Between work, moving, and being without the internet at home for a week, newelty has been silent. Apologies about that. But the good news is that some minor travel adventures lie ahead–in the very near future. Next week, I’m going to New York for a few days!

I’ve always loved New York at the Thanksgiving/Christmas time of year. It’s always so evocative of my own idea of the city–crisp scarf-and-sweater weather, with beautiful store displays in every window.

Ever since it came out, I meant to blog about my favorite new New York song to add to my previous list of reasons to love the city.

(The big reveal after the jump.)

“Who Are You New York?” is so New Yorky. Watch the video (shot in Nice, France–hence the French chatter for the first bit):

If you like the song, you can download it via this great write-up of it on Stereogum.

Regular newelty readers might recall what would possess me to want to become fluent in Dutch, of all things, so they’ll know how thrilled I am to be on my way to Holland. But mostly, because it’s more immediate, I’m also excited to be in the Netherlands for the next round of the World Cup finals. Various Dutch tweeters I like mentioned how all the parks in the city were filled to the brim with crowds viewing the Brazil semifinal game today. How cool is that?

Betty will be holding down the fort while I’m on the road, but I will be tweeting when I can. Why not follow us on Twitter? (Don’t you kind of want to see how the Citizen M adventure turns out?) I’ll also be saving up fun tidbits of all the lovely, interesting, novel stuff I come across to report back on once I’m back at home. Until then, I’ll be happily wandering the back streets like this one:

Until later, tot ziens!

Even though the new Elliott Bay isn’t finished yet, it might be just that bookstore.

Take, as evidence, this view from the second story:

It has several elements that remind me of other bookstores I love. Wooden shelves and creaky floorboards, similar to the Book Mill in Montague, Mass. Tables of unusual choices, good for making new discoveries, like Paris’ Red Wheelbarrow.

Elliott Bay used to be located in Pioneer Square, a historic (but run-down) district in Seattle, and plenty of people were unhappy when they moved to their new location on Capitol Hill. But I don’t begrudge a bookstore doing what it needs to do to find clientele in this economy.

That said, their cafe is missing (and their old location had a great one). Their travel section is fine, but feels equally unfinished (and has a few too many copies of guides from the Travel Company That Shall Not Be Named, and not enough from non-US publishers). Even so, there were some gems to be found.

I’ve just started At Home in Japan, which I found on an endcap in the store. It’s the story of an American woman who married a Japanese man and moved into his family’s 350-year-old farmhouse (more on the book on the Japan Times Online). It’s the start of my June reading list.

So far, Elliott Bay, so good.

]]> http://www.newelty.com/2010/06/08/shop-talk-favorite-bookstores-part-vi/feed/ 2 http://www.newelty.com/2010/06/02/spiders-basque-kindness-and-cruelty/ http://www.newelty.com/2010/06/02/spiders-basque-kindness-and-cruelty/#comments Wed, 02 Jun 2010 15:41:50 +0000 bettynewelty http://www.newelty.com/?p=2350

Louise Bourgeois died on Monday. That’s her giant spider sculpture pictured above, part of her Maman (a.k.a. “mama”) series. I liked how ominous it looked against the sunset in Bilbao.

In honor of a woman who became famous as an artist late in life, this post is all about making sure you get what you want out of your time on earth. For me, that means travel.

When the Bilbao Guggenheim–a crazy-beautiful museum in what was a kind of run-down port city–was first revealed, I put a picture of it as the background on my computer at work. For years, I had it in the back of my mind as a place I’d like to see.

Imagine how happy I was when I looked out my hotel window to this view:

The museum itself was surprisingly small. I guess I expected more art on display, but it felt like visiting about a third of the MOMA.

Still, I take pleasure in stuff like this–a tri-lingual sign that includes Basque, a regional language for this part of Spain:

If you ever visit this Guggenheim, here’s my tip that I hadn’t read about in any guidebook: There’s a great little park around back. Next time, I’ll bring a picnic.

Museums hate to let you take pictures on the inside, but–sorry–it was too spectacular. I had to sneak one in.

You can’t really make it out too well in this photo, but on the left side are running red LED lights, a piece by Jenny Holzer. I love her projected sayings (photos of many of them here and a discussion that includes her Bilbao project here).

It was a nice moment for me, because I had also appreciated Jenny’s work at the Peggy Guggenheim museum in Venice, pictured below.

When writing an elegy for a great artist like Louise, including another thought-provoking work of art by another artist seems somehow fitting:

As you get closer to the city center, you’ll notice that newer-looking ranch styled homes border the highway. But if you crane your neck you can see that the townships are positioned right up against the new homes. It appears as if someone is trying to hide the townships with these newer houses.

When I was there, I learned that city officials were doing this as a way to mask the “problem” in order to prepare the city for the international stage during the World Cup. To give a sense of scale, these townships hold a million people. Good luck with that strategy.

Before I visited, I had read about tourists going to the townships via organized groups. At first I dismissed the idea because it felt incredibly offensive. What on earth could taking a tour to gawk at these poor people accomplish?

I grappled with the notion during my first few days and spoke to tourists, as well as locals. Unanimously, and without reservation, people were in favor of these organized trips, as long as you picked a savvy and ethical operator who gave back to the community. They felt like it was important for outsiders to see the living conditions, and to support the community of the people who opened their homes during the tours.

After some deliberation, and with serious skepticism, I decided to go.

The first stop on my tour’s itinerary was in Cape Town at the District Six Museum. The museum is housed in an old church in the District Six area of the city. This was once a thriving neighborhood, and during the height of apartheid was bulldozed by the government. 60,000 inhabitants were displaced and forced to relocate to the townships miles outside of town. The museum tells the horrific story through photography and audio timelines, as well as guided tours.

We then headed to the township of Langa. Some of these townships lie nearly 70 miles outside of the city, so anyone living in these areas who work in town are forced to spend a large amount of their small wages just on the commute. How can they ever rise themselves out of poverty given these circumstances?

Langa was powerful. It was extremely poor, but all my reservations were lifted the moment I arrived. The people seemed genuinely glad to see us, and we spent the entire day learning about their lives and how they felt about the South African government. We also visited a women’s arts and cultural center where you could buy their beautiful rugs or wood cut paintings.

All in all, it was a rewarding and certainly eye-opening experience. But more than once the residents told us, “It’s great you’re here. But we wish the rich white South Africans would visit more.”

Out of sight, out of mind, right? I don’t see how their situation can be ignored, and I’m curious, since the World Cup is just a few weeks away, what the South African government has done to come up with a real strategy to help these communities.

I have a deep and abiding love of cities. Some people long for wide open spaces. Not me. There’s nothing better for filling up the novelty-meter than time spent walking a city end to end.

Which is why I love this announcement about freely available pianos sprinkled all over New York City, part of an art project called “Play Me, I’m Yours.”

Evidently, the same artist, Luke Jerram, also did something similar in London last year (this write-up in the New York Times provides a good background on the project).

I am a sucker for happenstance things like this–I’m easily sidelined by the beauty of a single violin ringing out from a subway station, much less a piano. This is the stuff that reminds me how much I love cities, and the random magic that’s possible in them.

Speaking of random happenstance, these have made the rounds already, but they’re still worth mentioning.

Have you seen the video of people frozen in Grand Central Station, in New York, puzzling the commuters?

Or the video of dancers in Antwerp’s Central Station? (Staged by a company instead of impromptu, but still fun.)

Or Improv Everywhere (responsible for the Grand Central action) inviting fellow New Yorkers to look up more?

Or the more recent Glee flash mob in Seattle? Or the dance party that inspired it in Rome? Jazz hands, everyone!

If you are able to live in a great city at this exact moment in time, these are all good reasons to get out of the car (maybe on an awesome bike the makes you happy), look around, and appreciate how lucky we are. And if not, now’s a perfect time to plan your next trip to Venice, London, Tokyo, New York, Barcelona…

I had a blast at Paris’ Cimetière du Père Lachaise (with a great interactive tour here), so it didn’t strike me as weird to bust out the photography when at Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery, Marilyn Monroe’s final resting place.

The lipstick traces are fun. They reminded me of Oscar Wilde’s grave–also at Père Lachaise–which was covered with kisses when I visited there. (Evidently, to his grandson’s annoyance.)

My great friend Harry showed me around the place, pointing out the markers for Ray Bradbury and Dean Martin.

Harry and I both consider Some Like It Hot one of the best movies ever, so it was interesting to see that most of the cast was not too far from Marilyn, including the director:

In case you can’t make it out, it says “I’m a writer but then nobody’s perfect.” I can say this was the first funny gravestone saying I’d ever seen.

Then I came across Jack Lemmon (another Some Like It Hot) co-star:

On the way out, I was distracted by how this cemetery, unlike Père Lachaise, which is surrounded with somber majesty, was shoehorned in between giant skyscrapers:

There’s something very L.A. about that to me. And speaking of very L.A., how amusing is it that even after death, Ms. Gabor doesn’t reveal her age?

Earlier this week, I was in Los Angeles. I’ve already written about how I love the funky side of L.A., specifically Venice, where the photo above was taken.

But this past trip I was a little obsessed with the glam side of L.A., possibly because I was listening to The Fame Monster most of the time. Top of my hope-to-meet-someday list is Lady Gaga, the inspiration behind this idea of a new kind of travel blog.

All that happened before I was just inches from one of the glitterati also on my short list.

For the longest time, I have been trying to work out how to include Johnny Weir on newelty.

I know: Figure skating? Really? But Johnny is to figure skating what Lady Gaga is to crappy 80s hair-band pop. From the little I’ve seen, lots of skaters create boring, predictable, hit-the-set-marks routines. (When I did tune in to the Olympics, there seemed to be a preponderance of cheesy cowboy outfits–never mind this racist train wreck.)

There’s not a lot that’s truly new and original. Remind you of anything we keep talking about?

Meanwhile, there’s Johnny, who just puts it all out there and takes no prisoners.

I heart him for his boldness, and his punk rock heart in a glittery shell. He reminds me of a matador. He’s huge in Japan, of course.

So when I came out of a dressing room at Fred Segal and saw him there–buying skinny jeans that I couldn’t fit into, no less–I was totally gobsmacked. I figured that even celebs want a break, though, and didn’t bug him when he shopped.

Happy ending: I bought the dress I was trying on, and now it’s my Johnny Weir L.A. souvenir. Yay! Those kinds of quirky moments are what make little jaunts to L.A. funny, weird, and fun to me.

P.S. In case you’re wondering what the post title refers to, here you go.

• Books piled high on square wooden tables, just calling out to you to browse.
• An owner on-site, recommending books with careful consideration.
• An enticing front door and window display (and extra points if it’s the perfect shade of red):

Welcome to the Red Wheelbarrow, a little treat of an English-language bookstore in the Marais, my favorite shopping district in Paris. (And yours, too, if your pocketbook skews more to funky finds than haute couture.)

Their website is pretty minimal–a commonality I noticed with Cloud & Leaf in Manzanita (one of the recommended stops on the Oregon Coast), although maybe not as severe. I like the Luddite spirit of these book shops, where the creaky shelves of books feel hand-selected.

During my visit to the store, the owner was trying to track down every last copy of the final Harry Potter book to satiate the demand of the English-speaking populace of Paris. She had enough time, though, to heartily recommend The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which allowed me to revisit Paris via its pages even after I left.

While discussing English-language bookstores in the heart of Paris, it’s also worth mentioning Shakespeare & Company. Personally, I find the best thing about this place is the (formidable) history, not the shopping experience. Every time I’ve been in there, it’s seemed overrun with tourists (of which, of course, I’m one).

Still, as a fan of Djuna Barnes and the other Left Bank writers of the black-and-white era of Paris, I had to make the pilgrimage. My suggestion for if you do buy a book there: Ask them to stamp it. The stamp makes even a cheap paperback seem infused with literary history.

But if you want to seriously browse and find books you didn’t know you needed, stick with the Red Wheelbarrow. And if you want to read the store’s namesake poem by William Carlos Williams, go right ahead.

Sometimes there’s a fail that’s so spectacular, it needs double the action, double the fun, which is why we’re giving you a fly-on-the-newelty-wall approach with the messiness that is the Sex and the City 2 trailer.

Microwave yourself a 100-calorie popcorn pack, watch the insane trailer for Sex and the City: Because SJP’s Townhouses Don’t Come Cheap, and join us as we discuss.

What happens when the New Yorkiest of all pop-culture treats relocates…to the Middle East?

The ladies appear to have turned into Cathy cartoon cliches of themselves, and yet still we can’t decide if we’ll watch, Dhabi or no. The verdict? Most likely. Because it’s like watching a car wreck. Or licking a battery. But it’s definitely not likely to make the next edition of travel movies we love.

Lia: Just to begin: I will admit to being concerned about the appearance of Liza Minnelli. And that jacket with the horns makes me seriously angry.

Betty: Totally. But let’s focus on the location for a minute. Why are they going to Abu Dhabi? A vacation spot for the fabulous four? Thankfully, they don’t go to Dubai, but still. It’s bizarre. And don’t even get me started on Aidan.

Lia: What? Team Aidan! Mr. Big is totally 2006, pre-Goldman Sachs meltdown. You know he sold gillions of mortgage-backed securities. Aidan is all Indiana-Jones-at-the Ace Hotel hotness.

Betty: OMG SHUT UP.

Lia: There better be desert nookie.

Betty: WHY IS AIDEN IN ABU DHABI? Also, in case you missed it: WE HAVE RIDDEN THAT TRAIN.

Lia: Because Michael Patrick King saw Gwynnie in Morocco and was like, you know what? Sign us up for something just like that.

Betty: SHUT. UP.

Lia: I love it when you get shouty.

Betty: Carrie has no chemistry with Aiden.

Lia: Mr. Big can’t even bring himself to lose his belly for the roll role. Hello, lazy! Plus, I thought you were all grumpy because it left NYC. Is it just me, or does the whole going to Abu Dhabi seem a little like that Bradys episode when they went to Hawaii? Like, a little desperate?

Betty: I just don’t think those gals would EVER go there. They’d go to Paris. They’d go to London.

Lia: Except they did Paris for the all-expense-paid trip…I mean finale…remember?

Betty: Why Abu Dhabi? It’s so effing random. Also, the whole subplot of Charlotte and Miranda bonding over the kid thing? They have NOTHING in common. They’re tired…so let’s go to Abu Dhabi?

Lia: I’m sure they just got tax breaks out the wazoo and stayed in five-star resorts. Resorts with golf courses in the desert–your favorite.

Betty: Doesn’t it just seem totally silly that during the worst recession ever they’re staying at this dumb place in the desert that was backed by the craziness of the western financial system? Like, aren’t they maybe hurting a tad bit? Let’s do the math.

Sam works in PR. She has zero clients right now. Not going to Abu Dhabi.

Charlotte’s hubby is a divorce lawyer–pepes aren’t getting divorced because they can’t afford it. She best put her East Side coop up for sale.

Miranda is an attorney and most likely is hurting as well. And her hubby owns a bar. It’s most likely gone out of business.

Lia: OMG. You’re writing Sex and the Downer.

Betty: And the clincher is Carrie: HER NEWSPAPER NO LONGER EXISTS AND BIG HAS MOST LIKELY BEEN CANNED. NOT GOING TO ABU DHABI ON VACATION.

Lia: It’s not that I disagree. It’s just, hello, SATC kinda stopped being cool a while ago, and people don’t care about reality. Their audience wants Charlie’s Angel’s-style escapism. Have you seen Dancing with the Stars?

Betty: Touche.

Lia: We saw the first SATC together, right? Do you remember how depressing the audience was? They’re not thinking of New York as the fifth character–they’re watching The Bachelor, only with smutty parts. The audience is only in it for their feather boats and plastic, bedazzled champagne glasses…like the kind we saw opening weekend.

Betty: Uh yeah..while we were drinking actual champagne?

Lia: From a can, though, which is still a little sketch.

Betty: True. But ghetto fabulous.