Letters: My Kind of Town

Fine, don't apologize, but if you're going to call New York City livable, at least don't mislead your readers ("Pack Up the Grill, Honey, We're Moving to Reykjavìk," June 1997). I love New York, but I also hate it, and suggest the following corrections: (1) New York is green because weeds are green. One of the city's commonest trees is actually a foul-smelling weed. (2) Jones Beach is not an "easy drive" from Manhattan, because nothing is an easy drive from Manhattan. But why listen to me when New York speaks for itself? Driving over the Queensboro Bridge from Long Island, I was greeted by the following road sign (and I swear I wasn't in the wrong lane): "Go Back."

I'd be surprised if my letter were the only one to express absolute amazement that you included New York City as one of the best places in the world to live. New York City? Get real. If Sparky doesn't find life to his liking in the Big Apple, he can always join me and Smokey, my lab — Newfie mix, and chase squirrels around our Capitol Hill neighborhood, or we can go swimming down on the Potomac.

Istanbul? You're kidding, right? Have you ever been to Istanbul in January? It's a wonderful place — cosmopolitan, scenic, vibrant. But live there? When I visited several years ago the air was so thick that I couldn't see more than half a block. I hope you have no legal liability for people who might actually take your advice — you could be looking at some big-time emphysema bills.

Perfect timing. For a month now, I've been researching job possibilities in Prague because I plan to move there. Then, as luck would have it, I ran across your article. It gave me new and sorely needed information that I was previously unable to find. I haven't found a job yet, but your article was serendipity. When I get to Prague I'll send you a postcard.

Before Reykjavìkers start congratulating themselves on living in one of the top ten cities in the world, they might do well to consider the source. Contrary to your representation of them, Icelanders live and die by the sea, and are not the sort of folk whose ties to nature are based on renting Free Willy videos. You're more likely to find them rushing whaleside with salt and pepper shakers than with compassion.

In his article "Language Lessons," Marshall Sella failed to mention the most enjoyable and effective method of learning a new language — marry a native speaker. There is nothing like a new romance to stimulate the educational process. As the saying goes, "The best way to learn a language is in bed."

Map of the Human Heart
While Miles Harvey's story about the dark side of map collecting made for fun reading ("Mr. Bland's Evil Plot to Control the World," June 1997), it seemed to me that he confused kleptomaniacs with thieves. Kleptomaniacs steal out of compulsion and hoard their goodies; thieves steal for profit. Why suggest that we need "insight" into his "addiction" when Gilbert Bland is just another criminal who steals and fences goods for money?

Rebel Rouser
After reading Rob Buchanan's profile of velocity-intoxicated Shaun Palmer ("Poser," June 1997), and as an active cross-country mountain biker, I must disagree with Eric Edgecumbe's comment, "We need him." We don't need him. The terra I ride is eroding under the pressure of overuse, hostile hikers, bolting horses, and Mountain Dew mountain bikers. Our sport doesn't need to be associated with the rude and tattooed. I hope Palmer stays "clipped in and sober," and under the shade of the chairlift.

Tower of Babble
I read in astonishment your item about the fate of Devils Tower ("Hey, Get Your Ropes Off My Cathedral!" Dispatches, June 1997). Andy Petefish should be ashamed of his behavior. As latecomers to the Native Americans' lands, the least we can do is show respect for what is theirs. I suggest that Petefish be banned from Devils Tower for good.

Hooray for Andy Petefish! He's a modern hero in the brave and lonely fight against political correctness as practiced by the Park Service. The same folks who want the U.S. government to make a special case for Indian religion at Devils Tower would be the first to sneer at the request that fundamentalist Christians be allowed to pray in school. You just can't have it both ways.

The Point of the Journey
How strange to think of the terrain from Alaska to Argentina as simply mileage to be covered ("What Price Glory?" Dispatches, June 1997). I would have hoped that such an accident might have given Wayne Ross and Christopher Ramsden reason to pause, in more ways than one.

Racing the Wind
Your answer to the question, "can a sailboat go faster than the wind?" missed the, er, boat (The Wild File, July 1997). Any modern sailboard can beat the wind, compliments of its efficient sail and planing hull design. I'm not trying to sidestep the debate between stand-up and sit-down sailors about whether a sailboard is a sailboat or not — it is. The 46.52-knot record that the speed-sailing trimaran set was formerly held by a sailboard.

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