Tag: globetrotting

Travel Post – New York (Part 2)

2 Comments
A Souvenir from the Robert McKee Genre Fest

A souvenir from the Robert McKee Genre Fest 

The first day in McKee’s genre fest was dedicated to horror. Ask me five years ago if I’d be writing my own tales about the darker side of life and I would have told you you’re mad. Nowadays I see the beauty in plumbing the dank, dreary depths of the human condition. Fear is a powerful force. It tears off the mask we wear for social acceptance and sinks its claws right into our subconscious. Horror is the one genre that has the potential to reveal our true selves: the good, the bad and the repulsive. It’s also a powerful medium for society’s response to polarizing topics like war, political corruption, and racism. Take the film Get Out for instance. Try to reframe that story as a simple family drama and see if it makes the same impact. Mr. McKee’s presentation had a lineup of film clips that demonstrated superb examples of spooky cinematography tricks, scare tactics and underlying themes in horror: eternal damnation, the monster within, and not so surprisingly, sex.

Since sex is such an anxiety-inducing topic for many Americans, it makes sense that this would be a core element in most U.S. horror films. And it was soon after Mr. McKee made this point that I observed a relevant example of this from the audience around me; a distinct difference in how horror affects us depending on our gender. Now I must take a small detour down a dark and thorny path. The especially squeamish may want to skip the next paragraph.

Out of all the horrific imagery of bizarre gore and gratuitous violence seen that day, do you know what elicited an audible groan from the men in the audience? The scene that made them most uncomfortable? A small, infamous snippet from the 1978 film, I Spit On Your Grave. Without getting too graphic, it involves a woman murdering a man out of revenge by cutting off his “ahem” and locking him in the bathroom to bleed out in a bathtub. Absolutely vile and cringe-worthy? Of course. But speaking from a female-identifying perspective, where the sexual violation and abuse of women is sadly a historical norm, this kind of sexual violence against a human body seems almost run-of-the-mill.

The fact that it happened to a man, however, is not.

It was a jarring example of how removed from empathy a majority of men are when considering the trauma many women live through every day. I don’t necessarily fault men for this, but consider how many countless films depict the sexual violation of women. How often do you see men squirming in their seats or averting their eyes at such a scene? It’s a dark, twisted perpetuation of human behavior that the patriarchal society shrugs at because, well, that’s just how it’s always been. The terrible truth is that most women will suffer some form(s) of physical abuse in their life because of their sex, especially in minority and trans communities. I’m in no way devaluing the experiences of male-identifying individuals who have suffered similar abuse. I only aim to point out an observation that a strong majority of the male population don’t seem quite as affected by the representation of violence against a person’s sex…until it’s their own. As gender fluidity increases in society, it is my hope that we’ll empathize beyond our own corporal boundaries and realize that harm to any“body” is intolerable.

I’ll step down from my soapbox now.

Autumn in New York.jpg

Autumn in New York

The following seminars were just as eye-opening. Every day Mr. McKee broke down a film scene by scene, pointing out all the key genre elements that made it a successful story. I hadn’t seen Bridges of Madison County before this seminar and let me tell you, I cried like I had just seen a parade of dead puppies. It was very embarrassing to be sobbing and sopping snot from my nose in front of fellow colleagues. Good stories are supposed to move us, whether it’s wetting our seat in fear or doubling over in a fit of silent laughter…you know the kind where your face is frozen in an ugly-cry expression, your nostrils flare and you can’t breathe. A good story gives us a memorable experience and binds us together because of it.

For any budding writers out there, I can say whole-heartedly that Mr. McKee’s seminars are worth every penny. (No, I’m not being paid to write this.) I’ve dedicated most of my free time outside of writing to study great works in film, television, and literature and I like to think I have a pretty solid foundation of what makes a good story tick. I even expose myself to some pretty terrible material to understand why it’s so bad. But Mr. McKee’s complete and thorough understanding of successful story structure made me realize I still had more to learn. And I was most impressed by his genuine love of sharing this knowledge. He engaged us in thought-provoking debates and on every break throughout the day he made himself available for one-on-one questions, conversation and book signings. Nothing about his presentation felt mechanical. I can only imagine how many times he’s given these same lectures and been asked the same questions, yet he approached each day’s lecture with the enthusiasm of a passionate, seasoned professor. I left these seminars invigorated and inspired, eager to bring new energy and a critical eye to my works in progress.

Veteran's Day Parade Preparations.jpg

Veteran’s Day Parade preparations 

On the final morning of my stay, the city was buzzing with more activity than usual. It was Monday, November 11th and the streets around Madison Square Park were clogged with motorcyclists, floats and hundreds of uniformed men and women for the annual Veteran’s Day parade. I found myself surrounded by military faces easily 15+ years younger than me. Kids, really; each one with an air of discipline beyond their years. I had to leave before the parade kicked off but the celebration of honor and gratitude for all these service members lifted my spirits for the trip back home. I’m glad I gave myself permission to enjoy this little sidetrack. Sometimes being a responsible adult means making time for that little kid inside you that tugs your sleeve, points to your heart’s desires and says, “Let’s do that!”

Veteran's Day Parade.jpg

Veteran’s Day Parade

By: Erica Ruhe

DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY

Travel Post – New York City (Part 1)

Leave a comment
Bow Bridge, Central Park

Bow Bridge Central Park 

A few months ago I found out Robert McKee would be in New York City in November to host a week of his famous story seminars. It would kick off on Monday with the marketing workshop “Storynomics” and the genre days would follow: horror, action, romance and comedy. The genre fest immediately snared my full interest. I’ve been trying to do the whole “responsible adult thing”, keeping my expenditures in a moderate budget, holding myself back from another travel adventure. But as soon as I saw this opportunity, my miserly conscious ripped open the purse strings and said, “This is a business trip and an investment in your writing career!” Who was I to argue with that totally legitimate and tantalizing rationalization? I booked my travel, giving myself a day and a half of city exploration, and the rest of the time I would dutifully plant myself in a theater seat for the seminars.

Central Park Rowboats

Central Park

There is something quite magical about New York in the fall. And it’s not just a sentiment drummed up from the multitude of romantic films set in the city. The trees are aflame in gold leaves; window displays and building exteriors emit the first twinkle of holiday lights; and the cooler weather tamps down the odors of mysterious biological evacuations that stripe and splotch the pavement. Ah yes, New York City. It’s kinda like a toddler: a noisy, smelly, temperamental stain-factory that still manages to capture your heart. I had three things I wanted to check off my must-do list: stroll the High Line, wander aimlessly through Central Park and make a pilgrimage to pay homage to The Stonewall Inn.

The Stonewall Inn

The Stonewall Inn

I’d visited NYC last summer on the heels of PRIDE week and one of the most memorable sights I’d ever seen was the night sky lit up by the rainbow glow of the Empire State Building. It seriously brought tears to my eyes. The tragedies and triumphs of the LGBTQ+ community occupy a big, special place in my heart and I have a great appreciation for their culture and bigger-than-life approach to love. I’d arrived at The Stonewall Inn during off-hours but enjoyed a few moments of quiet contemplation at the site. I spent part of the afternoon walking the streets of the neighborhood reflecting on the history made there; the heroes that were unwittingly born from the riots in ’69; the change that would unfold over the years; the representation of PRIDE in the world today. I would’ve loved to have attended a drag show while I was there but I normally work overnights and resetting my schedule back to daylight hours completely body-slammed me face first in my hotel pillow by sundown. Next time…

The High Line

The High Line

The High Line is truly a gem in the city and another shining example of a popular amenity that wouldn’t be around without the history and efforts of the gay community. Partially opened in 2009, it’s an abandoned elevated train line turned linear pedestrian park full of green spaces, art installations and unique, cinematic shots of west side Manhattan. Instead of its original destiny of demolition, Friends of the High Line and the surrounding neighborhoods rallied for its preservation and thus, the infrastructure was repurposed as a popular new park spanning nearly one and half miles from the Meatpacking District, through Chelsea, up to 34th Street. At the end of this lovely trek was one of those ubiquitous food stands and the smell of fresh French fries. It was like crossing a rainbow bridge to the fried pot of gold at the end.

The High Line - Window Overlook at 10th Ave. & 17th St.

The geniality I encounter in this city always amazes me. Living in Florida for almost twenty years has given me an unfair impression of New Yorkers. Here, I have only been witness to a rather rude and discontented variety which led me to believe all New Yorkers were like this. Yet in my explorations of the city streets, whenever someone needed assistance (myself included) there was always an eager expression on a nearby face and a helpful prompt.

At the Bus Depot: “Whatcha looking for, sweetie?”

On a street corner: “Need some help, buddy?”

At a construction site: “Careful, guys! Watch your arms, hands, legs, feets and bunions!”

The High Line - Vessel (TKA), Staired Structure.jpg

Even getting an order of fries from the guy at the food stand was like chatting with a long lost friend of the family whose sole focus in that moment was genuinely enjoying his conversation with you while making sure you get the best damn fries in all of New York.

“This sauce is special. It’s my own recipe, from my grandmother; a secret marinade with garlic, some sherry and a little bit of mint. Promise you, these are the best fries in New York.”

And yes, they were the best damn fries I’d had in all of New York.

Central Park was just as fantastic as I imagined it would be. Get a few paces in to that walkway through the trees and the sounds of the city just disappear. The sky was clear, the temperature was mild. Herds of families enjoyed an afternoon stroll, musicians played to tourists for tips, friends laughed in rowboats on the lake. I could have spent hours on a bench people-watching but the daylight was short and my stomach demanded more sustenance.

Bethesda Terrace, Central Park (1)

I settled in for dinner at a newfound favorite: P.S. Kitchen. I’d had the privilege to enjoy a few of its vegan delicacies last year and knew I had to come back on this trip. The food is phenomenal and the service is excellent. The ambiance is like dining in one of those cozy Pinterest-meets-Etsy photos full of cream and eggshell tones, warm lighting and weathered, exposed brick walls. It’s the perfect oasis to escape the fall cold and city buzz.

The Holiday Season Approaches

The Holiday Season 

Vegan Caesar salads and French fries are my crude measuring stick of a culinary experience when I explore a new U.S. destination. Not very exquisite, I know, but it brings my little plant-based heart joy. So far only one rivals the vegan Caesar served at Darbster’s in Lake Worth, Florida and that’s P.S. Kitchen’s. As I was enjoying it I was actually struck with a moment of horror, thinking, “Okay, this is way too rich to be vegan. Did I order the wrong salad?!” But no, it was just that good. Then came the creamy Colombian potato soup, poured into the bowl right at the table. (Ooh, la la.) Followed by a maple roasted honeynut squash sandwich with herbed almond ricotta and pecan pesto on a crispy-soft focaccia bread. (Hold me.) And the non-alcoholic specialty drink called “The Pumpkin Patch” was swoon-worthy. (No kidding. Nearly fell right out of my seat after the first sip.) It was like a farmer had just milked a fresh pumpkin pie, shook that up to get a nice frothy head and then poured it on ice…I…I really don’t know how else to describe it. The Dutch like to portray this experience as an angel peeing on your tongue and, oddly, it seems a fitting analogy because the whole meal left me throwing my hands up in praise. (Which the staff kindly asked me to stop because I was making other patrons uncomfortable.) Plus, when dining here the warm and fuzzies are doubled knowing that the restaurant’s profits are donated to charity.

I merged in to the stream of foot traffic, admiring the city’s colorful transition from day to night, and hoofed my way back to my hotel on 24th. After a hot shower, I lay curled up in bed exhausted and content. It was only day one but I was already grateful I’d seized this opportunity. There really is no place quite like New York City.

The Lake at Central Park

Lake at Central Park

By: Erica Ruhe

Stay tuned for Part II next week!

DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY

Throwback Thursday: Travel Post – Sicily

Leave a comment
IMG_1503

At the piazza in Taormina, Sicily

This month’s Throwback Thursday series is going to be a little different. Usually, in my past ones I revisited old movies or songs, but this time I thought that revisiting a location I hadn’t been to for a while was enough for me to write about it for this series.

I usually try to make it out to Sicily, Italy every two years, but this time I hadn’t been back since 2016. I was in much need of relaxation and to get away for a while, so I took four weeks off of work to head out to Sicily. During my first week there, I met up with fellow Inkblotter, Phoebe who was staying in Catania. We stopped at one of my favourite bars, Prestipino (espresso and baba’ for me and Coke Zero for her).

My second week was spent going to the beach in Giardini Naxos and hanging out in Taormina with my cousin and some friends. During that time I also ate lots of thing that I don’t usually eat in California, such as gelato (sorry, just never have been a fan of American ice cream) and lots and lots of fish.

IMG_1529

View from my bedroom.

In between my third and second week, I decided to spend a few days at my apartment in Catania, where I just decided to sleep and relax. My usual week, while I’m in California, is always jam-packed that I’m always driving seven days a week and I never have time to sleep in, so sleeping in till 10 a.m. was an absolute luxury. Taking a break from driving and traffic felt very liberating and I also decided to unplug during my stay in Catania (no cell phone or internet for almost a week). I spent my days taking walks, eating lots of fresh fruit, vegetables, and fish. At night I would relax with various face masks. It was a very relaxing and nourishing moment for my skin, mind, body, and soul.

IMG_1512.JPG

My final week was spent back in Taormina for a few final days of beach and shopping. I didn’t do a whole lot in regards to going out at night, although I occasionally did, I mostly wanted my stay in Sicily to be about recharging, spending time with my family and friends, and above all taking a moment to appreciate the little things in life. Like befriending a couple of feral kitties, or savouring all my favourite dishes.

I really enjoyed my stay in Sicily, and can’t wait to go back. Because as all Sicilians know, no one ever leaves Sicily forever. It’s always a ‘See you later,’ never a farewell.

IMG_1574

White and Pink Strikeout Cosmetics Beauty Logo

DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY

Travel Post – Rotterdam (Part 3)

Leave a comment

The Buttplug Gnome AKA Santa Clause_preview

The summit of happiness is reached when a person is ready to be what he is. – Erasmus

Since the WWII bombing that flattened the city in 1940, poor Rotterdam has been like a misunderstood wild child with a non-traditional upbringing. She’s been called ‘The City Without a Heart.’ Shaped by many different events and architects since then, Rotterdam doesn’t quite fit into the Dutch culture the way Amsterdam, The Hague, or Delft does. On more than one occasion, my enthusiasm for Rotterdam was met by locals with a lifted eyebrow and reply along the lines of,

“Really? Why Rotterdam? (Insert Dutch city) is so much more charming.”

Rotterdam is not what the Dutch would call gezellig: that warm, squishy feeling you get when all is time-honored, quaint, and cozy. No, she sticks out from traditional European cities like a sore thumb.

River Nieuwe Maas_preview

Bright yellow ‘Cube Houses’ balance on their corners atop a busy overpass like thrown dice frozen mid-roll. Blaak Station looks like a landed UFO in the market square. The angular, swan-like Erasmus Bridge poses high over the river Nieuwe Maas. There’s nothing traditional or charming about it. It’s tall, proud, sleek – just like the rest of the city. Though bruised from an unfair fight, Rotterdam’s modern and colorful. She’s survived a torrid upbringing. Amidst inner turmoil, she grew through misdiagnosed remedies and therapies and prevailed with hopes of a happier future. Formed at the hands of so many others’ desires, Rotterdam’s own identity seems ambiguous. She complicated.

Cube Houses_preview

But look closer. She is one of the most important cities of her time. The largest port in Europe, fourth largest in the world. An international haven – probably more so in the near future with the coming of Brexit. She welcomes in the world, serving as a gateway to an expanded, cohesive way of thinking. And she does it quietly, compassionately, without theatrics or fuss.

I relate to Rotterdam. I’ve had my fair share of personal ‘bombings’ and well-meaning ‘architects’ try to build and reshape me throughout my life. It’s helped me see who I was and, now, envision who I want to become. A lot of people don’t understand the way I think or act. I’ve always stuck out like a sore thumb myself. It’s only until now that I’m finally learning to be okay with that. For me, pushing through my comfort zone and finding my true self is like coming home. Like stumbling toward the heart of a place that isn’t on a map. It’s the same reason I find Rotterdam gezellig.

On my last day in Rotterdam, it snowed. I didn’t recognize it at first, this white fluffy thing that had landed on my scarf, then another. It had been years since I’d seen an actual snowflake. But when I looked up, the flurry swirled in around me, lit up by the late afternoon sunlight. I stopped and scanned the street, wondering if I was the only one witnessing this wondrous moment. It was just me and an old man walking his Jack Russell Terrier up ahead in the distance. I was suddenly in my own private snow globe. The subdued disappointment I’d been mulling over about my final hours in the city evaporated, instantly replaced with the buzz of excitement. I gazed up into the gray clouds billowing above the high buildings, half-expecting to catch the glimmer of a glass dome in the sky. The air glittered all around me. It was like an ending from a movie; the city saying goodbye.

Is it narcissistic to see a part of myself in such a great city? Perhaps. But it’s the potential to assume her best qualities that I yearn to emulate the most: her even-keeled nature, her sensibility, her acceptance, unassuming charm and colorful personality. Many don’t understand her because she is so different. But I think Rotterdam’s beautiful. She allows room for the possibilities.

By: Erica Ruhe

 

Travel Post – Rotterdam (Part 2)

1 Comment

Rotterdam Centraal Station_preview

Where I feel good, I’m at home. – Erasmus

A quick train ride in a sun-drenched morning and soon the naked trees and rural countryside gave way to the city of Rotterdam. From the slick, modern Centraal Station, I took my first steps into the city, feeling much like I had finally arrived home after a very long journey. The city’s personality put me right at ease. It was a short, straight shot down Endrachtsweg to the quaint 19th century B & B I’d reserved for my stay. Anno 1867 was as lovely as my hosts, Agnes and Anton, and exceeded all my expectations. Agnes had a wonderful laugh and easy spirit. She made me feel welcome from the first ‘hello’ and gave me a tour of the charming, multi-level house built in (can you guess?) 1867. Original wood floors, classic décor, tall, bright windows and all the creature comforts one could need set the backdrop for a cozy home base. Out of the two available rooms, I chose the Rode Kamer (the red room). Check it out here: http://www.anno1867.nl/red_room.php. Warm, clean, and comfortable with an updated bathroom, it became one of those places that I could have easily stayed for weeks or months. But sadly, my first stay would be my last. The house had been sold a few weeks earlier and Agnes and Anton would be handing over the keys at the end of March to explore a new adventure in Italy. I hope they set up another B & B there!

Vegan Hot Chocolate in Delft_preview

Vegan Hot Chocolate at “Kek” – Delft, Netherlands

Agnes also accommodated me with colorful vegan breakfasts presented on beautiful floral porcelain ware. Fresh cut fruit with soy yogurt and nuts. Unique blends of smoothies in a fine glass goblet and paper straw. And every morning she’d prepare me for my outings with a snack bar or package of trail mix, a choice from the tea box, and hot water for my thermos. I’d step out the front door with a flask of tea steaming in the cold February air, belly warm and full, and begin my trek of the city. It was glorious.

British Blokes in a Hot Tub Boat_preview

Tourists enjoying Vessel 11’s Hottug in Rotterdam’s Old Port.

Rotterdam was the Netherlands I came for. It must have been my home in another life. How else can I explain the familiarity and joy I feel in this fantastic city? There’s graffiti and a few city corners gathering rubbish, but streets are relatively clean and green spaces are well-kept. Museums for every interest dapple downtown. Rustic houseboats float in canals just beyond the busy street curbs. Eclectic architecture rises up like modern memorials. There’s even growing cuisine options for the vegan-minded, as I discovered on a visit to Green Delight on Nieuwe Binnenweg. And French fries. Oh, the French fries. Yes, I think I must have lived here before, but, seeing as my spoken Dutch is still horrendous after nearly a year of personal study, I conclude I was probably a happy foreigner getting by on exaggerated hand gestures and the occasional ja, nee, and dank u wel.

Space separates the bodies, not the minds. – Erasmus

Cat Cafe_preview

There’s a wonderful mix of cultures and ethnicities here. The fantastic eats around the city are tasty evidence enough. Delicious Vietnamese pho soup on West-Kruiskade. Fabulous Panang curry at Hua Hin near the sleepy, picturesque neighborhood of Kralingen. I even found a Japanese restaurant with my beloved iced boba tea – no matter if I froze the tips of my fingers right off drinking it in twenty-eight-degree weather.

Rotterdam brings in a diverse body of students as well with Erasmus University just around the corner. It feels like a city full of tradespeople and families. The vibe here is quintessentially Dutch. Not so much in a traditional sense, like Delft, but it is a general sense of well-being and progressive respect for oneself and the public. It’s easy-going, laid back and there seems to be no agenda except for efficiency and self-expression.

Cube Houses_preview

While the calm hum of Dutch humanity plays out, there is an unspoken, non-judgmental air; a motto of ‘live and let live’ here. Rotterdammers have embraced Desiderius Erasmus as their patron scholar, along with his tempered approach to the religious zeal of the Christian Reformation. He was a Dutch humanist in the late 15th and early 16th century that encouraged a free will, Via Media (middle road) line of thinking, especially when it came to church teachings. His poetic quotes are painted all throughout the city – sentiments of open-mindedness, cultural acceptance, and autonomous thought. What novel ideas.

This type of thinking promotes a potent culture of common sense and decency, especially on the roads. Respect for cyclists and pedestrians were quite the revelation for me. Coming from Florida, where vehicles are used as tools of intimidation, it’s a refreshing respite to have drivers deliberately stop for people in crosswalks. The first time it happened, I was stunned. I had to fight against my natural instincts and cross in front of a waiting car. I forced my feet forward, thinking,

“Move! Walk! Someone is actually waiting for you!”

Dutch cyclists, however, will threaten to run right over your toes if you step in their lane. But there’s no better way to zoom around a city without leaving a carbon footprint and it warms my green, little heart to see so many people not driving a car. I think it’s an even trade-off. I never felt uneasy or unsafe in my travels around the city. I crossed the Erasmus Bridge and throughout surrounding neighborhoods as well. (Being that I was a solo female, I was also smart about the time of day I ventured about and sharply aware of my surroundings. Let’s not throw out common sense here and label it ‘innocent naivety’.)

To be brutally honest, I feel a lot safer in Europe than I do living in the US. America is relatively isolated in its egotistical bubble and suffers a lack of understanding and compassion because of it. In Europe, the cultures are so closely packed and borders are so frequently crossed that the declaration of a mother country is seen as a conversation starter rather than a battle cry to exercise exclusion.

And I get it. No place is perfect. There’s a crisis going on in Europe as I write this. Countries are bickering over who should take the next wave of refugees as people struggle to find a safe place in society. But as a majority, and especially in Rotterdam, the mingling of so many different ethnicities is considered enrichment of the city, not a detriment.

Stroopwafels_preview

One of the highlights of my stay was a free walking tour offered by a highly knowledgeable, cheerful guide. A group of passionate locals decided to start the Free Walking Tour of Rotterdam, offering a detailed history of the major sites in the city. Anyone interested in tagging along has simply to show up at 13:30 pm in front of the famous Markthal. To my surprise, about sixty eager tourists turned out! Our guides wisely split us up into to two tour groups and off we went. We hit the Maritime Museum, the Cube Houses, Zadkine’s sculpture/memorial to honor the destroyed heart of the city in WWII. Then a quick stop in a favorite hot spot for bitterballen. Bitterballen are basically a Dutch version of meat ‘hushpuppies’. Many people said they were delicious but I decided on a cone-full of hot, crispy fries instead. Wow! Draw a big green circle on your map around “Ter Marsch & Co.” on Witte de Withstraat. (You’ll also find the world famous “De Witte Aap” bar just a few steps away!) We saw an old church riddled with bullet holes from the war (sometimes it doubles as a rave party venue), and ended at Erasmus’ birthplace. In all, the tour took just under two hours and it was a fantastic way to spend the afternoon.

https://freewalkingtourrotterdam.com/

Tips are not expected, but they are a nice gesture to show your guide your appreciation. If you visit Rotterdam, do not miss this!

Check out Part 3 of my Rotterdam travels next Tuesday!

Read PART ONE HERE!

By: Erica Ruhe

Empire State Building Visit

Leave a comment

emb

During my one week vacation where I visited four cities, one of the stops was New York City. Being someone who loves seeing the skylines of cities from high buildings, one of the places I had to go to was the Empire State Building. This building was the tallest building in the world from 1930-1970. It’s a 102-story skyscraper that is situated on Fifth Avenue.

emb3

The visitors wishing to visit the building may do so by purchasing a ticket for $31. There’s only two places that the visitors are allowed to go to. The 80th floor to see the city from behind the windows, and then 86th floor where there’s Observatory Deck that you can go outside and see the city from there. The view from up there is absolutely breath-taking and very much worth the visit. It’s probably the tallest building I’ve ever been up to, and in a way being up that high kinda felt the same way when you’re up on a high mountain.

emb2

Apart for having a penchant for tall buildings, another reason why I wished to visit the Empire State Building is because one of my favorite photos depicts a suicide where a young woman (Evelyn McHale) lept to her death from the 86th floor to land upon a limousine parked directly below. Since the opening the Observatory there’s been about thirty suicides, and actually a few that didn’t result in death.

1268708.jpg

So if you’re planning to visit New York City, I absolutely recommend visiting the Empire State Building. You won’t regret it!

empire state building 2

For more info visit: https://www.esbnyc.com/

By: Azzurra Nox