Travel Arts Syndicate

July 4 on Liberty Island

2013-07-06T07:52:00.002-04:00

On July 4, 2013 under skies that wavered between ominous clouds and scorchingly bright sun, an estimated 20,000 people visited Liberty Island to get close to the Statue of Liberty. The “Mother of Exiles," as Emma Lazarus called her, was unscathed by Superstorm Sandy, but almost everything around her was demolished by the water that surged through New York harbor on Oct. 29, 2012. For eight months, Liberty Island was closed to the public.

Crews worked around the clock for three months to get the island ready to reopen. The work still isn’t finished, but at least the electricity is back, 53,000 pavers have been installed to create new pathways, the docks are once again intact.

"Lady Liberty has been a beacon of hope for 127 years," said U.S. Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell at the reopening ceremonies. “We have created the most welcoming and open society on the planet – one that thrives in its diversity, one that breeds innovation and opportunity that is the envy of the world."

People from all over the world were on Liberty Island on opening day, gazing at the statue’s handsome face and posing for photos at her feet. The sun was blazingly hot, popsicles cost $4 each, the lines for the ferries to Battery Park in Manhattan and Liberty State Park in New Jersey were long — but it didn’t matter. It was a glorious day.

Statue Cruises runs the ferries to Liberty Island. Get tickets in advance at www.statuecruises.com. Adults, $17; seniors 62+, $14; children 4 to 12, $9; under 4 – free. Ticket prices include an audio tour, available in Arabic, English, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Mandarin, Russian and Spanish. If you wish to visit the crown, tickets are $3 more each. Ferries run every 15 minutes. The first departure is at 8:30 a.m. and the last return trip leaves Liberty Island at 6:15 p.m.

Terese

Get a Jump on Springtime at the Philadelphia Flower Show

2013-03-03T04:11:00.001-05:00

Since 1829, the Philadelphia Flower Show has been an antidote to the winter doldrums. This year, the largest indoor flower show in the world opened to the public on March 2 at the Pennsylvania Convention Center in Philadelphia.

The main part of the show covers 10 acres. In addition, there are satellite exhibits — 33 acres worth in all.

Produced by the renowned Pennsylvania Horticultural Society with a different theme each year, the current show celebrates the landscapes and cultural icons of Great Britain. Visitors enter the exhibition through massive gates made of flowers surmounted by a floral crown. The centerpiece of the exhibition is a reproduction of Big Ben that serves as a screen every half hour for a light and sound show.

"London Fog," an exhibit at the Philadelphia Flower Show,
recalls London weather with umbrellas and clouds of mist.

Among the British-themed tableaux are a dining table set for the Mad Hatter's tea party, photographs of the royal family paired with hats made of flowers, ball gowns decorated with flowers, a picturesque potting shed and garden path and a cricket green. One exhibit, called "London Fog," is constructed of umbrellas and flowers suspended over a reflecting pool that sends up clouds of mist.

Clivia originated in the southern part of Africa.
(Photos: Terese Loeb Kreuzer)

In addition, there are hundreds of exhibitors who bring their prized plants to the show to be judged by experts from all over the world. There are spectacular epiphytes that grow on trees in the jungles of Argentina and Brazil, absorbing their nourishment from the air; there are succulents from South Africa, tables of orchids, cacti of all descriptions, enormous philodendrons with perfectly formed leaves, pots of tulips in a dazzling array of colors, cases of miniature bonsai trees that have been nurtured and trained for decades.

Botanical illustrators demonstrate their craft. A vertical garden of kale and collards exemplifies how urban gardeners can produce food in small spaces. Experts including Mark Lane, the Gardens Manager for the Royal Household, give free lectures daily on everything from green walls and green roofs, to ornamental gardens and edible landscapes, to tree and lawn care.

Gardening tools and decorative artifacts for the garden are for sale as are scarves, hand-embroidered pillows, bone china, teas, soaps, aprons, hats, and toys.

The show closes on March 10 but there's always next year. Plans are already in the works for "Articulture," which will explore the ways in which horticulture has influenced painters and sculptors and vice versa. For this show, the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society will collaborate with some of Philadelphia's museums.

For tickets and more information, go to www.theflowershow.com/

Terese

Mystic Seaport's Gerda III

2012-10-11T07:38:00.001-04:00

Tied to a dock at the Mystic Seaport in Connecticut a small, white lighthouse tender sports a huge Danish flag on its stern. The little boat, the Gerda III, belongs to the Museum of Jewish Heritage: A Living Memorial to the Holocaust in Manhattan’s Battery Park City. It was given to the museum by the Danish parliament in recognition of what the Gerda III and its crew did in October 1943 when Germans attempted to round up the Jewish population of Denmark for extermination.

Over a period of several weeks, the 46-foot-long Gerda III made numerous trips across the sound that separates Copenhagen, Denmark from Sweden, each time with 10 to 15 Jews packed into its tiny hold. In Sweden, which was neutral, the Jews were safe from Hitler’s Nazis. The little ship and its brave crew saved 300 lives.

Almost 70 years have passed since then, but the story of the rescuers and the rescued remains as gripping as it was when it happened.

In 1943, there were 7,500 Jews living in Denmark. Germany had occupied Denmark since April 1940, but the Danes had been allowed to continue their government with little interference. Jewish life also went on as it had before. Danish Jews continued to hold religious services and retained their businesses and their property.

On Sept. 29, 1943, that changed. The day before, a senior German official, G. F. Duckwitz, had quietly alerted some senior members of the Danish government that the Jews were going to be rounded up and sent to concentration camps beginning on Oct. 1. The Danish officials contacted the heads of the Jewish community and told them to urge everyone to flee. Danes — Jewish and non-Jewish — went door to door to Jewish households with the news.

One of those who fled, Herbert Pundik, then 16 years old and later a journalist, wrote a book about what occurred. “The result was that on the night of October 1^st, when the Germans came, most Danish Jews had flown the coop,” he wrote. “They sought refuge with non-Jewish friends and acquaintances or with complete strangers who opened their doors to them.”

Then hidden in trucks and in ambulances, the Jews were driven to the coast, where they were surreptitiously ferried to Sweden. Several hundred ships took part in the rescue. Gerda III was one of them. More than 7,000 people were saved — almost the entire Jewish population of Denmark.

At the time, Henny Sinding, 19 years old, was working for a lighthouse-tending business that her father managed. The Gerda III’s crew approached her to ask her help and her father’s permission to use the boat to rescue the Jews.

“Henny’s father gave tacit permission,” said Anita Kassof, Deputy Director of the Museum of Jewish Heritage, “and thereafter for that critical month of October she would leave her parents’ house at one in the morning to go smuggle Jews and her parents essentially just looked the other way.”

A video called “Rescuers” in the Museum of Jewish Heritage honors people such as Raoul Wallenberg and Oskar Schindler who aided the Jews. The segment about the rescue of the Danish Jews is simply entitled “Denmark.”

“Everybody in Denmark helped the Jews,” says Leif Donde — among those rescued — in the video. “It was the students, the workers, the business executives. It was the farmers. It was the fishermen.”

Henny Sinding appears in the video as Henny Sinding Sundø — her married name — by then a woman in late middle age with a weathered, sunburned face, short hair, no jewelry, a dab of lipstick and bright, blue eyes.

“Why should the Germans kill our Danes?” she asks in the video. “They were Danes like we were. Danes? Jews? They were just Danes.”

Of her role in the rescue, which would have resulted in imprisonment and death had she been caught, she says, “Nobody – he or she – thinks that they are heroes because it was not a very heroic thing to do. It was just a natural thing to do.”

In the video, another woman, Elsebet Kieler, who participated in the rescue, explains her actions by saying, “If you want to remain a human being and take care of your own human dignity, you have to take care of your neighbor. It’s the same thing. You have to protect everyone.”

Denmark was the only Nazi-occupied country that managed to save most of its Jewish citizens. In fact, elsewhere much of the local population enthusiastically collaborated with the Germans in rounding up the Jews.

The Danes protected not only Jewish lives but Jewish property. “Most of the Jews came back after the war and they found their houses intact,” said Kassof. “It’s really a remarkable story. I think it’s a testament to the Danish character.”

Anita Kassof said that Gerda III is in Mystic, Conn. rather than in Manhattan because the Mystic Seaport, a world-renowned maritime museum, has a full-time staff to care for the boat and to make sure that people have access to it and that it’s being interpreted accurately.

“What started out as a temporary arrangement at Mystic has become unofficially a permanent arrangement,” she said. “It’s working out well for everyone.”

For Mystic Seaport hours, admission prices and directions, go to www.mysticseaport.org/. For information about the Museum of Jewish Heritage at 36 Battery Place, go to www.mjhnyc.org/. Herbert Pundik’s book, “In Denmark It Could Not Happen” about the flight of the Danish Jews to Sweden is available in the Museum of Jewish Heritage bookstore for $16.95.

Terese

Dr. Barnes in Philadelphia

2012-06-23T06:14:00.002-04:00

One of Dr. Barnes' "ensembles" contrasts a cozy family portrait by Renoir with a painting by Cézanne of nudes in a hostile landscape

With jubilation and some residual sour faces from the bruising legal brawl that preceded the occasion, the Barnes Foundation opened its Center City Philadelphia campus on May 19, 2012. A hundred years ago, Dr. Albert C. Barnes began buying Impressionist, post-Impressionist and early 20th-century art, assembling one of the world's great collections, larded with old masters such as El Greco, Hals and Goya and African and Native American work that intrigued him. He was also interested in Pennsylvania German folk art and furniture and in centuries-old metalworking. He liked the inventive shapes of hinges, locks and keys and ornamental metalwork.

Dr. Albert C. Barnes as painted by Giorgio de Chirico

The doctor, who was born in 1872 in what might politely be called a "working class" neighborhood of Philadelphia and whose father was a butcher before he lost his right arm in the Civil War, made a fortune with his invention of the antiseptic Argyrol. Barnes used his money to buy art, which he installed in a building that he commissioned in Merion, a suburb of Philadelphia. From behind that barred door, he spurned the art critics, socialites and celebrities who had spurned him. He turned down their pleas to see his collection, admitting factory workers, young artists and others who gratefully feasted on the wonders that Dr. Barnes had amassed and carefully arranged.

Under the tutelage of the educator John Dewey, who became a friend, Barnes developed his own methods of education. There would be no mind-numbing curatorial explanations in his galleries. He wanted his visitors to look, not to read. Barnes stipulated in his will that his collection was to remain exactly as it was at the time of his death and that of his wife, Laura. Nothing was to be loaned or moved.

Dr. Barnes was killed in an automobile accident on July 24, 1951. Laura died in April 1966. For the ensuing 40 or so years, the Barnes collection remained sequestered in Merion with comparatively few visitors and insufficient funds to maintain the building and the grounds of the doctor's estate. But the legal wrangling necessary to break Barnes' will and move the collection to Center City Philadelphia was intense.

The Barnes Foundation building

It happened and it's over and undoubtedly a lot of people are and will be grateful. The collection is dazzling and the building that houses it, designed by Tod Williams and Billie Tsien, does it justice. Within an understated, 93,000-square-foot building, the architects recreated the rooms that once housed the collection in Merion. They preserved the exact proportions and detailing, including the orientation of the windows, the placement of the objects in each room, the colors of the walls and trim. Their changes were subtle to enhance the luminosity of the galleries.

Each gallery has been outfitted with benches where visitors can sit comfortably and meditate on the art. That's what the doctor wanted — an educational and emotional experience based on observing shape, color, line, spatial arrangement and content transcending the work of any one artist or period — each piece reflecting the others on that wall and in that room in what Dr. Barnes called "ensembles."

The guiding hand remains Dr. Barnes' own. He saw the connections in the art that he owned. It soon becomes apparent that the reason he wanted nothing moved was that the galleries themselves were his art.

The new Barnes Foundation building is on Benjamin Franklin Parkway, right next to the Rodin Museum, which has the largest collection of Rodin's work outside of Paris, and down the hill from the Philadelphia Museum of Art, making Philadelphia a must-see destination for any art lover.

Admission to the Barnes Foundation collection is still by timed ticket, but tickets are easy to come by now. No one will be turned away.

Terese

2012-04-08T10:57:00.011-04:00

Titanic Trail in Manhattan

In the run-up to April 15, 2012 — the 100th anniversary of the Titanic sinking — museum

exhibits, lectures, concerts and even entire museums are memorializing the collision between the opulent ocean liner and an iceberg that killed more than 1, 500 people. But Manhattan tells

the Titanic story with more than just ephemera.

The Titanic was headed for Manhattan when she went down at 2:20 a.m. on April 15, 1912 off the coast of Newfoundland. The Carpathia brought the survivors to Manhattan. Many of the people on board were New Yorkers or were bound for New York City to make it their new home. Manhattan, therefore, has more authentic sites connected with the Titanic than anywhere else except for Belfast, where she was built. Unlike a museum visit, the Titanic Trail in Manhattan takes travelers to fascinating places in the city — a shrine for America’s first native-born saint, the South Street Seaport, an old-fashioned hotel where the bellmen wear 1930s regalia, lower Broadway with its famous statue of a charging bull and the gorgeous Hudson River Park with its gardens, fountains and five-mile promenade along the river.

The 100th anniversary of the Titanic sinking will come and go. In Manhattan, the Titanic is part of the city's fabric — Pier 54 at 13th Street, where the words "Cunard White Star Line" are still visible in faded paint on the rusted ironwork, 9 Broadway, where the White Star office was located at that time, the American Seamen's Friend Society Sailors' Home and Institute, now The Jane, a hotel at 113 Jane St., where the surviving crew members of the Titanic were housed, and more. Long after the centennial, in Manhattan the Titanic and its story will live on.

Philadelphia Flowers

2012-03-11T12:01:00.017-04:00

Philadelphia's famed flower show, which has been presented with few interruptions since 1829, closes today (March 11) but other flowers are still blooming in Philadelphia. A captivating exhibit called "Van Gogh Up Close" continues at the Philadelphia Museum of Art through May 6.

Van Gogh loved flowers and painted them over and over -- in vases and in fields and gardens where he marveled at their colors as they played

against an abundance of greens that evoked every nuance of his palette. Van Gogh's passion is

readily felt in his flurries of brush strokes, stipples and thickly applied paint. As he experimented and grew more sure of himself, his paintings become luminous with deftly applied layers of color that feed off each other -- orange and yellow and lavender and blue violet. Van Gogh's love of nature is a balm in our technologically saturated times. People are flocking to see his paintings. They look at them in reverential silence.

Timed tickets are required to see "Van Gogh Up Close." For more information, go to http://www.philamuseum.org/exhibitions/743.html

SS Normandie Sails into Manhattan

2010-02-21T08:14:00.010-05:00

The 19th-century piers that once lined the Hudson River on the west side of Manhattan are gone except for one. The trans-Atlantic ocean liners they serviced are also gone except for Cunard's Queen Mary 2, which now docks in Red Hook, Brooklyn, when she visits New York City. But the SS Normandie, considered by some people to be the most beautiful ocean liner ever built, has returned.

This past week, an exhibit called "DecoDence: Legendary Interiors and Illustrious Travelers Aboard the SS Normandie" opened at the South Street Seaport Museum on Fulton Street in Lower Manhattan. Photographs record the splendor of the Normandie but the array of objects in this exhibit come closer than any picture could to suggesting the magnificence of this ship.

Amid cases of bibelots and fragments of the ship's luxurious appurtenances, chairs and tables are skillfully arranged in front of wall-sized photographs depicting the rooms for which they were designed. It's easy to imagine those grand rooms decorated with Aubusson carpets, Lalique chandeliers and glass panels painted on the reverse side with gold and silver (a technique called verre églomisé) casting a flattering glow over the ship's elegant passengers. Add the detail mentioned by one passenger that the ship smelled of French cigarettes and expensive perfume, and it's possible to be back there again. Almost. If only.

The keel for the SS Normandie was laid on a cold January day in 1931 at Saint-Nazaire on the Loire. Though the world was going through an economic Depression worse than any since, the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique (CGT) subsidized by the French government was determined to construct the most beautiful and most technologically advanced ocean liner ever built. The ship was to be a showcase of French design and the epitome of luxury.

The Normandie's completion was delayed by several years because of the Depression, but finally, on May 29, 1935, she left Le Havre on her maiden voyage. She arrived in New York City on June 3, accompanied by tugboats, excursion vessels, yachts, ferries and fireboats. Around 30,000 people lined the seawall at Battery Park to see her come in.

The Normandie's seagoing career proved to be brief. In August 1939, she nosed into Pier 88 in midtown Manhattan for the last time. On Sept. 1, Germany invaded Poland and it was deemed better for the Normandie to remain in New York. After the attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, the U.S. government took over the ship, renaming her the USS Lafayette. She was stripped of all her finery, in preparation for becoming a troop ship. On Feb. 9, 1942, sparks from a welder's torch set some kapok-filled life jackets on fire. The fire raged out of control. On Feb. 10, she capsized, lying on her side at Pier 88 like a dying animal. Finally, she sank.

It's possible in the South Street Seaport Museum's exhibit to still feel the weight of that loss. The sadness is mitigated, however, because so much of what was in the Normandie was preserved. Almost all of the items in the exhibit come from the collection of New Yorker Mario Pulice, whose passion for the Normandie is only matched by his generosity in lending his collection to the museum for almost a year. The exhibit will be at the South Street Seaport Museum through January 2011, giving ample time to visit again and again.

Terese

Hudson River fall foliage

2009-10-25T09:28:00.018-04:00

The river that Henry Hudson stumbled on 400 years ago beckons New Yorkers (and New York visitors) at this time of year to board a boat in New York harbor and go north as far as possible. The lure is the changing foliage but the rewards of the trip include traveling along the New Jersey Palisades, created around 200 million years ago, when molten magma forced itself from deep within the Earth through softer layers of sandstone, which later eroded, exposing the steep cliffs.

Then there are the river towns, the tugboats, barges and freighters, the bridges, the three 19th century lighthouses between New York City and Bear Mountain (including the famous Little Red Lighthouse beneath the massive George Washington Bridge), glimpses of estates with vast, manicured lawns, freight trains and passenger trains on both sides of the river, and on some trips, a peek at the United States Military Academy at West Point.

Frequently, Hudson River fall foliage expeditions will pass a very special boat -- the 85-foot-long replica of the "Half Moon" on which Hudson and his crew of 20 crossed the Atlantic Ocean and made their way up the river as far as what is now Albany before they realized that they had not found a route to Asia, and turned back.

Hudson River fall foliage tours usually start in early October and end by mid-November. One, offered by the Circle Line , is all day with a three-hour layover at Bear Mountain State Park. Others such as Circle Line Downtown's Zephyr and Classic Harbor Line's M/V Manhattan are three to five hours long and include a sumptuous spread of food, beverages and cozy lounges from which to watch the passing scene when it gets too cold on deck.

I've tried several of these excursions and recommend them all.

Terese

New York City by Sail

2009-07-11T09:20:00.016-04:00

At last. The rain stopped. The sun was warm, but not too warm. A perfect day, a perfect night.

In the late afternoon of July 4, the 160-foot-long Clipper City left Pier 17 in New York City's South Street Seaport and headed for the Hudson River, where she took her place among the flotilla of ships of all sizes waiting to watch the Macy's fireworks. Two bartenders plied the 149 passengers with drinks. A barbecue dinner was served. As day deepened to night, the full moon rose over the spar. The lights outlining the cables and towers of the George Washington Bridge glimmered in the distance.

Shortly before 9:30 p.m., the fireworks began, sending a canopy of plumes and stars over the silhouetted boats and turning the river red and green and gold and lavender. Thirty minutes later, the show was over. Quickly, most of the boats departed, leaving the river to the Clipper City. The wind was up. She hoisted her mainsail, took a few spins and turns between Battery Park City and Jersey City and headed back up the East River, whose bridges beckoned with necklaces of lights.

The holiday is over, but Clipper City gives New York harbor tours every day and evening, sailing from the South Street Seaport. Another historic sailing ship in the Seaport, the 1885 schooner Pioneer, which belongs to the South Street Seaport Museum, goes out every day but Monday. On the Hudson River, the Shearwater and the Ventura sail from North Cove Marina in Battery Park City, and the Imagine and the Adirondack sail from Chelsea Piers.

Terese

Antarctic New Year

2008-12-24T23:29:00.015-05:00

This afternoon, when I got to New York's JFK airport, I shared a van into Manhattan with other recent arrivals. We chatted to pass the time. "Where are you coming from?" we asked each other. Indianapolis. Brussels. Miami.

I said, "Antarctica."

"How did you get there?" someone asked me.

"I flew to Miami," I explained. Then I flew to Buenos Aires, where I stayed overnight. Then I flew to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. Then I boarded the MS Fram and spent two days crossing the Drake Passage. Then, I was in Antarctica.

"And how long did you stay there?" my van mates wanted to know. Five days, I told them.

"All that travel for FIVE days?!!!"

"Yes," I said. The journey was long, strenuous, risky, costly and sometimes uncomfortable — and I wish I could do it again.

Antarctica is like no place else on Earth. Surrounded by Manhattan's skyscrapers and traffic, I could hardly believe that this city and that frozen continent are on the same planet.

Though more tourists are going there than ever before, the numbers are still limited. Around 35,000 people visited Antarctica this year; several thousand of those were on large cruise ships that couldn't land. The population of our planet is now around 6.7 billion. Few people have ever seen Antarctica, or ever will. Even fewer have ever landed there as I did.

The intricacy of the life chain on this continent largely unmarred by civilization provokes awe and wonder as does its history. Antarctica was once part of a larger continent called Gondwana that included what we now know as Australia, New Zealand, Africa, South America, Madagascar and the Indian sub-continent. Fossils have been found in Antarctica that are identical to those found in South Africa and elsewhere in Gondwana, which began to break up around 167 million years ago.

Between 251 and 200 million years ago, Antarctica was warm and covered with forests where dinosaurs lived. Later, came a variety of reptiles and amphibians. Around 34 million years ago, the continent that we think of as locked in ice and snow began to get colder.

What the visitor sees there now is one of the harshest environments on Earth, beset by winds of enormous force that suddenly surge from the glaciers. Within an hour (or less) the winds can drive ice into previously tranquil bays and lock even a large ship helplessly in place until the winds change again or the ice melts.

The creatures that manage to live in this environment include millions of penguins and other birds who may spend years of their lives at sea without ever touching land. Seals bask on the ice floes. During the austral summer, migrating whales bring their young to feast in Antarctic waters, dense with tiny krill.

Ours is the briefest of moments in the Earth's life, which is ever-changing and intricately balanced beyond our imagination or comprehension. Antarctica gives us a glimpse of this majestic process.

As one man said to me on the ship, "This trip has been too short and too long." I asked him why. He said, "I would have liked to see more but what I've seen, I'll be thinking about for many years."

Terese

A Handle on Montreal

2008-09-21T04:00:00.017-04:00

I recently returned from a long weekend in Montreal, where I had a great time. I've visited Montreal before and wouldn't have said that. I would have said it was OK, but not that it was wonderful and that I looked forward to going back.

What's the difference?

I finally figured out how to visit a large city! (Finally! After 14 years of travel writing....)

This time, I had a starting point and no obligation to be anywhere else in particular thereafter. I went to see the Magic of Lanterns show at the Montreal Botanical Garden. This annual event, during which a thousand silk lanterns handmade in Shanghai are positioned around the Chinese gardens, among the pagodas and reflecting pools, had enchanted me on a brief visit last year and I wanted to see it again. (This year's show will be up until Oct. 31.)

The next day, I decided to visit Montreal's Chinatown, which is small but very interesting. I had a long talk with Johnny K.F. Chin, who makes Dragon Beard candy at his open-air stall on De LaGauchetiere West (this candy used to be made for Chinese emperors, he said, and Mr. Chin learned the technique in his native Hong Kong) and then wandered into My Cup of Tea, a chic, little shop that sells loose leaf and bagged tea from China. After sampling several kinds of tea and buying some to take home, I walked back to my hotel, the Opus at Sherbrooke and St. Lawrence Streets (if you know Montreal, you know that this is about as centrally located as you can get) and had dinner in its terrific restaurant, Koko, which serves pan-Asian food.

The chef at Koko came out to say hello, and I mentioned to him my interest in tea. He told me about a tea shop that he liked near the hotel in the Latin Quarter — so the next day, I walked down to Camellia Sinensis at 35 Emery St., and it was, indeed, fabulous. Camellia Sinensis has a tranquil tea room and an adjacent shop that sells around 180 kinds of loose leaf tea from all over the world as well as beautiful tea ware, including pottery handmade in Quebec Province.

From there, I walked down to Old Montreal to visit some boutiques in the Bonsecours Market and another tea shop, Ming Tao Xuan, at 451, St-Sulpice in the shadow of Notre Dame Basilica. By then, a light rain was falling, and I welcomed a pot of Eight Treasures Tea accompanied by some delicious cookies. This shop also sells loose leaf tea and tea ware, including a fascinating range of Yixing teapots, selected by the proprietor, Lee Kwok Kgung, on one of his many trips to China.

I was leaving Montreal late the next afternoon, but I still had a few hours to look around. At breakfast the next morning, I talked to my waitress, Anne, about bagels and she recommended the Fairmount Bagel shop, which she said she preferred to the more famous St-Viateur bagels. (I discovered that in Montreal, food is taken very seriously and everyone you meet will recommend a favorite restaurant or two.) So I hopped in a cab and within 10 minutes was on rue Laurier, where I looked in several boutiques and talked at length with lovely Louise Royer, owner of Royer Objets et Trouvailles, where she sells artwork, crafts and gifts handmade in Quebec Province (another interest of mine). Then it was around the corner to St-Urbain Street, once the heart of the Jewish Quarter, and up one block to Fairmount Bagel, where a line snaked out the door and the bagels were warm and delicious.

I ate one immediately and kept one for the plane. Alas, it was time to go. I hadn't had time to visit the museums that I had hoped to see or to explore some of Montreal's many other interesting neighborhoods, but I had learned that in a big city, you can't see it all -- not in one trip, and maybe not ever -- so the thing to do is to keep talking to people and to let the trip unroll like a ball of twine, leading you from one thing to another. Of course, you'll miss a lot! but you can't see everything, and that's a good reason to come back.

Terese

New Orleans Evacuates

2008-08-31T08:39:00.005-04:00

My last entry in this blog was almost five months ago, when I wrote about exotic, mysterious, heart-broken New Orleans. Today, I am watching video of people fleeing again as hurricane Gustav approaches. I see photos of adults with sacks carrying whatever they could stuff into them, waiting for buses, and frightened children clutching their little backpacks. I listen to a woman who owns a car but doesn't know where to go. She has a vague idea of going to Baton Rouge, but the TV commentator interviewing her tells her all the hotels there are full.

Having been to New Orleans and taken it to my heart, I am with these people. I await the storm with dread. I wonder what I would do if I were down there now, with little money, young children or elderly relatives, perhaps, about to leave behind what little I have. I see video of people on a bus. They don't know where it will take them or what they will do when they get there.

Travel. A luxury? In one sense it is, of course. On a physical level, we can survive without it. But on another level, we can't.

New Orleans is no longer an abstraction to me.

As I write this, I'm thinking about the nurse I met there, who sank her life savings into rebuilding her house after Katrina. I'm thinking about the artists I met who seethed with passion and anger after Katrina, and threw it into their work. I'm thinking about the restaurateur whose restaurants never fully recovered after Katrina, but who, five months ago was hopeful, because New Orleans was his home. I'm thinking about the beautiful houses on the Esplanade that last time, were spared. I'm thinking about the Ninth Ward, which wasn't. I'm remembering the jazz musicians marching through the streets and in the clubs, the beignets and coffee, the lacy, wrought iron balconies.

There's nothing to do now but wait.

Terese

Some New Orleans people:

New Orleans Now

2008-04-08T11:23:00.012-04:00

I just returned from my first visit to New Orleans — a beautiful and complex city — and yes, still there despite the destruction caused by hurricane Katrina.

You could easily visit New Orleans today and not see that anything was amiss. The revelry continues in the French Quarter day and night. The music clubs are open and there are more restaurants in the city now than there were before Katrina struck on Aug. 29, 2005. The food is exceptional. At Bacco's in the French Quarter I had some crawfish ravioli that I yearn for right now. The food at the Royal Sonesta hotel redefined what hotel food can be. In fact, I can't remember a bad meal anywhere during the few days of my visit.

Plus there is music everywhere, literally from birth to death when jazz bands accompany the deceased to their final resting place. And art in museums and galleries. And horse-drawn carriage rides along the Esplanade where tall houses with wrought-iron balconies are elegant and mysterious. And small, charming houses in the Marigny, where many artists live. And mansions in the Garden District, shaded by live oak trees. And steamships on the Mississippi River.

Yes. It's there. Still there — but this is a city with a broken heart. When Katrina struck, thousands of people lost their homes and everything they owned. Around 1,400 people were killed immediately; others died in the aftermath of heart attacks, stress-related illnesses, hunger, dehydration, suicide and violence. Hundreds of thousands of people were evacuated and many have still not returned.

Those areas of New Orleans that are below sea level have not recovered, almost two-and-a-half years later.

"Lakeview is the neighborhood furthest along," said James O'Byrne, features editor of the New Orleans Times-Picayune. "When people visit, we take them there first and they think that's the worst they're going to see. Then we take them to the Upper 9th Ward, the Lower 9th, Gentilly, St. Bernard Parish."

Mr. O'Byrne, who had nine years left on his mortgage, lost his home. "If you didn't have the assets to absorb that blow, there was no way to get back," he said.

In the 17th Street Canal neighborhood, I met a registered nurse named Kathy Singleton whose story was typical. Because of Katrina, she and her husband lost their jobs. They fled to Baton Rouge, where they lived in one room for four months with their two teenage daughters and five pets. The hurricane left eight feet of water in their house, which was underinsured and the insurance companies are still refusing to pay more than a token amount for the damage. "They say the damage was caused by wind and rain, not by flooding," Ms. Singleton said. The family has used their entire retirement savings to rebuild.

Some money has been available from the federal government under a program called "The Road Home," but the aid has been slow to arrive, modest, and it has been taxed. Many homeowners had to fight for grants, which were at first denied or set too low, with the award decision only reversed after a lengthy and costly appeal.

Much of the rebuilding in the devastated areas has been the work of volunteers and organizations like Habitat for Humanity. In fact, there's a new word in New Orleans: voluntourism — referring to people who visit the city to help as well as to sightsee.

Whatever your reasons for going to New Orleans, it's a city worth your time. And even if you don't want to pick up a hammer and paintbrush, you can feel good knowing that spending your money as a tourist will help the city come back.

Terese

Irish New York

2008-03-16T17:01:00.015-04:00

New York City has the largest St. Patrick's Day parade in the country. Every year on March 17, legions of high school and college bands, policemen, firemen and fraternal societies led by vote-hungry politicians march down Fifth Avenue in Manhattan from midday to dusk, when everyone disperses to their favorite watering hole.

New York’s first St. Patrick’s Day parade took place in 1762 when Irish soldiers serving in the English military marched through the city on March 17 — the anniversary of the saint’s death. But for a more recent back-story on Irish New York, drop by the Irish Hunger Memorial overlooking the Hudson River at Vesey Street in Lower Manhattan.

The Irish potato famine of 1845-1852 killed more than a million people and drove hundreds of thousands out of Ireland. Many settled in New York and Boston. By 1850, the population of New York City was one-quarter Irish.

The memorial, which was dedicated in July 2002, was erected to record the suffering of those who perished and the courage of those who came to the United States to start over. It was also designed to raise awareness about hunger that still afflicts large parts of the world. It is sited on a half-acre, the maximum amount of land an Irish farmer was allowed to own if he were to receive any government assistance during the famine.

From the west side, the entrance to the memorial is through a passage whose walls are made of 300-million-year-old Kilkenny limestone interspersed with glass strips bearing quotes from eyewitnesses to the Irish famine and statistical information. This is accompanied by an audio track.

Just beyond is a roofless, two-room, stone crofter’s cottage that once stood in County Mayo. The cottage was built in 1820 and used by an Irish farming family until the 1960’s.

A field planted with Irish clover, grasses and heath slopes gently upward to yield views of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, the portal for so many immigrants to their new life. Large stones from each of Ireland’s 32 counties are placed in the field, with an ancient pilgrim’s stone at the top, inscribed with a cross associated with St. Brendan of County Kerry.

You can follow in the footsteps of the Irish immigrants with a walking tour created by the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. Download it at www.immigrantheritagetrail.org/?q=node/887.

The tour starts in Lower Manhattan at St. Peters Church, at 22 Barclay St., which was founded by an Irish priest in 1785 and is the oldest Roman Catholic church in the city. Next it takes you to 280 Broadway, where a boy named Alexander Turney Stewart who emigrated to New York in 1818 from County Antrim grew up to found America's first department store.

Some of the other sites on the tour include the Brooklyn Bridge, largely built by poor, Irish laborers, the Emigrant Industrial Savings Bank on Chambers Street, which was founded expressly for Irish immigrants and the Church of the Transfiguration on Mott Street, which served the desperately poor people of nearby Five Points — a slum so filthy and dangerous that even Charles Dickens was appalled. (Five Points is now perfectly safe and is on the edge of Chinatown. Several courthouses long ago replaced the tenements.)

This informative tour ends at McSorley's Old Ale House on East 7th Street, founded in the mid-19th century by an immigrant from County Tyrone. Here you can rest your feet and have a pint. Or two.

Terese

Tea at the Plaza

2008-03-07T10:10:00.018-05:00

When the Plaza Hotel on Central Park South in Manhattan was sold in 2004 and closed for conversion to condominiums, many New Yorkers were sad — really sad. They remembered tea in the Palm Court, drinks in the Oak Room, masses of crystal and flowers, celebrities awash in swank and mischievous Eloise, who had the run of the place.

However, after a $400 million overhaul, parts of the century-old Plaza have reopened. The hotel now consists of just 282 rooms, with most of the building allotted to condos and time-shares. But a harpist is again on duty in the Palm Court and tea is being served under a stunning stained glass ceiling that replicates one that was there between 1907 when the hotel opened and 1944, when it was replaced. Happily, the mirrors and caryatids on the rear wall are also still there, reflecting the room's new furnishings. Diners now sit on heavy, tall-backed blue velvet chairs that make each table seem private, though moving those chairs to get in and out of them requires the help of a waiter!

Tea, I'm happy to report, is better than ever with an exotic tea selection, beautiful, mini- open-faced sandwiches, superb scones, jam and clotted cream and a tempting array of exquisite pastries served on a silver, three-tiered tray. The service is impeccable and there is absolutely no pressure to finish up and move along.

All of this comes at a price — quite a price. Tea starts at $60 per person, and is more if you order champagne or a heftier complement of sandwiches. (Tea at the old Plaza used to cost $29, or $35 if you ordered caviar blinis.)

Of course, for visitors with Euros in their pockets, at the current rate of exchange, tea at the Plaza would only cost $39 — in my opinion, a bargain — and conveniently located near the high-end stores of Fifth Avenue, which offer additional bargains to those with foreign currency.

I predict that for the foreseeable future, there won't be too many New Yorkers in the Palm Court, but lots of overseas visitors having a wonderful time.

Terese

Side Streets: New York City Firehouse

2008-03-02T12:17:00.008-05:00

I had turned off Broadway, a main thoroughfare of Manhattan’s Upper West Side, onto 83rd Street between Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues yesterday when a building on the south side of the street stopped me in my tracks.

Amid West 83rd Street’s late 19th-century tenements and down-at-the-heels walk-ups was a five-story, brick firehouse with a broad, red door trimmed with gold. It was decked out with carved, stone trim, stone lintels above the windows and a lovely iron pulley at the top to hoist hay for the horses that pulled the fire trucks in 1888 when it was built.

A plaque named the fire commissioners at that time, and the architect, N. Le Brun & Sons. When I got home, I looked them up. Napoleon Eugene Henry Charles Le Brun was born in Philadelphia, which is where I come from, and was the architect of several beloved Philadelphia landmarks, including the Academy of Music and the vast Cathedral of SS Peter and Paul on Logan Circle.

Le Brun moved to New York City during the Civil War, and by 1888, was in business with his sons, Pierre and Michel. They designed many New York City firehouses as well as the Metropolitan Life Insurance Building, one of the city’s first skyscrapers.

The other names on the firehouse plaque were equally interesting. All were Tammany Hall politicians — Tammany Hall being the organization that ran New York City politics for almost a hundred years, dispensing graft and patronage in exchange for votes.

Richard Croker, for instance, whose name appears on the firehouse, was two years old when he came to the United States from Ireland. Eventually he became the leader of Tammany Hall, where he became enormously wealthy off the bribe money he took from the owners of brothels, bars and gambling dens. He spent the last years of his life in Ireland, where he died in his castle.

When you travel, I recommend leaving yourself enough time to turn down the side streets. Often they are as interesting as the attractions touted by the guidebooks!

Terese

Arctic New York

2008-02-24T15:41:00.012-05:00

Twice I've traveled north of the Arctic Circle, but yesterday visitors from north of the Arctic Circle came to my neighborhood in New York City.

After a heavy snowfall, I was walking in Battery Park at the southern end of Manhattan when I spotted some handsome birds swimming in the Hudson River. They proved to be brants — sea geese who summer in the Arctic and winter on the East Coast of the United States. I learned that they have glands that enable them to drink sea water and filter out the salt and that they like to eat eelgrass and crustaceans. I hope that New York gave them a friendly welcome.

My walk was rewarding in other ways as well. The architecture of trees and grasses was particularly beautiful against the snow, and the cold, moody skies seemed to suit Battery Park's war memorials and the sculpture formerly in the plaza of the World Trade Center, which is now in the park.

In general, I find there's a lot to be said for off-season travel. In addition to smaller crowds and lower prices, as I found yesterday, there can be wonderful, unexpected experiences.

Terese

To Cruise or Not to Cruise

2008-02-01T00:51:00.001-05:00

Some of my friends tell me that they don't like cruises. Too much food. Too many people on the ships. Expensive shore trips that provide a glimpse of a destination with no real insights.

"Chacun à son goût," as the French say. But I rise to the defense.

I've said similar things myself in the past, and with the exception of a couple of trans-Atlantic voyages on the Queen Elizabeth 2 (which doesn't really count as cruising), have mostly confined my cruise experiences to small ships that go to out-of-the-way places like Cape Horn at the tip of South America and the Svalbard archipelago, 600 miles south of the North Pole.

However, I've just returned from a week aboard Cunard's newest ship, Queen Victoria, and I want to report that I had a good time. This is not a small ship. It carries 2,014 passengers and around 1,000 in crew, but I never felt as though I was on the Lexington Avenue subway at rush hour. If I wanted to be around others, I could be, but it was also possible to be alone — and there were quiet places, such as the 6,000-volume library, which gets more use on this ship than the casino.

Yes, there was a lot of food — but no force feeding and numerous exercise opportunities. Just walking around the ship would burn some calories. Deck 3, which goes most of the way around, is one-third of a mile. In addition, there are two swimming pools, a nice-sized gym, with classes and lots of equipment and those shipboard favorites, shuffleboard and paddle tennis. If you haven't tried shuffleboard, you might think this could raise as much sweat as a polite game of croquet, but a couple of Type A personalities playing shuffleboard will get a workout.

During my trip, we did a Panama Canal transit from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific, which was interesting and something that you couldn't see unless on a ship. The transit was preceded and accompanied by lectures, which greatly helped with context and understanding of how the canal works.

And we had one day in Costa Rica — also interesting and sufficient to let me know that I would like to return. In the morning, I went on a jungle river trip and saw a lot of crocodiles and water birds and in the afternoon, visited a nature reserve where a gondola takes visitors from the forest floor to the forest canopy. Deep insights? No. But I learned that almost one-third of Costa Rica is a national refuge harboring examples of 6 percent of the animals and plants in the world. I also learned that the country is well off because of coffee and other agricultural products, has a high degree of literacy and has social programs in place for its four million citizens that include health care and retirement income.

Sounds good to me, and I didn't know this before.

But what I especially liked about the cruise was the soothing motion of the ship (yes, I know that you can hit rough patches, just as you can on airplanes, but mostly it was like being gently rocked, day and night), the sunrises and sunsets and the moonlit nights and — well, mostly just the sense that time pressures dropped away. After a while, I didn't know what day it was and I didn't care. We were going forward to some new port, and that was enough for me.

Terese

Cunard Coda

2008-01-14T07:50:00.000-05:00

On the evening of Jan. 13, 2008, the three Cunard Queens assembled for the last time in front of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor. The Queen Mary 2 got there first from her nearby berth in Brooklyn and waited for her sister ships to come down the Hudson River from midtown Manhattan. They arrived a half hour late. The 40-year-old Queen Elizabeth 2 requires tugboats to get her in and out of the pier and to guide her down the river. In former times, pilots were famous for their skills in handling the big ship in tight situations. Newer ships can be maneuvered with a joy stick and don't really need tugs. So the Queen Elizabeth 2 held up the show. By the time she and the Queen Victoria arrived, a cold, steady rain had started to fall and the fireworks were just a gasp against the low-lying clouds. The ships didn't linger. The Queen Mary 2 and the Queen Victoria headed out first. Then the doughty Queen Elizabeth 2 steamed once again into the open sea. According to Carol Marlow, Cunard’s president, this had been her 802nd visit to the Port of New York, with one more to go in October before she becomes a hotel in Dubai.

Queen Victoria Tour

2008-01-14T06:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday afternoon, I toured the Queen Victoria. The last time I saw her up close was in the Fincantieri shipyard outside Venice, where she was built. She was then around seven weeks short of completion — there in the bones but without her finishes. I was amazed at how beautifully she came together. The public rooms are gracious, warm and elegant. Teresa Anderson, the designer, said that she kept Cunard history in mind, with paintings, furnishings and Art Deco motifs that recall the 1920's and '30's, when trans-Atlantic ships were the last word in glamour. The QV has a 6,000-volume library, a theater with private boxes, a small museum, a Queens Room where afternoon tea is served, accompanied by a harpist and other musicians. Evening dress on the ship is usually formal or semi-formal. Queens Grill and Princess Grill passengers have their own dining room and lounge, "just like on airplanes," explained Philip Naylor, a Cunard official, "where there are first class and business class passengers." And the others. I will be sailing on the Queen Victoria later this month among the "others" and will let you know what that's like.

Terese

Cunard in New York

2008-01-13T13:21:00.000-05:00

This morning at 5:45 a.m., I was alone on the Battery Park City esplanade, scanning the dark water of the Hudson River. The tide was gently flowing out. The lights on the Verrazano Narrows bridge sparkled in the distance. Had I come too late? Had the three Cunard queens — Elizabeth 2, Mary 2 and Victoria already made their way into port? But, no. There they were. Three great ships, small and glittering in the cold night air. The Queen Elizabeth 2 approached first, pausing in front of the Statue of Liberty and then pulling near, her sleek lines and strong engines propelling her like a youngster and not like a geriatric relic. At 40 years old, she is still the fastest passenger liner on the sea, built for trans-Atlantic runs, with a top speed of 32 knots an hour. I waved to her, a lone figure in a red coat under a street lamp. Mary, behind her steamed toward the Statue and then turned to her berth in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Helicopters circled overhead and fireboats came down the river, spewing tall plumes of water into the air as Queen Victoria came abreast of the Statue. Then slowly, she made her way up the river. I waved some more, and she sounded her horn. Did someone see me or was she saluting the fireboats and New York City? I walked along the esplanade as far as I could, keeping pace with her, and then saw a few other people who had come out to greet the Queens. I met a man and a woman (not together) who had come over from England just for this moment, and a young man who had driven in from New Jersey. Passionately, we watched Victoria head for her midtown berth as the dawn broke and we could see her no more.

Snowed In

2007-12-18T23:36:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I had the good fortune to be snowed in at the Quintessence hotel in Mont-Tremblant, Canada. With a blizzard raging outside that prevented my flying back to New York City, I climbed into a hot tub on the edge of frozen Lake Tremblant and watched the snow pile up around me. Then I went back to my room, sat on a plump, beige couch in front of a wood-burning fireplace, propped my feet on a large, leather hassock — and did nothing. Every once in a while, I opened the door to my balcony to see what was happening outside. It was shimmering white and quiet except for the gusts of wind. Perfectly lovely. I lit candles and took a bath in the deep, whirlpool tub, which was placed so that I could see the fireplace. Then I went across the road to the Mont-Tremblant pedestrian village for a steak dinner complemented by a fine glass of shiraz wine, returning through almost knee-high snow to a cozy bed. The next morning was bright and crisp and cold, with two sunny eggs Benedict for breakfast.

The plane could depart.

The list of winter activities at Mont-Tremblant is long: skiing, snowboarding, dogsledding, snowmobiling, tubing, zip-lining, ice climbing, and so on, but I would put lazing in a hot tub watching the snow fall at the top, followed by doing nothing. For people like myself who usually try to do too much, that's the ultimate luxury. With or without a snowstorm as an excuse, I recommend it.

Terese

The Water Show

2007-11-11T13:46:00.000-05:00

The American Museum of Natural History in New York City is a vast repository of information about the universe, our planet and human culture. Museum scientists and exhibition curators help connect the dots — sometimes leaving visitors amazed and inspired, but in the case of the current show about water, probably leaving them saying "uh-oh."

While most Americans can just turn on a tap and receive an abundance of clean water, many people on Earth don't even have enough to drink much less enough for cleanliness. It turns out that while our planet is around 71 percent water, only 3 percent of that is accessible fresh water.

Several years ago, on a visit to Kenya, I saw the hardships this can create. In one village I visited, women had to trudge over three miles each way to get water for their families. Several valiant women raised money to build a large, clay cistern in the village with a water pipe that connected to the water source. This had an enormous impact on the life and health of the village's families.

At the Museum of Natural History's water exhibit, you can try lifting a full water jug to see what that's like — and considering the scarcity of fresh water in the world, think about that the next time you water your lawn, if you have one — and if you don't have a lawn, think about the water supply the next time you take a bath (using around 50 gallons) or brush your teeth (one gallon, if you leave the water running).

The exhibit teaches and preaches — and also entertains with a six-foot globe displaying satellite images of Earth, a waterfall projected on a curtain of fog, live fishes and frogs and dioramas.

The water exhibit runs through May 6, 2008 and requires a timed ticket for admission, which can be purchased at the museum or online (with a $4 service charge). For more information, go to www.amnh.org.

Terese

The World's Most Beautiful City

2007-10-20T12:27:00.000-04:00

This morning, my aunt Sylvia, who has traveled extensively for many years, confirmed what I suspected: Venice is the most beautiful city in the world. I was only there for three days (and half of that time was ill — possibly because of something I ate) but was still enraptured. In a mask store called Ca'Macana near S. Marco Basilica, a lovely saleswoman named Kiaiti Saliha talked about Venice's allure. She was born in Algeria, but moved to Venice 26 years ago, she told me. "I loved Venice from the first time I have seen it," she said, apologizing for her English, which I assured her, was better than my Italian. "It's like first love. You cannot forget it." Venice was her destiny, she said, and where she wanted "to finish."

"Everything in this city is art," she said. "The people who have created Venice were so great." Then she paused and added pensively, "I hope that it will still be here for people in the future so they can see what it is."

I hope so, too.

Terese

Fall Foliage in New York City

2007-09-29T07:22:00.000-04:00

Though some people may feel the need to head for New England to see masses of brilliantly colored autumn leaves punctuated by white church steeples, New York also has wonderful autumnal displays. In Manhattan's Central Park and Brooklyn's Prospect Park, we have Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux's legacies, and now, in Battery Park at the southern tip of Manhattan, we have another great landscape artist at work. In an exposed marine environment that must resemble in some ways his native Holland, Piet Oudolf has massed tall grasses and flowers to create a poetic, wild-looking enclave that is, in fact, carefully planned. Oudolf's garden is less than four years old and will only grow more lovely as it matures, but already it gleams. It's worth a trip to Lower Manhattan to wander along its serpentine paths.

Terese