Posted by: nastypen | October 25, 2006

“I Got Lost in New York”

….there should be a shirt like that aside from the iconic I (heart) NY.  Man, I thought I had it all planned out.  I carefully studied the subway maps the night before, I planned out the schedule….but, no.  I was at the mercy of a whirling mess that NY can be.

You see how I detest planning because something always goes wrong (Murphy’s stinking law)?!  So, I read the intricate subway map of New York before I slept, plotted out where I shall be getting on and off. 

I blame my weak eyes.  I thought I got in the C train.  It was the E train that took me in an entriely different direction.  So, you think it was easy as to just retrace my steps and get to another platform?  Oh, hell no.

So, I got off the wrong train and retraced to about four stations.  It was not a matter of just crossing the platform to get to the correct train.  IT was going to this flight of stairs, go up like three flights or so, go NW, then lok for the platform this then go down, make sure it was going uptown and stuff like that.

I got lost.

It is not easy and fun to be lost inside a tunnel.

So, I asked this lady for help.  So far, New Yorkers have been very helpful.  She said, I have to ride this train to get off this station to get to the correct train platform.  So, I got off the wrong train station then.  She said, she’ll accompany me to the station platform.

That was very nice of her.

She asked me from where I was.  I told her from the Philippines.  she was “pleasantly surprised” because I “talk with a beautiful and proper American accent that could be mistaken for a Pennsylvanian native.”  My mom would love to hear that.  I am disturbed that I sound like an American.

Anyway, I finally reached and got off the correct station.  Now, I have to walk across New York’s famed Central Park to get to the Met (Metropolitan Museum of New York).  Central Park is quite nice.  I only passed by it before, so it was a treat to walk through it.

I did not take any chances and asked an old lady walking her two dogs for directions.  She said it was nice of me to call out her attention because she hates it when people sneak up to her.  She remarked after finding out that I was a tourist that this was the way to go and not to be in some crummy tour group.  Her dogs were shivering from the cold despite their sweaters.  Then a couple of Italians joined me in asking for directions.

So, i had to walk with this Italian young lady and with he gorgeous….god-like handsome brother named FABIO.  I forgot the sister’s name.   Turns out these siblings were in for a furniture exhibition.  The guy was so cute, I wanted to bash the sister’s face in because she was jabbering away like crazy.  Alas, the sister knew English the brother did not.

I did congratulate them for winning the 2006 World Cup and the brother’s eyes lit up and asked me if I like football.  I just smiled weakly and wanted to tell him the only sports I watch are gymnastics, ice skating, diving, synchronized swimming and the ultra dificult cheer dancing.  He asked what is my favorite team.  I said England but stopped myself from gushing about how hot and humpable Owen, Beckham and Rooney are.

I wanted to say to him that I like the Italian footballer Gattuso, esecially when he stripped his shorts off when they wo the world cup.  HAHAHAHA.

So, I tell them what I learned about the Met.  Entrance is US$20, US$10 if you’re a student.  But I was told by my virtual girlfriend and from some New Yorkers that I should just pay a dollar for “donation.”  Yup, one measley dollar.

The siblings were cynical about this but I just handed my one dollar bill and got a ticket.  The people before me paid 20 bucks.  I felt like a native at that moment.  So, if you’re going to the ME, just pay a dollar.  They really won’t ask you questions.  This is allowed although not really announced.

I felt really good having spent just a dollar to view such great art.

I bid goodbye to the Italian siblings, because, honestly, hot Italian men don’t stand a chance when I’m gallery oggling.  Bitch, there are just too many of you hot men out there but few chances for me to witness masterpieces.  So, no contest.

I liked the Met.  It has several connecting and adjoining galleries like the National Gallery in DC.  They have an extensive collection, too.  They had a special exhibit about a role of this art collector in late 1880s to the early 1900s and how he supported and cemented the avant garde then.  It is a great concept to celebrate the art dealer and not just the artist. 

I got to learn wh this Ambroise Voillard was.  First time I read of that name.  It turns out that he was a catalyst for several art figures’ rise to immortality.  They had a two-minute black and white film of the art dealer talking with an old Renoir.  That was fascinating.

ART!  I LOVE ART!

I got to see Picasso’s drawings.  He’d make a fine cartoonist, that Pablo Picasso.  I was having art orgasms to see Paul Gauguin‘s paintings.  I did a report on him back in high school and loved his imagery and colors.  And there they were.  Whooof, baby.  Getting lost was a distant memory as I almost skip from one gallery to the next.

I saw a Breughel and almost broke down in tears. 

 Breughel, baby!!!!!

This was a painter who focused on subjects that are considered tacky by the elite then.  He painted peasants working, celebrating, playing, suffering.  He captured the Netherlandic proletariat scene when his contemporaries were painting allegories or religious scenes.  His subjects were not contrived to do poses.  They were captured in their element….missing teeth and erect codpieces and all.

I saw some Caravaggios, El Grecos, Rembrandts, Van Goghs, O’Keefes.  Sigh.  I was smiling and ignoring the fact that my feet really hurt.  I saw this from an altar:

Do I look stern or do I look stern?

I want this for my Halloween costume, ma.  Love it!

But, I just ignored some of the art collections because I saturated myself with the Met’s Ancient Egypt collection.  I felt young again.  I really grew up with dinosaurs and heiroglyphics.  i wanted to be both an archeologist and paleontologist then.

So, look at how how gleeful I am as I took this self-portrait with some mummy cases.  My hands were shaking from the impatience and joy:

Mummies and ME.

Hahaha.  I had one photo when I bit my lip like a greedy pig about to binge on candies.

I was all agog of their Ancient Egypt collection.  Although I know their collection is dwarfed by the Cairo Museum, I am just appreciative to see up close and personal the evidence of human achievements in civilization. 

I saw some ancient wigs, vessels where they kept the innards of the mummies, I took some photos of my most favorite Egyptian goddess Sekhmeth, the lion-headed goddess of war and destruction.  I was all shutterbugging the collections, the numerous mummy cases, the tablets, the broken portrait of Amun-Ra

But this one really caught my eye:

Cue in Spandau Ballet's Gold song

I am reminded of my high school friend Andrew’s statement to show how rich he is, “Gusto mo bang balutan kita ng gold?”  (Would you like me to wrap you in gold?) WAHAHAHAAHA!!!!  Well, andrew, the Egyptians beat you to it by just a couple millennia.  they have gold slippers and, get this, gold thimbles for the toes and fingers of the dead. 

I was all heady from the museum experience.

So heady, I got lost, AGAIN, in the Central Park.  The thing is, they don’t have straight paths, just hills and urving paths.  I saw where the author of Stuart Little wrote his children’s stories.  I even saw a monument honoring Alice in Wonderland.  I was walking for ten minutes, but I honestly ended up by the gates of Met, again.

It was quite windy out and i was not exactly wearing proper insulation.  So, I just took this main road and just kept on walking as I cut through Central Park.  I was the only one walking by taht path which kind of freaked me out because,  Lord knows what lurks in the shadows as I crossed under several bridges.

I finally saw the subway and got engaged in small talk with this beautiful bright American woman.  She was the typical blonde blue-eyed lady with a big endearing smile.  She and I got in the same train and she spoke on how she was not really a New York city girl but just got here from a “freak accident.”  Her work in Maine informed her not to come back, so now, she’s crashing in her friend’s places and couches.  She still had the enviable look of determination that liffe will be ok.

I wanted to kiss her, but had to just shake off my lesbianic tendenies.

So, I bade her goodbye and got off the train.

Yup, I got off the wrong station. 

My laughter was not heard because of the incoming trains. 

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Responses

  1. wow! sir chong im so glad you’re doing ok there =p have fun sir and take care! miss you!

  2. lolo, winner ka! Met it is… pangarap ko yan eh.. Met, Louvre, Hermitage and British…


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