The weight of it all

On our second visit to the Museum of Natural History, Charles moved very slowing through the history of time. I, on the other hand find geology and explanations of how matter and time interrelate to be so impossible that I get bored. There are scales that show a person's weight on each planet and the moon. I decided that I should go and live on a planet where I am half my earth weight, or everybody else should go to a planet where they weigh double their earth weight. The museum has gone to a great deal of trouble to explain relative size, but it made my head hurt.

In the evening we cooked dinner at Ben and Naoli's and Ben's friend Fritswa came over. She has just finished her third year at Colombia which is upstate New York (About 3 hours from New York City.) She is a vibrant woman with the world at her feet.

Charles has really got the hang of skating, and has a great time at the Rockefeller Centre. This is in the heart of New York (mid-town), opposite Sacs of 5th Avenue. For admission and skate hire the cost is almost $25 US; hardly an affordable fun family activity. Ben is a terrific skater and has his own skates. By virtue of his skill and personality, he manages to jump the queue (usually about 1 hour wait) and get in for free. Charles tags along and gets in for free as well. If they have any hassles, the manager comes along and lets them in. There is a huge crowd in the lower level skate rink and the giant Rockefeller Christmas tree towers above. All the trees are aflame with fairy lights and the whole front of Sacs has lights in the patterns of snowflakes on the facade. Kids, teenagers, young lovers, tourists, and rich families skate around. Puff Daddy hired the whole rink for his birthday. Somehow he must have forgotten to invite me.

Charles and Ben have a few friends and they play tag. This is really good because (apparently) it improves skill: ducking, twisting, turning etc. Naoli and I watch from the side and yell encouragement and congratulations like soccer mums. The vast majority of the people just totter around and I am particularly entertained by the women in fur coats who have been talked into it by husbands or children. They look so ridiculous; all dressed up, elegant hair styles and matching accessories, but absolutely no grace on the ice. The whole thing smells of privilege and decedance as concords with all of the connotations of the name Rockefeller.

The trip home late at night is another story. On recessed doorfronts, under entrances to stations, on the trains themselves, in lane-ways and no doubt in places I have not seen, people curl up to sleep. Some have sleeping bags, some have shopping trollies, some have a pile of paper for insulation. Apparently a large appliance box from a washing machine or fridge is very useful. I remind myself that this is the cleaned up New York; the poverty has been moved off Manhattan, and this is a very mild winter, so the numbers of people who have frozen to death is relatively low. I know this happens in Melbourne, it just does not happen on this scale and I don't see it often.

Movies, TV shows, films, books and comics all come to life; everything from the Chelsea Hotel to Lou Reed's corner of 125th and Lexington (Waiting for My Man). But best of all is Spiderman. The photograph is of one of the original costumes made for Toby Maguire in the first movie.

Today's adventure was to walk north up to Lasker skate rink in Central Park and to watch a bit of ice-hockey. (This is not to be confused with the Wollman Rink in Central Park at the south end.)This rink is almost in Harlem and for contrast, has no queue, costs about $8 for entry and skate hire, has no fancy lights or carts selling hot chocolate, and has people who can actually skate.