Since everyone else is doing it...

I was going to lay off the MTA and just let what seems like everyone in the universe (ok, everyone in NYC) expose their shortcomings, but I just couldn't resist after this happened to me the other night:

The 4/5 Lexington Express currently does not stop between Atlantic Ave in Brooklyn and Fulton Street in Lower Manhattan Late Nights and Weekends. You must board the 4/5 at Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall.

The 4 always runs on the local track in Manhattan Late Nights.

So why could I board a 4 train at Fulton Street and then ride it locally, as if it were a Late Night. Shouldn't the train not have been there at all if it was considered a Late Night vehicle? (it was 9:45, certainly not late by my definition, nor by MTA's definition).

Obviously, subways have non-scheduled track changes. But these are usually announced by the train conductor at each stop. Obviously this story has nothing to do with how the MTA is broke in a time of desperate need and is also being stiffed by Albany. It's simply another example that demonstrates that something needs to be done to our beloved subway system, the "artery" of the city, so that it can run faster, more reliably, and safer.

A few of my favorite examples of such a subway are London's Tube, the Paris Metro, the Barcelona Metro, and from what I've heard, the Tokyo Metro as well. Even their websites are much better. MTA no longer has the excuse of being old. All these systems are old as well: the Tube dates back to the 1860s, the Paris Metro 1900, around the same time as the MTA, and Barcelona and Tokyo date back to the 1920s. It's 2005, 101 years after the first subway ride in New York. The system has simply not evolved as much as these other systems.

Nipple (NYPL)

I bet you expected me to write about The Gates of Central Park. I saw them today, and yes, they are cool.

But there's been something much more significant on my mind since last Saturday, when I spent the later part of the afternoon sitting in the Microform Room of the New York Public Library, staring at page after page of the San Francisco Chronicle pass my eyes on a dimly lit screen. It was my first time at the library, and had always wanted to go in. The exterior is breathtakingly beautiful and stately, just inviting you to come in and browse through some of the most important books ever written.

My first impressions of the interior of the building were quite underwhelming. I was hoping for great halls filled with ancient books, but instead, I got great halls filled with emptiness. They also have one restroom in the entire building, and it took me about fifteen minutes to find it up on the top (third) floor. So far, a lot of empty space, a museum, a shop, and a hard-to-find bathroom.

So I wondered down to the first floor Microform Room, where I read, and printed (for 25 cents a page!) various articles from 1969 issues of the SF Chronicle. I had hoped to hit up the general book reserves after that, but they announced closing time, and I was forced out.

I hated it. But I knew I didn't give it a fair chance, and since I was stuck in a windowless room, I decided not to bitch about it here. But today, I went back, planning to hit only the General Reserves and the Reading Room. Now I have advanced to a complex love/hate relationship with NYPL.

Here is how you obtain a book (only three at a time!):
1) Look up the book on CATNYP, their online catalog
2) Write each call number, author, title, and your name and address on a call slip
3) Bring the call slip(s) to the call slip person, who assigns you a number.
4) Walk to the Reading Room, and wait for your number to come up on the screen.
5) Approximately 15 minutes later (one took more like half an hour), retrieve your book
6) Join the hordes of people in the 297 foot long reading room taking furious notes on your reading, since you can't take the book out of the room, and to my knowledge, there is no photocopier in there.
7) Sadly return the books knowing that they exist nowhere but in this building and you must go through the entire process again to get that one piece of information you forgot to write down.

So it's a monotonous process that leaves you wanting more. The ceiling is full of trompe l'oeil skies that look like what the sky would be like if the earth were surrounded by a gaseous swamp.

But why do I love it? Well first of all, your books get to take a ride on a book dumbwaiter from wherever they retrieve the books up to the Reading Room, which is pretty cool. I really want to know the inner-workings of the entire reserve system and get a glance at the library's collection. Also, you really can get pretty much get every book ever written.

But there's something so great about looking up the call number, then navigating through seemingly endless shelves of books and finally, in all the mess, finding the exact book you are looking for. Someone else doing this takes away that sense of accomplishment that I like to find in a library.

Overall, I got what I needed, but left knowning that I will return in the not too distant future because I got lazy and stopped writing complete notes.

Eccentricity, Barcelona Style

At Comerç 24, a supposedly hot Barcelona restaurant, the dinner started with various single bites, including pulverized popcorn crumbs served in a small paper cone. The meal ended with an array of sweet tapas, including Crema Catalana (a sort of creme caramel type dish) foam. It was far from your normal fine dining experience, but it was damn good. At some point during the meal, my sister remarked that this seems to be a city that accepts its eccentrics, and even nurtures them.

This is not only apparent in this one of a kind dinner, but think about its influential figures—Gaudí and the other modernista architects, and artists such as Picasso and Dalí. They and their works are not what we would consider normal. The city is in fact full of various “eccentricities” (I use the term in as much of a non-offensive way as possible)—from street performers, some playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on accordion, others singing opera, and others playing with a giant marionette set, to the traditions of the people here. For example, in every Barcelonan Nativity scene, crouching behind the main focus is a crapper. It’s simply a man defecating secretly, and no one can really explain why he is there. Another similarly themed tradition is that there is a log in the middle of the table during Christmas that kids beat with a stick until it spits out their presents. Another inexplicable tradition that is, well, a little far from what we may consider normal.

So from the outside, the eccentricities of Barcelona may just seem strange, but it is really what makes this city so unique and wonderful. After all, which is more fun, a city full of redundancy and “normality”, or a city that may be a little “off” but gives you something new behind every turn?