Christmas Comes Early

I was stewing about my camera. I figured I knew exactly where it fell out of my pack -- on the Brooklyn Bridge. Or maybe in the bathroom at Battery Park (yuck). Or maybe when I was hamming it up for a photo near the East River. If I lost it at any of those locations, I knew I could write my camera's epitaph. Before doing so, I decided to call the one store I happened to step into that day -- the bike shop.

First I have to tell you how unimpressed with that bike shop Arthur and I were. We had to beg them to pump up our tires -- something they clearly hadn't done often because the "mechanic" yanked the valve right off of my bike. Then he gave Arthur a bike so small his knees hit the handlebars. And the woman who headed out just before us was back in two minutes because her bike basket had fallen off. Sigh.

I called anyway. And they had my camera! Woohoooooo! I went to pick it up yesterday and celebrated the rest of the afternoon by doing some Christmas shopping! Some people are really going to benefit from my irrational exuberance.

Here's one of the recovered photos from my camera: I am resting (in full ham mode) having ridden halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Of Shootings & Communication

The best part of yesterday was hearing my brother's voice on the phone in the evening. If I let myself think about coincidences and close calls, I won't sleep for weeks. Dan shouldn't have been in the library, but he was. There was a mix-up in the time of his meeting and that put him in the lobby of the library when the shooter came in. So there he was, shoulder to shoulder with a crazy man carrying an AK-47. And no cell phone!

Kathy, bless her heart, called early in the morning to let us know he was ok -- before we even knew about the shooting. She had already texted her kids and managed to reach me on my mobile phone. I in turn texted Tanya and the communication chain was in motion.

The news went viral on Twitter almost immediately. And it was a looooonnng time after the first tweet before the traditional news organizations picked up the story.

As the details poured in, Durf said, "You had to know it would be a math major. They're all crazy." And as my brother was hanging up last night, he said, "You had to know it would be a math major." And I'm thinking, "Gimme a break! What's wrong with math majors???"

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

As Twila mentioned, we went to Nyuck (alternate name: "The Pits") yesterday. It took a while to figure out why people live there. When Nyuckers are born, they are implanted with a chip, and an "invisible fence" circles the town. I know, it's shocking.

Well, our friend Arthur departed this morning after a week in our humble abode. Honestly, it couldn't have gone more exactly as I prophesied on 9/12 than if I had been Notre Damus himself. We did have a lot of fun. Twila and he went on several adventures, and he and I stayed up a couple of nights "chatting". Plus, the three of us went out many times. And, no, it was not exactly normal here. For one thing, I got almost no work done all week. Oh, wait - that pretty much is normal. But you know what I mean.

This morning we took Arthur to the train. He's going to Queens to spend a week with his sister, before heading back to Berkeley. We were both sad to see him go, kind of emotional, but it wasn't as bad as when Pandey left; partly because Arthur will be in spitting distance for another week, partly because California is a lot closer than India, but mostly because Arthur failed to sing to us in Hindi before he left.

Bulletin! Real life intrudes on blog.

I was planning to blog about Arthur, our guest last week, whom we saw off at the train station just a little over an hour ago. (That post will appear a bit later.) As I was sitting down to write, our phone rang. The caller was my sister-in-law, Kathy, who is married to Twila's brother, Dan. Dan is a vice-provost at the University of Texas - if you read the news, you can probably guess where this is headed, but not how close.

Kathy had just talked with Dan on the phone, and we were the first people she called, since she knows we're news hawks who would see the story as soon as it was broadcast. Dan was walking to the library this morning for a meeting with the provost. As he approached the door, a man wearing a ski mask and carrying an automatic weapon brushed past Dan. There was a guard at the library door, who looked like a deer in the headlights when he saw the gunman approaching. Fortunately, the intruder went into the library without shooting anyone. Dan told the guard to call the police.

We don't know the rest of the story yet, except for a report that the gunman shot himself.

You never know when real life is going to pop up. Very fortunately, 'life' is still the keyword, for us, at least.

Nyack (NY) vs. Pecos (TX)

Yesterday it rained all day long, so we discarded our original plans and ventured across the Tappan Zee Bridge to the village of Nyack.

On paper, Nyack has much to recommend it, so we were surprised at what we found, and now feel compelled to take on the roll of mythbusters.

1. The general area around Nyack is referred to as "The Nyacks," which conjures physical beauty, luxury, good food, beautiful beaches -- like "The Hamptons." In fact, Nyack last saw luxury in the 19th century when it was a shipbuilding hub. Now, the sad boats strewn along the marina look as though they are held together with duct tape. And Nyack became "The Nyacks" because of town infighting over taxes.

2. Nyack is most famous for a nutty 1991 court case in which a judge ruled that one of the houses in town was haunted and ordered the owner to disclose that fact to prospective buyers. Scary, no?

3. The Edward Hopper House lends the town some respectability, but a funky sign in the window pronounced the home and gallery closed.

4. The village of Nyack covers only 1.6 square miles and half of that is under water. Had we not stopped at this cool diner for lunch, we would have been done with Nyack in the blink of an eye.

Durf and I went to a town called Pecos once. It's in Texas. We agreed that it was the most pathetic town we'd ever seen. To this day, Pecos remains in our lexicon as a metaphor for...well, lots of pathetic things. You might wonder if Nyack will now supplant Pecos. The answer is no. Pecos wins. Nyack lacks the distinction of ignobility.

Completing the Loop

We only biked halfway around Manhattan the last time, so Arthur and I finished the job yesterday. Once again, we picked up our bikes in Central Park, but this time we headed toward the East River and then turned north. We cut back across the island somewhere in the middle of Harlem, wended our way to the Upper West Side and headed south along the Hudson.

Eventually, we arrived at the Brooklyn Bridge. I've been wanting to ride or walk over the BB since we arrived in NYC. Little did I know that I shared that desire with hundreds of thousands of other people, all of whom were on the bridge yesterday. But in spite of the crowd, it was an awe-inspiring experience . That's one beautiful bridge.

While circumnavigating Manhattan we came across a big fair (with carnival rides!) in Chinatown, a Muslim festival, a gay rights parade, a "Free Burma" protest, some religious nutcases in costume, and a bunch of Kooky bike riders just like us.

New York City rocks!

p.s. I would have posted some pictures, but I lost my camera. Big downer.

Zero.

It was a good play, in that the actor did a good job. I saw Mr. Mostel back in the day, but I really have little interest in him, so that was a bit of a drawback. One joke was really funny, though I'd heard it before:

A guy goes to his doctor for a physical.

DOCTOR: You're going to have to stop masturbating.

GUY: Why?

DOCTOR: Because I'm trying to examine you.

After the play I had Thai food for the first time ever, and it was good. We were served by the 2000 Olympics Thai female gymnastics team. That was good, too.

Zee

When we have visitors, we like to make them pick the play we go to -- for obvious reasons. We don't like to be held responsible for lousy soporific shows.

Arthur picked The Zero Hour, which is a play about Zero Mostel (Zee to his friends), directed by Piper Laurie. When I think about Zero Mostel, I think comedian. And that's it. Usually I don't think about him at all. When I found out he was in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, I wanted to know even less about him. I mean, look at this guy. He thinks this is funny hair!

Over the course of the evening, I discovered that Mostel was an interesting man. His enduring fame has much to do with his performance before the House Un-American Activities Committee. No doubt his best performance. But I'll have to be honest, I laughed at almost all the jokes, too.

Good job, Arthur!

Flickage.

I finally reached my ultimate goal in Skee-Ball and have stopped playing. My index finger is now thicker than my thumb.

Final Results
Score: 1,000,255
Ranking: 230

Approximate Stats
Number of games: 15,400
Number of flicks: 16,158

What am I going to do with all this free time?

AIEEEEEEE Part 2

This is your gypherophobe speaking. I've had it in my mind that I wanted to walk across the Hudson. The city of Poughkeepsie boasts a pedestrian bridge that sits 212 feet above the water and also happens to be the longest elevated pedestrian bridge (at 1.28 miles) in the world. Here's the bridge. The second photo shows the bridge in the background.




























I'm proud to report I had no difficulty with the crossing (nor did Arthur, who is not a gypherophobe). Once we got to the other side, we saw a map that suggested we could walk south for a half mile to the Mid Hudson Bridge and cross back over to Poughkeepsie. Check it out.

This one was tougher. And somewhere in the middle of the bridge (I'm not sure where because I had my eyes closed), there are some smokin' speakers and a bunch of buttons you can push. Each button blares some type of "bridge music," or sounds created by various musicians pounding on the bridge railings, or dropping BBs into the pipes or something. It was extremely cool except for the fact that the music made the bridge vibrate. I'm not kidding. Arthur wanted to take a photo of the terror on my face, but I wouldn't stand for it. This was supposed to be a proud moment!

Holy waters.

In an earlier post I mentioned that Mr. Pandey brought a bottle of Ganges River water with him to the U.S. Everywhere he travels, if he is able, he exchanges a few drops of that water with local rivers. Why? Here is the explanation in his own words:

I had brought the holy river Ganga (popularly known as Ganges the world over) water to pour into your river Hudson, Tom & Columbus and bring back the water of these rivers to pour into the Ganga so that the reflections of the holy water will go in the minds of the people of two countries cementing brotherhood between them.

AIEEEEEEE

You have not *lived* until you have bicycled down Third Avenue during rush hour, trying to take the far right lane from a city bus, or worse, a delivery truck!

I can now attest to the fact that it is NOT possible to ride around Manhattan on car-less roads and paths. Nosiree. At one point when our bike path came to yet another end, we looked at the bike map and saw that we had a "low car volume" alternative. That alternative is called FDR Drive. OMG. It's true, no commercial vehicles allowed...and the speed limit is 40mph. But two gigantic problems gave us pause: 1) there isn't a driver in New York who recognizes a speed limit under 68, and 2) FDR Drive has huge traffic volume. That's because of the scenic nature of the route. Wouldn't you just love to be a little bike toodling along in a traffic lane while NY commuters and dingy sightseers try to propel you into the East River? Yep, that was on my bucket list, too.

Truth is, we had a blast!

Playboy

There's a new playmate in town! Arthur turned up at the Tarrytown train station yesterday, having navigated from JFK by bus & train AND without a mobile phone. Who among you can do *that* in this day and age??? In the interests of full disclosure, I must reveal that he borrowed a mobile while on the train and called to report his impending arrival. But still....

Having grown up in Queens, Arthur knows his way around the city, and to prove it, he's taking me on a bike ride through Manhattan and Brooklyn today. He swears we can complete this adventure on car-free roads. Hmmmmm. The only car-free zones I've seen in Manhattan so far are Times Square and a few other similarly circumscribed plazas, so I am mildly skeptical, but eager to discover the hidden roads of NYC.

If, by some miracle, we survive, I'll report back tomorrow.

Aside: Because I'm still being questioned about the nuances of the word "pukka," I am reporting from a trusted source that the best English translation is "real." (This from my sister, Trina, who speaks Hindi far better than I.)

Ships colliding in the day.

Twila and I have gotten along wonderfully for 35 years, but that hardly means we're the same. She's highly productive with laser-like focus, while I'm generally useless but observe almost everything. We have the usual female/male thing when it comes to temperatures - she's always cold, I'm always hot. And then there's the day vs. night issue that she mentioned.

It's true that I like the night. It's quiet, cool, and most of the rest of the world is asleep. I used to stay up until at least 1 AM on a regular basis, until Twila came into my life. When she gets into bed, it's too hard to stay out of it, so in our "normal" life we usually go to bed at 9:45 PM (which is practically daytime for me), read, watch the news (I love news, but not at night), then sleep. In that life she hops gleefully out of bed between 6:00 and 6:30 AM. I was a 7:00 riser for a long time, but gradually I got to 6:30, so my coffee wouldn't get cold (yes, my wonderful wife makes coffee for me).

All of that is fine, but what's annoying is how chirpy Twila is in the mornings. After I've dragged myself out of bed, we have coffee (a TwiLatte for Twila, the best lattes EVER - I have one each week on Latte Sunday, and enjoy it greatly), eat fruit, and read newspapers - The Wall Street Journal for Twila (or New York Times on Sundays), USA Today, CNN, Washington Post, and Huffington Post for me. While I struggle to focus, Twila likes to say what a beautiful day it is and how many plans she has. And I'm like OMG! We have an agreement, built over the years, that she will keep the joy to a minimum and in return I will try to bury the gloom.

The nights are a different story. I come alive, and Twila gets uncomfortable. She *really* doesn't like nights. But we have a pleasant routine that includes watching TiVo for an hour or so, about the only time we watch TV except for the (sigh) Ten O'Clock News, then read until Mr. Sandman appears.

Getting up at 4 AM really isn't hard for me, even after I went to bed at 12:30 following the recent 49ers game on Monday Night Football. It's like night. I don't think about it, I just hop up. Going to bed at 9 PM is an entirely different story, though, and it's the most difficult part of my job. Not that I've ever actually gone to bed then. It's theoretical.

Ships Passing in the Night

I confess, I am not getting up at 4 a.m. with Durf. I am, imo, the ultimate morning person. The corollary is also true. I am most emphatically *not* a night person. In fact, I hate night, and I try my best not to be up at night. On the rare occasions I have arisen (for the day) at 4 or, god forbid, 3:30, it felt like I was up and wandering around in the middle of the night -- not early morning.

Five a.m. is just fine. That's when I get up now. Five has everything that four does not: impending light, chirping birds, newspaper at the door, and a paucity of rats, roaches, skunks, snakes and boogeymen around the trash bins.

Also, night is a time when you try not to disturb the neighbors. If I got up at 4, I'd be interested in running the vacuum cleaner by 5:30 or 6 (after coffee and newspaper). That might be dangerous. But if I get up at 5, vacuuming at 6:30 or 7 probably wouldn't be outrageous, right?

Durf always did like the graveyard shift, but not me. Too much like hanging out in a graveyard.

Playland

Yesterday I went to see how the other half of Westchester County lives. That would be the rich half. They live in Rye, NY, which sits right on Long Island Sound.

Truth is, I couldn't really tell by looking which of the numerous gigantic estates in Westchester County are most expensive. After all, many are waterfront properties facing either the Hudson or the Sound. All of the front lawns have plenty of room for croquet, and the back lawns have room enough to land a private plane.

So what makes Rye different? Ah, it must be...PLAYLAND, Westchester County's version of Coney Island. It sits on prime real estate and is home to the Dragon Coaster, a much renowned wooden roller coaster which saw its heyday in the early to mid 20th century. Here's a picture:














I figure only a super wealthy community can afford to squander such real estate (see this beautiful beach?) ...













...on an amusement park that is closed for 3/4 of the year.














Anyhow, to show you how well I fit in to this community, I'm including a self-portrait:

My Job, Part 3: My Job.

Currently I hop out of bed at 4 AM, trying not to waken Twila (impossible, but hopefully she falls quickly back to sleep), get dressed in the living room, pour a thermos of juice, and go to the lab. There I remove the hardware from the optics. The hardware is:

--- Load bars - they press the strongbacks against the optic.

--- Strongbacks - they hold the graphite spacers.

--- Guide wheels - they are on each end of the optic and have slots that the strongbacks and load bars slide into.

After I remove that crap, I check the settings on the computers, possibly adjusting them based on measurements from the day before, and then initiate 3 grinds, each of which takes 1 hour. Rough Grind 1 takes off a lot of spacer, Rough Grind 2 takes off a bit less, and Final Grind just a smidgen. During the grinds I have to pay attention to the sounds the grinds are making, as well as a couple of gauges.

At the same time, I am preparing the strongbacks for the next day. Simply, a strongback is a bar the length of the optic with a groove in it. Teflon tape is placed on the bar, covering the groove, and then a spacer is inserted into the groove. The tape prevents epoxy from getting on the strongback.

When the grinds are finished, two techs clean and inspect the optics, running precision scans to ensure that the spacers were ground to the correct height. Then they epoxy the mirror segments and new spacers (in the strongbacks) to the optic and press that all together with the the load bars. It takes several hours for the epoxy to harden. The next morning I magically appear and the process repeats.

Currently one optic is at Layer 27 and the other is at Layer 13. At about Layer 65 the number of mirror segments doubles, as does the work on that optic. I have to get the 3 grinds done before the techs arrive, but usually I finish a bit early now, so I probably won't have to go in earlier when the first optic changes. All of us are a bit anxious about the last stage, though, when both optics will have 120, rather than 60, sets of load bars and strongbacks. Probably I'll have to get up early.

Asking for Directions

I'm generally pretty good at finding my way around, but I'm also not afraid to ask for directions. Mostly I want to get where I'm going as efficiently as possible. Just as an aside, Pandey shared this attitude with me. In fact, he pressed me time and time again to ask for directions even though I told him I knew where we were going. Of course as I think back on it, he pressed me more frequently after I accidentally took him uptown on the subway instead of downtown.

Anyway, I'm noticing some regional differences in how locals respond to requests for directions. In California, anyone you ask will give you directions, even if the directions are wrong -- and they frequently are. But it's so congested in CA, you can't find these people later to berate them, and they know it.

In Colorado, nobody knows how to get where you want to go. (That might have something to do with the incredibly lame road-naming system. Think three different roads with the number 16 in the name, all within one-half mile of each other.) They tell you so and move on quickly, before you can engage them in further conversation.

Now, in New York, people *love* to give directions. If you stop your purposeful stroll and dare to look momentarily puzzled, someone will come up and ask you where you want to go. I swear. This happens to me every time I go to the city. It seems to be a matter of particular pride (as we've hinted at in earlier posts) to be expert in the arcana of the public transportation system. So if you ask someone where the nearest subway station is, he will ask where you are going and then he will tell you which side of the street and which train you need.

Interestingly, when Pandey and I got off the uptown bound train and wanted to go the other way, we stopped a suit who stood with us looking up and down the tracks, at the signs, and at the various stairways. He was stumped but he didn't want to say so. Next we stopped some dockers with the same result. Soon we had four people, all of whom agreed that there must be a way to the other side, but none could figure it out. We tried to release these guys, but eventually had to walk away from them. We struck gold with our next target (jeans). He didn't hesitate. He said, "You can't get to the other side from here. You have to exit. Then you need to go to the booth and explain what happened. If the guy's in a good mood, he'll let you in the gate. If he's not, you'll have to pay again."

Smokin'

That would be, "No smokin' in NYC." Now that tourist season is drawing to a close, Bloomberg (probably an ex-smoker) is moving his smoking ban outdoors. So, not only are smokers prohibited from fouling my lungs (and food) in restaurants, but they can no longer foul the air in such hotspots as Times Square, Central Park, Herald Square ("remember me to Herald Square" dum de dum) and, toughest of all...Coney Island.

I fully support Bloomberg's action and, really, I can't understand all the fuss and bother. Outraged smokers all over the city are asking, "If we can't smoke outside, then where *can* we smoke?" Hmmmmm. Got me there. I was going to say, "Well, duh, in your house maybe!" but then I realized that if you have children, you shouldn't smoke at home either.

There's always the Gobi Desert, at least until someone builds an amusement park nearby.

Geez, I guess I sound like one of those crazy ex-smokers.

The Times They are a-Changin'

Well, I'm no longer running at 6 in the morning. It's too dark. And having been laid out flat no fewer than four times in broad daylight, I'm wary of navigating tree roots in the dark.

Another sign that change is in the air are night temperatures, which have dropped into the 50s. We've embarked on a search for our rented blankets, which we could not bear to look at during the heat and humidity of a few weeks back.

With school back in session, the traffic has quadrupled in volume. We think twice about taking the car out these days. For example, here's the kind of thing that can happen if you do: While Pandey was here, he wanted to buy some American sneakers, so I took him to downtown White Plains. Once we hit the center of town, I became locked in a traffic jam of epic proportions. As I attempted to navigate out of the mess (with Pandey chattering happily in the seat beside me), I had intense but silent battles with the crazy unyielding drivers all around me. At one point, when I couldn't get anyone to let me over to the freeway entrance, I let loose with a loud "FUCK!" In its wake, the inside of the car went completely silent. I glanced at Pandey who was looking at me with thinly veiled horror. I think he'd never heard a woman use that word before. I apologized profusely, of course, whereupon he replied graciously, "No, no. It doesn't matter. America is very advanced in this matter."

New York City blows.

The fashion tour was a bit of a disappointment, as Twila mentioned. The little rooms were even hotter, muggier, and stuffier than she described. And they wouldn't let me try anything on. But it got kind of exciting when we left the last showroom, or whatever it was. We took the dingy elevator down to street level and noticed that it had started to rain. Geniuses that we are, we had brought umbrellas. But as we approached the door, we realized that this was no ordinary thunderstorm. The rain was coming down in tsunamis, lightning lit up everything we could see, and the thunder was deafening. Across the street hard-boiled New Yorkers were standing at the windows agape at the fury of the storm. Twila and I recently bought identical umbrellas that can handle very high winds, but it would have been folly to go outside. As we stood in the doorway, waiting, waiting for a break in the storm, the water in the street went from damp to a raging torrent several inches deep. It would have been scary if it hadn't been so fascinating.

We stayed inside watching for 15 minutes or so, then took our chances. We got wet feet, but mostly the storm had passed, and we made it to a restaurant without getting zapped, drowned, or blown away. It was only today that we read the papers and became aware just how severe a storm it really was. Now it goes on our fast-growing list of Famous New York Adventures.

Fashion

First: The Loveland fire is now 100% contained. Whew. Thanks to all of you for your moral support. With everyone else keeping an eye on the fire, I was able to keep my head under the covers until the coast was clear. Much easier that way.

And on the entertainment front: If you receive a daily newspaper, you know that this is Fashion Week in NYC. Durf and I decided we just couldn't ignore it, so we signed up for a fashion tour. We had no idea what we were getting into, but we thought we might be drinking champagne in luxury stores while models pranced around in weird outfits and fawned over us.

As it happened it was more like a frenzied shopping trip to designer "showrooms" where we were permitted to purchase goods at steep discounts. And instead of visiting big airy stores and submitting to fawning models, we found ourselves in tiny walk-up sewing rooms, trying on clothes behind sheer curtains while sweat poured from our soon-to-be stinky bodies.

On the plus side, I found some excellent clothes. As for Durf, once he realized the models would not be making an appearance, you could find him sitting on a folding chair or leaning against the wall and, you guessed it...flick, flick, flick.

Fires & Farewells

The news is looking up. The Loveland fire is 65% contained and firefighters expect to have it fully contained by Friday evening -- barring mishaps like strong winds. We have heard from friends and relatives many of whom related to us stories of the '91 Oakland fires. Interestingly, while Oakland was burning in 1991, Durf and I were hiking in the Himalayas...with Pandey.

As you undoubtedly surmised from Durf's post, we spent most of yesterday mourning Pandey's departure. Fortunately, I was swamped with work, but I did have some time to reflect on a couple of Pandey's observations and experiences.

Although he was apprehensive about visiting the U.S., his curiosity eventually won out and he scheduled a visit (after some 20 years of cajoling on my part). He said he had been reluctant because the U.S. is "too advanced." Certainly he had some anxiety about getting around, but I doubt it was a significant factor. After all, he has traveled (alone) to over 15 western countries. No, I honestly think he was worried about how he would be treated. Pandey is an extremely successful businessman, having built a big adventure travel business from the ground up. And he is a proud man. He wants to be treated with respect. That's all.

Sadly, he was somewhat justified is his fears. He related stories of his travels in New Jersey and Washington D.C. where random service providers decided he did not need service or at least did not need good service. I myself witnessed this once on the train here in New York. For the first time, while in Pandey's company, I observed gratuitous rudeness on the part of a train conductor. And it was directed at Pandey. It was disheartening, I must say.

Fortunately, those incidents were few, and Pandey left with a newfound love for "America and its wonderful people." I'm glad because that's how I feel about his country and his people.

An honorable man.

I first met C.S. Pandey in 1991 when he was the director of the first annual Himalayan Run & Trek. All 15 of us got through that event, overcoming not only the demanding course, but also broken jeep axles, the Boys' Room (think high altitude flatulence syndrome combined with Indian government sleeping bags made of crinkly plastic), no food on the first night (because of the broken axle, although stringy spaghetti finally appeared), the Rat Shit Hotel, and other logistic nightmares. Through it all, Mr. Pandey coped and persevered. Today the Run & Trek is a major event, with busloads of participants from all over the world. Thanks to the efforts of Mr. Pandey, who is still the director, all the participants have to worry about is the course.

Mr. Pandey took good care of us during that trip, solving every problem with aplomb. It was one of the greatest adventures of my life, one I will never forget, and I have always been thankful to Pandey-ji. In 1995 I traveled to India by myself to meet Twila, who had been in Amritsar for two months. Delhi can be intimidating, but Mr. Pandey had three of his people pick me up at the airport, take me to a hotel, change currency for me, and pick me up in the morning and put me on the train to Amritsar. Again I was grateful, though I didn't see Mr. Pandey on that trip. Really, I didn't know him at all. He was too busy during the Run & Trek to form anything but a cursory relationship.

Twila kept in touch with Mr. Pandey over the years, through email. Much of it was business, but they had a good rapport. We always send him our Christmas newsletter, and surely he was never forgotten. I didn't have any contact with him after the Run & Trek, however.

That changed on Sunday, when Twila met Pandey-ji in the city and brought him back to our apartment to stay for a couple of days. My first impression was that he had not changed at all. He didn't look a day older. My second thought was that his backpack was extraordinarily heavy to lug around, although Mr. Pandey's slender frame is very strong - his now-large business focuses on Himalayan adventures. Mr. Pandey had not been in NYC before, and he was traveling with only that and one smaller backpack.

Twila took Mr. Pandey to the city the next two days, and I only saw him in the mornings and evenings. I learned a lot about him, though, because he talks quite a lot. I enjoyed hearing his stories and philosophies. I learned that Pandey-ji is now a very successful businessman with connections all over the world, as well as in the Indian government. He is spiritual and devout. He had a bottle of water from the Ganges from which he poured a small amount into the Hudson, and also took some of that water to return to India. Mr. Pandey approached his New York trip with wide-eyed enthusiasm, alternating between shopping for needed items, meeting other runners from the initial Run & Trek, and taking photos of anyone who would pose for him. In our apartment he tried very hard to be unobtrusive, insisting on washing his own dishes, and drying his laundry on lines he strung in his room. We left a towel rack clear for him in the bathroom, but he didn't think he should use it, and he didn't.

We exchanged gifts. He gave us precious silk scarves from India, and we gave him a fondness for bagels, which he had never tasted. He said he might even have gained a couple of pounds, though really he ate very little.

It was endearing, and I felt an unexpected connection to him.

Life, of course, has a way of putting demands on all of us, so today Mr. Pandey is going back to his room in a YMCA in the city. He's returning to India on Friday. This morning we sat and he expressed his gratitude and affection for us, and he sang several beautiful Indian songs, explaining their meanings as he did. I really wanted to get a video of him, but thought it would be rude to get up to get my camera while he was singing. Then it was too late and he had to catch a train.

We drove Mr. Pandey to the train station. He was only slightly intimidated by traveling into New York alone, then having to find his way from Grand Central Terminal to the YMCA, something over 20 blocks away. He and I exchanged warm farewells, and then Twila walked Mr. Pandey to his train, while I tended to the car. I had almost cried while he was singing, and now it was wrenching to watch the small man with the big bags going off by himself to whatever adventures he will encounter. Now he's gone, and all I got was this lousy lump in my throat.

Travel well, Mr. Pandey.

Fires & Other Mini Disasters

It's hard not to stress a bit about the Loveland fire, but I take comfort in the fact that my neighbor is not sending me panicky emails. You all are reading the same reports we are, so you know the firefighters are "cautiously optimistic" about containment, but worried about the winds that are expected today. The fire is currently about ten miles west of our home.

In keeping with the disaster theme, Pandey and I dropped into 7 World Trade Center to visit a friend who works at Inc Magazine -- most significantly, on the 29th floor. From his conference room you can look down on the WTC site and see progress in the making. And from that vantage point, cranes seem to fade into the background and buildings rise from the soil. As of two weeks ago, there is also a stand of trees. Our friend enjoys watching the site come back to life, but laments the recent loss of his bird's eye view of the Statue of Liberty.

An aside: Yesterday, after almost three months of wandering around NYC, I had my first public transport mishap. Feeling smug about my ability to get around, I guided Pandey off the train and onto the subway. But instead of jumping on a downtown-bound train, I went uptown. By the time I figured it out we had arrived at a station with no walkway to the other side of the tracks. After some time we managed to board a train headed downtown. After several stops the train had a mechanical problem and we were unceremoniously dumped off at the same station where the entire mishap began. And now we were quite late for our appointment. Throughout this fiasco, Pandey stood by with a beatific smile on his face, assuring me that the gods would take care of us and there was no need for "upset."

Of Bagels and Art

Yesterday Pandey wanted to go to an art museum. "Your choice," he said. So I chose the Guggenheim because I figured if he didn't like the art, he might enjoy the architecture. And there's an audio tour, too, which makes the museum accessible to those of us who are not experts on art history.

Pandey went through the museum at Mach 2 and pronounced it excellent, so off we went to Central Park, where, I daresay, he felt much more in his element. We headed the wrong way around the Reservoir so that Pandey could greet each individual runner, photograph him or her and invite every last one to sign up for his run and trek expedition. Ok, he didn't do the latter, but I *know* he was thinking about it.

Because Pandey is a pukka vegetarian, it has been a challenge to feed him. Much to my horror he seems to be shrinking before my very eyes. So last night Durf found an Indian restaurant peopled by other vegetarians of the picky (Pandey's word) sort. By the way he ate, I would say the poor man was starving. On the plus side, Pandey has discovered bagels -- his new favorite food. I figure a steady diet of bagels will put some pounds on him in no time.

Durf vs. the F.B.I.

There are not many 49er games on TV in Colorado, so when we moved there I started paying DirecTV $300/yr for their NFL package. I wasn't happy about it, especially when the Niners continued to stink up the gridiron. But this year they are (were, maybe) supposed to be good, and DirecTV isn't an option in our apartment. I did a lot of searching, and finally found a place that said they broadcast NFL games live over the Internet. YAY! 100% legal, they said. So I paid $35 for a "lifetime subscription", and got ready to watch the games.

To my surprise, the quality was quite good. But after about 15 minutes, this appeared:


Oops. As I was pondering how I might get my $35 back, another site appeared, broadcasting from England. That lasted about 20 minutes before it was shut down, and so it went.

So I did get to watch most of the game. Too bad it was hardly worth watching.

Sherpas in NYC

Pandey has arrived! He stumbled off the bus from Washington D.C. with the heaviest backpack I've ever tried to lift, and then he went back for two more bags. He proudly confided to me that he's been carting these bags around the U.S. all by himself with no assistance...so it was nothing (he said) that we had to walk 1.5 miles to the train station. I was a little concerned, however, when I couldn't get him to remove his down jacket.

Don't worry. We made it. Mind you, this is a man who leads 15 Himalayan expeditions a year. He's one tough cookie.

Although Durf and I find Pandey to be seriously urbane and complex in the extreme, he invariably describes himself to others as a simple man of the Himalayas. During this, his first trip to the U.S., he has visited Newark NJ, Washington D.C., Portland OR, and now NYC. Sheesh, what a combo. He thinks Newark might be "hell on earth," mostly because he had difficulty finding a friendly person to give him directions. He loved Portland as a place of physical beauty and humble friendly people. As for NYC, it terrifies him. In fact, I'm not sure he wants to go near it. Having heard of NYC pickpockets and "trout" (?) and other unsavories, he seems most interested in finding a local Indian restaurant that will serve him pukka vegetarian food.

Stay tuned!

Back to "normal".

Step 1 was when Twila came home. That was good. Step 2 was when I went back to work, which was today. But now it ends.

When I went to India for the first time, Twila and I were participating in the first annual "Himalayan Run & Trek". There were a couple of trekkers and 13 runners, most of them invited journalists. After running over mountain and dale for 5 days, Twila finished 4th and I was 5th. We didn't do that well because we were great runners, but because we gutted it out better than the others.

The organizer and leader of the run was Mr. Pandey. On subsequent trips (individually) to India, Pandey-ji was a great help to us. When I went he sent three of his people to meet me at the airport, exchange money, get me to a hotel, and then pick me up the next morning and put me on the correct train to Amritsar. I could do that by myself now, but then it was much appreciated. Tonight Mr. Pandey is arriving in NYC, his first time here, and Twila and I are reciprocating the favors. We're happy to do it.

At the end of the week another of our friends will be arriving and spending a week here. That's kind of a long time in this little apartment, but he's a really good guy and it will be fun. But not "normal".

The other good news is that this year I don't have to pay DirecTV $300 so I can watch 49er games. Yesterday I found a place that will broadcast them over the web. I had to pay $35 for a lifetime subscription, and it isn't HD, but I am as happy as a clam.

GO NINERS!

Diversity

When we first moved to Westchester County, I confess I was delighted to find myself living once again in an ethnically diverse habitat. One of the downsides of living in CO is the homogeneity of its residents.

Soon after we moved to Tarrytown, I began running in the mornings and I immediately noticed the colorful mix of faces on the young women pushing baby carriages along the trail. Only slowly did it dawn on me that the faces in the baby carriages did not remotely match the (oh so young) faces of those pushing the carriages.

So now I know that I've been nodding to and chatting with the nannies of Westchester County. But I've started to notice something else, too. Although it appears that parents do not walk their own children, they do seem to walk their own dogs. Yep, the faces match.

Telluride Films

In response to all you film buffs out there, I will give you Tanya's and my favorite films from Telluride. First a caveat: We do not see all the films. My film watching stops at 10:30 or so. Not even Tanya can DRAG me to a later film. I need a glass of wine and a cool down before bed each night.

So.... we loved:

Of Gods and Men. It's based on a true story about French monks living in a Muslim village in N. Africa. Tanya couldn't talk for a couple of hours afterward. It's a powerful and beautiful film. Some found it languorous, but we did not.

The King's Speech. This will definitely be released in theaters and will be a giant commercial success. We loved it too. It's about King George VI (husband of the Queen Mum) and his speech therapist. Who wouldn't love a film with Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush. We sat two rows away from them and it was all I could do not to leap into Geoffrey's lap!

Never Let Me Go. Tanya and I both read and loved the book by Kazuo Ishiguro (he was at Telluride to introduce the film). I don't want to give away the plot (try not to watch trailers if you plan to see the film) but let me just say it's a Margaret Atwood-ish type story. Carey Mulligan stars so it will certain be released in the theater.

Biutiful. This film stars Javier Bardem. Those who admire him will have a hard time staying away. It's a difficult film about a single dad scraping out a living in the Spanish underworld. The director also did 21 Grams and Babel, so you get the idea. Difficult indeed, but powerful.

We also liked "The First Movie" and "The First Grader." I doubt either will hit theaters, but if they do....

Other attendees liked Carlos and 127 Hours, although a few people fainted in 127 Hours during the scene where he cuts off his own arm. We did not see those films.

And finally, we hated, hated HATED "Tabloid." Tanya got into an argument about the movie with Nicholas Palevsky. I suppose that will make you want to see it, but it pains me to think you would spend money on the film (or put money in the filmmaker's pocket).

And as for creds, Holly, last year we saw and recommended An Education, The Last Station, The Prophet, Bright Star. The first year, my favorite was I've Loved You So Long, and we also liked Waltz With Bashir. That's all I can remember right now, without a crib sheet. (Dan, can you think of any others that I recommended to you?)

So if you guys see any of this year's films, please report back!

I'm Baaaaaaack

My return to Colorado for ten days resulted in some unexpected culture shock. In contrast to New York, Colorado has beautiful mountains, lots of space, dry air, and remarkably few people. I (and you) already knew that, of course, but stepping out of teeming steaming New York and dropping into rural Loveland reminded me just what we would be giving up if we lived in NY permanently.

I had two things to do while in CO. One was to check for bear damage. The neighbors informed me that the bear was sighted only at our house -- much to their relief. And much to *my* relief, the bear seems to have fled, leaving behind a trail of extraordinarily clean plum pits. Lots and lots of plum pits. I did sleep with the windows and doors closed, though. Later I realized how utterly silly that was.

But the true purpose of my trip to CO was to embark, with Tanya, on our third pilgrimage to the Telluride Film Festival -- an otherworldly experience in an otherworldly location.

Much to Durf's relief, my return takes him off the daily-blogging hook, or so he thinks.

All quiet on the Eastern front.

Earl passed by with hardly a whimper. It didn't even get windy.

I haven't been out of the apartment in two days, except to get the mail. I'm in relaxation mode, which is kind of a preferred state. My Skee-Ball ranking is 391, and I'd like to quit, but I hate it when someone passes me. At the moment I'm studying iPhone app programming, which might be my career after NASA. And, uh, well, the weather is the best it's been here, cool with a pleasant breeze. And OMG I'm putting myself to sleep, so I guess I'd better end this post right now.

Give us this day our daily blog.

Earl is on the way, arrival time tonight, but apparently he wasn't able to keep it up. All we'll have is rain and a little wind. Nothing like Hurricane Hazel, which I experienced in Syracuse in 1954. It was the night my sister Judi was born.

I thought I'd be going to work tomorrow, but no. I'm officially on vacation for a week. Yay. It's the first time I've left work and felt sad because I'm going on vacation.

There was an article in a local paper yesterday. "The Sleepy Hollow Police Department will be stepping up efforts to curb speeding throughout the village," is how it starts. The speeding I've already mentioned. Sleepy Hollow is just north of Tarrytown. In fact, it was called North Tarrytown until about 8 years ago, when someone lost his head and renamed it. I was sorry that the article wasn't about Tarrytown speeders getting nabbed, but every little bit helps.

It turns out the SHPD just received $11,000 worth of new radar equipment. Here are some quotes from the Chief of Police. "If the speed limit is 30 miles per hour, we can't give a ticket for 31 miles an hour. It won't hold up in court. [That's good, because here I drive at 4 MPH over the speed limit, since going slower might get me shot.] "It has to be 10 miles per hour over the limit." [Whoa!] "On Broadway, 15 miles per hour. We like to give the benefit of the doubt to the person in the vehicle." [Broadway is the road I commute to work on. The speed limit is 35 for half of it, and 30 for the other half. Going 45 in a 30 MPH zone used to be grounds for loss of license, but I guess no more.]

Really, though, does something ring false here? The SHPD gets a whole bunch of new radar guns, and the Chief of Police gives an interview saying that 15 MPH over the speed limit is A-OK? I sense many dollars flowing into the Sleepy Hollow coffers. Personally, I'll be staying at the speed limit + 4 MPH.

Finally, I read The Huffington Post most days. Today there were some good videos: a guy and a woman duking it out at the U.S. Open, a girl throwing puppies into a river, and lots of people dumping on Sarah Palin. But the one that affected me most was of Kate Moss being assaulted by paparazzi at LAX. It's really freaky.

Life is boring... NOT!!!!!

I'd better clarify what I meant before I find myself in a lot of trouble. I didn't mean that life is boring when you LIVE it, I meant it's boring to other people when you TELL them about it. Heck, I think my life is exciting all the time, even when I'm going to the bathroom, but I'm certainly not going to blog about THAT! Heh, heh.

Unless there are requests. :p

Optics, Earl, Costco, PIN, & whatever.

Twila's away, and I am responsible for blogging every day. That's difficult for me, because it seems to me that much of life is boring. But I'll do my best.

At work, one of the optics is at Layer 20 and the other is at Layer 8. Tomorrow a bunch of high mucky-mucks from NASA are visiting the lab, so I hope I don't break anything. It might be fun to meet them, especially if there are astronauts, but I'll probably be done by 07:30, and I doubt they'll be there by then.

Hurricane Earl is going to bypass NYC, according to current predictions. DRAT! There will be some wind and rain here, but whoopie do.

I went to Costco today. All the stores here are full of people who are happy to get in front of you and stop moving, or to block an aisle by putting their carts crosswise across it. The last time I went to Costco I implemented a new philosophy: "If you block me, I WILL ram you." Today I rammed three carts and yelled at one woman. I think they're going to make me wear one of those bright orange vests the next time I shop there.

Finally I was paid yesterday, salary and expenses. I only get paid once a month, and I was anxious to deposit the check. I went to the ATM, but I'd forgotten my PIN. It was frustrating, especially for the people in line behind me. But since then I've found it, and tomorrow I will again attempt the deposit.

My Skee-Ball ranking is now 497, and it was a lot of work. But it has now become clear to me that I have to go under 400. And that's it.

Well, I have to put some non-perishables away. The life of a bachelor is not all fun and games, you know. :p

Huh?

Here I am, blogging, though whether it's temporary or permanent I have no idea. I'll have to ask Twila the next time I speak with her.

She's off on her annual trip to the Telluride Film Festival, which basically means she's going to sit around all day and watch movies. What a waste of time! I, however, have a plan to make good use of my time while she's gone - I'm going to drink heavily and play Skee-Ball all day.

I don't know whether most of you have heard of ROD, but all of you have experienced it. It is the "Rule Of Diabolism". Twila and I named it when we were running together all the time and noticed that if you encounter other runners, it's always on the narrowest part of the trail. ROD, of course, has many extensions. Basically it means not only that what can go wrong will go wrong, but also that it will happen at the worst possible time.

Sort of like now.

Twila left today. She's going to miss Earl (hurricane), who is scheduled to arrive Friday or so. No telling how furious he will be by then. Even worse, I get my first vacation from work starting Monday. There aren't that many vacations penciled in, and this has to happen when my dear wife is off watching movies.

Well, as I said, I have a plan.

Bears? In Loveland?

We've had reports that a large black bear has been poking around our house in Loveland (Colorado!), so I'm flying back there today to check it out. Stay tuned! Durf will blog -- temporarily or permanently -- during my absence.