Letters From America: Stay Or Leave

by tashmcgill | Oct 17, 2004 | Travel

Letters From America Stay Or Leave

From: Natasha McGill

Sent : Monday, 18 October 2004 5:08:14 a.m.

To : tashmcgill@maxnet.co.nz

Subject : Letters From America Stay Or Leave

Stay or Leave, I want you not to go, but you must.

Leaving Nashville was a traumatic experience! Dani and I went to Demos’ the steak and spaghetti house for dinner. It was delicious, although Americans look at me funny when I order my steak medium-rare. Weirdos. I had the most divine pepper steak in a sherry and pepper reduction, served smothered in chargrilled peppers, onions and chili. Served with a side of spaghetti alfredo.. mmm. Yummy. Although I must admit that I am hankering to get back into the kitchen myself. There is a certain sense of humility that I need to regain by preparing my own food I think.

So .. like I said leaving was traumatic. Firstly, I was scheduled to leave at 7am. That got rescheduled, and then delayed. Then I missed the connection in Washington DC because of the delay and ended up there for another few hours. Having been up at 5am to get to the airport, I was tired and sore and homesick by the time I finally arrived at my seedy little hotel on the West Side by 9pm. So I’ll be honest. Arriving in New York tired, hungry, with no idea really of where you are going, in the dark, rainy remnants of some tropical storm.. is just not a good way to start.

So I had a good cry and called Mum, who told me to buck up my courage, have a good sleep and then get out there. I called Danielle too, and said .. ‘why did I leave?’. I decided I didn’t like travelling by myself, and even the excitement of getting out into the Big Apple was not going to cut it for me. There was this weight like concrete bricks in my stomach, and the smokey, dirty, dusky smell of the joint I’m staying in was not helping. Honest to truth.. I had such a good time with my uncle and Valarie in Indianapolis, I seriously thought about just getting on a plane back there until my flight left on Monday.

I felt pretty miserable yesterday morning too, but finally decided that I just needed to get over it. So I did. A couple of phonecalls to spur me on into the day and there I was. So my seedy little dive doesn’t seem so bad in daylight.. in fact it feels super New York now. And I’m only three blocks west of Central Park, two blocks south of the subway to Midtown and Downtown, and that suits me fine.

So yesterday I fell in love with New York, uncovering her delights and treasures! Walking through the Strangers Gate off Duke Ellington Blvd I started to find my feet. There were trees and grass and birds. Hundreds of kids playing soccer and baseball, dads and kids bike riding and playing all over the place. The little hidden lakes and bridges are just as picturesque as they seem in the movies. I met a wonderful woman who walked through the park and to the Guggenheim Museum with me, and then showed me all the bus and subway routes I could be taking for the rest of my travels. She really was a bit of an angel. And now I totally understand why Central Park is regarded as the thing that makes the city livable for so many.

The Guggenheim is just stunning, as a piece of architecture alone. I happened to stumble into the opening weekend of the Aztec Empire exhibit. Which is kinda torturous, really. Because all you want to do with really really old things, is place your hands and fingertips where the centuries-gone Aztecs would have held these objects, where they would have crafted them from primitive chisel.. at least, that’s how I longed to connect. Same way with Pablo Picasso paintings. I longed to feel the rise and ridge of the paint under my fingers, emulating the way it would have felt coming off the brush.. it’s an intimate kind of a thing to see how closely involved a painter is with his work. I wasn’t the only one who lost in some trance-like admiration was moved to a tear or two.

The whole Guggenheim, bar some annexes, is a curving sloping spiral. Stunning to look at, in every direction, from the tiled circles on the floor to the ambient light from the skylight atrium. But it’s remarkably hard to feel balanced on, so whilst climbing and descending, your mind is only half on the art and displays, and half on keeping your balance.

From the Guggenheim, I caught a bus that took me all the way downtown to the South Ferry. This is the best kind of tour bus, because it only costs $2 and you brush through just about every little neighbourhood and village.. SoHo, Chinatown, Little Italy, The Financial District, just about all of Fifth Avenue, the library, more of the museums.

On just about every corner there are street vendors and newsstands, and all the I ‘heart’ NY tshirts you could dream of. Groups of people gathered on museum steps listening to beat poetry, and breakdancers in Bryant Park. The sight and colour is just amazing. So onto the Staten Island ferry I went. Staten Island you say? Well, here’s the deal.. In a city that is so full of tourists as well as actual city dwellers… I felt the need to not be one of those weirdos wearing a bumbag with a New York tshirt and a big-as camera. As with many things.. blending is the key. So I took the free Staten Island ferry that goes right past the Statue of Liberty, rather than the expensive tourist rides to Ellis Island. Sweet.

The harbour is unbelievably busy, ships, barges, ferries and cruiseships in all directions, not to mention the helicopters, going in and out from skyscraper rooftops, just like Trump Tower.

So getting back from the Island, just as the rain and dusk and dark started to set in, I jumped on the Subway, feeling like a true New Yorker as I bought my Metrocard and travelled uptown to Times Square. There I caught a movie, because I wasn’t able to get a ticket to a Broadway show. Good movie too. Then emerging after dark from the theatre.. I cruised up and down42nd street, the Broadway district, and past the broadcast homes of many tv stations etc etc.. lots of flashing lights. It’s kinda strange, because Times Square and the illustrious district around it all stops short west of 7th Avenue. There is a quad of four or five blocks west and four blocks south where there are no landmarks, or New York must-sees. It’s directly south of where I am staying, and at night you hear the sirens cutting through the smog and darkness into the distance. It’s called Hell’s Kitchen, and was kinda made notorious on a worldwide scale in a Nicolas cage movie, ‘bringing out the dead’. I imagine that it really is about as nasty as it was portrayed. All the lights and music, street performers stop, and the darkness carries on through to the Hudson.

I walked from Times Square down to Grand Central Station, which cannot be justice by my words. But it was really beautiful. The ceiling is the night sky, with constellations drawn in and lit up, the marble everywhere is stunning. Chandeliers fill the whole building with a warm, mellow light and the bars and music from the balconies make the whole experience quite enchanting. That’s something that ought to be captured in a movie.

On the way home in the subway, I came to thinking that in those moments, my world was really just as big as I could see in front of me. And that isn’t really very big at all. Maybe I was freaked out in New York, because I couldn’t see it in daylight, to understand it, or get my head around it. But I think I’ve got it now. I woke up this morning, excited and invigorated to get out into the day. And there are blue skies above me.

I walked to the Cathedral of St John the Divine, a Gothic-style building begun in the 1800’s that is still unfinished. It was glorious. The church is a vibrant part of the community, still holding worship services in the building. I like the fact that although the outside isn’t finished yet, the interior is finished just enough for them to be church, living and breathing. The gay couple who I met standing in front of the AIDS memorial were a poignant reminder of just how relevant faith and hope can be. And here I am in an internet cafe in Times Square, about to see a Broadway show. I’m going to the Lion King. Hear me Roar. But first.. I need to find a coffee.

Stay or Leave, I want not to go but I must. See you in NZ real soon.

Tash

Letters From America: Where Are You Going?

by tashmcgill | Oct 15, 2004 | Travel

Subject: Letters From America Where Are You Going?

Fri, October 15, 2004 6:31 pm

Where are you going, where do you go? Are you looking for answers, to questions under the stars? If along the way you are growing weary, you can rest with me until a brighter day.

I’m off to New York after an exciting week in Music City. It’s gorgeous here, trolling around historic sites of the Civil War, not to mention all the country music places of renown, and the heart and soul of the CCM business.

It was nice to finally see the trees and the rolling hills of Tennessee. And the actual town areas are very cool. There is lots of village life here. The local Starbucks that Danielle frequents knows her name and drink, and this morning it was made before she even ordered it. That’s community living, I tell you.

And I finally found someone who could make the closest thing to a real coffee that I’ve had here. It’s cool being the one who introduces people to the flat white.

Now, when I say civil war.. I really mean it. It appears that for the most part, the whole of Franklin is actually a historic site. That probably has something to do with the Battle of Franklin. As you walk through the streets around the centre of town, there are dozens of old brick buildings formed in classic American architecture from the 1800’s. The stately white columns against red brick, combined with seasonal fall and harvest decorations, american flags and the red and gold splendour of fall… transports you to a place decades from where we are. As you walk past home bakeries and candle stores, the scents of cinnamon and pumpkim fill the air.

It seemed appropriate to journey just outside the main village centre to the Carnton Plantation, which is one of the foremost Civil War history spots. The plantation became an impromptu sort of field hospital during the battle, with the house being filled to the brim as the fighting continued, and then the wounded spilling out onto the lawn and surrounding areas. After the war, the plantation owner and his wifer, became so concerned with the decay of the Confederate graves.. shallow dug after the battle, that they dedicated two acres of the plantation and re-interred the fallen soldiers there. They kept records that assigned each identified soldier to his state, and when we walked through the graveyard, there were still fresh flowers alongside some markers. Some now ancient ancestor is still remembered. There had just been a commemoration for the war, and so the yard was filled with state and american flags.

Simple rows of stone markers against the lush green grass, the quiet of the cemetery felt older and somehow sacred, even though it’s not my ancestry or my freedom that was fought for or against. Still makes you respect this place, because of the deep connection that they have to their history and traditions.

Anyway.. Monday, it was great to venture into downtown Nashville. More specifically, we started at Broadway with lunch at Jack’s Bar-Be-Que. According to the Texan behind me, we were lucky enough to be dining at the only place outside of Texas that really knows what Bar-Be-Que is. The guy behind the counter prided himself on correctly assessing what our menu choices would be. And so I had brisket for the first tie in my life. Served with cornbread, and your choice of cream corn, green beans, fried beans etc etc. Then a collection of barbeque sauces to choose from. I was particularly impressed with the Smokey Kansas.

To be fair, credit for the choice for lunch belongs to Michael Todd. He’s a friend from Earthsuit days, who now works for another CCM band. It was cool to catch up with him, he and Dani were great tour guides around downtown Nashville, including a saunter past legendary bars with smokey and dusty stages, where legends were discovered and still play. Also paid a visit to Gruhn Guitars, just an experience of divine measure to see so many wellcrafted instruments in one place.

Danielle’s been working during the days, so the nights have been full of catching up and hanging out. It’s been so amazing how natural the whole thing has felt. We went to see Garden State that is just too perfect for words. Can I be so bold as to say, it’s a story of emergence that could be a metaphor for society or individuals.

Also watched Spiderman 2 on the IMAX screen and thought that the cars were crashing through the screen. EEks. I’ve done the driving tour of the houses of legends, as well as refined and defined the Triple A theory of Christian Music. Look for an expansion on that any day now. And.. the guitar voyage didn’t finish just with Gruhn Vintage, but continued to he Gibson factory, as well as the Gibson Showcase bar. You can also expect a shortlist of 101 Things To Remember When Playing To A Small And Unfamiliar Crowd. I think that one of the acts we saw needs to subscribe. #9.. Never, ever, whatever may come, give the audience a chance to tell you what they really think of your efforts.

Now that it’s so close to coming home, it feels both strange and comforting to think about it. I’m thinking about my couch, and my family, both the McLeans in the Big House and Mum and Co. I’m thinking about going up north and youth group when I get back. It will be good to see friends again, and sad to say goodbye to this place. There are a dozen things that I’ve simply run out of time to do, and so the plan is just to make the best of the last few days in New York. I’m off to have an adventure in the city that doesn’t sleep.

One of the defining moments of Tennessee was the thunderstorm just two nights ago. A hot and sweltering evening, that finally broke, with lightening forking through the sky, and thunder rolling it’s baritone through the hills. I slept with my window a little open that night, and felt the cool breath of an approaching winter on my cheek. It was different to the air in Florida, that was warm and soft like pyjamas you’ve just pulled out of the dryer. Here it whispers of all the glorious celebrations to come.. Fall, celebrated by Halloween, followed by Thanksgiving, then Christmas. And after all the celebration of what has been, and thanksgiving, prayers for what is to come, then they will celebrate New Year.

People here are good at celebrating. Good at remembering all that is good and right and worthy of celebrating about the big and small moments of life. So I am savouring and celebrating cornbread, and the smell of cinnamon candles. I’m enjoying all the moments that I can, and longing that this spirit of celebration will render itself into my soul as I voyage home.

Expect an installment of the Gospel, as living in New York.

Be Well

Tash