TheFitzyreport

One of my new year’s resolutions is to experience more jazz in New York. It seems strange to have to make this a formal pursuit when I have such passion for the music, and when the city offers so much, but being an early morning riser puts me out of sync with most venues. By it’s nature jazz is not usually played at matinees! We’ve been to the Charlie Parker Jazz festival a couple of times, and heard Wynton Marsalis at the Lincoln Center, but last week we decided to venture out to the Blue Note in Greenwich Village. The Blue Note is famous, and I am probably the last person in the world who claims to love jazz to finally go there. The enticement came in the form of Jack Dejohnette who was celebrating his 70th birthday with his band at the Club, ahead of being inducted into the jazz world’s hall of fame, the NEA Jazz Masters. He sounded just my style when I heard him interviewed on the radio, so I booked a couple of seats and looked forward to getting my groove on….

There are usually 2 sessions at the club, 8pm or 10.30, and you can be assured of a table if you book ahead. Otherwise you queue on the night for a spot at the bar. Even though we arrived an hour early, the place was packed and we were relegated to a small table on the far side behind the bongo drums. We were not fussed – who needs to see at a jazz session? The clientele was a mixed bag of old and young ( a boy sitting next to me played ‘plants and zombies’ on his nintendo but at the time I didn’t realise this was prophetic ). People were ordering dinner and the wine list was quite formidable – there was not a cask of red or ( of course ) a cigarette in sight.

Mr Dejohnette arrived with his band, dedicating the preamble to talk about his new CD and then introducing each member of his band of 5 as “the incredible…..”. That included the bongo player in front of us and the very stylish electric bass player. There was a hush and when they started to play, my initial joy quickly changed to despair as the eclectic, esoteric, not-my-kind-of-jazz filled the room. But I was on my own, the audience loved it. They tapped and rocked as each band member went into a frenzy of instrumentation as though jamming on their own. I could hear my music-loving father saying – ‘I’m sure it would be great it they were all playing the same tune’. It became louder and louder and LOUDER. The grin on the face of the bongo player grew to joker proportions as he shook huge strings of bells, blew whistles, and pounded any surface within distance of his hands and feet.  So much noise! This was not the pure elegant sound of Winton or Louis. I was in the wrong place, everyone was in a trance except me. Just as that hit home, and the creepy smile of the bongo guy suddenly looked directly at me, all I could think was the Wickerman! Get out of there Mr Woodwood – they are on to you! So that’s exactly what I did, Sean did not need any encouragement, we grabbed our coats and fled.

PS. Please be assured that the Blue Note is an excellent venue and Mr Dejohnette is an outstanding artist in his field. It’s just that I realise I am more of an uptown jazz girl than a Greenwich Village disciple, and next time I’ll do more homework. After all, jazz is still on my list for 2012.

Being a gardener at this time of the year in New York is a bit like being a childless parent. You feel all the responsibility without having anything visible to care for. The leaves have fallen, the soil is frozen ( at least it usually is – this year is exceptionally warm ) and there is nothing to prune or potter with. However, this weekend provided a new opportunity for nurturing. Riding through Tompkins Square Park yesterday we were suddenly surrounded with the superb smell of fresh pine. We followed our noses and found a community event, where people were invited to bring their undecorated christmas trees for the park people to shred. The park would then use what they could for their own purposes and the rest was up for grabs. Even if you didn’t have a tree to offer, you were encouraged to bag up the mulch and take it home. So that’s exactly what we did, inspiring an unprecedented mid-winter gardening spree. The result is Norsca in Mid-town. Julienne of Christmas tree , which includes the occasional glimmer of tinsel, blanket my plants inside and out and the smell is to die for. It is gloriously satisfying to have had an afternoon talking to my sleeping garden, and just in case winter does come, everyone is rugged up in festive attire. Christmas lives on in the Big Apple!

Just as well Christmas started early in New York, otherwise I would have missed my favorite part of the festivities – anticipation! With the Vegas job keeping us out of town for most of December, it was opportune that the city started dressing for Christmas well in advance. Macy’s was well baubled from Halloween, the Rockefeller Christmas Tree went up at the end of November when Obama was in town and the Salvation Army have been energizing the crowds with their rock and roll carols since Thanksgiving. ( They took credit cards this year! )

If there is one thing I really love about Christmas in New York, it’s the atmosphere at the markets. Even though the farmers have less produce to offer, there is an abundance of hot apple cider and the spicy cinnamon aromas mixed with the smell of freshly cut pine trees make for a real festive fix. We stopped off at Union Square to share the quest of people choosing their Christmas trees and having them trimmed and tied for the journey home. You could buy prebundled real trees from street side vendors all over the city, but at Union Square it was a delight to see people pausing and measuring up the type and the size of the tree, or, in giving in to the size of their apartment, opting for a sprig for the front door instead. According to the Australian guy helping out with the transactions, these trees do not shed their needles, so they stay intact throughout the season, until they are collected by the Central Park trucks and mulched for the sake of tucking in those that shine less bright for longer.

Father Christmas was also on the move early this season, being spotted on the subway, trying to catch cabs and even trying to balance on my bicycle. But despite the craziness of all the Santas, the sparkle of decorations and the allure of shop windows, my absolute favorite part of Christmas this year happened in the middle of the night. We flew in from Vegas at about 10pm on Christmas Eve, exhausted but so happy to be back in the big apple. The city was quiet, and there was no-one on the street apart from cabs. Just as we were about to drift off to sleep at midnight, the church bells on Park Avenue started to chime with ‘Joy to the World’. I felt as though the city was welcoming us home and sharing a special secret moment. It suddenly felt like Christmas !