Travel: October 2004 Archives

Although this blog is about my life in Brooklyn, I've been taking more trips out of the borough than usual since I started it. My latest took me and D. to New London, Conn., to visit my good friend V. Such a different world outside the city. We spent a couple hours on Saturday walking the beach and watching V. learn to surf. We ate at an excellent little Mexican restaurant that lets you bring your own margaritas! I kid you not, we mixed our own at home in a tupperware jug, brought it to the restaurant along with some ice, and they provided the glasses. Two of them wrecked me for the night and I had no one to blame but myself!

Sunday we took a beautiful drive to Devil's Hopyard State Park, I say beautiful drive because the drive was almost more breathtaking than the walk. We passed by old red barns framed in bright yellow trees, and white houses framed in fire-red ones. Tiny lakes held the reflection of the green, yellow, red and orange leaves at their shores. The walk was nice, too, even though we didn't find the scenic vista.  It's amazing how a little bit of space will clear your head, even if you did overdrink on the tequila. In fact, the strange thing about the after-effects of drinking is that they were held at bay throughout the entire afternoon until we went to this tiny little hidden seafood shack in New London.

I don't know if it was the clam fritters, the New England clam chowder or the lobster roll that did it, but we all totally crashed after that meal. Oh, and on the way back from the park we stopped at a roadside stand and picked up some fresh baked raisin and white bread, some just-picked Macoon apples and some sweet corn. YUM!

No, not the Mick-e-dees arches, silly, the arches at El Morro in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Ya know, that extra "state" we keep around so that U.S. drug companies will have a tax-free place to produce copius amounts of drugs that may or may not benefit our health? D. and I spent the last three, er, four days--thank you then-tropical storm Jeanne--of our honeymoon  in and around San Juan. Not being a fort person, I felt a bit reluctant about the visit to the more than 400-year-old historic site. The 95ish degree heat and a strange bubbly rash that formed on my arms near the end of the trip didn't help, either. Still, the power of history can flow from inanimate objects, and this stately fort imprinted its share of history on my mind. Perhaps most memorable came when I dashed into an air-conditioned series of rooms that served as a museum for the site. Inside a group of *very* American elderly tourists milled about, discussing the fort. One of the older guys, a veteran, related how waaay back in the day the soldiers at El Morro figured out how to skip hot cannon balls across the water and right into the wooden ships to set them on fire. Pretty ingenious, and it kept the fort sound until 1898 when the U.S. invaded during the Spanish-American war. Another telling photo inside the museum was the U.S. soldiers using one of the great lawns in front of the fort to play golf.  Below is a famous sculpture in Old San Juan depicting (I believe) the Spanish conquistadors. I'm sure D. would find it amusing if I included the photo of me straddling the cannon, but I can't quite seem to find it ...

Finally making a partial rebound from the financial pit otherwise known as a wedding (and yes, it was worth every penny). D. and I celebrated our newfound petty cash by going to see Motorcycle Diaries. Certainly worth catching on the big screen for its amazing footage of Chile, Venezuela and Peru, the Motorcycle Diaries also gives interesting perspective on Che Guevera's early 20s. Did I mention that Gael García Bernal is hot? However there is that little problem with Che's later revoutionary tactics. It doesn't come up in the movie, and I'm not sure that it has to, but it's good to put the beautiful wash the film leaves on your emotions in perspective. I think Peter Travers has an excellent review in Rolling Stone. How easy for idealism to cloud one's judgement.

Moving from two dimensions to three, I was lucky enough to get to visit Dia: Beacon for the second time since I've been in New York. And while this time I was prepared for the vastness of the former factory, the thrill of walking through and around the mind-bending sculptures and collection of collections of paintings was still fresh. The ship-like steel shapes of Richard Serra inspired the deepest sense of awe (in photo). However, Robert Smithson's sculpture of broken glass and other works in glass, sand and rock, set my mind in a spiral towards the minutest of details in nature (this sends me to Anne Dillard and in a strange way Andy Goldsworthy). Other faves: Louise Bourgeios creepy, and perhaps sexually dormat, spider sculpture; and Fred Sandback's string shapes.