SiMPL #013 Perception: Reality’s Creative Director?
The Mind Gaps We Create to Imagine
It All Started with the Smell of Pee, Rats, and Times Square
Twelve years ago, I had my first encounter with New York City, and let’s just say… it wasn’t love at first sight.
I was on a layover in Newark, and thanks to a series of flight delays, my already-too-long four-hour layover turned into a ten-hour ordeal. Instead of sulking at the airport, I decided to “make the most of it” and check out the iconic Big Apple. With only a carry-on in tow and a sense of adventure (or maybe desperation), I hopped on a train to Manhattan, heading straight for the most obvious landmark in my pop culture-fed brain: Times Square.
Big mistake.
Imagine this: it’s overcrowded, it smells like pee, the rats look bolder than the pigeons, and the adjacent streets are packed with questionable characters. Hustlers are in full force, cigarette smoke mingles with burnt oil and exhaust fumes, and I’m suddenly wondering why this place is glorified in every movie ever made.
To escape the chaos, I ducked into the Hard Rock Cafe—because when in doubt, burgers are the answer, right? It wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t enough to turn me into an “I ❤️ NY” devotee. I headed back to the airport, convinced New York was an overrated tourist trap.
Revisiting New York: Bakeries, Friends, and a Viral Agenda
Fast forward to 2024, and New York City came up as a potential birthday destination. At first, I resisted. “Nah, let’s go somewhere else,” I said, rationalizing it as “too expensive and still smells like pee.” I even tried steering the conversation toward Chicago, my trusty favorite. But my wife had other ideas, armed with a list of viral bakeries, nostalgic ties to Sex and the City (yes, the show that’s been on repeat at home), and the bonus of having her cousin and friends living there. On top of that, my brother-in-law and his boyfriend were considering joining, which opened up the possibility of sharing an apartment or a nicer hotel.
It seemed like everything was aligning for New York—except my enthusiasm. I’d be lying if I said I was excited. But one thing I’ve learned is that sometimes, revisiting a place (or an idea) can be like seeing it for the first time. So, I decided to give New York another chance.
A Plan in the Making
We started crafting an itinerary that could cater to everyone’s interests. The staples were there: Statue of Liberty, Central Park, the Chrysler Building. My wife’s list leaned heavily toward bakeries she’d seen go viral on social media (because priorities). And me? I insisted on museums, specifically dedicating my birthday to wandering the MET.
My brother-in-law, who had only been to New York once before, shared a few vague memories of his previous trip but was mostly as new to the city as I was. He and his boyfriend were considering joining us, which opened up the possibility of splitting an apartment or staying at a nicer hotel. With all the moving parts, it started to feel like a group adventure in the making.
Everything seemed smooth: mornings with coffee and pastries from Instagram-famous spots, afternoons exploring the city’s iconic landmarks, and evenings catching up with my friends Mark and Graciano, Mafer’s cousin, Luigi, and her friend Ellis over dinner. It was shaping up to be a blend of sightseeing, indulgence, and good company.
But, as you’ve probably learned from reading my newsletters, plans are meant to change.
The Shift in Plans
As I mentioned earlier, plans change. It’s not a possibility; it’s a certainty. And as it turns out, this trip was no exception.
The first curveball came when my brother-in-law and his boyfriend decided to change their plans. Instead of joining us in New York, they opted for one of our original plans, Orlando and its theme parks. Don’t get me wrong, theme parks can be fun, but spending my birthday standing in long lines for rides wasn’t exactly my idea of a celebration and boy! they are pricy. So, it was just going to be me and my wife.
We moved forward with booking a hotel—Pod 39. It was compact, sure, but for exploring Manhattan, it was perfect. Conveniently located near subway stations and just a few blocks from Taco No. 1. Not exactly glamorous, but hey, I’m all for practical over fancy when it comes to city trips.
Then came the scream. (You know the one I’m talking about—where you don’t know if something amazing or catastrophic just happened.)
Turns out, Ron Ben-Israel, the “Godfather of Wedding Cakes” from Food Network, was hosting a cake-decorating course during our time in New York. And get this—it was just three blocks from our hotel. Talk about serendipity! My wife’s excitement hit the roof. After a few emails back and forth, she was confirmed for the class, and just like that, I was flying solo for my birthday.
Now, some of you might think, “What a bummer.” But not me. A whole day to myself at the MET? Sign me up! Yep, I’m that kind of nerd.
A Day at the MET: A Solo Celebration
The morning of my birthday, we started with a quick trip to drop Mafer off at her cake-decorating class with Ron Ben-Israel. She was practically glowing with excitement—this was her dream coming to life. Watching her step into that studio was the kind of joy that made everything else feel right. With her set for the day, I headed off to my own adventure: a full day at the MET.
I’d been told to take the M1 or M2 bus uptown, which, according to a friend, was the perfect way to see the city. But here’s the thing: I spent way too long searching for those buses… on the wrong avenue. Classic me.
Eventually, I gave up and decided to walk. If you’re half crazy like me and don’t mind racking up some steps, this is actually the best way to see the city. Twenty blocks on foot gave me a taste of Manhattan’s mid-to-uptown vibe—a mix of bustling energy and surprising moments of calm. Still, Google Maps deserves a shoutout for saving me from wandering completely aimlessly.
A Joel Pro Tip: Getting to the MET
If you’re planning a trip to the MET, here’s what I recommend:
1. Subway: Take the 6 or B line and get off a couple of blocks away. It’s the fastest and most straightforward option.
2. Bus: If you’re uptown or midtown, catch the M86-SBS heading east. Trust me, double-check Google Maps—it’s a lifesaver if you’re prone to getting lost like me.
3. Walking: For those who enjoy a bit of chaos (like yours truly), walking lets you soak in the city’s rhythm. Comfortable shoes and a sense of humor are key!
And here’s a bonus for anyone with a sweet tooth: If you happen to hop off the 68 St-Hunter College stop, make a little detour to Crumbl Cookies. My wife is the cookie enthusiast in the family, and yes, I had to go back there with her one day just to get those cookies. Worth it? Absolutely.
A Birthday at the MET
By the time I reached the MET, I was ready to dive into what I’d been looking forward to most—a full day of exploring art, history, and everything in between. And yes, as nerdy as it sounds, the idea of being alone in a museum on my birthday was pure bliss. While some might prefer parties, I was thrilled to spend hours strolling through the galleries, absorbing all the stories each piece of art had to offer.
Walking into the MET felt like stepping into another world. I had a loose plan: start with the Egyptian wing (bread! They had an ancient bread exhibit!), wander through the Renaissance, and then let myself get lost. I wasn’t in any rush, which is precisely how I like my museum days—open-ended, with time to stop and take in whatever catches my eye.
Ancient Bread and Beer—My Kind of History
I never expected to geek out over an exhibit on ancient bread-making, but there I was, staring at a maquette of Egyptians grinding grain, kneading dough, and fermenting beer. It was fascinating to see how integral bread was to their daily lives—so much so that it made it into their art. As someone who’s dabbled in sourdough baking (my starter, Djamal, says hi), I couldn’t help but feel a connection across millennia. Turns out, we’re all just chasing that perfect loaf.
Art That Talks
The MET has this magical way of pulling you into stories. Rubens painting The Hunt, is so vividly crafted I could practically smell the wilderness and hear the rustling leaves. Rembrandt? He was the iPhone of his time—everyone wanted their portrait done by him. And Caravaggio? His whites practically glow, as if there’s a hidden light source in the canvas.
El Greco blew my mind with how he used darkness to make light pop off the painting. And then there’s Picasso. His work reminded me of something Erick Wahl once said in a keynote: “All kids are artists.” I mean, some of his sketches looked like my own when I was six—so maybe I missed my calling?
Home Office Dreams
Then there was Matisse. If I ever win the lottery, a Matisse is going straight into my home office. Okay, maybe a replica (budget reality check), but there’s something about his use of color that just sparks joy.
A Museum Day Turns into a Self-Discovery Journey
As I wandered through the galleries, something unexpected happened. The MET wasn’t just teaching me about art—it was teaching me about myself. I’ve always known I’m a bit of a nerd (I mean, who else geeks out about ancient bread-making?), but walking through these halls, I started noticing patterns in what drew me in: stories.
Every painting, sculpture, and artifact had a story to tell. Whether it was a dramatic myth captured on canvas or a simple, everyday moment immortalized in clay, these works weren’t just objects—they were windows into human experience.
The Joy of Nerding Out Alone
There’s something incredibly freeing about being alone in a museum. You don’t have to rush because someone else is ready to move on, and you’re not obligated to pretend you’re enjoying a section that doesn’t interest you. I took my time with the pieces that fascinated me and skipped past the ones that didn’t. No guilt, no pressure, just pure, unfiltered curiosity.
I realized how rare it is to have a day like this—no meetings, no errands, no deadlines, just uninterrupted time to explore and reflect. It was the perfect birthday gift to myself.
A Cozy Evening to Wrap It All Up
By the time I got to Mafer’s cake class, I was running on nothing but a cookie and an espresso after hours of art-filled bliss. I stepped into the elevator, ready to pick her up and hear all about her day, but of course, life had other plans. As I was going up, Mafer was already on her way down in another elevator.
While we played a little game of “elevator tag,” I stayed behind and struck up a conversation with Ron Ben-Israel. Yes, the Ron Ben-Israel. He was as warm and charismatic as you’d imagine a cake maestro to be. We chatted about his class, cakes, and New York. At some point, with a big smile, he said, “Oh, Feliz Navidad!”
I laughed and corrected him gently, “Feliz Cumpleaños,” emphasizing the pronunciation. He nodded, repeating it with a little more confidence, and we shared a laugh. It was one of those charming, unscripted moments that adds a little sparkle to the day.
By the time Mafer and I reunited, we were ready to wrap up the day. We found a cozy Turkish restaurant, indulged in some incredible food and wine, and swapped stories about our respective adventures. It was the perfect way to end a day full of art, stories, and surprises.
As I sat in that cozy Turkish restaurant, sipping on wine and listening to Mafer’s excitement about her class, it hit me: New York wasn’t the city I thought I knew. This trip had peeled back layers I had never bothered to explore, revealing a city that was vibrant, art-filled, and brimming with untold stories.
The Unexpected Takeaway: A Whole New Perception
It’s funny how our minds fill in the gaps with assumptions. Take the smell of pee or rats in New York—this time, I only saw one rat! But why does my brain jump to that imagery? It’s because our minds are trained from childhood to create a complete picture when the details are missing. It’s the same skill we develop through storytelling, where we imagine things we’ve never seen, guided by fragments we’re given.
Here’s a little thought experiment I came across in a TED Talk: I’ll tell you a short story, and you tell me what comes to mind.
“Bob went to the beach to play fetch with his dog.”
Now, what kind of dog does Bob have? If you’re like most people, you probably pictured a Labrador or Golden Retriever. Maybe your own dog popped into your mind. Why? Because when we’re given limited information, we instinctively fill the gaps with familiar, comforting images.
What could be more familiar than a Golden Retriever … retrieving a ball? Or your own dog, if you’re someone who’s always playing fetch.
But what if I told you Bob’s dog was a Wolfhuahua—a mix between a wolf and a Chihuahua? Surprising, right? That’s the gap between perception and reality. As Sean Tiffee explains in his TedTalk Mind the Gap, our minds naturally bridge the gap with what feels plausible, even if the truth is far stranger—or more exciting.
New York had been my Wolfhuahua. For years, my perception of the city was shaped by one chaotic visit and countless media portrayals. But this time, I saw the reality—a far richer, more vibrant story than I could have imagined.
And here’s the trick to breaking the chains of perception: embrace the absurd as reality. Imagine Bob’s Wolfhuahua at the beach. If you let that image replace your default, the next time you hear the story, you’ll picture the reality, not your assumption.
That’s how I embraced New York: in all its messy, chaotic, Wolfhuahuaness.
Next week on SiMPL: Connections and Sensory Magic (still working on the title), we’ll go deep into perception, exploring: the value of connections, new and old, and the role of sensory details in shaping and reshaping memories. Together, we’ll explore how these elements can enrich your travels, your experiences, and even your relationships.
Stay tuned for Relationships and Sensory Experiences.
Book Recommendation: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
Talking about perception, I think I’ve mentioned before that my wife is a Potterhead, right? Well, she is—our Christmas tree decorations are Harry Potter-themed, and our Tree Star is a Sorting Hat. Yes, really. You get the point.
Once upon a time, though, my perception of Harry Potter was very different. Let’s rewind to 2001, maybe early 2002. I was already an avid reader, and at the time, I had a girlfriend in university who also loved books. One long weekend, we went to an island, and it rained the whole day.
I had already finished the book I brought with me, and she suggested swapping books. That’s how I ended up skimming through Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (or “Harry Potter’s first book,” as I called it back then). Why just skim? Well, I was 18, on a rainy day in a Caribbean island cabin—with my girlfriend. Let’s just say my focus was… elsewhere. Plus, the book was in Spanish, and I thought, I’d rather read this in English someday.
My perception? “Nice story, funny, but not my cup of tea.” Back then, I was reading The Name of the Rose and Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco—dense, intricate books that made Harry Potter feel almost too simple. Besides, I’d just seen the movie, so I assumed I knew what to expect.
Fast forward to today, I’m married to a wonderful baker who’s not just a Potterhead but also hangs out at Harry Potter events. We even went to the Harry Potter store in New York recently, and seeing her excitement there reminded me of how I feel in a museum.
That’s when I decided to revisit Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. On a couple of long flights, I loaded it onto my iPad. Before I knew it, I was halfway through the second book. And you know what? My perception changed completely.
Reading it as an adult—and having absorbed second-hand Potter knowledge from years of hearing my wife talk about it—I realized J.K. Rowling didn’t just write a clever children’s book; she created an immersive universe. Her narrative isn’t as intricate as Tolkien or Herbert, but it has a charm akin to George Lucas or Philip Pullman: simple, relatable, and incredibly engaging.
Why does this tie into perception? Because the book is all about it. It starts by introducing us to a magical world through Harry’s eyes—an orphan boy raised by his unpleasant relatives who suddenly discovers he’s a wizard and, not just any wizard, but one who’s famous in a world he knows nothing about.
Harry’s perception, shaped by years of mistreatment, collides with that of his peers like Ron and Hermione, who grew up in wizarding families and take magic for granted. The result is a delightful exploration of how different perspectives shape our understanding of the same world.
There’s this part where Dumbledore says, “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.” Now, back in 2001, my 18-year-old brain heard that and went, “Huh, that’s deep, moving on.” But reading it now, it hits differently. I mean, leave it to Dumbledore to casually drop a life-altering perspective like it’s the weather report. He’s not just talking about death—he’s talking about everything we fear because we don’t understand it. I could almost hear him say, “Joel, stop assuming New York smells only like pee and rats—go have your day at the Museum”
If you’re looking for a fun, easy read that’s both entertaining and filled with subtle life lessons, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone is a great choice.