A few thoughts after reading Friday's article in the New York Times about visiting Portland by bicycle:
- Why does the old gray lady always focus on North/east Portland? They did mention Hopworks on Powell, but visually, the photos are from the St. Johns and Broadway bridges and the intersection by Beaterville. I like it up there, too, but when did that neighborhood become the representation of the whole city? Then again, maybe I shouldn't complain, since the newbie transplants will all move there and leave Southeast alone. Wait, I'm moving to NE soon...nah, below Broadway doesn't count.
- Love the mapping program at byCycle.org, the bicycle version of the subway lifesaver HopStop.
- I wish I had known about Portland-based documentary Veer (which follows five local cyclists) when it was still hanging around Portland theaters. Instead, I'll have to wait until it comes home from screening at Lincoln Center on May 5.
- Maybe tell people where to rent bikes in town! For my New Yorkers, when you come to visit, we'll start here. And we'll rock and roll around town!
Showing posts with label bicycles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycles. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Moving, Moving Forward
Today was a transportation clusterfuck. From Brooklyn to Midtown to the Upper East Side, then down to SoHo, over to the East Village, up to Union Square and back to Brooklyn. Phew! And where, oh where has my sense of direction gone? I got off a stop too early on 5th Ave and 59th, which meant I had to walk over three avenue blocks (the loooong ones) to catch the right train to my interview, with time running short. But at least I got to walk by The Plaza and Bloomingdale's. In search of the crosstown bus post-interview (I'll get to that in a bit), I couldn't for the life of me find either that or the subway. I turned in circles in the triangle between 6th Ave and Canal Street before spotting that controversial bike lane and getting wine at a cigar bar that charges $7 for edamame. Seriously??
And the longest trek of all, I dragged Melissa from Washington Square Park to the East Village to get cheap and yummy Indian food at one of the many spots that 6th Street is known for (we chose Taj because it was the first we saw and we were starving – plus, they had a sitar player perched in the window and we got soup, samosa, entree, rice and naan for ten bucks). In subway no man's land, I decided we'd walk up to Union Square, where I lived during the ASME summer. Now there's a Trader Joe's on the bottom of University Hall, and walking in there made me really feel like I was back in Portland, but instead of the impossible-to-find-a-spot parking lot there was an insane line snaking through the back of the store. We didn't want to wait. (Luckily, for winos like myself, there's a separate wine shop to stock up on Two Buck Chuck).
I'm not sure I've ever traveled to such far flung locales in one single day in Manhattan. Walking all those blocks and climbing all those subway stairs, I feel like I had a hardcore workout. The mental concentration and planning it took to navigate the subways, I feel like I had a stressful day at work (and boy, is that satisfying for an unemployed chick). Along the way, I enjoyed a world of music, quite literally – bongos accompanying "The Girl from Ipanema," an Appalachian fiddler, a cappella gospel, bagpipes, and steel drums. Plus, one diminutive woman dressed like Kermit, in all lime green from shoes to gloves, including streaks in her hair. Wha???
And how, you ask, was the interview? It was good. First, it turns out Fetch is across the street from Brother Jimmy's Bait Shack, where I first sang karaoke and used to dance on the bar with Kristen during many debaucherous nights.
The difference between those memories and today's reality made me feel a bit old, but at least wiser.
The meeting itself was less an interview than a conversation about the how the site (PawLinks, for pet owners to connect, learn from experts, organize care, etc) is being developed and what I could bring to the table. He felt the sample content plan and writer's guidelines I submitted as a sort of "edit test" were exactly what they were looking for, and for once, I felt my confidence in myself return. Because this is a startup, there is no real defined job description, and it sounds like the next steps are for me to develop a proposal about how I would launch the content, how long it would take me, and how much I would charge. I could create a plan that keeps me busy full-time, and he plans for the position to become staff down the line. It feels both amazing and incredibly daunting to craft not only the voice and editorial on the site, but my role itself, from scratch. What am I capable of? What am I worth?
These are the questions I won't be thinking about until Tuesday. It's time to get out and have some fun. After all, it's a holiday weekend! I'm sure my loyal reader or two would like to hear about some crazy nights on the town. I'll see what I can do.
Oh, and want to see my sample blogs for Glamour? Letting it all hang out over on...Broke-Ass.
And the longest trek of all, I dragged Melissa from Washington Square Park to the East Village to get cheap and yummy Indian food at one of the many spots that 6th Street is known for (we chose Taj because it was the first we saw and we were starving – plus, they had a sitar player perched in the window and we got soup, samosa, entree, rice and naan for ten bucks). In subway no man's land, I decided we'd walk up to Union Square, where I lived during the ASME summer. Now there's a Trader Joe's on the bottom of University Hall, and walking in there made me really feel like I was back in Portland, but instead of the impossible-to-find-a-spot parking lot there was an insane line snaking through the back of the store. We didn't want to wait. (Luckily, for winos like myself, there's a separate wine shop to stock up on Two Buck Chuck).
I'm not sure I've ever traveled to such far flung locales in one single day in Manhattan. Walking all those blocks and climbing all those subway stairs, I feel like I had a hardcore workout. The mental concentration and planning it took to navigate the subways, I feel like I had a stressful day at work (and boy, is that satisfying for an unemployed chick). Along the way, I enjoyed a world of music, quite literally – bongos accompanying "The Girl from Ipanema," an Appalachian fiddler, a cappella gospel, bagpipes, and steel drums. Plus, one diminutive woman dressed like Kermit, in all lime green from shoes to gloves, including streaks in her hair. Wha???
And how, you ask, was the interview? It was good. First, it turns out Fetch is across the street from Brother Jimmy's Bait Shack, where I first sang karaoke and used to dance on the bar with Kristen during many debaucherous nights.
The difference between those memories and today's reality made me feel a bit old, but at least wiser.
The meeting itself was less an interview than a conversation about the how the site (PawLinks, for pet owners to connect, learn from experts, organize care, etc) is being developed and what I could bring to the table. He felt the sample content plan and writer's guidelines I submitted as a sort of "edit test" were exactly what they were looking for, and for once, I felt my confidence in myself return. Because this is a startup, there is no real defined job description, and it sounds like the next steps are for me to develop a proposal about how I would launch the content, how long it would take me, and how much I would charge. I could create a plan that keeps me busy full-time, and he plans for the position to become staff down the line. It feels both amazing and incredibly daunting to craft not only the voice and editorial on the site, but my role itself, from scratch. What am I capable of? What am I worth?
These are the questions I won't be thinking about until Tuesday. It's time to get out and have some fun. After all, it's a holiday weekend! I'm sure my loyal reader or two would like to hear about some crazy nights on the town. I'll see what I can do.
Oh, and want to see my sample blogs for Glamour? Letting it all hang out over on...Broke-Ass.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Safety First
Growing up in a college town with the most bicycles per capita in the country (Davis, CA) spoils you just a bit. I was riding to school by myself at 7-years-old. I could get to most friends' houses without even hitting a street, instead using the extensive Greenbelt network of playgrounds, grass fields and paths. And when I did hit the roads with the big, scary cars, there were wide, designated bike lanes on every street – not to mention the dedicated bike traffic lights and with more bikes than cars, the most genuine "share the road" philosophy I've ever experienced (I've yet to go to Amsterdam, though, so we'll see).
So when I moved to Portland, which proudly proclaims it's bike-friendliness, I was, well... underwhelmed (seriously: Davis has 100 miles of bike lanes vs. Portland's 38; 17% of Davis residents commute by bike vs. 9% of Portlanders [for real]). And overwhelmed at the same time. With bigger and busier streets, bridges, hills and some horribly designed intersections, I did not feel like the city was inviting me to ride. Instead, I was scared. A lifelong bicyclist, and it took me eight years to hop on two wheels again.
Thankfully, I finally grew some balls and regained my confidence; now, carless for the first time since I got my learner's permit, I ride everywhere. But I still get nervous at night, especially on streets with no bike lane. So I'm rooting for this LightLane to go into mass production:
[Copyright Altitude, via their blog Dustbowl]
While those new neon green boxes surely help vehicles notice cyclists in the daytime, this laser-projected bike lane will do wonders once the sun goes down – your own little safety zone trailing out behind you wherever you ride! It may label me a scaredy-cat nerd (I'm sure the fixed gear-heads wouldn't be caught dead with one), but I'd rather that than end up as another ghost bike.
(And yes, I do realize now that I am, again, spoiled with biking amenities in Portland. I'm not sure what waits for me in New York; although I imagine parts of Brooklyn will feel similar in both scale and hipsters-on-vintage-bikes population, I wouldn't even want to drive in Manhattan, let alone ride my bike. Two recent developments, however – a buzzed-about bike rack design competition and controversy-inducing bike lane on Grand Street separated from traffic by parked cars – leave me hopeful that I'll find a similar bike culture across the country. Now let's just hope it doesn't take me another eight years to adjust to a bigger city this time!)
So when I moved to Portland, which proudly proclaims it's bike-friendliness, I was, well... underwhelmed (seriously: Davis has 100 miles of bike lanes vs. Portland's 38; 17% of Davis residents commute by bike vs. 9% of Portlanders [for real]). And overwhelmed at the same time. With bigger and busier streets, bridges, hills and some horribly designed intersections, I did not feel like the city was inviting me to ride. Instead, I was scared. A lifelong bicyclist, and it took me eight years to hop on two wheels again.
Thankfully, I finally grew some balls and regained my confidence; now, carless for the first time since I got my learner's permit, I ride everywhere. But I still get nervous at night, especially on streets with no bike lane. So I'm rooting for this LightLane to go into mass production:
[Copyright Altitude, via their blog Dustbowl]
While those new neon green boxes surely help vehicles notice cyclists in the daytime, this laser-projected bike lane will do wonders once the sun goes down – your own little safety zone trailing out behind you wherever you ride! It may label me a scaredy-cat nerd (I'm sure the fixed gear-heads wouldn't be caught dead with one), but I'd rather that than end up as another ghost bike.
(And yes, I do realize now that I am, again, spoiled with biking amenities in Portland. I'm not sure what waits for me in New York; although I imagine parts of Brooklyn will feel similar in both scale and hipsters-on-vintage-bikes population, I wouldn't even want to drive in Manhattan, let alone ride my bike. Two recent developments, however – a buzzed-about bike rack design competition and controversy-inducing bike lane on Grand Street separated from traffic by parked cars – leave me hopeful that I'll find a similar bike culture across the country. Now let's just hope it doesn't take me another eight years to adjust to a bigger city this time!)
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