Tag: new York memories

Intrepid explorers

Flashback to New York, December 2015. 

It was time to indulge in Mr W’s interests. A visit to the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum. Docked on the Hudson at Pier 86, the enormous aircraft carrier that fought in World War II is now devoted to showcasing planes, helicopters and space exploration throughout history. 

As we approached the massive vessel I wondered how fast I could speed through the ‘ordeal’ without it looking too obvious. Upon entering the belly of the ship, I found myself utterly transfixed by the huge anchor chains held in place securely and walking back in time when viewing the bunk beds the men used to call home. 

There are large guns on the flight deck that took me by surprise, in a good way, I haven’t been around anything in a military sense before so it was really interesting to see that sort of thing in real life instead of on a television screen. 

From street level on 12th Avenue you only really get a feel for the height of this spectacle, it’s only when on the flight deck do you realise how very enormous it really is. The grey painted deck stretches further than the eye can see and is littered with a vast number of planes. 

Obviously Mr W was in his element as we strolled around in the winter sun, pointing out a Lockheed SR-71 with its sleek black body and a utility military helicopter called ‘Huey’. Meanwhile, I pointed randomly and said, ‘Hey wasn’t that in Forrest Gump?’ and marvelled at just how many I recognised from the big screen movies. It felt like meeting a static, metal celebrity. It was definitely a complex mix of feelings when recognising the pieces on board whilst realising what they had been used for in the past. 

There has only been one other time in my life when I have come eye to eye with a scenario that identifies war, and that was as a young child at the Imperial War Museum in London, and even then I don’t remember much now. In fact, that only part I remember is the very real feeling trench experience, which ended up being both scary and emotional. In a way, both museums brought war and everything that comes with it to the forefront of my mind in a  way no movie or television programme can ever do. On screen you see the helicopters and army vehicles as props that an actor is using as part of a scene. When it’s right in front of you, it’s a different feeling altogether. I would say there is some naivety there and that’s why I believe museums like the Intrepid are really something to consider when you visit a country different from your own. It reminded me that behind the tourism and the glitz and glam of restaurants and the theatre, New York and America as a whole has a huge history and some of it is damn uncomfortable to someone as wide-eyed and innocent in the way of the real world. 

I made sure after my Forrest Gump comment, to keep my voice down, these machines had protected lives, taken lives and the utmost respect was needed in a place like this. 

Our tickets on the day included entrance to the ‘Space’ department on board and it was absolutely surreal to be in the presence of an actual shuttle. Standing on one of the elevated walkways you find yourself almost nose to nose with this vast space vessel. How on earth does something that big reach space? And yet, its size wasn’t that different to an aeroplane. I’m not sure what I was expecting but I found myself once again utterly entranced. Exploration is what any travel minded person hopes for and here was a ship that could travel off of the planet we could only dream of travelling on ourselves. 

Once back in the belly of the Intrepid we found ourselves winding through alleys of grey steel, ducking through hatches and ascending steep stairs clinging to the handles with fear of the climbing angle presented. It wasn’t until we entered one room that we found an actual real person sitting awaiting the next wanderer. Sat upon a simple stool, he waited as we glanced around, his hand resting on a cylindrical piece of machinery with an upright handle. He must have caught my eye as it rested upon it and asked if I knew what it was. I answered quickly, forgetting myself, ‘That’s what they use to tell the engine room what to do.’ He nodded and smiled. And then I blurted out ‘I remember seeing it in Titanic’. The room echoed with his laugh. ‘Yes that is very true.’ It was the Engine Order Telegraph and he said I was correct and I felt myself glow with both embarrassment and pride. This girl was participating in the day. Talking to the man was so lovely. I find that connections which are formed so quickly and over silly little things really make my heart sing. 

When leaving this vast piece of history I found myself grinning. I had entered without any sense of excitement or interest, it was something booked purely for Mr W and yet I left feeling more connected with New York than ever before.  Connecting also to a growing appreciation for the unknown pieces of history I hadn’t taken the time to visit or take an interest before. 

Still sitting still

When I was in University I was a mess, I was scared to enter the lecture room, and knowing now what I didn’t then, I know anxiety has ruled my life a lot longer than I ever realised. For a worrying moment, when I noticed how far back the anxiety stretched, I wondered if it had stopped me doing much in my adult life. 

Today, I had the most bizarre flashback, whilst sipping tea on a bench in my garden. I wasn’t covered in compost anymore nor was I chilly in the April breeze, I was in Paris. I was sitting outside a Parisien cafe, drinking coffee and watching the world go by. It was a Sunday morning, the early morning sun was making the cobbles blush and there was calm in the air. It seems it is one of my fondest memories, because it made me smile, really smile. 

It got me thinking, about other seemingly insignificant moments, that have created a collage of beautiful memories I unlock from time to time. 

New York, 2007, the Empire Diner, Sunday brunch. I’m wearing a lace tunic top and the waiter is parading up and down with peoples eggs and coffee as if he had just come from the Catwalks of Gucci. He had swagger. He had confidence. He had attention. And he loved it. He had a wonder woman tattoo on his upper arm, and paused by our table to say ‘Honey, I love your top’ in his American drawl. I have a photo of the two of us vogue-ing, it was fabulous and so was he. I picture him now, on Broadway in some garish and absolutely fantastic musical number, living his dream. 

Santa Susanna, Barcelona, 2014. The first sunny afternoon in 6 days, we dash to the beach to thaw our bodies and grasp back some of our holiday before the rain returns. The beach is busy. The sand is hot. Glorious! Women and men selling their wares stomp up and down; sunglasses, hats, scarves, coconuts. The cacophony of their voices, mingled with the muffled chatter and the gentle waves, just screams beach holiday to me. A sunbathing man calls over a small asian woman, selling her skilled masseur hands, I remember glancing over, and seeing her kneeling on the sand. She starts to dig a hole with her hands. Dumbstruck I continue to watch, the man waits, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. She continues to dig a deep round hole. In time, she stops and the man lays a towel over the hole, and it is only then that I realise the void is for his belly. I force my staring eyes away from the scene and tell myself to act normal. But for the rest of the day, I laugh internally, to the scene I witnessed. Lets, assume the man had seen this particular lady before and knew this was common practice, that’s one theory. Alternatively, I often think about someone being unprepared for the practice of the void/belly scenario and looking at the woman in complete disbelief. Much like I had. That memory generally floods back to me when I go to or see a beach. 

The Great Barrier Reef, Australia, 2013. I’m drinking a cocktail out of an enormous glass, my legs are over the side of a huge catamaran and all that stops me from plunging into the ocean is a thin rope that acts like a fence at the side of the top deck. I’m sunkissed, curly haired and tired. I have spent the day swimming the coral reefs and am in awe of where I am. I am nine and a half thousand miles from home, I have quit my job and am living out my dream. I am the luckiest girl in the world. No time to think of going back to England. No time to think if a brush will go through my hair later. No time to waste on anything but this moment. 

I often feel the best memories of my life, so far, are the ones that happen when I’m not moving. While I’m static, the world carries on around me, and I can appreciate the moment. What’s funny is in those moments, I never realise how much impact they can have, how much you’ll flit back to them in the future. How warming they’ll be when you are doing one of life’s mundane tasks. Maybe it was wishful thinking today to think of Paris whilst potting up some planters in the garden. Maybe I’m just grateful to have lived a life so rich in travel and culture. Maybe I’m starting to realise the small moments are the important ones. 

This is why when I had the truly horrifying thought that anxiety had stolen so much of my adult life it took me a while to come back to these memories. I have pushed and pushed myself to do and see everything when I travel because there’s an irksome voice in my head saying ‘make the most of it, do it all, miss nothing’. As lovely as it would be to see the world and run from experience to experience it would seem you aren’t in fact seeing all there is to see.  It is now that I truly believe when we stop, sit and look, we’ll find the world will continue turning, it doesn’t mean we are missing out, it means we are able to relish in it. Drink a cuppa, take a breath and appreciate it all.