Sunday, September 25, 2005
Tracks, made
This morning's run was great, maybe my favorite since living here. I covered three boroughs over a distance of 15 miles--a reminder of how relatively small a region this is. Until you consider greater Long Island, it's just not all that big. Anyhow, I started in south Williamsburg, crossed the W Bridge into Manhattan, continued north along FDR for a few, then at 60th, ascended the Queensboro Bridge. I'd been wanting to experience this particular bridge for some time, but until today, hadn't known if it was even possible. (Correct me if I'm wrong, someone, but until fairly recently--1996?--it wasn't pedestrian accessible.) But it is, and I did. And geez--what a view. I ran directly over Roosevelt Island, a two-mile long stretch of land consisting of a park, a playfield, some gov't housing, and--surprise--new condos. At one time the island housed a penitentiary and several social service houses, a period during which it was actually referred to as Welfare Island.
It's so green! Unsoiled and pretty (hee, from that high up, anyway), activity here was all but nonexistant at the reasonable hour of 10:00 a.m., which gave it an exotic quality and sort of made me feel like I was spying on it. I'd love to return for a visit via the cute little tram that runs adjacent to and just above the bridge.
Astoria, Queens awaited me at the other end--and actually, Pea and I were there just yesterday for the first time. We walked up and down quiet residential streets, gawking at the absence of Jim Beam bottles and Miller cans and McDonald's wrappers by which we've come to identify our own neighborhood. We strolled past a couple of lively Greek restaurants, a great old pub, several bakeries... Then Astoria Park came into view and we were further taken. Sprawling, pleasant, clean... um, pleasant/clean until you reach the river bank, that is (see pics). I've landed on a general rule: There are a few sources of almost-natural beauty in this city, but one must never get too close. One must never approach a potential object of natural beauty w/ anything less than dulled senses. Blurred eyes, half-plugged ears/nose... Ahh, there it is. Anyhow, a place we'd consider living. Maybe.
After locating Jackson Avenue, I followed it south a ways, entered Brooklyn, and was back to my starting point w/in two minutes of my figuring. Not bad.
THE GALLERY
A zillion shards of green glass (Stella Artois?) easily outnumber plain old rocks. With each wave that gently laps the shore, a series of chimes can be heard as glass meets rock. Just goes to show, garbage can soothe, too.
How many articles of trash can you spot?
Pretty, however.
Pretty, too.
Still pretty.
Still.
