There's Hope--Really!

While pedaling up a hill, I saw this:

Now, the hill wasn’t particularly steep or long, and I was riding Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.  But right now she has a gear of 47x17, which isn’t high but isn’t exactly a climbing gear.  Still, I managed to get up that hill without getting out of my seat or breaking a sweat.  But I have to admit that I liked seeing “There’s Hope”—which is all I saw as I started the climb.  It was only about halfway up when I realized that the place was a barber- and beauty-shop.  Until I saw the subtitle, I thought it might be a storefront church or one of those centers where twelve-step programs meet—neither of which would have surprised me in that neighborhood.

I think it’s kind of funny that a barber- and beauty-shop would have such a name.  Perhaps I should have gone in and asked whether they’d make the same claim for someone who’s as completely un-photogenic as I am.

Anyway, after ascending that hill, I came to a garden.  Well, all right, the name of one—sort of:

Somehow I never associated Eden with mountains.  In any event, I’m glad the city created that green mall along Mount Eden Avenue, which traverses a low-income neighborhood that immigrants from the Caribbean, Latin America and West Africa call home.

A bit further up in the Bronx, I felt a bit like an urban archaeologist when I came upon this, across from the WoodlawnCemetery:

Here in New York, one occasionally sees advertisements that were painted on the sides of buildings decades, or even generations, ago.  Although almost nobody would consider them Fine Art (at least, not with a capital “F” and a capital “A”), some show a level of illustrative vividness—and pure-and-simple imagination and craft—one rarely finds today.  That is why I have respect both for whoever created, and whoever actually painted, those ads. I am sure those people are, unfortunately, long dead.

On the other hand, the graffiti “taggers” who painted their "signatures" on the building next door (which I wasn't able to photograph)  may be alive and well.  Perhaps they have become “legitimate” artists; perhaps they are doing things entirely unrelated to art.  Or—this being the Bronx—they also might be long dead.  Somehow it’s strange to see graffiti (at least here in New York) that seems almost as much an ancient artifact as a grotto unearthed by some construction crew building a hotel or office tower or parking lot in some city along the Mediterranean.

Speaking of history:  Believe it or not, in the Bronx, there’s a still-standing house that’s even older than this country.  This house was built sixteen years before the Declaration of Independence—and two centuries before I was born:

The Valentine-Varian  House is now home to the Museum of Bronx History.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t open when I got there.  But I’m going to make it a point to go there again soon, when it is open.

If that house is still standing—and I climbed some hills (by choice)—I feel that I can say, after all, There’s Hope!

P.S. Can you guess what this building is?

 

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: