Expat in New York

It's Monday, after the Veteran's Day weekend when my computer base for 45 minutes a day was closed. Yesterday, a cloudy day, I took the long subway ride to the Brooklyn Museum to see the "pre-Columbian" Inca textiles. The pieces were on exhibit in a darkened large hall with 20 foot ceilings, not an ideal way to see them, but what a syncopation of tones and designs. In the same big hall was a carved whale 19th century from a Northwest carver. Don't know why but I felt as if I were seeing a beached animal, felt unhappy. Maybe because I've been to Neah Bay where the Makah have their own museum with a context instead of the paradoxical uprooting that is the basis of what we see in a "universal" museum like the BM. On the other hand, their Ground Zero photo exhibit was very interesting, lots of photos and some drawings from earlier development of that part of the city. Now I want to go to see the docks along the East River. The Brooklyn Museum has a huge collection with only selected fine examples on display but I soaked in Mideast calligraphy, Chinese Buddhist sculpture, a Japanese contemporary ceramic piece as well as the Annie Liebowitz photo exhibit, where the viewers were right out of a Woody Allen movie. I would have given up the ghost sooner but hard rain kept me in the museum an extra hour.

Made a sudden decision to break up the return trip by getting out at Brooklyn Heights, easy to do as I have a prepaid monthlong farecard. Headed in the direction of a movie theatre, thinking I would find something to eat and I did at a dim Moroccan carryout with a few tables. The meat pie (lamb&beef mixed) in a tender crust, a cup of strong sweet mint-green tea, and a juicy baklava revived me. I thanked the waiter twice for the good food.

New Yorkers are unbelievably courteous and helpful about answereing questions like the best route from here to there or where the subway stop is. Once the question is answered, they end the interaction promptly.