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Blondie of Arabia

t.e. lawrence

Monica Hunken moved to NYC two days before September 11 bringing with her a family background that included a failed whistle-blower lawsuit and an intrepid immigrant grandfather.  These turned out to be fertile soil for the agit-prop street theatre, political action and bike culture that flourished in the wake of the World Trade Center attacks, the Afghanistan and Iraq invasions and the 2004 RNC protests.

In 2010, inspired by Follow the Women, group ride for human rights that takes place in the Middle East annually, and enabled by a serendipitous catering gig in Qatar that provided the starting point, she embarked on a 6-week solo bicycle trip across Egypt, Jordan and Syria.

A brief description of this gay outing to a longtime peace activist friend elicited “That must have been quite a shock for the locals.” Truer words were never spoken. But it’s amazing what a six-foot tall blonde American can get away with in a region whose inhabitants are bound, on the one hand, by the laws of hospitality, and, on the other, intimate knowledge and fear of the weight and caprice of American state power.

Bringing a “disconcerting American optimism” as she set off just a few weeks before the debut of the Arab Spring, Blondie of Arabia pedaled right into the very heart of the cultural-social maelstrom that is the Middle East, blueballing a series of gallant gentlemen along the way and blithely delivering a terrific whack to any number of gender clichés and hetero-normative sexual political assumptions nestling in a bouquet of  Orientalist geo-political post-colonial paradigms and islamo-phobias, as only a woman riding a bicycle alone through Aqaba can.

Safely back on Bleecker Street three years later, she plays it all for laughs for a brisk and thought-provoking hour at Culture Project, nightly through May 11.

monicahukenphoto-main

 

Meditate or Die

tantraMy friend Luc told me that biking is the perfect meditation. I sighed and said in my pious enlightened voice “So true.” My imaginary skeptical voice scoffed and said “Oh God here we go again.” He was referring to my history with meditation; I am a dilettante of spiritual traditions.

NYC is Candy Land for spiritual seekers like me. I’ve taken all the yogas: hot, naked, Kundalini, and laughing. An acupuncturist using electrified needles has worked me over more than once. The herbal oil enemas were transcendent, but wrecked my furniture. I took the 12 steps and turned my life over to the care of a doorknob.

It was expensive, but I loved all of it and regret nothing. One of the smartest purchases I made was the $250 I spent on the secret mantra. I have been meditating with it sporadically for 16 years, so I feel well qualified to judge whether or not biking is the perfect meditation.

Let’s compare the two.

Meditation Biking
Gently close your eyes DO NOT CLOSE YOUR EYES
Sit in a comfortable, upright seated position Wedge a piece of plastic mounted on a clattering aluminum frame between your ass cheeks
Slow your breathing Gasp for breath
Bring your focus to a single point Only Chinese delivery guys are qualified to do this
Play gentle, calming music Sift crucial sounds from 85dB of city noise
Activate your calming prefrontal cortex Fire up the amygdala. It’s fight or flight time, baby.

On paper, biking is about as meditative as a Rammstein concert.

But is it?

After crashing into a limo on 6th Avenue and being doored in Chinatown in the first week of my bike commuting experiment, I realized that spacing off while hurtling through a gauntlet of cars is deadly. There are hundreds of harmless things on the streets that can turn perilous in an instant. All my senses must be focused on everything at once and my reactions must be agile enough to evade danger. When my mind is occupied in this way, the chatter nearly stops. I’m forced to be in the moment.

While in this state, the ride is sensuous and I feel everything intensely. Rhythms emerge from the din. I float across dunes of asphalt formed by pounding tires. Sound is hushed when I turn off a busy thoroughfare onto a side street and the kaleidoscopic city turns into a quiet little town. I fly down the avenues with pigeons on a magic carpet. It’s exhilarating. And then the ride ends.

Luc was right. Biking in NYC is the perfect meditation.

meditation

 

 

Spring comes to New York City …in 2409

nyc_greenmap_present_future_

This amazing map is reprinted in Mapping New York from Eric Sanderson’s Manahatta imagines what New York will look like in 400 years. The bottom of Manhattan has returned to its original shoreline, minus the landfill that defines its shape today, which will all be underwater. But it’s the green space imagined by Sanderson and Heidi Nelson that makes the mind boggle.

When the seasons change, I think of this map as I’m riding around the city. I have a kind of nostalgia for the present, and I wonder both what the first inhabitants would think if they saw Brooklyn as it is today, and how the present city will be remembered in the future.

Espresso

vanfmoof

By Carter Goodwin

Last Saturday, I found a cool bike shop in Brooklyn called Rolling Orange that sells genuine Dutch commuter bikes. I walked in, got the concept instantly — lifestyle bikes that combine sport, pleasure and utility — and walked out with a new Van Moof commuter bike. I was high on the rush of the impulse purchase.

This is the argument I had with myself.

“I’m buying this bike and from now on I will commute to work, saving over $1,200 a year in Metro cards.”

“Yeah, right, like the time you swore that you’d write every day, meditate for 3 hours, and eat only vegetables foraged from Prospect Park. Remember the cute little house you bought at the height of the market and barely sold just 3 years later? You’re still paying for that.”

“But I don’t like my bike. It looks funny.”

“You’re that shallow?”

“Yes.”

Then I lay down the trump card.

“This bike is authentically European, and everyone knows the superiority of European quality and taste.”

That clinched the deal.

I learned about European superiority from Alexandre, the real French boyfriend I once had, the one who OD’d and ran away with his attending nurse and my cat Igrec. Oh mon amour. He had perfect taste, and taught me well. Now I’m a Francophile American farm boy. I will pay anything for Authenticity.

But soon I had doubts about Rolling Orange. By Wednesday, I was pretty sure that it was just an aspirational concept store, backed by a mass American bike brand. They hired cute, sexually ambiguous sales people with fake accents to sell rebranded product to Americans like me. I went back to the store to find the cracks in the façade.

“Hi Mark!” I said, wondering why his name wasn’t Joep or Sem. I noted the names of the bikes: the Backfiets, Van Moof, and the Strida. They sounded European, but could also have been invented by an intern in a cage.

I found no obvious signs in the showroom that Rolling Orange was a fraud. But there was one room left to check, the one where no marketing department could hide: the bathroom. If real Europeans owned it, it would have a bidet, or a light fixture that looked like a tiny yacht had sneezed on the wall. I opened the door, certain that it would reveal the deception, but instead found proof of its legitimacy: a well-used espresso machine.

In the bathroom.

Phew.

espresso

 

It’s Still Winter

kim de marco img

Apparently it’s going to continue to be winter until at least the end of the week. Lots of people are talking to me about how long the winter is feeling this year–I suppose that’s to be expected when it gets such an early and spectacular start with a hurricane.

While wading through the wind and rain, focus the mind’s eye on Kim De Marco’s better world. (and see more of her work at kimdemarco.com)

Am I Invisible? Open Call

Great Piece by Charles Komanoff about Congestion Pricing in London

A really great piece by the superlative Charles Komanoff in Streetsblog today about congestion pricing.

Congestion pricing is a great idea because it obliges everyone to recognize what using a private car in a city with public transportation really is: a luxury.

He starts out by quoting a Republican (!) Congressman, ‘ “Traveling was so much better,” he said. “You can actually get around.” ‘

Not to mention this amazing map.

And it just gets better from there.

Winter Riding: Snow

Weather. Where would we be without it? That’s what I say when people complain. Think about it: no weather at all. We’d be on the moon.

where there is no weather

Weather that makes noise, or piles up, rain, hail, snow, sleet, fog, mist, any and all of these in any combination are my passion. When a friend of mine who lives in another part of the country heard there was a snowstorm in New York that included thunder and lightning she left a voicemail, “You must be in seventh heaven.” And she was right.

Apart from being out in it, my favorite place to find out about the weather is Intellicast, which has interactive maps which to the weather fanatic is like a shot of whiskey to an alcoholic: one is too many and a hundred are not enough. I’m not exactly sure what “interactive” means in this case because you can’t actually do anything on the site to modify the weather. But you can get very detailed information about it, where it’s coming from, how quickly it’s coming, and what kind it is.

Today's forecast from Intellicast

Today’s forecast from Intellicast

NASA satellite image of nemo

NASA satellite image of nemo

 Nor’easters are among winter’s most ferocious storms. These strong areas of low pressure often form either in the Gulf of Mexico or off the East Coast in the Atlantic Ocean….

In places like New York City and Boston, for instance, if the wintertime low tracks up to the west of these cities, wintry precipitation will often change to rain.

However, if the low moves slightly off the coast to the east of these cities, assuming there is enough moisture and cold air accompanying the storm, Boston and New York will typically get snow or a mixture of precipitation types.

A nor’easter gets its name from its continuously strong northeasterly winds blowing in from the ocean ahead of the storm and over the coastal areas. 

The forecast said snow today, and a few tiny flakes were already swirling past the window as I ate my breakfast. When I got on my bike I was wearing my Snow Outfit: a shearling coat over a merino wool sweater, a wool watch cap and two scarves, a silk one beneath a woolen muffler, and of  course, The Gloves. By the time I got to the Manhattan side of the bridge I was sweating like a pig.

Straight ahead of me riding up The Bowery was a man dressed for the weather much more appropriately than I in a dapper lightweight gray herringbone tweed jacket. He was riding a bike with upright handlebars and super-skinny tires. At the next light I found myself stopped beside him, well positioned to get a glimpse of the front view, which,  just as dapper as the rear, revealed a pleasant, lightly bearded face and stylish rectangular eyeglasses.

“Doesn’t it seem like it might snow later,” I asked.

“It’s supposed to,” he agreed amiably.

“Is that very attractive jacket going to be warm enough?” I asked.

“I have another coat,” he said.

“Where is it?”

“Right here,” he said, patting a knapsack in the basket over his front wheel.

“How about those skinny tires in the snow? What’s that like?”

“I have another bike,” he said, smiling, “that has little metal spikes in the tires.”

“Aha.” I was very impressed by this information. Spiked tires! That’s preparedness for you. “Where is that?”

“In Brooklyn,” he said.

By this time the light had changed, and we were riding down Third Avenue side by side.

Hoping to convey warm interest that would encourage him to say more I said, “Aha.”

We pedaled along for a few minutes in silence as I tried to think what good this bicycle in Brooklyn could possibly do him in the present situation, but I couldn’t figure it out.

“That might not be so convenient later today,” I ventured.

He laughed, and agreed.

” Do you ever take the subway with your bike?” I asked, still trying to figure out what the plan might be. Surely the exceptional foresight that accounts for two bicycles–one with spiked tires no less–would also factor in a plan?

“Yes, but only in extreme emergencies.” His eyebrows come down toward his glasses making his pleasant face look, if not exactly annoyed, very serious. This does its  handsome pleasantness no harm whatsoever.

“It’s such a hassle. By the time you lug your bike down into the station and wait for the train, you’d be halfway home already.”

He laughed lightly, as if to say such a problem could not possibly ever concern him, personally.  I wonder what he would consider an ‘extreme emergency.’ But we’ve approached the corner where I turn off Third Avenue and the light is green, so there was no time to ask.

I laughed, too, hoping to convey sympathetic agreement, and I said, “I turn here. Nice talking to you.”

“Nice talking to you, as well,” he replied, and we glided off in our separate directions.

eyeglassesI wondered what he was going to do if it did snow more later, with those spiky tires on his other bike at home in Brooklyn. I wondered if that could that be considered an extreme emergency.

As the day went on the wind shifted and the temperature fell. The wet snow of the morning froze beneath the new snow which the wheels of quiet slow cars pushed up into the creamy ridges made all the more beautiful by the knowledge that it would be so fleeting, ending in a long, slow decline of gurgling black slush.

By the time night fell the snow was howling frantically past my window like big gusts of confetti and the only cyclists still out there were delivery guys on mountain bikes grinding through the drifts with bags of chinese takeout hanging from their handlebars.

chinese takeout

 

Am I Invisible? Open Call

Am I Invisible? Call for Photography Meet the Jury!

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Bicycle is thrilled to announce Am I Invisible? Call for Photography jury!

“Am I Invisible? A Portrait of New York Bicyclists” is an open call for photographs and photography-based art that capture the style and diversity of New York City’s distinctive bicycling community. A portion of the entry fee will be donated to Transportation Alternatives, New York City’s oldest and largest transportation advocacy organization.

For more information about Am I Invisible? and to enter a photograph, go here.

Pasqualina Azzarello, Visual Artist, Executive Director of Recycle-a-Bicycle 
Pasqualina Azzarello is deeply involved with New York City, both as a public and installation artist and as Executive Director of Recycle-a-Bicycle, a community-based bike shop and 501(c)(3) non-profit organization that facilitates job training and environmental education. Through innovative programs such as Earn-A-Bike, Green Jobs Training Programs, High School Internships, Recycled Arts Workshops, Summer Youth Employment Program, and Kids Ride Club, RAB is dedicated to the health, development, stewardship, and empowerment of NYC youth.
More about Recycle-a-Bicycle here

Elizabeth Zechella, Editor, The Metropolitan Museum of Art
Elizabeth Zechella, originally from Athens, Georgia, landed in New York City eight years ago by way of New Orleans, Paris, and the burgeoning metropolis of Annandale-on-Hudson.
Prior to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, she was an editor at Phaidon Press and a project manager at Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York. She volunteers for Transportation Alternatives and is a member of Community Board 4, where she serves on the Transportation and Chelsea Land Use committees.
She commutes from Chelsea to the Met on a basketed black Biria.
More about The Metropolitan Museum of Art here

Emma Raynes, Program Director at the Magnum Foundation
Emma Raynes, Program Director at the Magnum Foundation is also a media producer who also likes to play with sound, video, and book arts. A recipient of a Hine Fellowship from Duke University’s Center for Documentary Studies, she is at work on an ongoing a transmedia project about families of sugarcane workers in Brazil. Emma lives in Greenpoint Brooklyn and works on Manhattan’s west side. One of her favorite things in the world is biking over the Williamsburg Bridge on her way to work.
More about The Magnum Foundation here

Claire Fleury, Curator and Founder, Strange Loop Gallery
Claire Fleury is from Amsterdam, where bicycles rule. A writer, performer, fashion designer and curator, she has had many lives, including bicycle messenger in New York City. Her current bicycle is a Dawes.
More about Strange Loop Gallery here

Nona Varnado, Fashion Designer, Writer, Curator at Red#5 Yellow #7 Project Space
Nona Varnado is founder of the eponymous lifestyle cycling apparel line and curator of Red#5 Yellow#7 in Los Angeles. Part bike gallery, part pop-up shop, Red#5 Yellow#7 is a launchpad for the most interesting new cycling products and a resource for connecting people to new ideas.
More about Nona Varnado here

Accra Shepp, Visual Artist, Photographer, Visiting Assistant Professor at Pratt Institute
Accra Shepp’s work is represented in the Museum of Modern Art, The Chicago Art Institute, the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Whitney Museum of American Art. His work has been exhibited widely, notably a solo exhibition at the Whitney; his Occupy Wall Street work was seen in Brussels as part of the 2012 Human Cities Festival, and the Museum of the City of New York. A Fulbright fellow, he is the recipient of a NYFA fellowship. His favorite mode of transportation in New York City is a bicycle.
More about Accra Shepp here

Saul Robbins, Photographer, Curator, Educator at The International Center of Photography, Board Member Emeritus of the Camera Club of New York
Saul Robbins’ work has been exhibited at Griffin Museum of Photography, Maryland Institute College of Art, Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, New Orleans Photo Alliance, Portland Art Museum His curatorial projects Projecting Freedom: Cinematic Interpretations of the Haggadah (2010), Regarding Intimacy (2007), and No Live Girls, Peep Show 28 (2002). His favorite bicycle is a 1960s Mercier women’s 5-speed
More about Saul Robbins here

John Stanley, Director of the Camera Club of New York
John Stanley is the recipient of the Paula Rhodes Memorial Award 2009. He was Education Coordinator at SF Camerawork (San Francisco) and taught ICP Teen Academy, Grand Street Settlement and the Bronx’s Cinema School. His photographs have been exhibited at Edward Hopper House Art Center, Nyack, NY, at P.S. 122 Gallery, Visual Arts Gallery, and Envoy Enterprises in NYC, and Photo Center Northwest, Seattle. After years of not using a bike, John is a proud bike owner who can’t wait for warmer weather.
More about the Camera Club here
More about John Stanley here 

 

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Happy New Year!

A Band on Wheels

Mr F.W.Painter, the well-known cycling instructor and
bandmaster of the Christchurch Professional Band, intends shortly to
introduce to the public a novelty in the form of a bicycle band.
Several members of the Professional Band have been practising,
assiduously for some time past, and at a rehearsal this morning they
showed considerable proficiency in playing their instruments while
cycling. On a more suitable ground than that at the drillshed they are
able to perform several manoeuvres on their wheels.
The Star (New Zealand), 13 April 1898, Page 3 

 

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Winter Riding: Gloves

I stop in to say hello to Mike at the Bicycle Station around six.

“So you’re riding in the cold weather! How are you holding up?”

Fine, I say, only my hands are cold; I need to get better gloves. I show him my arrangement: a pair of glove liners stuffed inside leather gloves. Riding that morning, it had taken only 15 minutes for my fingers to go from numb to smarting, the second stage of frostbite.

“Wait a second,” Mike disappears into the back of the shop and comes back a minute later pulling the tags off a pair of gloves that would not look out of place in a jousting match between Martians. “Take these, they’re too small for me.”

gloves

The next morning my phone says it’s 23 degrees Fahrenheit when I leave the house, but the wind has died down so it doesn’t feel as cold as it had the day before. I pull on Mike’s gloves and start off. When I stop for the light six blocks later, my hands hurt just as much as they had with my previous four-glove arrangement. Waiting for the light to change I pass the time pounding my hands together to stimulate the circulation. I’m thinking that the new gloves, for all their appearance of high-tech invulnerability, provide a mostly cosmetic improvement

But as I turn onto  Flushing Avenue my fingers start to warm up inside the gloves. By the time I turn on to the Manhattan Bridge I’m wondering what similar arrangements there might be for my feet…

That night, on my way home, I stop in to thank Mike for the gloves, and I tell him about the strange getting cold and warming up again experience. He grins and says, “You have to make sure you stay warm, if you’re going to ride in winter. You don’t want to get frostbite. Racers use BenGay on their hands, on their legs, on their feet, to warm up their muscles.”

Dr Jules Bengué

” That last snowstorm, I rode in it. I had hybrid 700×38 tires which still gives you some stability, but even so I was concentrating on main streets that were plowed. When you hear of icy conditions, you shouldn’t ride. You could break your body up pretty badly. They make studded tires for mountain bikes, but even so.

“I’ve been to Bear Mountain on the 1st of January several times. The Century Club used to have an annual ride. ”It went from a ride to a race!”

“We started at Central Park, 25 of us. By the time we got to the George Washington Bridge, only seven of us decided to continue.  We were dehydrated because the water bottles froze within 15 minutes. We spent like two hours in a diner, we were so frostbitten.”

NYC to Bear Mountain & BackShare your bike routes @ Bikely.com

I was curious about the way my hands had warmed up in Mike’s gloves, so I went to REI in Soho to ask them about it. A guy in the bicycle department, he sent me to the glove department. There I met Jay and Hotek, standing in the midst of more gloves I had ever imagined could exist, hanging on hooks on one wall from floor to ceiling and both sides of two aisles of chest-high racks.

What is the warmest glove?

Jay said, “People will argue this a lot. You need something with wind protection, and insulation. Lots of companies say their gloves are windproof, but they’re not.

She turns to the rack, scanning the gloves for a good example.

“Which part of your hand gets hit by the wind first, knuckles or fingers? A lot depends on how you ride. If your handlebars are drop-down or t-shaped, your hands are facing the wind in different positions.”

She takes a pair of gloves from the wall.

“See? Mittens like these are really insulated at the tips, but on the knuckles they’re pretty thin. So you have to think about that.

“Then, mittens or gloves? There’s a lot of discussion about which is better. People tend to prefer one or the other. Scientifically, it seems like it makes more sense that mittens would keep your hands warmer.”

She returns the gloves to the rack and takes down a pair of fleece mittens.

“One pouch to hold the combined heat of your fingers–and your whole hand– rather than isolated fingers trying to keep warm separately.

“Then, there are three kinds of insulation: Triplex, Primaloft and Comfortmax. Primaloft is considered the best because it has a higher warmth to weight ratio than down. ”

Hotek, who has been talking to another customer, comes over just in time to hear this.

“Well, that depends on what kind of down you’re talking about,” he says.

A rapid-fire. discussion ensues about fill power vs. quality of down, and whether “fill power” and “quality” mean the same thing.

A disagreement about feather weight turns into an argument about how fill power is determined and Hotek starts explaining something having to do with filling a tube with feathers and ratios of feathers to air in the tube.

Trying to drag the conversation back to the difference between fill power and down quality Jay says, “Some down is just chopped up feathers.”

Hotek shoots back “That would just be false advertising which is a separate problem.

“Now if you want to talk about what kind type of birds it comes from, that’s another question.”

I discreetly collect my lower jaw from the floor to say, Can we get back to mittens vs gloves?

A nearby customer overhears this and says, “You can’t wear mittens when you’re riding a bike; you need your fingers to be able to switch gears.”

Jay looks at Hotek. He shrugs as if to say, that’s a good point. “A lobster claw would be probably be good.”

I show them the gloves Mike gave me.

“Oh, Thinsulate,” Hotek says. “Thinsulate was the first microfibre, built in 1979 by 3M. It has good things and bad things about it. ”

“The good thing,” says Jay, “is it’s incredibly warm. I have a Thinsulate hat that belonged to my grandmother. It’s so old, and it’s my warmest hat.”

“The problem with Thinsulate, ” Hotek goes on, “is it doesn’t breathe very well.”

“Then you get into sweat and wicking,” agrees Jay.

“The premier synthetic is Primaloft.”

So what’s the warmest glove?

“That would be these Black Diamond gloves over here,” says Hotek walking over to a pair of green nylon gloves with leather palms hanging in the center aisle.

 

black diamond

 

I try them on; they seem very warm, but they’re so thick I can hardly close my hand.

You could never a bike with these, I say.

He nods. “They’re made for skiing.”

“Wait a second.” He squints, looking at the ceiling. “There was a guy in here a while ago…” he walks around to the other side of the rack, “looking for warm biking gloves, and we gave him a Manzella windproof liner underneath a Pearl Izumi lobster for insulation.

ocean liner

 ”That’s got to be the warmest, most windproof glove.”

 

lobster

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