Never Done: I ate Tibetan dumplings in Jackson Heights
It's not really the greatest adventure Never Done ever, but it's one of those wonderful ones that come from noticing what's special about where you are, in the moment. Here's what happened. I woke up in Karen and Andy's house in Northbrook, Illinois -- a Chicago suburb. Karen brought Josh and me to the airport. We flew home to New York -- to Laguardia. Josh and I got in a cab that dropped me in Jackson Heights, and then took Josh to Brooklyn -- with all my luggage. I was about to hop right on the subway to go to work, when I realized that I was in Jackson Heights, and hungry, and why would I ever want to go to the Upper West Side to get lunch, when I could get lunch in Jackson Heights, which is one of the most ethnically diverse neighborhoods in the country, and has an incredibly diverse array of restaurants and food trucks as well.
I do think I've changed as a result of this Never Done year, because instead of doing something safe and known, I decided to walk around the corner to Broadway and just see what was there. And what was there was a Tibetan dumpling house, and so I went in and ordered vegetable Momo. I'd never had momo, and they were absolutely delicious. I ate them as I rode the 7 train in to work -- as I thought about how much I missed Lake Michigan, and how much I loved my week away, but how good it's been for me to always try to find something to appreciate about where I am.
There's a Yiddish (Bundist) political ideology called doikayt -- hereness -- that is centered around the idea that we should fight for our rights, and for social justice, in the place in which we live -- rather than to look elsewhere (Israel, for example) for our happiness. While eating dumplings is not part of a righteous struggle for political freedom, noticing that I am in Jackson Heights, and taking the time to appreciate what is right in front of me is at least on the same spectrum as doikayt. And I even can make a case that it's a struggle for freedom -- freedom from longing for something else, and freedom from complacency and routine. Wow, I might have just convinced myself that eating dumplings is actually an act of personal liberation, rooted in Bundist ideology. Stop me before I make a case for dumplings for the Republican ticket. Can't be any worse that Bachman, Perry, and Romney!
Showing posts with label Ravinia Festival. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ravinia Festival. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
I went to Ravinia
Never Done: I went to Ravinia
When Karen invited me to visit, she actually built the invitation around Rufus Wainwright performing with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, at Ravinia. I have never been to Ravinia, although I have many friends who have played there, and certainly friends who have gone to hear music there.
It turns out to be the classiest outdoor music venue I've been at. People picnic on the lawn, under the trees, with actual little tables and tablecloths, and beautiful spreads of wine and cheese whatever else they are eating. Nobody checked our bags to keep out alcohol, because actually, you can bring in as much as you want -- as long as it's an excellent vintage and you drink it out of crystal. OK, not really, but it's sort of the feeling you get.
A diversion: I just came very close to being one of the people to go to Diner en Blanc -- Dinner in White -- a flash mob picnic dinner, where everyone wears white, and brings their own table, dishes, white tablecloth, and picnic, and gets to eat en masse at some beautiful location that is kept secret until just before hand. Due to massive technology failure (and then some pretty poor decisions that followed technology failure) I (and hundreds of other people who actually registered before other people who got in) will not be going. In fact, it was lined up to be my Never Done activity for August 25. (Now I am thinking about organizing a big counter-picnic, Diner en Jaune.) Why do I bring it up? Because Diner en Blanc is all about participants following a set of rules to create a unified aesthetic. And the people at Ravinia knew the rules of picnicking at Ravinia. These weren't people on blankets with sandwiches, no. They knew to bring a little table, and a table cloth for it. They wore pretty hats, they put out bottles of wine, silver, and sometimes even candles. It sort of reminded me of Sunday in the Park on the Island of the Grande Jatte, only different. (Ravinia is not on a river.)
We, however, didn't sit on the lawn. We had had pavilion seats -- comfy seats under an open amphitheater roof, with a view of the stage (which the lawn seats do not have.) The audience was friendly, the music was lush, the evening was still and clear, and I was with my close friends on the last night of vacation. This could be as good as it gets.
When Karen invited me to visit, she actually built the invitation around Rufus Wainwright performing with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, at Ravinia. I have never been to Ravinia, although I have many friends who have played there, and certainly friends who have gone to hear music there.
It turns out to be the classiest outdoor music venue I've been at. People picnic on the lawn, under the trees, with actual little tables and tablecloths, and beautiful spreads of wine and cheese whatever else they are eating. Nobody checked our bags to keep out alcohol, because actually, you can bring in as much as you want -- as long as it's an excellent vintage and you drink it out of crystal. OK, not really, but it's sort of the feeling you get.
A diversion: I just came very close to being one of the people to go to Diner en Blanc -- Dinner in White -- a flash mob picnic dinner, where everyone wears white, and brings their own table, dishes, white tablecloth, and picnic, and gets to eat en masse at some beautiful location that is kept secret until just before hand. Due to massive technology failure (and then some pretty poor decisions that followed technology failure) I (and hundreds of other people who actually registered before other people who got in) will not be going. In fact, it was lined up to be my Never Done activity for August 25. (Now I am thinking about organizing a big counter-picnic, Diner en Jaune.) Why do I bring it up? Because Diner en Blanc is all about participants following a set of rules to create a unified aesthetic. And the people at Ravinia knew the rules of picnicking at Ravinia. These weren't people on blankets with sandwiches, no. They knew to bring a little table, and a table cloth for it. They wore pretty hats, they put out bottles of wine, silver, and sometimes even candles. It sort of reminded me of Sunday in the Park on the Island of the Grande Jatte, only different. (Ravinia is not on a river.)
We, however, didn't sit on the lawn. We had had pavilion seats -- comfy seats under an open amphitheater roof, with a view of the stage (which the lawn seats do not have.) The audience was friendly, the music was lush, the evening was still and clear, and I was with my close friends on the last night of vacation. This could be as good as it gets.
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