble over a disheved vagrant. He smiled at me and I noticed he had more fingers on his hands then teeth in his mouth, ... yet in his smile I saw the resplendent glow of true happiness, ... and in his grimy hand was a Gray's hot dog.

Anxiously I approached the counter and ask the clerk, who is clearly from the Asian sub-continent, for a "Recession Special," or two dogs and a Papaya smoothie. As I sink my teeth through first the toasted yet soft bun and into the savory meat, a calmness, ... no... a peace descends around me. For that one moment all is right with world.

I digress, ... it was a good hot dog.
And Saturday was a good day.

Sunday was our last full day in the city. So after mass at the Church of the Holy Cross and a quick brunch at 44 X, Victoria and I went to the New York Musuem of Modern Art, or MOMA. I could go on and on about how amazing that was, but I think I might hit the culture limit for this letter. Dinner was enjoyable at Florio's in Little Italy, and MaryEllen thought the best way to end the trip and the evening was at McSorley's, ... where we were asked "Light or Dark" as we sat down, and then our Irish barmen dropped 10 mugs of the good stuff down on our table. A couple of rounds later, we all called it a night.

The next morning was a frenzy of packing and goodbyes and Victoria and MaryEllen dropped me off at LaGuardia.

Paris in the next letter I promise.

Blog with photos: http://www.jtmckeon75.blogspot.com/
Link to webalbums: http://picasaweb.google.com/jtmckeon75
Teams's website w/schedule: http://www.flashfootball.org/

My address and phone number:

2 allee du Moulin Neuf
93120 La Courneuve
Paris France

No. 014 83 89 681