Places – Page 2 – Tanya's Travels

Flatness and Hotness

A pair of environmental consistencies remained constant throughout a recent trip to South Florida: flatness and hotness.

In the realm of the region’s civilized constructions, many cultural components of the Ft Lauderdale metro area seemed consistent, from my conditioned recognition of American consumer big-box chains (albeit built in pastel editions) to the general of pace I’d remembered of the place. Though, having resided in Northerly regions virtually my entire life, the presence of palm trees always comes as a novelty.

The calming palms weren’t the only trees that impressed me by their nature. The potted bonsai trees atop outdoor plinths at the Morikami Museum and Japanese Garden did not disappoint my expectation to stand in awe at such small-scaled specimens of organisms that are often over-towering when not maintained in miniature form. Perhaps the density enhances the inherent magnificence.

The path looping along the Morikami Museum’s lush grounds offered educational tidbits about Japanese garden models–for instance, the embracing of more nature-inspired aesthetics, as seen in the Modern Romantic Garden, as opposed to installments that fell more in accordance to traditional philosophies or rendered abstraction, like certain rock gardens.

Beyond learning what botanic species and aesthetic concepts could be successfully imported from Japanese garden culture to exist in the Floridian setting, the Morikami Museum offered the chance to see what types of reptiles and amphibians could thrive within a contained ecology as such.

Colossal koi and whiskery catfish slid throughout the water of the pond’s slimy shoal, while gliding turtles would occasionally prick their pointy snouts through the top line of murky aquatic limits.

On the land-side, four-legged, cold-blooded creatures scurried stones, soil, and brush before locating the perfect peak from which to perch.

The state’s flat surface was replete with water bodies, big and small, against horizons, a scene that was seen by standing along of circumference of the freshwater lake that the Morikami gardens looped around.

Chlorinated blue waters shimmered, surprisingly brilliantly, under the bright blue skies in a more manufactured form: a chain hotel’s onsite swimming pool back-dropped by a multistory car dealership.

What naturally came as less of a surprise was the way the Atlantic offered a saltier, splashier expanse of azure stretching far beyond the coastal limits of the locality’s (and country’s) continental bounds.

Driving, to Walk and See Michigan

Seeing the disparate sites throughout the Motor City is an adventure that requires automobile access. Appropriately enough, curious drivers who get the opportunity to site-see around Detroit can pay homage to the very spot where the model machine that made the automobile accessible to the masses was first manufactured: the Ford Piquette Avenue Plant.

The invention of the Model T was undoubtedly innovative during the early 20th Century; the classic car remains emblematic today. However, today, the building of the Ford Piquette Avenue Plant serves as a cultural relic, its historical significance explained in texts posted upon outdoor placards. The former factory is now in the midst of a vast, desolate cityscape that’s comprised of the bustling factories and inhabited houses of yesteryear. Presently, forces of gravity and decay have noticeably transformed the forlorn two-story homes while the external remnants of a giant, boxy industrial structure have become an enormous canvas for spray paint.

Some unfavorably liken the admiration of the abandoned buildings aesthetic as “ruin porn.” Voyeurs ogle over the cave-ins and collapses of formerly functioning architecture, fetishizing over the imagery of shattered glass windows or little weeds that pop out of the gritty cracks between wooden panes. Perhaps I’m myself guilty of having a peeled paint or cracked pavement fetish while scaling these exposed, vulnerable structures.

Taking a casual drive downtown isn’t something you’ll commonly hear of here in New York City. To me, the thought of heading downtown is synonymous with riding the subway. In Detroit, however, the idea of driving downtown did not sound strange at all.

We drove downtown indeed. We parallel parked on the city street to then stroll to the Renaissance Center, the ensemble of seven slick skyscrapers. We dubbed them the “Robocop towers” in reference to the film’s scenes where greedy executive leaders or flakey marketing pitchsters would schematically conjure their controlling intentions or devise outlandish outreach schemes while looking down over Detroit.

Ascending to the top floor of landmark skyscrapers is never something I do in New York (unless you count a kindergarten day-trip to the top of the World Trade Center circa late 1991). Nevertheless, I rode the elevator from the 3rd to the 72nd floor of the Renaissance Center to leisurely look out over the Detroit area.

There, the most immediate sites visible through the carousel of glass windows were Belle Isle sitting on the river, Canada stretching across the river, and the nearby sports bowl stadium where the Tigers play ball. On a greater scale, gauging the elevated panoramic scenery proved how extensively and consistently flat the landscape’s topography really was.

A more immediate component of the tower’s view, down on the 71st story, was the sets of seating arrangements and shapes that shadows formed.

The next destination was a marvel of modern ruin, the Michigan Central Train Station. Off we drove from downtown to the defunct terminal where a train has not passed in over 27 years.

Sure, I’d seen numerous depictions of the Michigan Central Train Station, in numerous photos where the shambled state of the structure was back dropped by the downtown Detroit skyline. I still wanted to see the building my very own eyes and document it with my personal devices.

We parked in front of the fenced-off former station and studied its cracked building blocks. I strolled into a nearby small garden of what looked like wheat to get a wider perspective. Cicadas buzzed eerily as the garden’s stalks whipped and rolled with the breeze. I paced through the path of gaps that divided the patches, but failed, after several attempts, to capture a quality shot.

That night, we partook in a quintessential American car-centric entertainment activity, in driving to the suburban city Dearborn, Michigan, and parking in drive-in theater to watch a mainstream movie.

Since Michigan is a big place that of course means there is more to drive through than just the Detroit metro area. So, we ventured off to Grand Rapids, the state’s second biggest city, then to Holland, a quaint, semi-touristic village lined with candy stores and other gift shops. We then traveled as far west as we could possibly reach in the bounds of the state’s Lower Peninsula. We parked. We walked down a dune, strolled across the beach stretch, sat upon the sand, and then swam into to the great Lake Michigan.

While retreating back to the Detroit area, we stopped in Ann Arbor for lunch, a Michigan city I was admittedly ignorant of except for knowing that’s where Iggy Pop was from. Ann Arbor turned out a pleasant college town that reminded me of several I’d seen (like Eugene and Ithaca) with similar commercial establishments (like local health food stores and book shops).

My favorite part of Ann Arbor wasn’t the eating or shopping, but the tubing and boating. I did neither of these activities, but partook in wading the shallow river while more equipped visitors floated by in tubes or boats.

Naturally, the car was necessary throughout the trip, but the best and most unexpected parts of it took place on foot, after parking.

Detroit and Independence Day

I’d heard a lot about the place but never been. As such, this year’s July 4th weekend ended up being the perfect time to finally go into and around Detroit.

First thing’s first on a national holiday weekend, and that’s entertainment. At mid-day on the Friday before Independence Day, the best entertainment around Farmington Hills, Michigan, is found at Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Museum. Tucked in the back part of a suburban stripmall, this hokey enclave is stocked with all sorts of coin-operated arcade games, mechanical puppet ensembles, and animatronic fortune-telling figures that have no reservations calling you dumb (or even a schmuck). Naturally, the kistch Marvin has collected and curated is superb.

Belle Isle, the recreational river island park between the US and Canada, was the next destination for Independence Day eve. The onsite Conservatory proved largely green and leafy within its Tropical House–but also detailed in a floral manner, with orchids, and with a fruity touch, with pineapples.

Appropriately, the Fernery section was replete with ferns, while the Cactus House was more arid in atmosphere and (often) spiky on its plants’ surfaces.

Because the Detroit Institute of Arts is currently featuring Frida Kahlo’s art, the Conservatory placed placards by select flora to indicate which plants were native to Mexico.

Belle Isle proved an easy-going place to tour. While there, we also visited its aquarium and nature zoo, then walked down a long dock and passed by a small beach. Additionally, the island was a pleasant vantage point to observe the urban skyscrapers.

On the actual day of July 4th, we decided that Greenfield Village, an outdoor museum complex full of historical structures (many of which were collected by Henry Ford), was the best spot to pay homage to American heritage. Greenville Village hosts attractions like the house where Wright brothers grew up and the bicycle shop where they worked.

Hailing from 17th Century Cape Cod, Farris Mill, what is said to be America’s oldest windmill, now stands mightily at Greenfield Village.

The upper level of Thomas Edison’s Menlo Park laboratory offers quite the cornucopia of jarred chemicals. Except apparently a number of scientific materials were confiscated for being unsafe several decades ago, so a decent deal of empty glass bottles remain on the shelves. The days of freely tinkering with mercury are long gone.

Such was the case in Greenfield Village’s tintype studio. Tintypes were a photographic medium that were popular prior to film, and mercury was used to develop images. While the onsite darkroom is no longer functional, present-day visitors are still welcome to sit in the spot where sitters of days past sat, sunned by the ethereal rays of natural lights, to have their digital portraits instantly taken.

The night of July 4th we spent cruising through town, eventually parking the car and walking to a lawn that surrounded a suburban shopping plaza’s parking lot in time to see the fireworks show. Traditions are traditions, and it’s comforting to learn that one like colorful explosives in the night sky is preserved across the different states.

For the 5th, we visited the city’s Midtown district to go to the Detroit Institute of Arts. While we didn’t make the Frida Kahlo/Diego Rivera special show due to long waiting times and frightful lines, we did check out the latter artist’s permanent murals that he painted around the Rivera Court.

The settings were crowded, but museum patrons could still hone in on the infinite details that comprised these massive works, be it managers’ greedy facial expressions or fiery backdrops of industrial production.

From cruising across the multi-lane highway roads to walking through the preserved domestic settings of domestic inventors to sampling bits of of foreign culture, the Detroit metro area ended up being a region that was full of educational opportunities and American representation.

Minor Water Bodies

At times, ordinary household objects are taken out of their context, where they look deliberately removed. For instance, a small coffee pot I purchased at a Halal supermarket in Bay Ridge looks entirely different along the perimeter of a campfire bed. Perhaps the novelty of the vessel’s removed presentation makes it look even more attractive than when placed atop a domestic stove top.

Alas, a natural pond looks different from whatever micro pond a faucet may create in a kitchen.

The first use this tent received was to keep us high and dry in the Catskill Mountains, in an area close to Livingston Manor, NY.

Water flowed around the field.

Removed from distractions of society, aquatic motion is always a go-to for nature’s entertainment.

Though, when more water fell from the sky, that’s a different story.

Out of the woods we fled, another water universe we found: a fish hatchery. It might be hard to see in this photo, but the image placed on the truck was meant to promote tours by writing “Fish are Photogenic”. I wonder what the fish would think.

Off to another camping spot, we purchased a gallon of water to avoid the iodine process the adjacent stream would require.

Though the stream’s water appeared to offer its own feedings for local life forms.

Costa Rica: Town, Cloud Forest and Volcano

The small town of Bagaces, Costa Rica, is a pleasantly relaxed place.

However, try not to get stuck there on Good Friday. It’s a major holiday, making the buses few and far between. Scant travel options was something we discovered that very day, by waiting on at the edge of town for several hours in the heat. I did not take a photo there, as it was nothing to see, but we got to know a street-side bus stop quite well. Finally, we crossed the street and hailed down a bus going the opposite direction, just to get out of Bagaces. The driver overcharged us because he could see our desperation and we ended up in the city of Liberia.

Upon entrance to the bus terminal in Liberia, we were hot, sweaty, disgruntled, and wanted to get out. A bus was leaving soon enough for Playas del Cocos, a destination of which we had no knowledge, but decided to take a chance.

And it wasn’t so bad.

We met a man from Montreal who relocated to Cocos and ran a Lebanese food stand in town. He instructed us to walk along the rock formations to a secluded white-sand area. There we went very early in the morning.

Though it was an enjoyable, spontaneous time, Playas los Cocos is not somewhere I’d recommend ending up on Good Friday, either. It’s apparently a huge vacation spot for people who live in Costa Rica, which is fun and festive, but accommodations are scarce and prices are inflated.

At least the place we stayed had a cat, Cleopatra.

The place we stayed at in Monteverde the next night was more worth it–given this was the view outside the balcony. At night, I even noticed an armadillo scrambling around the ground.

Of course it’s not about just staying at the that’s not the best open view of the trees.

Naturally, climbing up into the hills to watch the sunset is more worthwhile than hanging at the guest house.

Some of the establishments, like this art camp, display intriguing little structures that play on capabilities of human creativity with nature. Like this gazebo, which resembles trees, and is made out of trees.

Even better, of course, are trees that haven’t been re-appropriated to show trees. At the Tropical Cloud Forest, life is abundant, but sometimes difficult to notice in the lush density of flora.

Look up, and it’s the same tangled case.

Note: watch out for Spider Monkeys atop. They tend to throw down strange items when they are eating.

Or, for falling trees.

At a mountain in the clouds, elevated water vapor must go through a physical reaction, thus fall, at some point.

After Monteverde, we journeyed by van to boat to van to La Fortuna.

Finally in La Fortuna, several journeys presented themselves within, for instance, upwards on a volcano.

Some of the mud was rather clay-like.

This part was through pasture lands lined by flowery bushes, with cows grazing and butterflies flapping throughout. Occasionally, we’d pause by a guided tour group observing intriguing cases of ecological niche phenomena to listen in on some information–such as ants carrying pieces of leaves or flowers to create fungal concoctions for their colonies’ functions.

That open part was steep, but the real challenge came up the muddy, more root-covered area toward the top.

Then it was a toppling time down.

Costa Rica: City, Felines and Dryness

Starting in San Jose, Costa Rica, the nicest part I noticed during the brief overnight-to-morning stay was the view outside the downtown hotel balcony.

Hence, the only pictures there.

After snapping the visual evidence above, it was time to scramble around to locate a bus-through mazes of different companies’ terminals-and journey elsewhere. Specifically, to Canas.

Being in Costa Rica, first thing’s first: Big Cats.

At Las Pumas, the staff cares for assorted rescue animals. This jaguarundi, they wrote, had deformed legs so she could not live in the wild. Her friend was a three-legged Jaguarundi who got that way because she got caught in a trap trying to hunt chickens.

Ronia, the margay (who is a bit hard to see in this image) lives at Las Pumas because some people tried to keep her as a pet. Not an appropriate domestic cat, but so small and cute you could see why someone would attempt at such. She jumps very high distances like it’s nothing.

Next stop was Palo Verde.

It was described as a tropical dry forest with lots of migratory birds. Tropical dry forest, yes: hot, arid, and replete with flora. The anticipated abundance of avian fauna wasn’t as present as expected, though.

Many of these friendly mammals were present throughout the forest and dwelling area. We also saw some monkeys here and there; no felidae were spotted, but since we’d visited Las Pumas before, my desire was appeased.

Ascending the hot, dry, rocky cliffs could get quite brutal, but vast views made the journey worthwhile.

Plus, flatter, lower areas, offered opportunities to refreshingly dry off in the wind.

Snowy Walks

Residual snow is pleasant up the hills, on a leisurely Sunday.

Especially when the air is well above freezing, while the snow has yet to melt.

So you can stroll around to enjoy the scenery up close…

…and in the distance.

However, incoming snow can be stressful, in the city, on a routine Monday.

Especially when modes of transportation are affected.

Something about walking around in the grey slush doesn’t feel quite so serene like hiking through white snow in the woods.

At least some scenery is pleasing in the distance, when you can look up from the dingy puddles and piles that accumulate by the curbs.

Prospect Park Zoo & Lakes

The main reason I visited the Prospect Park Zoo on my day off was to see the Pallas Cat, a species which hails from Central Asia. Cute, fluffy and small, its accompanying descriptions had to reinforce the fact that the breed is far from a domestic cat, and definitely a wild one — but I still admired the seemingly pensive feline, and its wise stares, nonetheless.

I made some new friends, though, with the more domesticated creatures. Although I think this one’s love is conditional, based on the presence of goat feed in my hand.

Not all attempts at friendships worked.

But you can still admire a peacock’s color scheme regardless of your personal encounter.

This one is a type of pigeon that dwells in the tropics. Perhaps they placed him there to provide viewers perspective on the common urban pigeons we see here.

Red panda, startled.

Out of the zoo and near the Audubon Center, branches made interesting formations in the water.

If the melting ice and cold weather weren’t telling enough, park keepers make sure to float buoys in the water to tell you not to enter the wintry lake.

At least pedestrian bridges were erected in the 1800’s to solve that problem.

Museums and Parks’ Perspectives

Don’t feel like actually traveling all around the five boroughs to get your sense of New York City geography?

The Queens Museum offers the condensed, climate-controlled answer. They’ve recently reopened, and fortunately, retained main spectacle of this comprehensive 3-D map.

Of course, they’ve taken efforts to keep the institute current, such as displaying modern living arrangements for anthropomorphic cheese graters.

It was quite the worldly experience.

Hiking, I approached this cave to observe what looked like upside-down ice stalactites. Not exactly sure how they formed, but I would estimate there being some kind of repetitive drip from a just-above-freezing melt — that turned freezing soon enough.

This ice formation was last week so it’s probably all melted by now…

Elevated heights offer fine vantage-points of the Hudson River, partially frozen.

Not to mention Indian Point Power Plant.

Bare deciduous plants this time of year definitely offer enhanced visibility of what’s beyond.

And look interesting up close and personal.

The Museum of Art and Design is currently displaying a 3-D printing expo.

I had been unaware of this previously, but ceramics are now printable.

Around in Autumn

Sometimes, you can forget simple things — like how the 7 train runs express.

On a cloudy October evening, I made this mistake myself, and ended up in Woodside, Queens, rather than the intended Sunnyside, where, en route of my unintentional backtracking transfer, caught glimpse of the Long Island Railroad Tracks. While waiting the arrival of a Manhattan-bound local train, I witnessed below a separate commuter rail network that was transporting passengers greater distances than my meager cross-Queens journey.

And because of the Woodside stop’s proximity to LaGuardia Airport, I was also able to view another vessel overhead, transporting passengers much longer distances than around the immediate New York area, from wherever that may be.

The following day, while exploring the wetlands of Staten Island, I caught a fuzzy view of the Goethals Bridge into New Jersey, packed with slowly-moving automobiles, perhaps en course of courageous journeys, or, most likely, en route of some usual stroke of life or commercial activity.

Beyond those Staten Island wetlands, did not embark on any serious journeys that day, and eventually returned to my neighborhood, where, the only unusual thing I noticed was the discarded sushi on the sidewalk.

Out at the Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn, you can observe graves, tombs, hills, paths, trees, and, depending on location, local water bodies or semi-distant skylines.

Up and away from the city’s upwardly stacking financial, commercial and residential skylines exists a far more peaceful place, Harriman State Park, where plant life is far more abundant.

To take yourself upward (without any constructed stairs or engineered elevators) you can scramble through the rock formations littered with crunchy, fallen leaves.

After climbing to top heights of the hill to an open-air clearing, you can see further beyond, off into the other highlands and lowlands of deciduous plant life, a sight, which, in mid-October, offers a fine collage of shades.

Closer into the accessible entities of the regional plant life, you can gauge your environmental education to estimate whether a designated specimen is a shrub start or wilted flower — but then realize how you lack substantial knowledge on the surrounding flora whose aesthetic pleases you so.

As autumn will ultimately turn winter, and you prepare to hibernate, you must make sure to stock up on as much seasonal offering that is at hand. For instance, as many gallons of apple cider as your trunk can fit (adjacent to its resident furniture and linens).