Project 365: Days 12-19

12/365: We ate at a restaurant famous for melting cheese over everything (at your table!) // We walked from the East Village to 57th and 7th Avenue (5+ miles) because the weather was nice and the company was A+.

13/365: After midnight dollar pizza on St. Marks after a work happy hour and a birthday party.

14/365: I got a new lens and tested it out on my favorite photo subject (in my very dark bedroom).

15/365: We explored the Fieldston and Riverdale neighborhoods of the Bronx.

16/365: My dude and I went to check out a new shopping complex in Sunset Park and I found this holy grail soda of my childhood at World Market // We wanted to go bowling but didn't have enough time—Melody Lanes is a total time-warp though, and I hope to go back very soon.

17/365: I finished the very excellent Rules of Civility and started reading The Voyeur's Motel (I'm ahead of schedule on my reading challenge for this year—let's be friends on Goodreads!).

18/365: Mozart plays with these snakes that I received in a Halloween package and they still scare me every time I see one on the floor.

19/365: Sick day (those ugly floral dishes came with our apartment).

Fieldston, Bronx

Sometimes I think I may have already exhausted all of my adventure possibilities in New York City, or at least that I'm aware of all of the interesting things this city has to offer. But then I come across an article or hear about a place like the Fieldston neighborhood and I realize that I could live here forever and still not discover everything.

Fieldston is a privately-owned neighborhood just east of Riverdale in the Bronx. The majority of the neighborhood is a historical district and it's filled with enormous, single-family homes, huge trees and winding streets. The houses were built beginning in 1910 by a list of approved architects who designed homes in a few "strongly encouraged" styles. Many of the houses are built in the Tudor revival style and the neighborhood was painfully charming on the day we went—brilliantly sunny with light snow from the day before still dusting the sidewalks and roofs.

Fieldston is near the end of the 1 line (I recommend stopping for breakfast first at the Short Stop Coffee Shop first) but it feels like another world. New York can feel so small and squeezed for space, but there are a seemingly endless number of places that I've found where you can go to breathe a little easier, enjoy the quiet and fall in love with New York all over again.

MLK

The words and actions of Martin Luther King Jr. are always relevant, but they seem even more vital today. Just two days ago, our President-elect attacked civil rights hero John Lewis, saying—about the man that had his skull fractured by the police after marching in Selma—that he's "all talk, talk, talk - no action or results."

In November of 2015, I saw the MLK memorial in Washington DC for the first time and was awed by its scale, simplicity and the words of MLK himself. The memorial, dedicated in 2011 is the first on the National Mall to honor an African American and only the fourth to honor a non-president. The inscription on the monument proclaims "Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope," a reference to a line in one of King's speeches, “With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.”

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at time of challenge and controversy," has stuck with me since I visited the memorial, and seems especially important today. Next weekend, I will return to DC for the Women's March, searching for a stone of hope in these times of challenge and controversy.

Project 365: Days 1-11

I decided to do Project 365 again this year, after skipping last year for no particular reason. I did it first in 2015, and I really loved looking back on that year's photos. I tried briefly to do the one-second-a-day video thing last year, but only lasted until February before I gave up. I just don't think in videos (or really know how to edit them) and I wasn't really having fun. Still photos just make so much more sense to me, so this year I'm back at it.

1/365: We celebrated 2017 by going to Coney Island, where one of us took the Polar Bear plunge while the other held his towel (and we found this New Year's hat on the beach).

2/365: Well it didn't take long before I forgot to take a photo (maybe this is why I don't make New Year's resolutions), but January 2nd was rainy and I mostly spent it inside—but I did take this screenshot of a young and impossibly beautiful Meryl Streep, and I make the rules around here so I'm going to say that counts.

3/365: I took the fresh and clean Second Avenue subway home for the first time and my commute hasn't been the same since—I always get a seat and the Q takes me just steps away from my apartment.

4/365: I had a dentist appointment (PSA:floss those teeth!) but I got to walk to work from the west side through Central Park, which I've missed deeply since I moved to Brooklyn.

5/365: I wrote out thank you notes on my lunch break—my dear friend Shannon gave me these lovely gold foil kitty cards for Christmas and it was almost painful to send most of them away.

6/365: My apartment isn't perfect but sometimes I just sit on my bed and stare at all of my stuff and think how lucky I am to live in New York and how much I love curating my own spaces and collections.

7/365: We got our first major snowfall of 2017 and I frolicked in Prospect Park for hours.

8/365: Is there anything better than egg and cheese on a bagel? Nope.

9/365: This delightfully strange Christmas gift from Francesca fits right in (there's no question that I'm the "weird" roommate).

10/365: I woke up to the most beautiful sunrise.

11/365: I continued to be enamored with the Second Avenue subway and my super chill evening commute.

Lower Manhattan

A few weekends ago, after diner breakfast at the Landmark Coffee Shop in Chinatown, I set off wandering. I had no destination and no plans, which is always how some of my favorite adventures come to be. I don't consider myself a "photographer" by any means, but I do love having the time and space to take photos without agenda. Photographing storefronts, signage and city life that catches my eye as I wander aimlessly is one of my most treasured activities.

In addition to exploring Chinatown, I wandered the streets of Soho, TriBeCa and the Lower East Side. Our diner was right across from a hotel proclaiming that it was in "SoLita" which we laughed about—although a lot of neighborhood names begin as ridiculous branding experiments by real estate agents, that one seemed particularly forced.

At one point I stumbled upon Staple Street, an approximately 476-foot-long mini street north of the World Trade Center. I'd been there once before looking for a Banksy piece, but I was still in awe of how much I could instantly love a single street. With no room for street parking and an intriguing skybridge, I immediately said outloud (to no one, because New York is making me crazy) "This is officially my favorite street in New York." If I hadn't been there myself, I would swear that Staple Street was on a Hollywood backlot—it's almost too cute.

I passed so many lovely new-to-me storefronts with beautiful signs, awnings and neon. The Chambers St. Smoke Shop sign stopped me dead in my tracks—it looks as if it had been covered for years and just recently got revealed when the occupant left. The store is now vacant and for rent, and I can only hope that the new tenants don't destroy such a beautiful old sign.

I made friends with a window cat, stared up at the skyline like a tourist and found a funeral home with the most wonderful stained glass windows. I've been thinking a lot lately about what makes me happiest, and trying to do more of those things—city walks like this are high on that list.

Old Burial Hill

On Halloween I posted about the proliferation of skull- (and crossbones) adorned stones at Old Burial Hill Cemetery in Marblehead, Massachusetts. Despite being small and having the largest concentration of skull imagery I've seen in any cemetery, Old Burial Hill was also full of a wide variety of wonderful non-bone-related tombstones.

The cemetery was established on the site of a meeting-house and is, very literally, on top of a hill. The views of the harbor are breathtaking and there is a gazebo on the top of a rock outcropping that I could just sit in for days. In fact, the entire town of Marblehead was painfully cute—we drove through it on our way in and out of the cemetery, but its winding streets definitely deserve a closer look.

Although, in my opinion, there is nothing better than a skull motif, Old Burial Hill contains some really lovely winged cherubs, suns, portraits and tombstone lettering. It's the first place that I can recall seeing the words "Memento Mori" on an actual headstone (several, actually) and the carvings are all so remarkably preserved despite being hundreds of years old.

Prospect Park: Snow

There aren't many things in life I love more than snow, and the city during or after a snowstorm is just about perfect. We had our first major snowfall of 2017 (and of this winter season) this weekend and I had to get out and explore. I tried to go to Green-Wood Cemetery, but—in what has become sort of an unfortunate tradition involving me, snow and cemeteries—it was closed. I did the next best thing and walked home through Prospect Park, which is lovely anytime of year but is a total dream land in the snow.

The snow was coming down pretty heavily during my entire walk so the park was deserted—just another gift that the winter gods bestow on the city at this time of year. The park is fun when it's teeming with life—sledding in the winter, picnics in the summer—but there's nothing quite like watching the snow fall quietly while you're standing in the middle of Brooklyn, without another person in sight.

After about two hours of frolicking like a kid during their first-ever snowfall, I got impossibly cold and tired of the snow blowing into my face. I exited the park and took a bus about three blocks home—wet and cold but already looking forward to my next snowy city adventure.

Second Avenue Subway

I definitely self-identify as a transit nerd, and the subway system is one of my very favorite things about living in New York. For some reason, I wasn't highly anticipating the long-awaited opening of the first phase of the Second Avenue subway line like a lot of people. Maybe, after a hundred years of broken promises and false starts, I subconsciously wasn't allowing myself to get my hopes up. But then on Tuesday night, I took the Q from 96th Street (I work at 92nd and Lex Ave) all the way to my apartment in Brooklyn (steps from the 7th Ave stop) and I was immediately sold.

While obviously not such a game-changer for everyone, the Second Avenue Q extension is expected to relieve some of the crowding on the 4/5/6 line—three lines that carry more riders every single day than the entire DC Metro. Phase 1 includes three new stations at 96th, 86th and 72nd streets, and connects the Q to its existing route via the 63rd Street/Lexington Ave station (where you can transfer to the F). There was doubt that the stations would be ready for the January 1st deadline, and although they're indeed open they are still teeming with MTA workers making last-minute adjustments.

Because I'm endlessly fascinated by the New York City subway system, I visited the new Hudson Yards 7 train station earlier this year. The new Second Avenue stations feel similar in design to Hudson Yards, mixed with the newish stations along Lex Ave and on Roosevelt Island. The stations feel modern—everything is sleek, shiny and clean!—but in my opinion nothing can come close to the mosaic-tiled beauty of the original early-1900s stations.

But the stations do feature some pretty incredible new artwork by Chuck Close, Sarah Sze, Vik Muniz and Jean Shin. Sze's "Blueprint for a Landscape" blankets the entrance and the upstairs of the 96th Street Station with papers that look like they've been blown around by incoming trains. Huge portraits of Lou Reed, Philip Glass, Chuck Close, Kara Walker, Cecily Brown and Alex Katz (all by Close) adorn the 86th Street Station and are done in varying styles, including glass mosaic and painted tiles.

It's Vik Muniz's "Perfect Strangers" mosaics, however, that are the real standout. The mosaic-work is outstanding and the subjects are whimsical but ultimately perfectly ordinary, at least by New York standards. The mosaics feature people of every culture, size, age and class without any political context or agenda—just people being. They reach for balloons, take off their costume head, look at their cellphone, dash for their papers, stare blankly ahead or tenderly hold hands. If we have to sacrifice the tiled station names of yesteryear for art that so perfectly captures the spirit and humanity of New York City, then I think the MTA made the right choice.

Chinatown

I used to designate Chinatown as my least favorite neighborhood in New York. My dislike mostly stemmed from the proliferation of open-air seafood markets—if you know me, you know of my fear and disgust for most seafood—and the shear number of people that crowd its narrow sidewalks. But recently I've wandered around the Lower East Side and Chinatown more frequently, and have found myself falling more and more in love with both neighborhoods.

The turning point for me came when I started to veer off from the main tourist drag and really explore the side streets. Chinatown is actually a very large neighborhood, one that seems to be growing and infiltrating Little Italy and the LES. I would argue that the "real" Chinatown is closer to East Broadway, under the Manhattan Bridge and away from the perfume shops and guys whispering "Rolex, Rolex" on Canal Street.

Chinatown seems less spoiled by chain stores and luxury apartment buildings than most of Manhattan, which feels like a remarkable triumph. There are so many handpainted signs, interesting shops, beautiful storefronts, ornate apartment facades and delicious smells (I still try to avoid the seafood markets) to make you feel as if you've traveled thousands of miles from New York—without ever leaving Manhattan.

Polar Bear Plunge

The Coney Island Polar Bear club was founded in 1903 by Bernarr MacFadden, a fitness buff who believed that "a dip in the ocean during the winter can be a boon to one's stamina, virility and immunity." The 114-year-old club is the oldest winter bathing organization in the US and they swim in the Atlantic every Sunday from November through April. Every year, on New Year's day, thousands of people join the club in taking the Polar Bear Plunge.

This year the weather was very cooperative—45 degrees and sunny—and more than 2,500 people took the plunge, including my dude. He'd done the plunge a few years ago, and this year I volunteered to hold his towel while silently hoping he didn't shock his body into premature cardiac arrest. I am normally freezing while fully-clothed snuggled under a pile of blankets and I finally got up the courage to swim in the ocean this summer for the first time in 20ish years (on one of the hottest days of the year), so I was more than happy to offer assistance from the sidelines.

The main plunge takes place at 1pm, but people were running in and out of the Atlantic the entire time we were there. Seeing so many people taking the plunge (even children) almost made me wish I had brought my swimsuit—until of course, people emerged seconds later, running for their towels and yelling obscenities (but laughing, mostly).

I'd been to the Polar Bear Plunge once before as a spectator, and even if you have no interest in taking the plunge, it's worth the trip. Like anything at Coney Island, the event feels a little scrappy and very New York. I never need to be asked twice to spend an afternoon at Coney Island, even in the off-season, and I couldn't have asked for a better way to start 2017.

Best of 2016: Roadside Attractions

Muffler Men

In 2016 I saw five Muffler Men and one UniRoyal Gal—two in New Jersey and one each in New York, Ohio and New Mexico. There are hundreds more Muffler Men (and nine more UniRoyal Gals) to see, but 10 seems like a significant number in just two years of casually searching. Although I usually thoroughly research before any road trip to be sure I'm not missing any roadside attractions, the UniRoyal Gal was a total surprise—we drove past her after visiting the half-wit at Mr. Bill's—which made it feel like even more of a gift from the road trip gods.

Lucy the Elephant

New Jersey is lousy with quirky roadside attractions, and Lucy is the oldest surviving one in the US. I'd been dreaming about visiting her for years, and I finally made it to Margate City this October to pay my respects. She was so much more impressive in person than I could have even imagined, proving that no photo or video can replace the visceral experience of climbing to the top of a 135-year-old elephant-shaped building.

Longaberger Basket

The former Longaberger Basket headquarters, the "Big Basket," probably owes a lot to Lucy, the O.G. of novelty architecture. The fact that it was basically abandoned when we stopped there this summer on the last leg of our ALL CAPS EPIC ROAD TRIP OF DELIGHTS, makes it even more of a dream visit for me. I didn't make it to Newark, Ohio until three years after I moved to New York (from Ohio), but it was definitely worth the wait. I hope I don't have to wait quite as long to go back—the Big Basket's future might be uncertain, but its legacy as a modern-day marvel of novelty architecture is solid.

Wigwam Motel

I saw more roadside attractions in 2016 than in any other year of my life, but our overnight stay at the Wigwam Village #2 in Cave City, Kentucky was the absolute highlight. We planned our entire summer road trip with the Wigwam Village as the top priority, and it more than lived up to the hype. When I called to make the reservation, a woman answered the phone, "Wigwam?" and just that simple interaction was a thrill. I won't soon forget the excitement I felt when we pulled up to the dark semi-circle of Wigwams (teepees, technically), guided by the neon sign proclaiming "Sleep in a Wigawam," knowing that we were about to do just that.

World's Largest Pistachio

Despite my desire to do nothing with my life except travel from World's Largest thing to World's Largest thing, I've seen very few attractions that can make this claim. I've driven around the World's Largest go-kart track and seen the World's Largest Uncle Sam, but I was beyond thrilled to add the World's Largest Pistachio to that small list. The weirder and more obscure, the better when it comes to roadside attractions, and I'm sure there wasn't much competition in this particularly category, but it was a memorable stop, nonetheless.

Best of 2016: Diners

Goodfellas Diner

The Goodfellas Diner was in the news recently when two men tried to leave without paying their bill and ended up assaulting the two elderly owners. This horrible news came shortly after I finally watched Goodfellas for the first time and had pledged to return to the diner. Hearing that the assault might force the owners into retirement made a return to the diner my top priority, and we made it back in November. I'm so relieved that it's still open, and hope that the owners are able to make a full recovery because in a city of wonderful diners, the Goodfellas (formerly the Clinton Diner) really blew me away. The interior and exterior is beyond iconic, and they have some of the best interior signage I've seen. The diner is located in Maspeth, Queens, which is a bit of a haul (and public transit options are limited), but a diner as good as the Goodfellas is worth the trip.

Clover Grill

The Clover Grill was our first stop on a weekend trip to New Orleans and it was a perfect introduction to an incredible city. Their claim on the "world's best hamburgers" might be dubious, but it was a very good burger. The service was Southern hospitality at its best and the signage, pink walls and punny menus made me wish I lived close enough to become a regular.

Lake Effect

I'm so glad we made it to the Lake Effect diner on our way out of Buffalo, even if Buffalo wasn't its original location. The pancake platter was enormous, the service was friendly and the omelette was definitely a step above normal diner quality. The faded pink and blue color scheme was dreamy, and I'd go back in a heartbeat just to sit in a padded, wraparound corner booth.

Kane's Diner

I had been charmed by Kane's hyperbolic signage (***** High Class Steak & Shrimp) nearly two years before I actually ate there, but the inside is a wood-paneled, classic diner dream. During my visit in May, I mused about the awesome possibility of adding a woman's portrait to the Presidential placemat, which is still, depressingly, not a reality.

Floridian Diner

All of the diners on this list have some variation of classic diner decor—it feels like the 1940s at Clover Grill, the 1950s at the Goodfellas, the 1960s at the Lake Effect and the 1970s at Kane's—and the Floridian's 80s-style Miami Vice decor had us instantly feeling like the Golden Girls. The Floridian is covered in mirrors and teal vinyl booths; the servers are straight out of Central Casting; a manager was adding up receipts on an ancient, beige adding machine and our waitress didn't believe us when we said we lived in Brooklyn. The Floridian is actually located on Flatbush Avenue, the street I live on—just under 6 miles but more than three decades away.

Best of 2016: Cemeteries

I think we can all agree that 2016 seemed like it was quite the garbage fire of a year—even if historically there have been objectively worse times to be alive. 2016, for all of its faults, did have some bright spots, and in an effort to not end this year in a pit of despair, I thought I'd do some "best of" lists because who doesn't love lists! First up: cemeteries!

Bayside

2016 is the year I became obsessed with seeking out non-traditional cemeteries, or places with a little extra something to make them special. Abandoned places will always be interesting to me, and although Bayside is currently in better condition than it's been in the past, it's still a little rough around the edges. I loved it so much I visited it twice—once in the summer and again the fall—and I can't wait to see it covered in snow.

Old Burial Hill

I planned a stop at Old Burial Hill on our way to Salem based solely on the fact that it was a filming location for the Halloween masterpiece, Hocus Pocus. The shear number of amazing skull-emblazoned tombstones may be what makes Old Burial Hill impressive, but the beautiful location, history and incredible condition of all the stones makes it unforgettable.

Lent-Riker Smith

I never really considered it an attainable goal to wish for a house that comes with its own backyard cemetery until we toured the Lent-Riker-Smith Homestead. The family cemetery is small—with 131 residents—but historic, beautiful and fascinating.

Eastern Cemetery

Eastern Cemetery was a highlight in a road trip full of highlights. Like Bayside, it was once abandoned and overgrown, but is now being tended to by a group of volunteers. Eastern also has one of the craziest backstories I've ever heard, and I'll be eternally grateful to the kind man who stopped us to share its sordid tale.

Most Holy Trinity

I'm still shocked a little bit embarrassed that it took me so long to explore Most Holy Trinity—especially when I discovered that it was just a few blocks from one of my best friend's new apartment. Fun fact: a body was dumped on the cemetery grounds and discovered only a few days after my visit (inspiring variations on this excellent headline: Body Found in Cemetery). I've only gone once this year, but like Bayside I suspect that Most Holy Trinity will be part of my regular cemetery visits in 2017.

Best of 2016: Books

Goodreads tells me that I read 44 books in 2016 and although falling short of my somewhat arbitrary goal of 52 books, 44 still feels like an accomplishment. There is almost nothing that makes me happier than getting out of work, scoring a seat on the train and tucking into a great book for my hour-ish commute home. The subway will always be one of my favorite perks of living in New York, and the ability to spend 2+ hours a day reading instead of driving feels like the ultimate luxury to me.

2016 marks another year in which I resisted the inevitable e-reader purchase, but I just can't quite make the leap yet. However, I did just start reading Five Days at Memorial: Life and Death in a Storm-Ravaged Hospital—a 558-pg hardcover library copy—and when I compare how I look holding a massive book next to Kindle readers, I do feel like a silly luddite. Regardless, books are wonderful things—even when they're boring or needlessly wordy or disappointing—and here are some notable reads from my 2016 stack:

Overall best:

Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage

First published in 1959, Alfred Lansing's book about the Shackleton voyage to Antarctica may be one of the very best books I've read—not only this year, but in my entire life. The true story is riddled with moments that will make you think "no. way." or "holy shit" and—unlike the actual voyage—the book just flew by. Any time I'm cold or remotely uncomfortable I think of Shackleton's crew and the trials they endured and I try to conjure up even a fraction of the humor and grace that they were able to find while enduring some of the worst conditions imaginable.

Best non-fiction:

Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea

I stumbled upon a series of photographs taken in modern-day North Korea and immediately became obsessed with knowing everything I could about the bizzaro conditions there. The country is notoriously sealed off from most of the world and its public-facing side is mostly propaganda and farce. To get information about the "real North Korea," author Barbara Demick spoke with six North Koreans (spoiler alert: all of which left the country at some point) covering a span of fifteen years. The idea that truth is stranger than fiction definitely applies to the story of North Korea, and even after reading so much straight from the source, it's still hard for me to comprehend that this place exists.

Best Fiction:

Carter Beats the Devil

Based only on my interest in Carter the Great's incredible show posters, I picked up this novel in the dollar section of the Strand a few years ago. I try to alternate fiction and non-fiction and my fiction stockpile is always dreadfully low, but it's a shame that this sat on my shelf as long as it did. This was another book that inched me closer to e-reader land—although my copy is a paperback, it was long and unnecessarily large. But I was instantly drawn into the story—part mystery, part historical-fiction—and by the end of it I was grateful that it wasn't beholden to Carter's biography because in this case, I would bet that fiction is better than the facts.

Best in Science / Medicine:

How We Die

Months later I'm still thinking about this book, and I doubt I'll forget it anytime soon. Sherwin Nuland managed to write a book about the scientific mechanisms of death that is neither morbid nor confusing. I found his explanations and case studies to be hopeful, enlightening and entirely fascinating. Death is the one thing that unifies us all—it's also terrifying, mystifying and completely unavoidable. I hate surprises, so while it's good practice to try to live in the present, it's oddly comforting to me to be a bit more knowledgeable about what's ahead.

Honorable Mentions:

Most Joyful:

The French Chef in America: Julia Child's Second Act

A follow-up to one of my all-time favorites, My Life in France, The French Chef isn't quite as iconic (and was written without Child, after her death) but Julia Child's life is admirable and her joyful attitude—especially in the face of difficulty—is endlessly inspirational.

Funniest:

How To Be a Woman by Moran, Caitlin (2012)

I've seen this advertised as "the British Bossypants" and that's a great way to describe Moran's musings on everything from underwear to childbirth. I actually left this in the seat pocket of a plane (I was so annoyed with myself) and bought it again just to finish it—it's that good.

Tailor Made for Me:

Bellevue: Three Centuries of Medicine and Mayhem at America's Most Storied Hospital

I've been searching for a history of Bellevue (ever since I creeped on the hospital a few years ago during my lunch break), and this one was published recently and was better than I could have even imagined. New York history? Check. Body snatching? Check. The evolution of medical practices including bloodletting, leeches and antiseptic germ theory? Check, check and check. Every single chapter had me thinking, "man, I love this book," and I was sad when it ended, which is the true mark of a great read.

I'm aiming to increase my book total in 2017 and spend even more time reading and less time aimlessly browsing social media (me to me: good luck with that). I never tire of chatting about books so let's be friends on Goodreads or leave a comment if you have any good suggestions!

Past "recent" reads can be found under the "books" tag. 

Dyker Heights Lights 2016

This was the fourth year in a row that I've trekked to Dyker Heights to see the Christmas lights and displays for which the neighborhood is known. This year we went on the first weekend in December, which was great for the lack of crowds, but not-so-great when we noticed a few of our favorite houses weren't quite finished decking their porches.

Dyker Heights is located in between Bay Ridge and Bensonhurst in southwest Brooklyn. The majority of the Christmas displays are located equidistant from the D and R train stops, from 11th to 13th Avenues and 83rd to 86th Streets. I definitely recommend walking, if you can—the traffic always seems to be a bit of a nightmare as people slowly gawk at the lights.

The displays haven't changed much over the last four years, but that's part of the charm. We've come to look forward to specific houses—the good ones and the bad—even if we can't quite remember where any of them are actually located. Wandering around using the lights as a guide is a great method, and we've discovered new and wonderful things every year. It's also fun to look back on previous years and see how things change with time—plastic choir boys lose or gain an eyeball, baby Jesus's appear or disappear and every year inflatables (the laziest decorations, in my opinion) gain in popularity.

I will always appreciate how over-the-top the displays in Dyker Heights get, even if a lot of houses pay companies to decorate for them (how do I get this job?). I've never regretted moving to New York, but I do miss my Ohio (and Texas) family and our traditions most around the holidays—but it's comforting to know that new traditions can be just as wonderful.

Dyker Heights Lights2014 | 2015

Holiday Windows 2016: Bergdorf Goodman + Bloomingdale's

Every year Bergdorf Goodman hits it out of the park with their holiday windows. This year they are a bit underwhelming, but still leaps and bounds above any of the others. The theme this year is "Destination Extraordinary" with windows inspired by the dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History.

The windows use mostly the same greenish color palette (how on-trend) and each depicts a different imaginary destination (has 2016 gotten to me, or does the primate window seem Harambe-inspired??). The details in the Bergdorf windows are always next-level, and this year is no different. It's a shame that the sidewalks on Fifth Avenue are so crowded—especially with "White House North" nearby—it's difficult to linger long enough to really appreciate all of the special touches.

Bloomingdale's always has a few good windows and a few head-scratchers. This year's theme is "Light," but despite a unifying topic, the windows are mostly very different from one another. Crystal-studded windows have been done better by Bergdorf's, but I appreciate any display that includes multiple mannequin heads, beautiful tile work and a huge octopus chandelier.

New Yorker Hotel

Recently we took an Untapped Cities "behind the scenes" tour of the New Yorker Hotel. The New Yorker Hotel was built in 1929 on 34th Street and 8th Avenue. It's 43-stories tall, 1-million square feet and has 1,083 rooms. The hotel is an Art Deco gem, with an enormous and iconic marquee sign that can be seen from miles away. I actually stayed at the New Yorker once when I visited the city with my friends years ago, but on this tour we got to see parts of the hotel usually off-limits to visitors.

One of the first places that we visited was the sky lounge and the rooftop. I'm not really afraid of heights but being 43-stories above the city on a windy, cold night was as scary as it was thrilling. The sign is crazy big when you're right next to it, and the different perspective was really fascinating. I think I could live here my entire life and still be wowed by the skyline—even Madison Square Garden manages to look charming from above.

We also got to explore the lower levels of the hotel, including remnants of the original DC power plant. When it was built, the hotel was powered by coal-fired steam boilers and generators in what was then the largest private power plant in the US—it was later modernized to AC power in the 60s, and now sits abandoned.

The best part of the tour, however, was seeing the entrance to a tunnel that once connected the hotel to the subway and Penn Station. The tunnel is blocked off now—and the New Yorker is now rebranded as a Wyndham hotel—but in my dreams I would be able to traverse the tunnel and magically emerge on the other side into the original Pennsylvania Station.

St. Raymond's Cemetery + Typhoid Mary Grave

Back in October I decided to venture to St. Raymond's Cemetery in the Bronx to seek out the final resting place of Mary Mallon, aka Typhoid Mary. I researched the location of her grave and set out to find her—only to find myself wandering around St. Raymond's completely lost. Find A Grave notes the location as "St. Raymond's Cemetery (New)," but Mallon is actually buried in a newer section of the old cemetery. Sound confusing? Yes, it was. I was actually so frustrated that I nearly gave up the search, but after lunch decided to explore the old part of the cemetery so the day wasn't a complete loss (and then discovered that I didn't have a memory card in my camera so I had to buy one at Walgreens—I didn't have the best adventure luck that day).

St. Raymond's is a Roman Catholic cemetery and is one of the busiest cemeteries in the US with approximately 4,000 new burials each year. The old section was opened in the 1870s and the new section was developed in the 1950s. The old St. Raymond's was full of wonderful things, including a lot of headless statues (like St. Michael's) and ceramic portraits (deserving of their own post). In 1932, Charles Lindbergh met with his son's alleged kidnapper at St. Raymond's to deliver $50,000 in ransom money.

Mary Mallon was born in Ireland, and immigrated to the US, where she notoriously worked as a cook for affluent families in New York City. When the families that she cooked for began contracting typhoid, she was quarantined twice on North Brother Island. She refused to adhere to proper hygiene practices (ew) and profusely denied that she was a carrier of the disease. She was, of course, and was in fact the first person identified in the US as an asymptomatic carrier of typhoid.

While exploring the old section, I realized that the section numbers started to match the naming convention of the directions I had for Mallon's grave—Division 15, Row 19, Grave 55—and although I had to cross a street into yet another section of the cemetery (St. Raymond's is huge), I finally found Typhoid Mary. I had been so frustrated and confused for most of the day that finding her felt like hitting the jackpot. I was also so mad at the lack of proper information that I took a screenshot of her grave's location on Google Maps—it's not exact coordinates, but if you're looking to pay your respects to Typhoid Mary, you at least have a head start.

Mary Mallon died of pneumonia at age 69 in 1938, after living out her later years in quarantine at Riverside Hospital. At the time of her death, live typhoid was found in her gallbladder, and she was cremated and interred at St. Raymond's, beneath a headstone she paid for herself. No one is buried on either side of her—in a very crowded cemetery—which may be a coincidence, but still seems fitting.