New York. A feast for the senses. It’s eye-filling, loud, smelly, busy, hot.
And exhilarating.
Cacophony defines the waves of sound. But painting a word picture of the smells, the tastes, the crush, the joy, the energy is a different matter.
The feast began the very moment we got off the train in Penn Station. People everywhere. We are not quite the country mice we once were. Paris, Rome, London…but in spite of our wider frame of reference, we were instantly bedazzled our first step off the Boston-New York train, surrounded by thousands, buffeted by the hordes.
Lucky for us, the station is well-laid out and designed (or seemed that way to us) and the confusion was illusory; we found and followed signs immediately that took us to a taxi stand.
Cabs in every directionAnd we got a cab quickly.
And we got a cab quickly
The ride to our apartment was a different story. The system of one-way roads was jammed. University was about to resume and everyone was in town dropping off students and their goods at dorms, apartments, housing of all sorts. At one point all we could see in all directions was the yellow of New York City cabs.
We had a good cabby though and he deked and dived through the one way streets in a way that would make a hockey player proud, and before we knew it, we were pulling up in front of our mid-town Manhattan condo.
Our condo was the main floor (up 10 steps) of a New York brownstone and it was charming. The street was quiet and peaceful, and we felt very secure, in spite of the place having a three key system of entry.
After a four hour train ride, our first order of business was to stretch our legs and the best way to do that is to explore, so we headed out and discovered Union Square and a farmers’ market within two blocks of our place. The market filled the square and our senses, and we enjoyed the smells and colours of the flowers, fruits, veggies, meats and cheeses on display, and the sounds of the vendors and customers. Local vineyards were well represented too.
We walked a little further and found that the four blocks after the food section of the market, was a “stuff” market. You could buy anything from dishes to clothes to fast food. We ended up eating BBQ from a stand in the market. I had pulled pork and Ken had ribs. We needed a bath by the time we were finished eating, but the food was really good. Ken doesn’t normally like BBQ sauce on ribs, preferring a Greek garlic rub, but he didn’t argue with this batch of ribs, and when he gave me a taste, I certainly agreed with him. And HUGE portions. We didn’t need supper after that lunch, and ended up with cheese (see Interesting people), baguette, fruit and wine for dinner, all purchased at the market.
Time Square was another smorg/feast. The sheer volume of people and the level of activity and sound was almost bewildering.
“It” was all on display at Time Square.
And we saw it all. Women naked except for a thong being painted by men. No, they weren’t models, they were canvass. A cowboy on an island in the middle of the street, playing his guitar, seemingly naked, except for his boots and hat. Disappointingly, when he turned around, he was not nearly as daring as the women being painted, and was wearing a Speedo type bathing suit under the guitar. Ken apparently found the cowgirl mate of my cowboy and snapped a photo. We saw Mario, Mickey Mouse and Spider Man, along with countless “Statues of Liberty”, we saw the New Year’s Eve clock.
And always noise. Horns, whistles, traffic, people, buses. Just noise. Noise. Noise.
We played tourists in New York. With only a few days we wanted to see and do as much as possible, so we walked miles and miles — we walked from our condo to Time Square, nearly tipping over backwards to see the tops of the sky scrapers, enjoying the architecture and the whole experience.
We did the hop on hop off bus and went to Battery Park and took the Staten Island Ferry. We went to the 9/11 memorial which is beautiful and very moving. We had to experience Macy’s and were duly impressed with the world’s largest department store (well except for the one in Dubai, “which we don’t count” according to the guide on the bus) especially the shoe department which seemed to fill one complete floor. We went to Central Park and took a horse and carriage ride through the park, stopping at Strawberry Field and the John Lennon memorial. Our driver pointed out The Dakota as well as the house featured in the movie Ghost Busters.
We bought and ate hot dogs and pretzels from street vendors.
We walked from Battery Park to our condo through the financial district, Greenwich Village and Soho, and after our carriage ride we walked for hours through Central Park, managing to see only a small bit of it.
Hailing a cab is a rite of passage in New York. Ken experienced this twice so I guess he passed? Progressed?? Evolved??? (The question of what verb to use with “rite of passage” resulted in a 15-minute debate and we never came to a conclusion). Whatever. You can’t phone a cab or book one in advance. If you want a cab, you stand on the street and hail one. We succeeded in Time Square.
And the day we boarded the Queen Mary, Ken hailed another one. We expected to have to go down 3rd Avenue for some distance, but managed to hail one before we even got to the corner. And were subjected to abuse.
The cabbie stopped for us mid-intersection, rather than in the parking spot Ken thought he might use part way down the street. And the man on the street, crossing in the pedestrian crosswalk behind the cab berated him and us for stopping in the middle of the street.
Our cabbie was a bit of a character. “Brooklyn Cruise Terminal, Pier 12,” Ken said. Do you have a street address the cabbie asked. “It’s the dock where all the cruise ships land,” said Ken. “This is my first day,” he replied. And we were likely only his second or third customer.
Ken had done his homework. Turn left and take the Brooklyn Bridge, he said. But technology took over. The cabbie was on his i-phone, google mapping the destination and taking to his uncle at the other end of the mike at the same time. He got us there lickedy spit.
We gasped at the arrogance of youth who challenged traffic, crossing streets against lights, and daring drivers to hit them. We laughed at drivers shouting “You gonna drive that car!” While leaning on the horn and shaking fists at the vehicle in front of them who couldn’t move forward because another vehicle was there or six pedestrians were in the crosswalk.
We shook our heads at the men wandering around Battery park with big boa constrictors around their shoulders. I suppose they convinced people to pay to have their photos taken with the snakes.
We marvelled at the Flatiron building, and the ironwork featured in the architecture of Soho, gasped at the “more diamond merchants in this block than anywhere in the world except for Amsterdam”. And got very tired of the tour guide saying “When it was built this was the tallest building in the world. It stayed the oldest building in the world until…” She said that about every building we passed it seemed, then she explained:
“New York is very competitive. You have to understand that we have to be the tallest, the biggest, the fastest, the oldest…” It explained a lot.
