travel

Lady Liberty #adventures #NYC

November 27, 2015 by admin

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! If you’re just joining me, Friday posts concern our extended NYC visit (five months).

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We’ve been coming to NYC regularly since 2006, but until now have not visited the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, which is part of the Statue of Liberty National Park system. This time around, we weren’t going to miss it!

If you plan to go to NYC and want to see Lady Liberty, make your plans well in advance — especially if you want to go up into the crown (there’s more scheduling flexibility if you just want to go to the pedestal). We ordered our tickets about 60 days ahead of time.

You’ll need to provide photo I.D. and go through two airport-style security lines to get to see her.

As the ferry took us over to Liberty Island, I couldn’t help but think of my great-grandfather, who arrived in 1896 at the ripe old age of 20 and would have seen the Statue of Liberty while she was just a youngster, having herself arrived from France in 1886. What a sight, both for him and for me!

I recommend visiting the museum first, because if you go into the statue as we did, you’ll have to surrender your audioguide and get another one later.

You can reach the pedestal via wide, easy stairs, and the views of the city from there are incredible. We went up into the crown, but the path up there is a narrow, spiral staircase (one stair for going up, the other for going down). I had to stop on one of the landings because my claustrophobia kicked in.

Frankly, the crown isn’t that big of a deal. The windows looking out are tiny, and we spent all of about five minutes up there. Plus, if you go up in the summer, it’s stifling hot.

Turns out that product placement and merchandising aren’t recent innovations. Both were used to raise funds to build and transport the statue!

As we moved on to Ellis Island, I learned that it served as the main immigration portal for a relatively short time — 1892 to 1954. Most of my ancestors had spent generations in America, so the number of my ancestors who passed through Ellis Island is fairly small.

Also, the building my great-grandfather would have seen upon his arrival burned to the ground in 1897, so my view upon the ferry’s approach is very different from what his would have been.

For a small fee, you can research your family’s arrival to Ellis Island, but this information is also available online for free.

Though I was excited about seeing both the Statue and Ellis Island, I was ill-prepared for how emotional it would be for me. Millions came, many after long and arduous journeys on crowded ships with poor conditions. They came with little or no money, some with no knowledge of English, and they made a life here.

Nadine Galinsky Feldman is the author of The Foreign Language of Friends and the upcoming What She Knew, available March 2016. If you enjoy this blog, please consider purchasing a book or signing up for the newsletter to learn about upcoming promotions and giveaways.

The High Line #newyorkadventure #travel

October 30, 2015 by admin

This is the first in a series of posts I’ll be writing about our New York City adventures. Enjoy!

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We’re happily ensconced in the East Village of Manhattan, where we will spend the next five months. Tomkins Square Park is 50 yards west of our apartment, and community gardens abound. Tree-lined streets soften this part of the city, marrying nature with the crowded civilization that comprises New York.

We are taking daily walks, exploring parts of the city we haven’t before, despite visiting our daughter here for the past nine years.

On a perfect Sunday afternoon, we ventured out of the neighborhood and to the High Line. We’ve walked it before, but a new section has opened since our last visit, so we checked it out.

The tracks remain as plants grow among them.

The High Line was once a train line and now is an elevated park with a walking path. When the train tracks went into disuse, plants seeded themselves. While work has been done to tame the plantings, they include a number of hardy native species. On this visit, I enjoyed the asters in particular, which are blooming profusely. I grow asters in one of my blueberry beds in Washington State as a companion plant, and I find the purple flowers irresistible.

An outdoor restaurant graces the 14th Street entrance, and there’s also a place to get drinks while on your walk. The train tracks remain as part of the decor and fit in nicely with other art scattered throughout. Of course, nothing makes a New York City park more complete than the New Yorkers themselves, dressed in everything from blue jeans to full-length gowns. A group of monks (or at least they were dressed like monks) wandered the High Line to beg, and we saw more than one bride and groom having photos taken. If you want to “people watch,” head to the High Line!

Nadine Galinsky Feldman is the author of The Foreign Language of Friends, When a Grandchild Dies: What to Do, What to Say, How to Cope, and the upcoming What She Knew.

When Life Imitates Art #travel #adventure #writing

June 17, 2015 by admin

Years of working in Manhattan have turned Liz Nabor into a diehard New Yorker. When her aunt, from whom she has been estranged for years, dies and leaves her a house in Western Washington, Liz is plunged (unwillingly) into a bicoastal life.

When I started writing What She Knew two and a half years ago, I created a character who becomes torn between the life she planned for herself and the life she resists, which is filled with unexpected joy.

I didn’t know I was writing a prayer about my own future.

Before the summer of 2006, I’d never visited New York City and had no desire to do so. Then the stepdaughter enrolled at The Parsons School of Design. After she graduated, she settled in Queens, so we’ve spent a lot of time visiting the city.

After several trips, we found “our” hotel and restaurants we enjoy. Visits include Broadway and off-Broadway shows that lately have left us hungry for more. We spend time with cousins who live in New Jersey. We’ve made friends there, too.

More and more, NYC feels like home…almost.

We love the paradise that is Port Townsend. As we head into summer, it’s all I can do to keep up with the garden’s bounty. If you’ve followed my blog, you know I am passionate about getting my hands in the dirt. We are constantly outdoors, and I enjoy visiting with neighbors who stroll by my house as I work outside.

Still, the city calls to us. Come and play, it says. Have an adventure. We will heed the call in a curious way: by living in New York in the winter.

It sounds strange, but it makes sense to us. We can spend more time with our daughter, and we can also make short trips to Miami to see our son (so we can work around his work schedule). We can take in shows, author talks, and museums in the winter when we’re indoors anyway. Since we don’t have to shovel walks or drive a car, we figure we can handle it.

In the garden, I won’t plant winter squash. I won’t freeze as much fruit. We will leave after the apple harvest and return in time to prune the trees.

We’ll sublet an apartment, and listings are starting to dribble in for our home away from home. My husband found a barber shop in the area of interest. Recently, we enjoyed our first back and foot rubs in Chinatown, even though we have stayed there for years! Research, y’know.

I’m now getting e-mails from the 92nd Street Y and the New York Public Library, both of which offer author talks. Gotham Writers’ Workshop, from which I’ve taken several online courses, offers in-person classes and write-ins in the city.

I’m researching my next novel now so I can draft it during NaNoWriMo. There’s something tantalizing about holing up in a tiny apartment in the winter, where I don’t have to focus on anything but my work.

It feels odd to live in two worlds like this, the small town and the major city. When I gave this situation to Liz Nabor, I never dreamed it would become my life.

I hope to release What She Knew later this year…maybe about the time I start my New York chapter for myself. Stay tuned!

Walking the Moors – Thoughts on Bronte Country

November 12, 2014 by admin

Did you know that the Bronte sisters, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne, wrote and published a book of poetry that sold only two copies? Though well reviewed, the book flopped. Even when they did achieve literary success, it came under male pseudonyms, and reviews after they were outed as females took a nosedive.

Yet Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre remain two of the greatest and best-loved novels in history.

The Bronte sisters wrote together, and we can imagine them bouncing their ideas off of one another, but they also wrote wildly. Their stories were too “improper” to be written by women. Yet they couldn’t help themselves. In their regular walks along the Yorkshire moors, strolling through thigh-high fields of heather, they captured the passion and raw fury of winds and rain and exposure, stamping unforgettable settings and emotion in their work. They wrote true to their natures, and their boldness has kept their novels in the public ever since.

Recently I had the great privilege to walk the moors the Bronte sisters once did. I visited the home where they made history, looking at their tiny clothes (including Charlotte’s wedding bonnet) and pondering their lives. Of course, I came home with a stack of books to learn more about them. As always, it helped me as a writer to literally walk their path. A hike to Top Withens, said to be the inspiration for Wuthering Heights, brought the stories more deeply into my bones.

I don’t pretend to even come close to the skill of these authors. I do know, though, as I walk along the moors, absorbing the life and strength they emanate, I am adding to the files of my imagination. The Bronte ghosts tell me they, too, were merely human, and struggled to balance their unusual writing styles with the marketplace of the time. Their struggles are different, but we understand each other. I return to my own work renewed and inspired to continue.

What Ifs and Wales

November 6, 2014 by admin

What if a man finds himself a prisoner in a place of great beauty, unable to go home? What if he loses his name and is known only as Number 6? What if he raises his fist and refuses to conform, saying, “I am not a number. I am a free man!”

Debonair, charismatic British actor Patrick McGoohan asked those questions in the 1960s during a visit to Portmeirion Village in Wales. The result was The Prisoner, an iconic miniseries that remains a cult favorite.

It’s not surprising that Portmeirion inspired a classic. Sitting on the edge of an estuary, Portmeirion has the look and feel of a hillside Italian village in miniature. Upon seeing it for the first time, I let out an involuntary gasp at the stunning, elegant buildings and the abundant nature surrounding them.

Portmeirion was the brainchild of Clough Williams-Ellis, who asked himself, what if he could create beauty without disturbing the surrounding environment? He spent 50 years working on the answer.

What if? It’s my favorite question. Sometimes “what if” paralyzes me with fear when I’m trying something new and fear the worst. “What if” helps me plan ahead and solve problems before they happen. “What if” ponders my fate had I made different choices as a young woman.

As a writer, I rely on “what if” to come up with story ideas. What if an ambitious female money manager gets caught up in the Madoff scandal and loses the life she knew? What if a troubled young woman with low self-esteem and a burgeoning alcohol problem is the only person who can stop a dangerous bully? What if my great-great grandmother, the one who bore a child out of wedlock and died ten months later of typhoid, was not the victim her story would suggest?

“What if” brought me to Wales. When we decided to visit the U.K., I said, “What if I ask Juliet Greenwood, a Welsh author I met online, if she wants to meet in person?” I did ask, and she said yes. We met first in her home, then she joined us later to relax in Portmeirion.

Juliet recently wrote about her visit here. As you will see, she gathered some incredible nighttime photos!

Juliet is one of those writers for whom I have great respect. She works hard at her craft and has created two lovely novels, Eden’s Garden and We That Are Left. Getting to know her better in person in Portmeirion made the experience that more magical.

What if I worked as hard to build my stories and skills as Juliet does? Hmm. Something to think about.

Rested and recovered with creative juices flowing, we left Portmeirion for Bronte Country. What if we find a Bronte ghost walking on the moors? More about that next week! As they say in The Prisoner, “Be seeing you.”

In Search of Jane

August 25, 2014 by admin

Last week, I wrote about a book I recently read called The Family: Three Journeys into the Heart of the Twentieth Century. I met David Laskin at the Chuckanut Writers Conference in Bellingham, Washington. In this post, you’ll see why the timing of our meeting is so interesting.

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Sometimes, a casual conversation with my mother changes the entire trajectory of my life. One such conversation in 1998 resulted in my first book, When a Grandchild Dies. That book, and the personal transformation that resulted, propelled me into a life I could never have imagined.

A few months ago, we had another one of those conversations. I’m unsure as to where it will lead, but I know now to get ready for a new and exciting journey!

Hubby and I had decided to plan a long trip. Most of our travel lately has been to visit family, and our feet are itchy for new adventure. Where to go? Bronte Country in England is on our list, so that seemed like the place to start.

Then I looked north on the map, to Scotland. My great-grandfather, Hugh Stein, grew up there, emigrating in 1896 at 21. I’d always planned to go. Why not now?

So of course, I called Mom to give her the news. Was there anything in particular she wanted me to see?

“No one knows where my great-grandparents are buried,” she said. “It would be nice if you could find their graves.”

“I’m on it,” I said. Then I hung up the phone and thought, what have I gotten myself into? I had no experience in these matters…not that this has ever stopped me.

Within a day, though, with the help of the Internet, I found the graves — sort of.

Yes, I found the graves of Robert and Maggie Stein. I also learned, however, that Hugh Stein had a different mother — Jane Thorburn, a woman whose name I had never heard before.

Ten months after giving birth to Hugh, Jane died of typhoid fever at 26. Robert married Margaret a few years later, and she became the only mother Hugh knew. Jane vanished into the ethers of history until my search resurrected her. But was it true? Had I found correct information?

“He always called himself Hugh Thorburn Stein,” Mom said, “but he was such a storyteller we thought he just made it up.”

I had found confirmation. Naturally, the curious writer in me whispers, what other stories are there? I’m currently researching a probable connection to an innovative but scurrilous whisky dynasty.

Soon we will pay our respects to Robert and Maggie Stein. But what about Jane? Most likely, my sources tell me, she is somewhere in an unmarked grave, but local records will tell the tale. The “kirk sessions records,” kept by the local parish church, may also offer clues. Those are not online, so I will go to them.

Hugh Stein was given his father’s name at birth, so we know the family acknowledged him. We know he grew up to be a fine man, a loving husband, and someone who cared about his community. We do not know about the mysterious woman who brought him into the world, and I hope to change that.

This upcoming trip to Scotland will be unlike any vacation I’ve ever taken. These are my people and my roots. And perhaps, somewhere and somehow, we will find my great-great grandmother Jane, and welcome her back into our family. She’s been invisible long enough.