Lady Liberty and Alicia Keys

Approaching Liberty Island from the ferryBefore ever leaving Knoxville I began mentally preparing myself for the trip to New York. I found I was not alone as it was a common topic of conversation for the Chinese exchange students.  The anticipation generated by discussion of "The Big City" was especially exciting because, like them, I had never been to Manhattan, more less the Northeast.

 

We talked of mixed media and pop culture; the movies and music reflecting the city, as well as our own expectations.  Liu, who proclaimed the English name, Chris, eventually told me that he was most excited to see Lady Liberty. "Just to see it, even from far away, that will be enough for me." I hadn't given the historical sites much thought up until that point.  America and its monuments were far more iconic than I imagined.

 

The morning of our visit, we took a ferry from Battery Park to Liberty Island.  I remember looking around as we approached The Statue of Liberty and sorting out different languages from the general chatter of the people aboard.  Each family seemed to consist of an eager child clinging to the rails and a camera-happy parent photographing the scene in stages.  I wondered what level deck Chris was on, and what he might be thinking of the ever-growing green lady in the distance.  Once on the island we were given two hours to investigate.  Most of us divided into small groups and made the journey to the base of the statue, spiraling the many flights of stairs just to stand at her feet.   Most of the visit was determined by the slow pace of the promenade and at times it seemed like circulation was the most important feature rather than observation.

 

Back at Battery Park, I found Chris and I was hoping he remembered our conversation back in Knoxville preceding the visit. Even hours after the fact, he seemed awestruck, staring across the Hudson at the statue off into the distance. He took his headphones out as I approached him. I asked what his thoughts were after experiencing The Statue of Liberty firsthand;  It was more than he imagined.  I then asked him what he was listening to.  He replied "Empire State of Mind, would you like to listen as well?"  And so we shared his headphones for the duration of the song, staring in silence at the whole skyline across the water.

Let's hear it for New York.

Go Mets! And Free Headphones!, July 22

Citi Field: NY Mets v ATL BravesThat’s right. We got free headphones for being at the Mets game and on top of that, I had concession cooked Buffalo wings for dinner and five dollar cotton candy for dessert. It was delicious. But that is not the memory. There was more to it. I remember stepping off of the subway onto an outdoor platform. Our station was outside for once and the raindrops fell thin in the air after a downpour from the clouds. It was a good feeling. The breeze was nice and the subway platform was set so high, the baseball stadium was almost at eye level from where we were. I remember making my way through the crowd, not looking back as often as I should to check if the group was still following. My head was bowed down under the hood I pulled over. The rain started again, but it only made things more fun. I remember them huddling under a small umbrella -- how slowly they still walked. I remember sitting at the baseball game, looking down at my row. Our friends were staring intently down at the field, like I first did at my first baseball game. I had no idea what was going on. But I think the saturated green of the field is enough to leave one speechless for a moment.

I remember Susanna, one of the Beijing students, asking not what inning this was or who we were playing against, but what sport this was. It was a pleasure of mine to answer her. “Baseball,” I said. But then she asked about the rules, and that was when I realized I knew no more than she did. It was all kind of a bummer. More like slap in the face. I had no answer. So instead, my first reaction was to offer her some cotton candy that was already melting on my fingers. She chuckled. It was so stupid, what my first reaction was, but funny now that I think about it. It definitely made up for the awkward silence. It was a relief to know that she liked it. I guess that was a plus.  

Breakfast, July 21

Early morning at Battery ParkI remember sitting across from Daisy at the Holiday Inn Express on Fifth Ave. It was Friday morning and she had an omelet on her plate. I remember this because I had the same thing. It was early and I felt groggy. I remember this, too, because her appearance was the exact opposite. She was smiling, thrilled to be in NY, I think. Her face lit and her hair neat. Her eyes wide but soon became quarter-moons when she fell back in her seat and laughed. I did not understand what was being said. They were speaking Chinese at the table. I must have raised an eyebrow though because she hurriedly waved her fingers at me as though signaling for me to wait for her explanation while she swallowed her food. She told me they walked to Battery Park last night, to and fro. It was a total of five hours on foot from the hotel.

My jaw dropped and my fork hung in midair. It was astonishing to me because on the itinerary for that morning, July 21, the first place listed was Battery Park. They apparently did not know this, though, until five minutes before I joined them at the table. “But that’s where we’re going in 15 minutes!” I exclaimed. “I know!” shrilled Daisy, once again throwing her head back, laughing with her mouth full.

It’s amazing, I think, to find joy in our mistakes: to be reminded that it is just another something we can put in our past and learn from. Though, because of how cheerful Daisy was when she told me what they did last night, I felt like she would do it again if she could. Daisy’s professor next to me said that they got to see the sunset in their second hour of the walk. He explained seeing the silhouette of the Statue of Liberty from beyond and how beautiful it was.

Maybe I was wrong the first time around when I called this a mistake. It was nonetheless an experience for them. Thinking back, I sort of wished I joined them on that walk. I think I would have enjoyed it a lot. Maybe next time; but this time, it was definitely fulfilling enough to see cheer and hear laughter at such an early hour. It no doubt broke through my grogginess and fueled my energy for the rest of the day.

DC Crosswalks, July 19

More than 40 seconds / DC Metro StationI remember the heat and the haze. It was like walking in an oven preheated at 350 degrees. Our Beijing girls had their umbrellas out, hiding from the sun. Some held their purses over their heads. Others, like me, walked the streets with our sunglasses on. There were 4 UT representatives guiding 28 Beijing friends. Maybe if the sun hid behind the clouds for just 30 minutes, our walk would have been better. Or maybe if we each had a cold, wet towel to throw over our heads, my frustration would have been better hidden. But there was none of that. There were only my sweaty fingers fiercely pointing towards the right direction and my eyes constantly dodging for oncoming cars. My peers and I had to keep the group together and in check. But it was hard. A group of 28 could lengthen and cover almost four blocks of DC if it wanted to: one broken link right behind the other. And that is exactly what happened. DC crosswalks were grateful enough to give us 40-60 seconds to cross an intersection. But it was clear that the Chinese used this opportunity to take pictures of the Capitol and the White House and the pigeon roosting on the nearby lamppost. I remember telling them to hurry and in response, a few of them would run. I wanted to keep this flow of runners going, but soon they would stop again to take pictures in the middle of the road. 350 degrees flew up to 500. Fallen strands of my hair stuck to the back of my neck. I was hot and furious, but they were excited. They always ran towards me smiling, high on adrenaline from almost getting hit by the car probably. As an immature photographer, I could understand, but in this heat and rush, it definitely took time. It could be thrilling sometimes, I know.

I remember sitting down with Kitty looking at these pictures later that day. Some were blurry and others were out of focus.  It was rough, but I found it all beautiful and well-captured. Kitty pointed at the screen and explained where each was taken. I wanted to shout “I know!!! I remember so clearly because there was a taxi coming at you from 8 feet away!” But nevertheless, it was a cultural collision that became a cultural interrelation. I felt joy while flipping through these pictures with her. I felt like as long as the walk may have seemed that afternoon, these pauses she captured were all well worth it. These snapshots will always remain, and the harsh heat will soon die with the season. 

Renwick Gallery, July 19

Sketch without Catherine in frameWe went to the Renwick Gallery after the Corcoran Gallery. I really do not remember the difference, except that Renwick had a grander staircase then Corcoran. It was carpeted red with a beautiful chandelier hanging down from the ceiling. These stairs led to the second floor that opened to one huge room: a gallery. I spent most of my time upstairs (that was where the benches were). Tall ceilings with wide windows and long curtains, I remember massive paintings that hung from where the ceiling met the wall. What was tickling about this gallery was the way these paintings of all different shapes and sizes were put together for display. It was almost like the arrangement of magnets placed on a fridge: with little thought and no order. I sat facing this wall about 15 feet away. In front of me there was another bench, and there sat 3 of our Beijing friends, rubbing their feet and whispering to each other. Behind them, less than a foot away from the closest painting stood Catherine. Her long hair grew longer as she looked up, probably straining her eyes to read the caption underneath one of the paintings. I did a sketch that day in the room. For the longest time, it seemed like Catherine was the only subject in the gallery moving along with the exhibit. She was really intrigued, I think, particularly with this painting of a girl with long blonde hair riding a horse.

It took me a long time to sketch that day for some reason. I remember this because I recall Hayden making a smart remark, saying that sketches should take no more than 10 minutes to complete. I rolled my eyes. Lots of time passed by the time I decided to give up on my sketch because soon it was just me and Catherine in that room. Everyone else left. She must have sensed the same thing because shortly after, she too twirled around and caught my eye. Ready to leave to go back to the hotel, I stood up and asked if she was ready to leave too. She broke eye contact and looked beyond my shoulders and to another gallery that stood behind me waiting. She mumbled softly, “We do not have paintings like this in Beijing,” and continued to walk pass me and to the next gallery. She obviously did not answer my question, I know. In fact, it was almost like she was talking to herself, zoned out into another world that art has always known to take us to. I remember cocking my head to the side in wonder… then amazement. I felt the sudden urge to stay too now. It was odd -- how quickly my mood was changed. For once on this trip, I cared less of where everyone else was at. I only knew that I wanted to be taken to the same world she was in right then.