A Ride To The Dancing Girl

Most of you will probably never see me dance.  Consider yourselves lucky.  Trust me.

Of the things I can't do, dancing is probably the thing I most wish I could.  An actual dancer may beg to differ, but I always had the impression that dancers come closest to creating a jeu d'esprit with the human body.  

Probably the closest I come to that is when I ride my bicycle, however gracelessly and (these days) slowly.   

Dancers. as we know, often perform solo.  However, at their best, they're always dancing with someone or something.  Often, I think, it's with the audience, at least figuratively.  Also, they're performing duets or in concert with their surroundings, their memories and the temper of their times. 

The other day, I danced with Arielle.  We traipsed across bridges, rolled through tenement valleys in the Bronx and waltzed, it seemed, across fields and woods that lined the roads just beyond the suburban sprawl of Westchester County.  It also felt as if we were leaping across brooks and streams and along the coastline of Long Island Sound.

I had no destination in particular, but about three hours later, we ended up In Stamford, CT.  Look at what welcomed us to the city:

 Stamford sculptor James Knowles created Dancing Girl in bronze.  In 1987, a local businessman and his wife donated it to the city,where it was displayed in front of the Old Town Hall for fourteen years. Fourteen years later, it was "temporarily" removed for a renovation to the plaza.  For the next nine years, the girl languished in captivity, I mean, storage.  Finally, three years ago, it was re-dedicated.

Who says art has no effect on anything?  I felt lighter as I started to pedal home, even though I was, within a few minutes, making a fairly long (though not particularly steep) climb.  Oh, yes, I had a breeze at my back.  But I think the girl was guiding me and Arielle, in spirit.

Which Way?

Today I hopped on Arielle with no particular direction in mind.  After wandering down a street near the Botanical Gardens, I found myself entering an expressway:  No sign indicated I was pedaling in its direction.  I couldn't very well turn around, so I channeled my adrenaline, remaining testoserone (if indeed I still have any), and all of the aggression I could muster from thinking about the boyfriend who cost me a job and the girlfriend who cost me my sanity (well, sort of) to high-tail it to the next exit, which got me onto a street I'd never heard of before.  But, I figured, that was better than the world hearing about a cyclist who's a direct descendant of Christopher Columbus and inherited his navigational skills.

About half an hour later, I found myself pedaling up and down hills in Westchester County.  I didn't mind; in fact, I was enjoying the challenge, which I needed.  The day was perfectly clear but warmed up quickly, though not oppressively so.  

In my effort to avoid that same wrong turn, I headed back in the direction of the Throgs Neck Bridge.  There's no way to walk or cycle across it, but there's a rather nice (though often crowded) next to it.  Plus, I know my way home, more or less, from there.

The plan worked until I had to detour around a street that was torn open.  I then found myself wandering, and coming to a place I seem to encounter only by accident:  Westchester Square in the Bronx.  In fact,  I've never cycled to the neighborhood intentionally, although I never regretted finding myself there.  From what I've seen--and what Forgotten New York says--it seems like quite an interesting area.  It's one of the most architecturally varied parts of the city, with everything from churches and cemetery structures built early 19th Century to saltbox houses and Art Deco-inspired apartment buildings. Also, the shopping area  and it's odd to find streets with names like "Mayflower" anywhere in the Big Apple.  

I didn't bring my camera with me, but here's a streetscape from Forgotten New York:

Given that I seem to end up in the neighborhood only by accident, I wonder whether I'd get there if I set out for it on my bike!

A New Randall's Island Bridge For Cyclists?

Today I took a ride to New Jersey, along the Palisades and through Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island. From the Island, I took the ferry to Manhattan and cycled up to the 59th Street Bridge, and home.

I've done this ride any number of times before.  However, along the way, I took a little detour on Randall's Island.  

Earlier this year, I'd read that the city planned to build a pedestrian/bicycle bridge from the Island to the Bronx.  Right now, it's possible to use the walkways on the Triborough (RFK) Bridge.  That's exactly what I did today. However, those walkways have their own perils for cyclists.

The Triborough is really three spans that lead into Randall's Island.  One such span, which is close to where I live, connects Queens with the Island.  This span is the most-photographed (for good reason) of the three, and many people think it is the Triborough.  Then there are spans from the Island to Manhattan (at 125th Street) and the Bronx.  

Actually, the Bronx spur is bookended by walkways on its east and west sides.  As those paths approach the Island, they zig and zag like Alpine slalom courses enclosed by concrete walls.  Then they converge at a single steep ramp that ends abruptly at a curve in the island's main road.

The bridge would eliminate those ramps (as well as the stairs one must ascend in order to access the walkway to and from Queens) and instead would be continuation of one spur of the island's mostly-complete bike path.

I am eager to see the bridge completed, not only for making a part of my ride more pleasant.   It is seen as a vital link between the paths and fields of Randall's Island and a greenway that's supposed to be built in the South Bronx. 

 Some residents of that neighborhood walk across the Triborough, but many more drive or take buses to play soccer, softball and other sports and games, have picnics and barbecues, or to fish, on the Island.  In addition to making a bike ride easier and more pleasant for folks like me, I would hope that the bridge would also entice some Bronx residents to walk or ride bikes to the Island.

The South Bronx part of Asthma Alley.  Actually, it's the buckle in New York's asthma belt: The neighborhood's 10451,10453, 10454, 10455 and 10474 ZIP codes have the highest juvenile asthma rates in the United States.  (They are also part of the nation's poorest Congressional District.) Obesity rates are also high in the area, as they are through much of the Bronx.  Ironically, even though much of the fresh produce sold in the NY Metro area goes to the Hunts Point Food Market (located in the heart of the South Bronx), most residents of the surrounding neighborhoods cannot buy fresh fruits or vegetables in their own communities.

Anyway, enough about subjects about which I don't know much (apart from having written an article about the asthma rates).  I am hoping that the new bridge's construction proceeds quickly but safely.  But I have to wonder whether that will happen after seeing the  sign on the left.

It says that Con Ed, the local utility, is removing duct work from underneath the scaffolding. I hope this doesn't delay construction!

Beauty Among The Ruins

OK, boys and girls, I'm going to give you one more kind-of-sad (or, at least, melancholy) posting.  Then I'll try to stick to happy topics, as this is the holiday season.

Anyway, six weeks after Hurricane Sandy, it seems that I see more and more of its aftermath everywhere I turn--especially when I get on a bike.  Here is what used to be nicknamed "Barretto Beach":

This postage stamp-sized piece of Barretto Point Park has sunbathers and picknickers on it when the weather is warm, and people fishing from it at other times.  It's usually full of sand and is clear of rocks and other debris, if not litter.  And, before the storm, this plot was about twice the size it is now.

It is closed off.  So is the pier at the other end of the park, and the barge that houses a swimming pool.  As much devastation as I saw, I was surprised, frankly, not to see more.  

Here is another part of the park that was eroded:

I guess the '60's Schwinn Collegiate didn't want me to look at it for too long.  You never know what kind of effect such things can have on a young sensibility like mine, you know.

At least Randall's Island, through which I ride to get to Barretto, didn't seem quite as badly damaged--or, at least, more of it has been fixed up.  Here is a shot of one of the island's native plant gardens:

I found the color change on this tree particularly interesting:

Usually, I assume that trees with needles rather than leaves are evergreens.  Apparently, this is some sort of deciduous tree with needles.  Whatever it is, I love the effect of its color change.

Well...I guess this wasn't such a depressing post after all!

Tour de Bronx

These cyclists are assembled at the gate of...

Actually, they're not really assembled.  They're just waiting to continue the Tour de Bronx from its first rest stop/checkpoint.

At that rest stop was a sure sign that the ride was taking place in New York:

Bagels!  They were very good--not mere bread doughnuts.   I ate one with sesame seeds; poppy and plain were also offered.  Cream cheese, butter and jellies were also offered. 

There were granola bars and bottles of Dasani water at the  next two stops--and pizza at the end.  All of it free.

In fact, the ride is free, which the ride's organizers attribute to the "generous support" of sponsors.

I  heard some riders express disbelief that there were so many "beautiful" sights in the Bronx.  In particular, people seemed to be taken with the maritime views from the State University of New York (SUNY) Maritime College:

and from Orchard Beach:

not to mention some of what could be seen at the New York Botanical Gardens, where the ride ended:

Interestingly, the route took us through two cemeteries, St. Raymond's and Woodlawn.  The latter necropolis has vast monuments to rival those of Brooklyn's Greenpoint Cemetery and Pere Lachaise in Paris:

Yes, that's a monument for one person!

Of course, the Tour does have its share of less idyllic sights.  After all, it wouldn't be a Tour de Bronx without them:

There was a twenty-five mile and forty-mile tour.  Naturally, I did the latter.  Both rides take about the same amount of time, but the 40-miler is done at a faster pace.  Also, the terrain varies more. (Yes, there are real hills in the Bronx!)

The 40-mile ride is roughly the same length as the more-famous Five Boro Bike Tour.  I rode some of the early 5BBT's, and a few after that.  I was even a marshal in two 5BBT's.  In some ways, the Tour de Bronx reminds me of what 5BBT was in its early years, in part because of the smaller number of riders.  Also, like those early 5BBT's, the Bronx Tour isn't as tightly organized as the 5BBT has become in recent years.  In some ways, Bronx feels more like both a cyclists' event and simply a "fun day out" for those who might take a ride of such a length, say, once or twice year.  On the other hand, the 5BBT has become something of a media spectacle.  (That is not to say, though, that I'm not happy 5BBT exists or that it's become as big as it is. It's simply not my kind of ride anymore.)

And, most important, not all of the streets we rode for the Bronx tour were closed to traffic.  There is certainly a certain amount of "safety in numbers," but I think one has to be more vigilant on the Tour de Bronx than on the Five Boro Bike Tour. On the latter ride, all of the streets it traverses are closed to traffic.

Another thing I like about the Tour de Bronx is that it reallys shows the diversity--geographically, architecturally as well as culturally--of the only New York City Borough located in the mainland United States.  In contrast, most of the 5BBT runs through Manhattan and Brooklyn.  Cyclists on 5BBT spend very little time in the Bronx or Queens, and only slightly more in Staten Island.

In case you were wondering, I rode Tosca:

Turning Into Noir In The Bronx

I made a wrong turn in the Bronx...


It sounds like the title of noir film, doesn't it?  If such a movie were made today--in Hollywood, anyway--someone would tack a "happy" ending on it and the critics would call it "life-affirming" or some such thing.


Anyway, after teaching a class, I took a spin along the East River and into the Bronx.  (Sounds so idyllic, doesn't it?)  Because of construction (Why do they call it that when they're tearing something apart?), I had to take a detour.  I found myself under the ramp for the Willis Avenue Bridge.  If you've ridden the Five Boro Bike Tour, you've rolled across that bridge.


Underneath that overpass are some interesting old industrial brick buildings. It's sort of like DUMBO.  From one of those buildings hung one of the more interesing--and, unless you know the area, incongruous--signs I've seen:

When I first saw that sign, I thought perhaps someone was making a film.  Turns out, the place tunes, repairs and stores pianos.  In fact, they've probably tuned at least some of the Steinway pianos that are made in Queens, not far from where I live. 

 

That's all the more reason for me to be surprised if someone hasn't made a film (or part of one) there.  It's hard to find a locale that looks more Victorian, in a shadowy sort of way, than that spot where Bruckner Boulevard begins.

A Climb

If you've ever thought there were no hills in New York City, take a look at this:

At the bottom of these stairs  is the Morris Heights section of the Bronx.  Climb them and you're in the aptly-named University Heights neighborhood.  The latter was home to a New York University campus until the early 1970's.  Now that campus is occupied by the Bronx Community College.

I rode up that way this morning.  And, yes, I ascended those stairs on Tosca, my fixie. All right, I climbed with Tosca on my shoulder.

Scapes and Escapes

Today's ride was pleasure without revelations, or epiphanies--at least regarding bicycling or The Meaning of Life, anyway.  And those are all you really care about if you're reading this blog, right?


All right...My ride, which took me up by Throgs Neck, led me through an industrial area of the South Bronx.  I've mentioned it before:  I enjoy cycling there on weekends because there's absolutely no traffic.  But sometimes I see things, too, that I hadn't been expecting.


From a block away, I thought I saw the kind of sand-art-in-a-bottle that was so popular in the 1970's, rendered in the entropic colors of dystopia:  just what someone might see if he or she were to watch Miami Vice while coming down from an acid trip.  

Then I could swear I saw someone--trying to escape? or simply "losing it?"  

I couldn't help but to think of the woman in the pattern of the yellow wallpaper of Charlotte Perkins Gilman's story, which I've read and assigned to my students more times than I'll admit!


The "prisoner" or "captain" or whomever you see in the second photo was actually in the window of a factory.  The other photo is of another window on that same building.  As best as I could tell, some sheet or something that was used to black out the windows was falling off or wearing away.


I guess I could rescue him (or her) by climbing on this:

I'm pretty sure that both are still used by trains; it's been a couple of years, at least, since I've seen a train pass over either of those trestles. Then again, that's about how long it's been since I've seen those trestles on a weekday, and I suspect that those trains run when the factories are open.


But if they aren't in use, I'd love to see them become the next High Line or Viaduct des Arts--except, of course, that bicycles would be allowed on it.

Industrial Idylls

Where is this house?  Park Slope?  The Upper West Side?  Carroll Gardens?


Would you believe the South Bronx?


To be precise, it's on Beck Street.  It's about two and a half miles from Yankee Stadium.  Colin Powell (who, as far as I am concerned, gave the US one of the saddest days in its history) grew up a few blocks away.


In fact, the block on which that house stands is full of handsome brownstone and Victorian houses.  So are some of the nearby streets.  Somehow they survived the fires and other disasters that befell the Bronx during the 1970's and '80's.


As you can imagine, those streets make for some pleasant cycling, especially on a Sunday.


So, interestingly enough, do the nearby industrial areas of Point Morris and Hunt's Point.  

See that?  No worries about having or taking a lane here!


The weather was milder than we've had through most of this winter.  The temperature reached 55F and the thinnest wisps of clouds streaked the sky.  And, even though I was near the East River or Long Island Sound through most of my ride, the slight breezes carried only the faintest hint of chill from the water, which will be cold well into the spring.


I took Marianela because I thought there might still be some clumps of snow or slush, as well as potholes.  About the latter I was right, though the streets weren't as bad as I'd expected them to be.  


Speaking of streets: 

In almost every street name I've seen in the English-speaking world, the "Street," "Avenue," "Boulevard" or other designation came after the name.  I associate the practice of the designation preceding the name with French, Italian and Spanish cities.  


I wondered why I found a street named in the Latinate manner in the South Bronx, of all places.  I thought it might have to do with some French community that lived there at one time.  Gallic immigrants indeed settled in the Bronx, which was mainly rural, during the 19th Century, and opened spinning and weaving mills. And there is a parish of St. John (Jean) Vianney just steps away from that sign.


However, I found out that the street is actually named for a George St. John, who was one of the early English landowners of the area.  Still, I could find no explanation of why "Avenue" precedes rather than follows his name.  I guess he wasn't anticiapting curious cyclists riding by.

Cycling In Atlantis

I got up late today and had to run a couple of errands--including a trip to the farmer's market on Roosevelt Island.  As the day was a hot and humid day, I waited until it was almost over to go for a ride.



So I let Tosca take me wherever she wanted.  Being a fixed-gear bike, she tends to favor flat areas.  As I am still not in my best shape, I am happy to go along with her.



Among other places, we went to this:

And this:

 t

In Newark, there's a section of the city called "The Ironbound" because railroad tracks form its borders.  That's not where I rode today.  But the part of the Bronx shown in the photos could just as easily have been so named.  It's ringed, bound and criss-crossed by elevated highways and railroad tracks, all in steel of one kind or another.


I don't spend enough time in the neighborhood on weekdays to know whether or not the tracks shown in the photos see very many trains.  I know that the neighborhood is still an active industrial area:  the fleets of trucks and vans parked in lots and on streets are testimony to that.  But on the weekends, it could just as well be one of those ancient Greek and Roman ghost towns I've seen along the Mediterranean and Aegean coasts.  The people are gone, but the looming monoliths stand, and probably will stand for some time to come.


As you might expect, on the other side of the tracks and highways are low-income neighborhoods populated almost entirely by people of color.  Hip hop music was born on those streets.  Someone, I forget who, referred to the Bronx as the "Atlantis of Hip-Hop."  


Sometimes I feel as if I am cycling in Atlantis, or among shipwrecks.  However, the viaducts and buildings, while gritty, are hardly ruins:  They're intact, and on Monday they will be full of people and vehicles.  But, for now, they're empty.



All of the neighborhood is near water--specifically, the East River, which is really an inlet of the ocean.  However, you wouldn't want to swim in it, even if these guys do it:

Actually, they're in the Bronx Kill, which is a branch of the East River.  It separates the Bronx from Randall's Island and may be the most polluted waterway in the United States.  I took the photo from a spur of the RFK/Triborough Bridge.


If you're in the neighborhood and want to swim, this is where you go:

It's a floating pool in Barretto Park.  I always thought the idea of swimming in one body of water that floats on top of another was rather surreal, though, in practice, it's not much different from swimming in any other kind of pool.  Well, I don't know whether I can generalize.  I've swum in only one floating pool:  the old Piscine Deligny.  Going there was more like going on a cruise than it was like going to any other pool I've ever seen. 



I understand that a new Piscine Deligny is being constructed to replace the one in which I swam.  But that's not the reason why it's being replaced:  The old pool sank in 1993.  (I had absolutely nothing to do with that!)



And so people will continue to swim in one body of water that floats on another.  Then again, any journey-any bike ride-- we take is a bit like surfing the march of time.

Where Are The Women?

I don't know whether it's possible to be an urban cyclist without having or developing some sort of interest in architecture. One of the wonderful things about New York and some other cities is that you can find a gem where you weren't expecting it.

This beauty is right across the street from the new Yankee Stadium:

I hadn't been in that part of town in a long time, so I don't know whether or how recently the building was renovated.  I suspect that it was fixed up as the new stadium was built, but I also suspect that it hadn't deteriorated very much, as so much of the neighborhood around the old stadium (which was next to where the current stadium stands) had for so long.


If people couldn't tell that I hadn't spent much time in the neighborhood just by looking at me, they had to have known once I started taking photos.  Then again, maybe some architecture lovers have trekked up that way.


Wouldn't you love to live in a building with this over the entrance?:

Or this by your window?

                          
For a moment, I wondered whether someone might get upset with me for pointing my camera at his or her window. But building residents may be used to that sort of thing.


So, how did I end up there?  Well, I just hopped on Tosca (my Mercian fixie) and pedalled across the Queensboro (a.k.a. 59th Street) Bridge.  After descending the ramp on the Manhattan side, I found myself riding past Sloan Kettering, Rockefeller University and lots of dimpled blonde toddlers escorted by nannies or au pairs who are much darker than they are.  As I rode further uptown, the kids got darker and didn't have au pairs or nannies.   None of it was new to me, but something would be after I passed the building in the photos.


In Manhattan, almost everything above Columbia University is commonly referred to as "Harlem," and in the Bronx, almost everything below Fordham Road is called "The South Bronx".  As it happened, I pedalled through the places that are, technically, Harlem and the South Bronx.  But I also passed through a number of other neighborhoods that consist almost entirely of people of color, most of whom are poor, and whose neighborhoods are lumped in with Harlem and the South Bronx.


I ride in those places because there are some interesting sights and good cycling.  But today I noticed something in those neighborhoods that, I now realize, makes them not only different neighborhoods, but different worlds, from Astoria, where I now live and Park Slope, where I lived before moving here--not to mention neighborhoods like the Upper East Side and Yorkville, which I also rode through today.


In neighborhoods like Harlem and the ones I saw in the Bronx, one generally doesn't see as many adults, especially young ones, cycling.  And, as one might expect, the bikes one sees are likely to have been cobbled together.  I'm not talking about the kinds of bikes one can buy used from any number of bike shops or the ones available from Recycle-a-Bicycle and other places like it. Rather, I'm talking about bikes that look like the riders themselves spliced them together from bits and pieces that were tossed into the trash or found lying abandoned somewhere or another.  


As often as not, the bikes and parts don't go together.  I'm not talking only about aesthetics:  Sometimes parts that aren't made to fit each other are jammed together and held together by little more than the rider's lack of knowledge about the issue. 


It was usually poor men of a certain age who were riding the kinds of bikes I've described.  Younger men might ride them, too, but they are more likely to be found on cheap mountain bikes, some of which came from department stores.  A few are the lower-end or, more rarely, mid-range models of brands that are sold in bicycle shops.  Those bikes were probably acquired in one degree or another of having been used; none of them looked as if they were purchased new.


But the most striking thing I noticed is this:  I did not see a single female of any age on a bike in those neighborhoods.  It make me think back to other times I've been in those parts of town and I realized --if my memory was serving me well--that I never saw a woman, or even a girl, on a bike.  


I started to have those realizations after I stopped at an intersection a few blocks north of the stadium.  A very thin black man was crossing the street.  He approached me and, in a tone of consternation, said, "You're riding a bike?"  For a split-second--until I realized why he was asking the question--I thought it was strange and ignored him.  But he persisted: "You ride a lot?"

I nodded.  


"Be safe.  I don't want a nice lady like you to get hurt."


"I will.  Thank you.  Have a nice day."


I realized that I may well have been the first woman he, or many other people in that neighborhood, had seen on a bike.     


How would his life be different if he saw more women on bikes? And, even more to the point, how might the lives of some of those women be different if they rode bikes?  And, finally, I wondered, how might those neighborhoods be different?