Day 6: Wednesday November 10, 2004

I awoke around 9am, and spent another hour or so lying in bed. I got up, started getting ready, and answered some work and personal emails. I called the Hotel Amalfi in Chicago and talked to housekeeping, explaining how I left my night guard there the night before and can they look for it. They take my number and say they'll call me back. Around 11:30am I was ready to leave, but had missed the free hotel breakfast that stops at the generously late hour of 11am. So I headed out and found a nice-looking bakery/cafe called "Le Pain Quotidien". I order coffee and walnut bread and a soft boiled organic egg. When my food comes, the egg comes with bread and I wish the waiter had pointed it out to me when I ordered it, but I accept it anyway. They give me a selection of jelly, preserves and Brunette Belgian Parfait spread. The latter is the most delicious thing I've ever put on bread. Imagine creamy belgian chocolates pureed into a light smooth spreadable paste. I spread it over all the small slices of bread they served with the hard boiled egg, and ask them to wrap the two large slices of walnut bread for me to go. I also ask the waiter for directions to East 10th and 1st Ave. He gives them to me, and asks me where I'm going. I tell him the Russian Turkish baths. He says he's heard it's supposed to be good, but has never been there himself.

The Russian Turkish Baths
I walk down East 10th which turns out to be a scenic street filled with interesting shops sprinkled along the way, but I can't allow myself to be distracted as it is getting close to 1pm and I know it's women-only up to 2pm on Wednesday, and I'm unsure what the co-ed scene will be like. I find the building and walk up the short flight of stairs to the entrance. I feel like I am walking into another world from 50 years ago. A Russian woman greets me at the counter and asks me what I'd like. I'm not even sure but gazed up at the board and see they had various treatments and massages, so I ask for a massage. She pulls out a long safe deposit box and tells me to put my valuables in there. I take off my ring and my watch. I get my wallet out and she says you pay later so put the wallet in the box. I deposit the wallet, my iPod and my digital camera. Then I take off my sunglasses and place them in there as well - after all they are valuable to me and I would hate to lose them! She slides in the box into its place in the wall behind her and gives me the key chain, which is just a very large rubber band, along with a key to my locker. She tells me my massage will be at 1:15pm in Room 7 upstairs. I look at the clock - it's 5 minutes to 1. "Get your towels and robe before you enter the locker room," she says, and I pick up a small brown towel, about twice the size of a typical hand towel, and a thin cotton robe, more see-through than a cheap old table cloth. I enter the locker room. Two women in their late 20's or early 30's are getting dressed and ready to leave. They're discussing the treatment rooms downstairs. One of the women, who is putting on her makeup says how she went into the hot room for only 5 seconds so that she could get a feel for what it would be like to be Super Woman. "Well, you're looking at her in the mirror," says her friend. I tell them it's my first time here and ask them about the saunas downstairs. They tell me there are different rooms, a sauna, a steam room, and then the HOT room. I tried to remember which one was where, but I'm so confused by the place, I can't remember much. I undress and put on my robe. There ae no sleeves to it, and it takes me a while to find the arm holes. Thank God for all-women only day, I think and wrap my towel around my shoulders to try to cover myself up.

I head downstairs and got even more disoriented. I saw what looked like a very small pool with markings for 4 foot deep water. The jacuzzi, I think. To the left is a sauna, to the right are long stalls with doors, where they perform treatments. I see showers in front of me and naked women were walking around everywhere. It feel like I'm in some kind of foreign movie or a cutting room floor scene from Stanley Kubrick's movie "Eyes Wide Shut". I'm not really sure what to do or which room to go into. An old Russian lady in a very tight black and gold bikini comes up to me and said she would be giving me my massage at 1:15 upstairs. I ask her what I should do right now. She offers a salt scrub treatment, but I say, no just the massage was fine. She then points to the shower and then a door leading to another room where she says I should go. I'm normally someone who dislikes getting naked at the gym, but I figured I was in a different world here, and hung up my robe and headed naked toward the shower and rinse off. I open the door and walk into the hot room. It feels like I'm entering a cave or dungeon in the underground of a castle. A naked woman with long curly hair lies on her stomach on a bench in the middle of the room. Her back still had traces of mud and leaves. An old Eastern European woman sits in the back, and all around on the two rows of stone benches sat lie 6-8 women ages 30-70 in mostly complete nakedness. As I entered I saw a gallon sized bucket of water to my right underneath a tap of running water. I put my hand in the icy cold water and splash my face. I take a seat on an empty row, not really sure what to make of everything. I sit there for a few minutes. The old woman in the back of the room held what resembled a thick branch of leaves and starts beating her body with it. The woman lying on the bench gets up to leave the room, but before doing so, she grabs the overflowing bucket of cold water and empties it over her head. I shudder watching it. Then the old woman who had been beating herself does the very same thing as she sat there. I stay in the room for about 5 minutes and get up to leave. I stop at the bucket by the door. What the hell, I thnink and dunk it over me. As cold as the water was, it feels invigorating against my hot skin.

After that quick cold shower, I want to warm up a bit. I head to the pool, which I thought was a jacuzzi, and proceed to wade in, only to step back in shock as the water was practically freezing. Another old Russian woman sees me and points me back. "Go in," she says and points toward her neck, indicating I should wade in neck deep. I can't believe it, but went ahead and did it. For maybe a total of 5 seconds and I quickly came out. "Too cold," I tell her. I head back to the shower and turn the hot water on full blast. After I dry myself and put on my measley robe again, it is time to head upstairs for my massage. I find my masseuse, Tamara, laying down about 10 of the small brown towels on the massage table. "Come on it," she said in her limited English. "Take everything off and lie down on your stomach," she tells me as she left the room, and I follow her instruction. There is no sheet or anything to cover me, so I place one of the towels over my behind, thinking that the first thing she saw when she came back in the room should not be my naked ass! When she returns, she removs the towel and instead places one over my back and my upper legs. Then she proceeds to massage me around my lower back and bottom. I've never had someone do that before, and figured this must be some kind of Russian special. "Is it goot?" she asks me in her foreign accent. "Yes," I reply, not really sure if it is good or not. After a while, I wonder if she would ever massage another part of my body and indicate to her that I always have pain in my right shoulder and tension in my neck. "Don't worry," she tells me. "We have plenty of time." So I close my eyes and let myself relax, and respond positively every time she asks me, "Is it goot?" When she does get around to my neck and shoulder I gasp in pain as she attacks the tense areas. I tell her it hurt, but I guess that is a good sign. Then she makes a sling out of the towels and puts my head in it. "Relax" she says as she quickly lifted and jerked my head.

45 minutes passed and the massage is over. As relaxed as I feel, I don't want my visit to stop them. Co-ed time just started, so I need to have a private treatment to avoid the men. I ask Tamara if she can do another treatment for me. For some reason, I felt a great desire to have the leaf-beating treatment. But she indicates to me that it was coed time now, and I remember the naked woman lying in the cave, and wondered if that was where that treatment took place. There was no way I could lie there with a bunch of men watching! I asked her what other treatments she did and she says salt scrub, which was relaxing, and mud treatment, which was good for nervousness. I ask for the mud treatment, wanting to get rid of all my nervous energy, and she tells me to come back downstairs in a few minutes to Room 1. I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was all tossled from where she'd been massaging my head, I guess. I wash my face and wrapped my robed self with a towel carefully around my shoulders and went downstairs. I saw a few men, and notice they wore shorts and the women wear bathing suits. OK, this isn't at least one giant naked-fest during coed time, I think in relief. I went to Room #1 where Tamara greets me and points to a nylon padded table. She closes the door and said "Take everything off and lie on your stomach," which I did. She covered my body with a thin layer of mud and tells me to lie there for 15 minutes and leaves the room. She comes back to check on me and leeaves again. When the time is up, she comes back and starts hosing me down with a garden hose and sprayer. She puts on bath mits and wipes the mud off my skin. She also washes my hair. I'm lying on the table the entire time. I feel like a small child being bathed by its mother. After it' over, she adds up the total for me. Both treatments came to $87, and she says I can leave her a tip if she like. I tell her to add $25 to the total. She is grateful and happy.

I leave the Russian and Turkish baths feeling refreshed and anew. My skin feels pure and clean and I have new energy. I walk in the direction of 2nd Ave Deli. On my way there, the Hotel Amalfi from Chicago calls me back. She says she's searched the entire room and cannot find the night guard. I figure it's a goner - the maid probably threw it out. So much for my great experience. Good thing I have a spare nightguard at home, albeit old and worn.

The Second Ave. Deli
I arrive at the 2nd Ave Deli, which the book claims has the best Matzoh ball soup in town. The first thing I notice is a $100,000 reward sign, posted conspicuously on the front door. It reads as follows:

$100,000 REWARD
The Ninth Detective Squad and the Manhattan South Homicide Squad are investigating the murder of Abraham Lebewohl, owner of the Second Avenue Deli. A reward of $100,000 is being offered by the family for any information which leads to the arrest and conviction of the person(s) responsible for the murder.

The detectives are seeking information which wcan assist them in arresting the persons who murdered Mr. Lebewhol on March 4, 1996. Anyone with information about the crime, or the persons who committed the rcome should call the numbers listed below.

1-800-577-TIPS
(212) 598-0071

March 4, 1996! That was over 8 years ago. The photo of the owner on the poster shows a smiling face. You can't believe that this man had enemies. I know there's a story behind this, but I don't know what it is.

I enter the Deli and am seated. My waitress Diane, is probably about 70 years old, and wears a big bouffant black wig. She hands me the menu and lays down a dish of large pickles. The menu offers all the usual deli selections you'd expect from a stellar NY deli, including "Instant Heart Attack" (2 potato pancakes with salami, pastrami and something else) for $18.95, Cholent (what is that?!) everyday, and Jello for $3.95 (must get a lot of jello for that price). They also claim that you haven't been to New York yet, if haven't tried their chopped liver. Being that I detest liver, I would never order that. Feeling refreshed from my treatment, but not very hungry, I order matzo ball soup and coffee. Diane takes my order. "That's all?" she asks. "Well, you still access to the excess," she says handling me a stack of paper napkins. She was full of one liners, saying "I'll be the pourer and you'll be the richer," as she poured my coffee for me. A French couple sat a couple of tables away, and she waited on them as well. "Elegant," I heard her say, "that's a French word." I thought she was hysterical.

I noticed photographs all over the restaurant of the owner. He looked like a truly nice man, and I couldn't imagine the kind of grief his family must have as a result of his violent death. I also noticed a certificate of a Proclamation posted just above my table. It was signed by the President of the Borrough of Manhattan, and dated in March of 1994 - just two years before the murder. It declared that day, the 40th anniversary of the 2nd Ave Deli, as Second Ave Deli Day in Manhattan, and to celebrate that fact, the restaurant would be charging customers the original 1954 prices from their opening. You know this is a special place.

My lunch came only to $8 and change, and I gave Diane a $20. She came back with my change in all dollar bills, saying "There's plenty of change, so let's change the subject." "You're great," I say back to her and leave her a big tip.

The National Debt
The next place I was headed to was "Other Music" which is really on 4th Ave and Broadway, but I had mistakenly thought it was 14th Ave. Being that I have almost no sense of direction, I headed the wrong way and ended up in an industrial section of the East Village before I realized it and turned around. I found my way to 14th and Broadway (which is really Union Square), but could not find my record store there, instead I found a huge Virgin records. But that is not where I wanted to go. I did notice a building next to Virgin that had a huge number on display that kept counting up. I wondered what it was - the number of seconds since Y2K? Who would want to count that? I was puzzled, but took a picture of it. I found out later that the number represents our National Debt.

I gave up on finding the record store figuring they must've moved. I thought I might head over to Matt Umanov's Guitars on Bleecker Street, which I read was NY's best guitar shop. I'm not really looking for a guitar, but I figure they probably have some cool ones here, so might as well check them out. I make the trek back to the Village and find myself on Waverly Place, near my hotel. Being that it's now late in the afternoon, and I'm supposed to meet up with my friend Therese soon, I decide to go back to my hotel room and take a break before Therese comes over. A little after 5 shes calls and says she's on her way over.

I look up the venue where Steve Wynn is playing tonight. It's a place called the Lakeside Lounge on Avenue B in the East Village. Heck, I probably walked by it earlier in the day when I lost my way and found myself in the East Village. I search my iPod for something by Steve Wynn's former band The Dream Syndicate, but can only find one song "Tell Me When It's Over" from their 1982 debut album Days of Wine and Roses. It's been a long time since I've heard this song. I play it, and instantly remember how much I like it. I wish I could remember some more Dream Syndicate songs, but I can't. Come to think of it, I don't even think I remember of Steve Wynn's solo material. However, the show is supposed to be Steve Wynn playing a tribute to The Flamin' Groovies as part of a book release party for Lost in the Grooves, a new book from Scram Magazine that reviews great albums by lesser known acts, as well as lesser known, but great albums by more well known artists. That is my kind of book, for all these years, I've always been into the more obscure side of alternative music. One of the albums I notice that is reviewed in the book is Subterranean Jungle by the Ramones, which is one of my favorite Ramones albums. It has covers of "Little Bit O' Soul" and "Time Has Come Today" as well as originals such as "Psycho Therapy" and "Time Bomb", not to mention a great album cover of the band on a graffiti-decorated subway car. Steve Wynn contributes a review of a Flamin' Groovies album "Jumping In The Night" to the book, hence the theme for the show. The show is free, so what have I to lose? Besides, Therese has agreed to go with me, and I know she has never heard of Steve Wynn, The Dream Syndicate or the Flamin' Groovies.

Therese arrives at my hotel room, and we soon take off for the evening. We walk a few blocks and find ourselves on Bleeker Street. I ask to stop in the guitar shop, since its right there. Only 10 minutes before closing time, so we don't have much time to look around, but I walk to the back where the main display of guitars are on the wall. It's mostly Fenders, Gibsons and Gretsches here, and they have new as well as vintage instruments. I already have a Fender Telecaster, so I only briefly glance at the Fender wall. There's a wall of Gibsons and some Les Pauls hanging behind a counter. I see a gold one and think of Matthew Sweet who has one of those. I gasp as I see the price tag. It's over $2,000! My eyes wander to the guitars with a yellow SALE tag and stop at the new Gibson Sepcial Faded SGs. They have a dark wood and a Cherry wood colored one. I look at the price tag...$600...this I could afford. I take it down and feel it for its weight. Not too bad. I play a few chords - it feels easy to play. I like the unfinished wood look. It's kinda cool. I put the guitar back and look around some more. There are a ton of big beautiful Gretsches, but as much as I love the look of that guitar, it isn't really what I'm looking for right now. I look to see the Fender Stratocasters, but what catches my eye instead is a light blue Fender Jazzmaster. It's got a cool zig-zag shape and a pretty blue color and I like it. It's almost closing time now. I ask them for their hours and tell them I'll be back tomorrow. Therese and I head the other way on Bleeker Street and pass by a newstand. The NY Post headline reads "Arafat Dead...And he won't be missed." We walk by several restaurants and finally settle on an Italian place where we stop for dinner.

Steve Wynn and the Miracle 3 at the Lakeside Lounge
After dinner, we walk to East Village and the Lakeside lounge where the show is. There is no cover charge, and I wonder how bands make any money playing here. I guess they have to put out a till to collect money from the audience, as I doubt the club pays them anything. The Lakeside Lounge is a very small club, divided into 2 rooms - the bar and the room in back with the stage, a photo booth, some kind of video game, bathroom, and a small seating area and even smaller standing area. I'm guessing you couldn't hold more than 100 people in that back room. We stop at the bar and order beers: a Red Stripe for Therese and a Corona for me. We make our way to the back room, which is crowded, but not completely packed yet. There are about 10 tables that are full and I notice 3 older people with a Kurt Loder look-alike seated at the same table in the very front. I tell Therese the older people must be parents of some of the band members. I'm not sure about the Kurt Loder look-alike, and wonder if he really could be Kurt Loder, but he looks too young. Kurt Loder must be at least 50, and this guy looks in his 30's. We find a place to stand right next to the table and just to the left of the front of the stage. Before too long, a woman gets on the stage and takes the microphone. She introduces herself as Kim Cooper, the editor of "Lost in The Grooves" and introduces Steve Wynn and his band The Miracle Three.

Steve Wynn talks about how he left his vinyl behind when he moved to NY ten years ago and everyone boos. Vinyl is big in New York, and I know it as I've noticed its presence in all the record stores I've seen in the Village. Steve's backing band consists of a female drummer, Linda Pitmon, (how cool is that), bassist Dave DeCastro who plays a Rickenbacker (that is even cooler), guitarist Jason Victor, and another guitarist playing a 12-string Stratocaster (I didn't even know such a thing existed). They play a set of Groovies covers, including my favorite Groovies song "Shake Some Action" which I record a movie of with my digital camera. Steve talks about seeing the Groovies live and counting the number of strings that they had going on stage (38, I think). I add the strings he has going...12+6+6+4=28! He confesses doesn't even have a copy of the Flamin' Groovies record "Jumpin' In the Night" that he wrote about, and wrote the review from memory. And then he does a song from the album from memory. It's a Warren Zevon song, "Werewolves Of London". The 12 string guitarist leaves and they're a foursome now. Steve is playing a sunburst Fender Strat and is wearing a dark suit and white shirt and looks great. He plays some songs from his upcoming album with the Miracle 3. It's really good. Then they say the show is over and they stop and he puts up his guitar. It doesn't seem right to just end like that. I'm disappointed that it's over. "Encore" someone yells, and we all feel better. "I already put up my guitar," Steve says, but takes it down. Plays "Days of Wine and Roses". I haven't heard it in ages, but it is amazing. Then he's not sure what to play after that, and asks if anyone has a request. "Tell Me When It's Over" I yell, thinking of the only Dream Syndicate song I can remember and played on my iPod earlier in the evening. But the Kurt Loder look-alike yells another song (can't remember what) into "John Coltraine Stereo Blues". The latter suggestion seems to jive with Steve and he proceeds to play it. I don't think I've ever heard that song before, but it's a real rocker. "I've got John Coltraine on the stereo. I've got a fine wine in the freezer babe, 'cause I know what you like. And you ask me to hold you tight!" Wow, Steve Wynn writes some GREAT songs!

Alas the set is over now, and Kim Cooper comes back and says there are Steve Wynn has CDs for sale, and the book is on sale too for $5 off. The music in the club starts to play, and I instantly recognize the song as the Kinks' song "I'm Not Like Everybody Else" covered by the Chocolate Watch Band. It's a little-known Kinks song (the b-side to "Sunny Afternoon") by an obscure 60's psychedelic band, but I have recently chosen the song as one for my band to play. I LOVE the song, and especially that version of it. I'm stunned that I'm hearing it here in the club. I look around and see someone in the room wearing a Saints T-Shirt. Although they are little known and even less appreciated, the Saints (or at least the Saints in their 1980-87 period) are one of my favorite bands ever. I feel that I must have so much in common (at least musically) with the people in this small room, but they'll never know it - there is no way of telling them, and they probably would think I was mad if I did anyway.

I decide I'm going to say hello to Steve and Therese waves me to go by myself. I wait for someone else to finish talking to him and introduce myself and say how much I enjoyed the show. I ask him if he remembers Rick from KUSF and the Quake in SF. He seems a little unsure at first, being so out of context I imagine, but says he does anyway. I tell him Rick's at KFOG and wanted me to say hi, and he asks me if I'm visiting, which I respond yes. I ask him where I can buy his CDs and he says right here, and reaches behind his amplifier and pulls out a stack of CDs. I can't believe I'm actually buying them directly from him and tell him so, and he tells me it's like a DIY kind-of-thing. How much, I ask and he says $15 each. But he has a whole bunch of them and I don't know what to buy so I ask him if he has the new one that he played the songs from tonight. Not yet, he says, as that will be out next year, but offers me the last release Static Transmission. He also has a double-compilation of covers of his songs called From a Man of Mysteries, which I say I absolutely want as I like that kind of stuff. And he also offers up another double-CD Here Come The Miracles which he says is his favorite, so I say of course I want that one too. I buy 3 CDs and give him $45 in exact change. I notice he promptly gives $20 of that money to his bass player, Dave DeCastro, a guy who reminds me a bit of Peter Holsapple of the dB's except he has blond hair and plays a Rickenbacker bass instead of a guitar. I joke to Steve if he is paying his band as there was no cover charge, nor did they put up a till to get paid, so none of them have made any money yet from the show and I'm the first one to give him any cash. He says he is giving his bassist money to ride the train home. I take out a pen and rip off the plastic from the double CD that Steve told me is his favorite and ask him to autograph it for me. "Hey Vidya...Steve Wynn" he signs. I thank him, and notice other people are taking out cash to buy CDs from him. I'm glad of it.

I also talk briefly to Kim Cooper, editor of the book. I introduce myself as being a former San Francisco DJ and tell her how much I like the concept of the book, that it reminds me of the Trouser Press Guide to New Wave Records, but how I think her book is too thin. She says something about doing a second edition, and I think of all kinds of records I could recommend to include in it, but I doubt that they would use me as a contributor to their book, as I'm not a good enough writer, nor am I famous...so hell, forget about that. I'll just expand the music section of my own website, just like I've been thinking of doing, and make my guide to the lost records that way. I saw goodbye to Kim and pick up a copy of "Lost in the Grooves" on my way out.

We head back to the hotel. Therese has the day off tomorrow (Veteran's Day) and will spend the night in my hotel room. We get back and I eagerly pop in one of the Steve Wynn CDs I've bought. It plays weird, almost like when you are playing music on the internet and it is buffering fast enough. What the hell is going on? Is my CD-ROM drive quitting on me? So I import the songs onto my hard drive via iTunes and play them through that. Same problem. Maybe it's the CD. I try another one. Same problem. Did Steve Wynn sell me a bunch of bad pressings? Therese says, "Take them back," but there's no way of doing that. So she brings out a CD she's just purchased at work that day and we play it. Same thing. It must be the speakers or the CD-ROM dying on my machine. Great, just what I need - a dying computer. Stupid PC! Thankfully I have bought a full warranty for it. We give up on the CDs and I play some music on my iPod. Therese is tired and I'm beat too. I take some sleeping pills to help me fall asleep.

Next > Day 7: Another day in the Village