New York Minutes, Vol. 9: The Deep (Fried) South

Adrian and I have just returned from our tour of the South, having eaten our way through Nashville, Memphis, Mississippi, and New Orleans, a.k.a. barbecue, deep-fried everything (including, at one upscale restaurant, the dinner rolls), and oysters.

We immersed ourselves in local culture immediately, spending our first night at the Grand Ole Opry for two-plus hours of country music, which is definitely over the FDA's recommended lifetime intake. There were little American flags on each seat when we came in; I thought they might be regular party favors as there was some serious flag-waving throughout the show (such as during Darryl Worley’s “Have You Forgotten?”: “Some say this country’s just out looking for a fight / After 9/11 man I’d have to say that’s right!”).

But during intermission we were told that we were in for a real treat: They were taping the Fox News Channel New Year’s Greetings! That night’s performers lined up facing the camera and wished Fox viewers a very Happy Republican New Year, while we cheered and waved our flags in the background. Keep an eye out for me: I’m the one holding my flag with my middle finger.

Our next stop was Memphis, where I was even more moved by Graceland than I’d been on my first visit in ’93. This was largely due to our studious preparation for the trip, which included a terrific documentary that gave me a much greater appreciation of what a revolutionary - and charming - young rocker Elvis was, and of the gradual evolution from Young Heartthrob Elvis to Sad Vegas Elvis, as opposed to the Before/After dichotomy we usually see.

But the emotional needle movement there was trivial compared to experiencing the National Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Motel, which after walking you through some our country’s darkest moments brings you to room 306, within spitting distance of the spot on the balcony where MLK was shot down. A hefty dose of Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken followed by beers and blues on Beale Street brought our spirits back.

We made the pilgrimage to Tupelo to visit Elvis’s birthplace and the diner where he used to eat as a kid. (Waitress to Adrian: “Hun, you wan' shlaw on yer samich?” “I’m terribly sorry?” Repeat.) We then joined up with the Natchez Trace, an old trail with anticlimactic historic sites (“This was once a lively trading post, now all that remains is the name”) but lovely forests and a calming speed limit.

We then spent two nights in the grand plantations of the antebellum south, and wound up with four nights in New Orleans, comparing renditions of the sazerac cocktail, touring the still-Katrina’d parts of the city, and immersing ourselves in jazz and étouffée. A typical day:

11:45am, Acme Oyster House
Bartender: Can I start you off with something to drink?
Me: Just trying to decide whether it’s too early for a beer.
Bartender: You’re in N’awlins, darlin’.
Me: Good point.

And now back home, where I fear being sucked back into a primarily virtual life. I recently launched an online forum for work, the promotion of which was my primary motivator for joining Twitter, but of course my time in the Twit-o-sphere has digressed into the extracurricular (unless Andy Borowitz has taken an interest in business and human rights).

However, in positive online news, last month I had an op-ed published, which was terribly exciting, and have continued to add to my online presence with a few other podcasts and such, all available on my work blog.

To kick off 2010: January work trips for me to Amsterdam, Berlin, and Cambridge, then another trip to Cape Canaveral to see my stepbrother off to the International Space Station right after I turn 38. I suppose after the holidays some could imagine no better birthday present than a relative getting launched into space, but we’ll be there with bells on, wishing him nothing but the best for a successful mission and safe return home.

Much holiday love to you and yours,
cb

New York Minutes, Vol. 8: The Maine Event

As compelling as Facebook can be, it lulls me into posting one-liners while neglecting these longer musings, causing my writer's brain to atrophy and banishing faithful readers to what I'm sure is a purgatory of unbearable suspense and want. (Is there an emoticon for dripping sarcasm?) I've broken free from the site's grip for long enough to compose this entry -- I hope you can break free for long enough to read and enjoy it.

Adrian and I just returned from 10 days in Maine, starting with a five-day event that convened 21 foodies with three Brooklyn chefs and a butcher for demonstrations and eating galore.

The event began with a repeat of the pig butchery demo that we attended with the same butcher in March (photos here; vegetarians beware -- or self-congratulate, whatever), with the resulting pieces comprising subsequent meals in the form of sausages, patés, rillettes, rillons, pulled pork, and other delights.

The best part of the week? This may seem an odd pick, but the (de-)crowning moment was the chicken slaughter. Not for the squeamish, hence the vodka shots we all shared before the 11.00 kick-off -- er, head-off -- but as a city kid who thought chickens grew up in styrofoam packaging (which they essentially do nowadays), I was intrigued to witness where meals really come from.

Since I know you're wondering: Yes, one chicken reacted to its decapitation by running around in circles, reminding me of a number of former colleagues. And yes, I took part in the action.

Adrian has captured the whole five days with a beautiful 39-photo album (or a subset for the time-deprived).

The rest of our time in Maine was spent eating, hiking, biking and kayaking up and down the coast. Having set this excellent precedent for extended domestic travel, we envision a December roadtrip down south, very likely to include New Orleans. Suggestions welcome.

A less bloody highlight of the past few months was a meeting of the eminent group we've convened for my work project, which was terrific for content but more importantly took place at the Sound of Music castle in Salzburg, which caused my distinguished colleagues to degenerate into skipping and singing.

I also spent a few days in Oregon with my sister, which included the Oregon Brewers Festival, Voodoo Doughnuts, and a rafting trip down the Deschutes river ably led by friends.

And of course, there were the NY Air Guitar Championships.

In case this hasn't sated your interest in All Things Me (cue dripping sarcasm again), my jobs blog has links to two recent podcasts and a profile and interview.

I'm back in a proper office, subletting from Human Rights First in the Garment District. Not as groovy as the previous space within a dumpling's throw of Chinatown, but Koreatown is just a few blocks away. Plus I get to commute on the subway once again, with all of the Metropolitan Diary-worthy eavesdropping that entails. To wit, from Thursday: "That's obviously no longer hermetically sealed."

Hope you've had a wonderful summer.

much love,
cb

New York Minutes, Vol. 7: What's on my mind?

My fellow Facebook addicts are familiar with the status update, the blank box on Facebook begging you to inform the world of your whereabouts, medical conditions, toddlers’ newest tricks, culinary experiments, or whatever else occurs to you. To wit:

Christine temporarily broke her New Year’s resolution of a no-booze January for a Brunello di Montalcino tasting, which is clearly understandable, right?
January 15

Christine decided that not drinking for all of January had too many negative externalities.
January 18

Christine is off to Canyon Ranch spa with mom & sis.
January 29

Christine just took a yoga class with Cyndi Lauper.
January 30

Christine went snowshoeing this morning (yes, with Cyndi Lauper).
February 1

Christine is really sick of Cyndi Lauper.
February 2

Christine is
February 4

Christine occasionally hits “enter” by mistake before typing anything in the status update box.
February 4

Christine is looking forward to spending her birthday on an economy flight to Johannesburg.
February 5

On my birthday I broke another New Year's resolution – to travel less – and went to South Africa with 21 of my fellow term members at the Council on Foreign Relations. We were in turns awestruck by the commitment to reconciliation of those who fought apartheid (makes you feel a little silly for begrudging the colleague who always “borrows” your post-its) and terrified by the problems the country faces - not least because they've just chosen to be led by a man who was recently cleared of corruption charges on a technicality rather than any presumption of innocence.

But my goodness, there are some amazing people doing some amazing work there... and the wine ain't bad neither.

Christine is on the $1 bus home from Boston. Oh, how far the mighty tumble.
March 20

Christine is off to Geneva for the final meeting of blihr.org.
March 29

Christine has been diverted to Montreal on the way home from Geneva, perhaps to refuel with poutine.
April 3

My travel schedule was supposed to be eased by the fact that I no longer work for Big Oil, and therefore cannot just look at my calendar upon receiving an invitation but actually have to think about whether I should make a trip, and then whether I can afford it. But there have been plenty of worthwhile events to attend, and plenty of either cheap ways to get there or people willing to fund me.

Christine fears for a country in which visiting fans are met by police at the train station to be escorted to their fenced-in area of the stadium.
April 13

And then, yes, back to the UK. Southwest England for Easter with the in-laws, Dublin to see friends and imbibe the requisite whiskey and Guinness, and London for a mix of business and pleasure.

Christine seeks 2-4 workspaces in Manhattan, able to pay rent in the form of really great company and kudos for supporting such worthwhile work.
May 4

The kind soul who was hosting my team in his groovy Soho office has had to give up his space, so we’re back on the street - or rather, back into the NYC scene of freelancers who work in coffee shops. Good thing I got a MacBook, as it’s definitely not a PC scene. (In an IBM sort of way, that is -- it’s most certainly a politically correct scene.) So if you know of anyone with space, ideally south of 23rd St…

Christine's project's new report is out!
April 30

But we roll on nonetheless, changing the world, one report at a time. (?)

On the home front, life is good, as the t-shirt says; my husband (who still actively resists Facebook, although his envy at my now being privy to the quotidian movements of his London friends might finally break him down) is still employed on Wall Street, which every day is like a little Christmas present.

As his visa is getting renewed over some indeterminate period of time this year, we’re thinking about staying in the lower 48 for vacation. We’re thinking lower 48, as I’ve been to fewer states in the southeast U.S. than I have countries in southeast Asia. Recommendations welcome.

much love,
cb

P.S. Christine requests that you don't post this to your Facebook page, as she still deludes herself into thinking that she can control with whom she shares what.

New York Minutes, Vol. 6: Feliz Año Nuevo

Greetings from our new home, a whopping six blocks away from our old home, seventeen floors above the construction site next to the Woolworth Building. The site is to become a Four Seasons Hotel – but not until the completion of the Freedom Tower, so our view north should be unobstructed for a few years to come. The week around Christmas was spent listening to the mellifluous sounds of packing tape – but all in all it went smoothly...

...hopefully indicating a trend of seamless transitions, as I finally left company payroll a few weeks ago. It's incredible how much more responsive organizations can be when you leave than when you stay: I got booted out of the e-expenses system and received my severance pay and accoutrements faster than I'd ever had an issue resolved by the company before.

A friend through work circles just moved his small consulting firm into a space that's a few sizes too big for now, so the four of us working on the UN mandate who've all been working at home will actually try sitting together for awhile.

Having people to talk to during the day other than doormen and gym staff is almost as exciting as the fact that the office itself borders Chinatown, which is a treat for all the senses. The drawback is the threat of the China Ten, the weight-gaining phenomenon I was warned about upon moving to Shanghai: like the Freshman Fifteen from college, but brought on by an abundance of dumplings and noodles rather than calzones and pizza.

Speaking of food (and when do we not, really), we just spent two weeks eating beef and empanadas in Argentina and Chile to celebrate surviving our first year of marriage. You may recall that since Adrian planned the honeymoon as a surprise last year, it was my turn – and I was SO close to pulling it off…

…But a few weeks before we left, I found myself in a rare moment of high stress, my only full week at home during the entire autumn, during which I spoke at two sessions at the annual conference of my field so it wasn’t exactly relaxing. We still hadn’t found a new apartment; I’d managed to slip out of the conference to see one that I thought might work, but Adrian didn't think he'd have time to see it the next day, so the following conversation ensued while cleaning up after a dinner party we’d hosted:

Panicked Wife: “When do you think we’re going to find a place?”
Calm Husband: “A few weeks before we have to move, I guess.”
Frustrated Wife: “When?! We can’t look at anything while we're in Argentina?!...”
Disappointed Husband: “You didn't mean to say that, did you?”
Exasperated Wife: “Say what?!...”

A moment after which Said Wife crumbled onto the floor into a little heap, and the next day dropped a few extracurricular activities and vowed not to spend as much time on the road. (No longer having a travel budget will help.)

But bless him, he did his best to forget and we had a fabulous time. A few nights in Buenos Aires; three nights in Mendoza, touring vineyards; one night at the truly spectacular Iguazu Falls, which we visited by light of the full moon; then all the way down to Ushuaia, the world's southernmost city, where after the requisite visit to the world's southernmost Irish pub we embarked on a three-night cruise that took us to Cape Horn and through the Beagle Channel and Magellan Straits.

Now, I'd never had any interest in going on a cruise, but Adrian had, so I figured this would be a good introduction – supposedly not a very cruisey cruise, and it's the only way to access Cape Horn.

But my apprehensions were vindicated when we were assigned to the table at which we would spend the next eight meals, and one of the first things the couple next to us said to the couple on their other side (thankfully) was, “Sarah Palin? I thought she was a breath of fresh air.”

So instead of meals being long leisurely affairs as one might want on vacation, we spent as little time at the table as we could while still masticating like civilized people. Luckily our waiter had us pegged and kept the Malbec flowing.

But we did get to disembark at Cape Horn, and see a glacier calving in a big way – and I nearly exploded when I spotted a pod of dolphins swimming alongside our boat.

After disembarking in Chilean Patagonia we made our way to Torres del Paine National Park where we hiked to the base of the iconic mountain peaks, then flew back to Buenos Aires before heading home. The three-hour time difference is negligible, but it was the typical 9:30pm dinnertime that it took some time to shake off.

So there you have it. I’m ready for 2009: New Year, new apartment, new haircut, new work mode, new MacBook… and yes, finally, a Facebook account. See you there – it will help distract me from my attempts at a booze-free January.

Much love,
cb

P.S. Speaking of putting 2008 behind us, one of my favorite nonprofits has been hit hard by the Madoff fallout; grateful if you might consider whether you know anyone who could support an initiative to track lawsuits against companies accused of human rights abuses.