Exploring NYC's Hidden Power: ConEd Steam Pipes - A Journey Beneath the City Streets

Dive into NYC's unseen marvel: ConEd's steam pipes. Discover the city's underground energy network creating urban steam art, transforming streets into a city sauna.

One more special post for tonight: New York’s underground steam pipes are putting on a show! Walked into an epic steam cloud today - it’s like a city sauna. The streets are calm, making it easy to admire this steamy spectacle. Con Edison’s doing its thing, creating urban steam art. #NYCSteam #CitySauna #UrbanWonders 🌆💨🔥

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Travel Postcard: That Time I Visited a Public Library in Saltillo, Mexico

In this post, I write about finding a photograph of me standing in front of a public library in Saltillo, Mexico.

Greig poses in front of a public library in the city of Saltillo in Coahuila, Mexico (c. 1998).

On a Trip to Mexico When I was Seventeen and a College Seminarian 

I am guessing my friend Tony took this photograph of me standing in front of a public library in Saltillo, Mexico, sometime in 1998 or 1999. I am about seventeen years old in this picture — and I was on a trip to Mexico with a bunch of seminarians.

Finding Old Pictures of Me (And Why I Love Libraries)

I found the photograph in a stack of pictures that I had stashed away at my mother's house in Louisiana. Armed with my photo scanner (i.e., my iPhone), I scanned the picture. At first, I had no recollection of where the picture was taken. We had gone to a few cities on this trip, having driven a van from New Orleans, Louisiana, to Laredo, Texas, to Monterrey, to Saltillo, and then to Mexico City. Was the picture taken in Mexico City? No. In Monterrey? No. After a bunch of failed internet searches, I finally found out the picture's location after stumbling upon a similar-looking building on a website dedicated to the history of Mexico via photography. Voila! It's the public library in Saltillo (located in the Mexican state of Coahuila!), La Biblioteca Publica del Estado. 

I look thrilled and content in the photograph. I am obviously excited to be standing in front of the library. Here is the library from an archival photograph I found:

La Biblioteca Publica del Estado, Coahuila, Saltillo — Image Credit: Photo archived by Gerardo Zárate 

The Symbolism of the Library (for me)

Libraries are symbolic for me — they symbolize free access to information, reading, literacy, and learning that attempt to scale above the prescription that education is fixed and only for a certain type of people. I love how the door to this library is open — adorned with Corinthian columns, another symbol — of the liberal arts — and people are seated on the steps. Libraries are public spaces, as well as places of learning and knowledge.

When you visit a new place, where do you like to go? Let me know in the comments.

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I Go Walking Often in New York City: Tunnel Portals and Asian Comfort Food

In this blog post, I reflect on the relationship between walking and wandering in the city. And how I found the East River tunnel portals in Queens.

Standing in the Hunter's Point Avenue Subway station in Long Island City, Queens

New York City is a town made for walkers. Maybe I’ve said that before — I can’t remember. But it’s what I lean on most for support — a good, healthy walk. 

In Hunter’s Point Avenue in Queens, many grungy industrial fabrications are revamped into chic habitations for the young and trendy set. Getting out of the subway, I marvel at how often I take the 7 train but never get off here. A guy compliments my glasses. “They’re from Warby Parker,” I say. “You can order them online.” I still feel like I’m in high school whenever an attractive man compliments me. After a bit of stumbling around — passing loads of runners and dog walkers — I find what I’m looking for — yay! 

One of the tunnel portals that @Amtrak and @LIRR use to go under the East River. It’s a complex network of trains and track interlocking in this area. It’s a rail fan’s compulsory visit. We ride subways and trains every day, oblivious to the painstaking labor and deliberation it takes to run everything smoothly. A job I don’t have the constitution for because I’m too much of a dreamer. The air feels crisp tonight, and I don’t feel anxious. It feels good to meander and poke about a city I’ve lived in for ten years and still find something new and unexpected. Tip — @yumpling on Vernon Boulevard is good (stupid good). 

Wire fencing keeps folks from entering the active Long Island Railroad grade-level tracks in Long Island City, Queens.

via @stonesoferasmus

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A Visit to Chicago, Illinois and a Brief Re-Encounter with a Favorite Painting at the Art Institute of Chicago

In this post, I finish a voyage on Amtrak's Empire Builder route, and stopover in Chicago for a spell where I re-encounter one of my favorite paintings of all time!

Chicago's Millenium Park Near Sunset

All masked up in Chicago, Illinois

I’m in Chicago for a brief stopover (to visit @artinstitutechi to see my favorite painting, Georges Seurat’s “Sunday on La Grande Jatte”). I’ve been traveling this month — seeing America on the backend of a global virus outbreak that shook the economy, health, and morale of people. 3.97 million people have died worldwide. On the street, people don’t wear masks, and restaurants and shops have signs that read “If you’re fully vaxxed — no mask,” and a woman on my train a couple of mornings ago wore a tee that reads “Vaccinated AF.” In museums and on buses and trains and in the post office — people don their masks. But I had breakfast this morning — and maybe 5 out of 100 people wore face coverings. And lo did I behold a ginormous pump bucket of hand sanitizer.

A Chicago straphanger rides a Red Line train

People seem ready to move and socialize. Bars and clubs have swung open their doors. Streets are closed off for pedestrian use only. Summer is in the air. A young man seated next to me on the train from Seattle tells me it’s the first time he’s left his Lincoln Park neighborhood since February of last year. But the guy is moving out big — bought himself an @amtrak USA rail pass. That ticket gets you ten legs of a 30-day journey for like four hundred bucks. Coach class, only. He grins. And shows me his itinerary. It feels good to share train travel camaraderie. And I start to dream of journeys I have yet to take. Is the Ethan Allen Express to Vermont open? When will the train travel to Canada?

One of the Art Institute's Lions

Checking Out "Sunday Afternoon"

A Red Line train approaches
the station in Chicago.

I’m also worried about @britneyspears, and I hope she and her lawyers can roll back the strictures placed on her by her conservatorship. Leave Britney alone!

Bonus points — name as many Chicago locations as you can find in my post. Go! The winner receives a free digital download about Mythology from @stonesoferasmus

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Click Here to Read Part VI

Feeling Kinda Heated in a Heatwave — A Solo Adventure to Washington State (And How I Was Almost Stuck Without a Ride at a Safeway in Monroe)

In this post, I recount moments in my solo adventure to Washington State during a historic heatwave — a brief stop in Seattle, and how I managed to get back to my hotel in Skykomish (after missing the last bus). Read on, readers!

Feeling heated in Seattle

The theme of my post is weariness. I hiked, and I walked, and I explored random parts of Seattle. Do you see the face of Greig? He’s bone-weary.

I’m not used to such locomotion. But I feel like the photographs capture the mood of the day — sultry, hot, relentless. A boy on the bus this morning played a Schecter electric guitar. And then told me a rational argument for gun ownership (although privately, I think to myself I’d never owned a firearm).

A Glorious Patch of Wild Flowers

Seattle is beautiful. I shop for groceries in the Safeway in Monroe. I miss my bus to Gold Bar — and thus miss my subsequent connection to Skykomish. It’s 10 p.m., and I’m stuck on a hot evening somewhere near Highway 2. In front of the Safeway, a gentleman has a long conversation with another guy — he looks like a professional hiker. I ask them for a ride to Skykomish. I’m lucky because one of the men lives in Sultan. And I’m given a ride back to my motel in the mountains.

At night the stars beam, and I feel restless. I consider the prospect of living in a rural area like the mountains of Washington State — “Fun to visit. But I prefer New York.” I gather my things in the motel room — today, I board the train again.

Early Evening in the Suburbs

   

Bus Stop Near Everett

Where do you think I’m going next?

Click Here to Read Part V 

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That Weekend I Stayed in a Small Mountain Town in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest (along the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington State)

In this post, I write about why fantasy for the rustic life is really a sham. I'm not made for the mountains. But I liked my visit to Skykomish, Washington.

"Sheeeeeeshhhhh!"

The Empire Builder 
passes through
Skykomish

I found a rock to sit on to do some writing. When you arrive in Skykomish, Washington — you're in the middle of the Cascades Mountains. Because a railroad tycoon by the name of Stevens, built a railroad from Spokane to the Puget Sound — the place is smack dab in the middle of train history U.S.A.

Fishbowl

By the 1890s, the United States had already built a few transcontinental railroads — thanks to the unsung contribution of cheap Chinese labor — which the government tried to put a stop to with the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Even though Washington D.C. put a smackdown on immigration from Asia, the economy begged to open more portals to the West. A direct train route to Puget Sound. Open more trans-Pacific trade. But a train through the Cascades would prove to be a more difficult challenge. The mountains are a formidable presence — up to about 4,000 feet above sea level, which for a Louisiana boy, is a lot. I'm breathing air at high altitudes, refilling my bottle with water from the Foss River. 

Shoes Made for Walking?

Loving being outdoors — but dang, it's uncharacteristically hot today — the high is 90 ° F. Even the people who live here say that’s hot. Sitting by the river — I don't jump in, but I feel the coolness of the rock, and the water is ice cold to the touch. 

What’s your favorite picture that I took?

Click Here to Read Part III

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All Aboard! The Capitol Limited is an Overnight Train between Washington, D.C. and Chicago (And Where I Hung Out with Mennonites)

In this post, I wax lyrical about the joys of long distance train travel via Amtrak. Also, I’ve started a travel log of sorts.

All who wander are not lost. If you know me you probably know I like to travel by train. It's been a bucket 🪣 list of mine to traverse the United States on every @amtrak route in the United States. 

So far, I've relegated train travel to the South and North East regions. But, hey. Now that the country is opening up a bit more after a year or more of Covid-19 restrictions, I'm venturing West — along with the Capitol Limited, to Chicago — and stay tuned; later this week, I'm boarding the scenic Empire Builder train. Yay.

And of course, I've already met some fabulous folk. Lonnie is traveling from West Virginia after spending time “with his woman,” and Burke is a college student studying Chemistry. And it appears, this morning, I've just run into a gaggle of giggling Mennonite women just outside of Toledo, Ohio. 

What should I do for my four-hour layover in Chicago? See y'all real soon, boo. Sprinkles!

Toledo, Ohio

Some Mennonite Women

Click Here to Read Part II

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Travel Diary #34598: On A Memorial Day in Oyster Bay, Nassau County on a Wet, Rainy, Cusp-of-Summer Afternoon

In this post, I recount a Memorial Day weekend outing to Oyster Bay.

It’s Memorial Day, y’all. Do you think of history when you think of Long Island? Did you know that Teddy Roosevelt, the 

26th president of the United States, was a New Yorker — and he had a Summer home in Long Island? It’s a beautiful area. And you can climb up a hill and see where he’s buried (and get a nice view of Long Island Sound). 

And we hung out in a nature preserve. OMG. I felt like a kid. Going down random trails. Even though it was rainy, it was glorious. And I cooked a whole chicken and watched Dangerous Liaisons on HBO Max — the one with Glenn Close and John Malkovich as conniving ex-lovers in nineteenth-century France. It was a fun diversion. 

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#memorialdayweekend#theodoreroosevelt #oysterbay#glenhead #glencove #locustvalley#naturehikes #honoringourheroes🇺🇸❤️💙  @stonesoferasmus @theodorerooseveltsanctuary

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All Hallows' Eve in Greenwood Cemetery and Sunset Park, Brooklyn (Special 2020 Halloween Post)

In this post, I regale you with pictures and musing from an All Hallows' Eve visit to Greenwood Cemetery and Sunset Park, Brooklyn. It was a beautiful Autumn Day and we are all cognizant of the need to physical-distance ourselves — so what better way to do that than to be outdoors in a massive cemetery?

A front lawn on a sidestreet in Sunset Park 

hosts a fortune-telling witch.

Exploring Greenwood Cemetery on All Hallows’ Eve, I scored a handful of great photographs. Located in South Brooklyn, the cemetery is one of the oldest graveyards in the city and is a site of a Revolutionary War battle. @historicgreenwood is also a National Historic Landmark. My friends John and Jennifer joined me; we also went to Sunset Park, my old neighborhood. Scarfed down a torta stuffed with spicy pork at @tacoselbronco, scored a free beer from a passerby, and watched the D train come out of the tunnel on Fourth Avenue — it was a serendipitous day.

 

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On How To Meet a Pontiff (Or, That Day I Attended a Private Audience with John Paul II)

When I was a Roman Catholic Seminarian,
and the very young age of  nineteen,
I was in a private audience with the then Pontiff
of the Roman Catholic Church, John Paul II

To say that I met and chatted with the leader of the Roman Catholic Church would be a stretch. But I did kiss his ring. And I got to see him in his private chapel and in his private library in the Vatican.

I attended a private audience with about twenty-five other people — mostly priests and seminarians. It was the year 2000—around Christmas time—and I was in Rome with other American seminarians from the American College in Leuven, Belgium (where I was a college seminarian at the Catholic University of Leuven). At the time I was studying to be a priest, and our group was invited to have a private audience. The story went that when John Paul II was a seminarian in Krakow, Poland, his seminary was suppressed by the Nazis and apparently, the American College, in Leuven, had sent over, secretly, supplies, books, and the sort, to Poland, as a sign of support and solidarity.

We were in Rome for two weeks, staying as a guests at the Pontifical North American College (located on the Janiculum hill) — but we didn't know what day our audience would happen. There are security protocols one follows when scheduled to meet the Pope. The Vatican gave a call to our group leader, a Benedictine priest named Aurelius Boberek, the night before and he then contacted us to be on the ready. We're meeting the pope! 

The Bronze Doors

The night I heard the message I had to scrap my plans for the following day. I was planning to visit the catacombs of Saint Callistus. Oh well, I thought, a papal visit trumps all of that. So we had to wake up early — to arrive at the Bronze doors of the Vatican Apostolic Palace at the crack of dawn. You enter the doors from the right colonnade in Saint Peter's Square. Once we were green-lit to proceed, we were inside the Apostolic Palace — which extends as a grand loggia, designed by the Renaissance artist Raphael. It serves as an official portal and links up with the jumble of buildings that comprise the palace.  

John Paul II had a private chapel in the papal apartments, located in the upper floors of what is officially called the Palace of Sixtus V, where he celebrated an early mass. It was so quiet when we arrived one could hear a pin drop. The Pope enters the sanctuary fully vested and he celebrated the Mass in the old Latin rite style — facing the altar (and not facing the people). I think I read one of the readings for the Mass (Or, maybe I read the intercessions. I cannot remember, exactly). So did my classmate Brent Necaise, who was a student with me — I was from Louisiana and he was from Mississippi). Afterward, the Pope's private secretary, a fellow by the name of Stanislaus Dziwisz, escorted us to the private study (or was it the library?) of the Pope. 

It was Christmas time, so in the Pope's library there was a stately Christmas tree with ornaments painted with images of John Paul II. I remember thinking that was funny for some reason. I guess if you are Pope you get used to seeing your image affixed to everything from postage stamps, money, and ornaments. I remember all of the furniture was elegant but not overstated. It was a brightly lit room. And there was a wooden barrister bookcase with nicely appointed leather-bound books. 

The Pope entered shortly after we had congregated and took a seat in a white plush chair. Everyone in our group lined up to meet him one by one, by kissing his ring, and stating our home state in the United States. When it was my turn he said softly, "Oh. The Mardi Gras," because it was announced I was a seminarian from Louisiana, and when another seminarian said he was from Kentucky he said, "Oh. Race horses." And it went like that — and each of us received a rosary and a holy card.

Standing in the antechamber to the Pope's private chapel in the Apostolic Palace, I admire Luigi Filocamo's 'Risen Christ.' Positioned third from the left of the Pope, who is seated at the center, the painting emanates the divine presence and the promise of resurrection. 

The picture I have of the event, where I am actually greeting the Pope (see above), is not the best — because it's a photo I took much later of a framed copy of the photograph that my aunt has hanging in her house in Covington, Louisiana. She was always proud of my decision to go to the Seminary — and I think she still has the picture hanging in her living room. 

Inside the Pope's private chapel in the Apostolic Palace

Stray Observations

• The bronze door to the Apostolic Palace is really cool. It's massive! A Swiss Guard stands by to protect the entrance. There is a long hallway (which, as I stated above, was designed by Raphael) and to the right an ornately designed staircase that takes you up to the levels of the Apostolic Palace.
• I remember the Pope's chapel had an image of the Polish version of the Virgin Mary — entitled Black Madonna of Częstochowa.
• John Paul II was about eighty-years old when I visited him in the Vatican and he had already been pope for about twenty-two years.
• The pope would die about five years after the above photograph was taken.
• When I was in Rome to visit the Pope, it was a hectic time for me. I was studying philosophy at the Catholic University of Leuven in Belgium — sent there on a scholarship from my home diocese in Louisiana, under the auspices of the Benedictines, of whom I was a student scholastic) and I was living at the American seminary (located at 100 Naamsestraat). We traveled to Rome and were visitors to the Pontifical North American Seminary in Rome. I was also hosting my cousin and my mother — who were in Rome at the same time as me. I was juggling doing seminary stuff, keeping up with my studies, and playing host to my visiting family. I remember it was all very hectic, very "sturm and drang"! 
• We got lost in Rome several times! The streets wend this way and that. My mother hurt her ankle because we walked so much.
• My favorite place in the Vatican is the necropolis of Saint Peter (also called "The Scavi". Buried under Saint Peter's Basilica, it is an ancient Roman cemetery. The story goes that when the Apostle Peter was crucified in the first century by the Romans, the site where the Vatican now sits was a Roman Circus. After Peter's death, nailed to an upside-down crucifix, he was hastily buried on the Vatican Hill by his friends so his body would not be pecked away by predator birds. Christians revered the site, and built a church near his grave. Hence, the reason why the Church in Rome grew up around this spot. It is possible to visit it but it takes a lot of planning and scheduling to get tickets. It's called "The Scavi Tour." You literally go underneath the ground and voilà you are suddenly in the site of the ancient cemetery. It is a bedazzling adventure, for sure.
• When in Rome — do as the Romans do and have dinner at 9:00 in the evening and a glass of red wine with a serving of very thin pizza.

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Christmas Eve Bonfire Along the Mississippi River Levee in St. James Parish, Louisiana

Along the Corps of Engineers engineered  Mississippi earthen levee stretching from Paulina, Lutcher, Gramercy to LaPlace, Louisiana folks have constructed wooden effigies which they properly light up on the evening before Christmas.

     People share stories, drink a beer, and get close to the heat. Kids run amok and adults are in a carefree mood. It’s Christmastime in Louisiana!

     Fireworks go off and the levee is set ablaze at exactly 7 o’clock on Christmas Eve.

     Standing on the slope of the earthen levee it’s possible to see the bonfires stretch out for miles.

Ten Things to Do in New Orleans for First-Time Visitors (From a Former New Orleanian)

What to do if you find yourself in New Orleans? Here are my top-ten fun things to do in the city that care forgot.

Photo by Stephen Walker on Unsplash

Since I am from the New Orleans metropolitan area, friends, co-workers, and other such folks (who have never visited the Crescent City) often ask me for my advice on things to do and places to see. Last Summer, I hosted teacher friends from China who were in town to visit and it made me think about formalizing a list for first-time visitors. So here it is!

New Orleans has been governed by the Spanish,
 the French, and the Americans in its long history.

FYI: New Orleans’s number one export other than oil is tourism. Except maybe for mid-August when even the locals complain it’s too dang hot - the city is abuzz with activity. My list just touches the tip of the NOLA iceberg. I do not even mention the numerous festivals and events that converge on the city each calendar year — Jazz Fest in May, Mardi Gras in February or March, and Southern Decadence for Labor Day — just to name a couple of popular events that pop into my head.

      Additionally, my list does not go beyond the traditional - so I don't mention trending spots or places that I have never visited. I lived in New Orleans as an adult for several years, and growing up I lived in the suburbs west and north of Lake Pontchartrain (in Saint John the Baptist and Saint Tammany Parishes, respectively). So I hope you enjoy the list and maybe you have your own contributions - which you should add in the comment section below.
Here's my unofficial list of things to do in New Orleans for first-time visitors:

Aesthetic Thursday: A Dandelion Flower Grows on the Side of the Fall River Road in the Rocky Mountain National Park

I took this photograph back in the Summer of 2008 - I had discovered this field of dandelions on the Fall River Road, a windy road in the Rocky Mountains - west of Fort Collins. I think I got a decent shot of the flower - which I can’t identify but let’s call it a Rocky Mountain Dandelion.

A lone dandelion found off the Fall River Road in the Rocky Mountain National Park, U.S.A.

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Travel Diary: Waiting for the Train in Hudson, New York

In this post, I post a video of my Mom and me waiting for the train — we saw the Adirondack pass through, and then, later, we hopped onto the Empire Service.

Waiting for a Train
Watching the New York-bound Adirondack Amtrak train load up passengers and disembark. It left us alone on the platform waiting for the Empire Service to Poughkeepsie.
Hudson, NY
Hudson boasts a small platform for Amtrack trains north of New York City. Because of its proximity to the city and to the shores of the Hudson station, the little station serves three Amtrak lines to Vermont, Montreal, Niagara Falls, and Toronto, respectively. The town itself is quaint, and it boasts a charming business district.

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Photograph: Spring Day in Philadelphia

"Around Panama Street, I Wouldn't Wonder."

A photograph in Philadelphia of decorative Crabapple trees that line the street with their purple petals.

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Photo: Buggy

I pose with a buggie next to the A train elevated line in Far Rockaway, Queens.

We call 'em buggies

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Travel Diary: Fountain Lover, 2007

Roma, Italia

Roma is a City of Fountains

Visiting Rome, I notice fountains. Lots of them. Rome is a city of fountains. Washing my face in a fountain feels refreshing. The city lends itself to wandering, to existing among its old, palatial buildings.  

It is Also a City of Squares

It is a city of squares. Of tightly winding streets that curve and turn every which way — I know because I have been lost in them. And I have gotten others lost. When you travel alone, getting lost in a city feels adventurous. Getting lost in a city with others — especially with others who expect you to know the way — is embarrassing.

It Was My Time as a Catholic Seminarian I Spent the Most Time in Rome

My mother and my first-cousin met me in Rome when I was spending the Winter there — I, along with a group of seminarians from the American College in Leuven, Belgium (where I officially was a student at the time), was staying at the North American College (near the Vatican). It is the American seminary in Rome (and at that time I was a young seminarian). We met the Pope and I spent a glorious Christmas in the Eternal City.

Getting Lost in Roma — With Others

My family was staying at a hotel on the opposite side of town from where the college is located. Since they knew I would be in town, they made travel plans to visit me. In between my duties at the seminary and so on, we met often and meandered through Rome's old, city streets. Trying to get to their hotel one evening, we were chased by Roman dogs — that was scary — and I was lost. At that time — it was 2001 — people still used paper maps to get around town. We eventually found the hotel — but for a long time we were lost, going up and down streets, as I turned the map over and over trying to get my bearings.

I am not generally good with maps — but I have learned through the years to plan a route and to follow, read, and generally be directed by signs — and with Google Maps, Apple Maps, Open Maps, and all of those nifty smartphone map apps, it is a lot easier to find one's way. 

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Picture: Looking Through the Door of a Subway Car Window on the Pelham Bay Local

I took a photograph of a subway car door's window and posted it here on my website. Check it out and read other fabulous stuff by Greig Roselli.

Greig Roselli Has a Fascination with the New York Subway

If you read this blog, you may notice that I have a certain fascination with the New York City subway. Riding the trains, one gets a glimpse into various bisections of the city that it is nearly impossible to witness in any other setting. New York City is a very segregated town — in the sense that the "haves" do not mix with the "have nots." On the subway, people are forced to commute together — so it is possible to see a stuffed shirt punching away on a laptop sitting next to a rag-a-tag homeless man asking for spare change. It is both disturbing and beautiful, both topsy-turvy and the norm. No one really expects much on a subway ride — but I swear it is the best place for writer types and artists to get a punch of inspiration. I'll just ride the subway for fun, often just staying on the train several stops after my home station — just to finish writing. That's what I'm doing now. The Six train has pulled into the Pelham Bay Park station — so it is time to go back downtown. See ya.

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The 215th Street IRT Elevated Subway Station in New York City

An Excerpt from my book of essays Things I Probably Shouldn't Have Said (And Other Faux Pas): 

Exploring the stations along the IRT Broadway line in the Northern tip of Manhattan and the Bronx, Greig Roselli's mind wanders.

Entrance to the 215th Street Elevated IRT Station in New York

     The Harlem River swallows five Manhattan city blocks. The streets are numbered up to 220th on the mainland of Manhattan, but in Marble Hill, across the Broadway Bridge, the numbers begin at 225th street, as if the river itself is a five block wide gape. I like to think of it that way, anyway; on a map, the river looks like a bluish slab of concrete anyway; or maybe there was a 222nd street in Manhattan - if there was, I wonder what it was like? Did they have bodegas and subway stations? As for 221st, 223rd, and 224th, they are gone too - kinda repositioned into some region of the Bronx or even Queens, but here in Inwood, peering over the expanse, the blocks have vanished. Maybe the civic designers marked the streets this way to note the transient nature of the island's geography. Streets that are marked now may not exist in the future, the shift of the river, or global warming climate changes, change the nature of the landscape. New York City will not be the same geographically in 2100, as it is today. Lower Manhattan, according to an exhibit, Rising Currents, currently on display at MoMA this summer, will be akin to Venice, sans the gondolas.
    My mind is on permanence and transience, as I wander the northern part of Inwood.
    The local 1 train veers off of Broadway and follows 10th avenue in Inwood.
    The els are menacingly loud. New Yorkers travel these rumbling god-trains; their appearance is a swift apparition of noise and wind. A South Ferry Bound train rumbles above of me as I walk along the tenth avenue to get a clandestine peek at the Transit Authority train yards that lie to the East of Inwood. Condominium towers lie in the Distant Bronx. From here, you can see how thin the northern tip of Manhattan island really is.

Subway Train Yard in Manhattan

  A buxom blonde woman guards the train yard gate. She catches me snapping pictures. I am surprised how politely she asks me to stop. "Sir, you can't take pictures of the trains. It's illegal." I am - for a moment - afraid a more buxom employee will appear from behind the grill and confiscate my camera, so I tuck it neatly into my pants pocket and walk on, disappointed that I cannot continue to peer into the sinuous rills of the train yard. Sometimes when I am among the tracks of mass transit, I become giddy. I am not the only one. Just last night, I was riding the Pelham Bay local towards my Queens-bound transfer on the R train. A man and his son were sitting near me and I was amused by the son, who was obviously visiting New York, because in the midst of their conversation he cries, "I love the subway." He got up from his seat and started to almost skip down the train aisle, but his father grabbed him and told him to sit down. He was greatly amused by the mechanics of the journey, repeating the words of the conductor to his father, and lovingly looking out the window into the subterranean blackness of the underground.
    The train system is infinitely fascinating (which is why I write about it). I am interested in the intersection of people and movement. The way the system moves people around; how we move around in the system; how we interact and how we are engaged. Some of us are docile travelers, hardly noticing the whir that surrounds us, but others are like the boy on the Pelham Bay local, gesticulating with the gesture of energy along with the movement of the train. He understood the mystery of the system, how it is like a cipher, something mysterious, yet so full in the midst of millions of people. The subway city as a cipher is akin to the ancient image of the labyrinth, with its routes and tunnels overlapping and turning, but never getting anywhere, only presenting choice decisions along the way.

Would you like to read more? Fetch Greig Roselli's book of essays, Things I Shouldn't Have Said (And Other Faux Pas) for more good writing, dammit.  

Image Source: © 2010 Greig Roselli

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