Last weekend was spent in upstate New York, in the charming town of Walton close to the Catskill mountains. The purpose was mainly for Marge to go and say hi to her horse so I just hung around the barn and generally chilled out. Yesterday and today were my last days in New York City so we decided to do some of the sights. We took the ferry to Ellis Island, and passed by the Statue of Liberty on the way, and I must say it was very cool to see it in the (iron?) flesh, as its such a familiar and well known icon. We visited the Immigration museum on Ellis Island and it was so interesting to see all sorts of records and incredible photos of the people who passed through the island which was effectively the gateway to the New World. It was sad to think of all those families and many children who were separated from their parents, who had to leave their homes and go to a far away and strange country. Its sadder to see that things haven’t got much better for so many immigrants today, and especially depressing how they are treated in Ireland when were a bloody nation of diaspora ourselves! Selective memory…! Anyway, after that, we headed into Manhattan and fulfilled what every tourist must do: queue for 2hours to get up to the top of the Empire State Building to experience THE best (360 degree) view of the city. It was definitely worth the wait! We finished off the day with a Cosmopolitan (which I toasted to Delphine, as promised!) in the coolest little place called Beauty Bar, which is basically done up like a 50s hair salon and has all sorts of authentic salon stuff like those hairdrying helmets, and barbers chairs etc. It was really very charming and with the aid of a desk lamp to help her through the warm fuzzy golden glow of the bar, there was even a manicurist on duty! $10 for a mani and a drink… What a steal! (PS, the ‘glow’ has been totally obliterated by the flash in the pic, im not lying, honest!) Today I came into town on my own for my final adieux to the Big Apple. I began in the Upper East Side, taking a bus from Penn station that went all the way up Madison Avenue and had the, um, pleasure of listening to an entire conversation between these two 50 something Jewish women, thick New York accents and all, who were seriously straight out of a Woody Allen film. The conversation ranged from: their husbands’ prostates; bitching about daughters in law; thinning hair; estranged brothers; moaning about modern technology, ‘whata I need a cell phone for? Whatam I gonna do with onea those? Tell me!’; and so on and so forth. This was the soundtrack to my 40 block bus journey… I finally got off and headed to the Guggenheim museum, which a meandered through for about an hour. Then I wandered down a fair portion of Madison avenue (a whole 25 mins walk..quite impressive for anyone who knows me and my relationship with walking). After lunch in the Pain Quotidien (Big Up Stockel!) I headed for the subway, in which I crossed over the Brooklyn bridge all the way to.. dun dun dun…….(scary music)….Brooklyn!! Yes, I dared to leave the island! It was actually great, I walked all down 5th Avenue (not to be mistaken with 5th Avenue on the Upper East side, thank you very much) which has a nice authentic NY feel to it. Its full of different shops and ‘ethnic’ (I really hate that term used in that sense, but you get what I mean) food shops, trendy vintage stores (Brooklyn is the new black, by the way..), and Korean beauty salons every second door. All in all, twas a great day and a nice way to say ‘see you again soon’ to the City!
Well here we are at the Bates motel, on Church Street in EVERETT, NOT Boston, as we were led to believe when we made the reservation.. ...Tapping of foot.. ... So it turns out our lil' hostel is outside Boston and bares a frightening resemblance to the lodgings of one Norman Bates. Having said that, the inside has a certain element of shabby chic and our room is comfy. We were put in a room that was clearly already inhabited by two people who had nabbed the top punks. After careful investigation of the scene i deduced that our room mates where German. (Evidence included one brown single-strap Birkenstock, some clinical lookinh pharmacy cosmetics, and a music stand, possibly for a small flute or oboe.) Anyway, the room kinda smelled like someone had died there around the same time the Pioneers landed in New England and there was about 10cm between the bottom and top bed, so Marge pretended to be claustrophobic and we got a new room. Were in a room on our own and its nice and comfy (bearing in mind the context in which we are in: youth hostels in general) So were on a two day stint in Boston and then heading to Up State NY on Friday. We drove up to Salem today in search of a quaint little puritan village, shrouded in mystery and witchcraft intrigue. We found a fairly nasty spread-out industrial town with 4 (no joke) 'witch museums' but that where all complete cack because theyre basically 'attractions' not 'museum'. The nuance makes quite a difference, i assure you. So we payed 6 dollars for a 15minute tour 'about withcraft, NOT the Hysteria of 1681 in which 20 people where burned', walking through the papier mache model-filled dark corridors (all 3 of them), whilst being patronised by a nerdy guy with red hair (who obviously got beaten up in highschool and so embraced the alternative-wicca-weirdo-goth path as a way of coping), as he told us patently obvious general knowledge facts about witchcraft whilst putting on an annoying voice and sipping on his water. The Crucible, this was not. Anyway, the historic part of the town is pretty much gone but we did find a small cluster of houses dating back to the 1600s which was quite cool, and a spooky-looking graveyard that was very Sleepy Hollow-esque. So tomorow we hit Baw-stun for some hardcore historical touring, including the Patriots Trail. Its so amusing what a distorted perspective of history people have over here because the country is so young. I forget that but then i hear people describing something as really old and historic, referring to something from the 1800s, which is basically pretty bloody modern by European standards. Anyway, i mock not. I just hope they all look like Mel Gibson and Heath Ledger!
We arrived in Penn Station and hopped on the subway, primed and ready for my American Dream to come true, based entirely on ‘the Movies’, TV and books ive read… Quite a lot to live up to, id say. As I walked up the stairs from the subway, climbing towards my first impressions of Manhattan, I was hit by the sounds and sights of Times Square: people hustling past, taxis honking their horns (a nervous habit I think, by the way), buildings stretching up towards the sky, and layer upon layer of flashing lights and tv screens, assaulting the senses. (Piccadilly Circus has the power of a desk lamp bulb in comparison..) Vous ajoutez a ceci, les odeurs, le bruit… and you get a pretty overwhelming first impression of Manhattan. We made our way across town to drop our bags and settle in our lodgings for the night, which is a sort of hotel for the convenience of various clubs and alumni groups. Our stay in the suite was very generously provided by Mr. Bolter, member of Squadron A and therefore a club-member eligible to use the facilities. The thing is, the hotel happens to be run by none other than the Women’s Republican National Club (or something to that effect) which means that the entire building is adorned with pictures of all the ‘important’ ladies within the club and various other ‘ladies who lunch’. We accidentally stopped on the fourth floor on the way down and came face to face with a portrait of Reagan… Frightening stuff. Apart from the macabre right-wing undertones of the place, we had a lovely suite and it was such a treat to get to spend a night in the city and to be so central too. (just beside 5th Avenue and Rockefeller Centre.) We spent the day exploring the West Village and all the little boutiques and interesting shops there. It was Saturday so we had a lovely atmosphere with everyone on their weekend strolls. That evening we headed out for dinner, by which time it was 11 o clock - but don’t forget, it’s the city that never sleeps! After our Vietnamese food, we took a cab to the East Village (how cool did that sound?) in search of Mister Ming’s, a lounge-bar type thing that was recommended in one of the guide books as being a hip electro-music venue. After standing in the queue for about 5 minutes I noticed something odd. I could hear something that struck me as slightly strane. Yes.. there it was… Definitely! Bon Jovi’s, Living on a Prayer, rising from the depths of the club. I gasped in horror! I walked over and asked the leather-clad bouncer, was this not Mister Mings, cool electro bar? He looked at me, puzzled and answered in a thick New York accent, “You mean that Euro stuff???” … Emm, yes… I suppose…? “Nah, we don’t got that stuff here..!” …Sigh… “TAXI!” So onto the next place we went, passing away the wee hours of the night in KGB; a pseudo-intellectual haunt of NYU students discussing Kafka and the like over dodgy tasting Vodka that you’d get for 2 euros on the Continent, in Communist-memorabilia dressed surroundings. What I want to know is how the American public would react to someone opening a bar called “SS”, mais bon… passont. Sunday mornings in Manhattan, only one thing to do: go for eggs! So we did just that. We chose a nice place called Isabella’s with an outside terrace. The thing is that about 20 impatient looking New Yorkers also chose Isabella’s so we had to wait with the plebs outside to get our table. The scrambled eggs with Nova Scotia salmon and cream cheese, with home fries and English muffin made it all worth it. We then crossed the Park, but Fifth Avenue was closed because of some sort of Greek Parade. Why is it in cop-films when ever there's a chase, they always run into a parade and end up losing the fugitive in the crowd?? Anyway, I got to see the Parthenon on my trip to New York so I shouldn’t complain (even though it was made of Papier Mache and being dragged along by a pick-up truck). We walked down Madison Avenue, went into FAO Swartz and saw the cool giant floor piano thing that the people dance on in the film Big (we even arrived in time for the show!); went into Tiffany’s and Co and into Barney’s. We even walked down Park Avenue on our Bourj tour of the city. All in all we had a marvelous weekend. So much so that today I decided to go back for more. I left Marge and her weary feet and set off to explore the city on my tobler. I got the train from Long Island and the subway, comme une grande, and im quite proud of myself that I managed to figure the subway out myself cause its certainly different to what im used to - all numbers and straight lines! I started off at MoMa (the Museum of Modern Art) and walked through the galleries of beautiful paintings and sculptures. I saw some incredible surrealist paintings by Magritte and Dali that I never even knew where in the US. I even saw the gargantuan ‘reflections of clouds on the water’ (or something to that effect) by Monet which is truly beautiful. As for the Pollack section… bleeuughh… (C'est un Koundelich, definately springs to mind) After a morning filled with art, time for some of my art… Bloomingdales! I wandered through the cosmetic section and was inevitably solicited by every sexually-confused mascara wearing bronzed male makeup assistant, and smarmy high-lighted lip-linered sales lady; wanting to know if would like to be freshened up. Give the girl a complex! You actually need blinkers to walk into one of those department stores – one flash of eye contact and theyre all over you, descending onto their commission-providing prey like a cloud of vultures. After my ‘little brown bag’ experience, I hopped onto the 6 (like J-Lo, who’s ‘so real’ that she’s really from Brooklyn but just happens to live in LA) and wandered through the West Village. I decided to try my luck with Magnolia’s bakery (of Sex and the City fame) since last time the queue was wrapped around the block. Since it was Monday, I ‘got in’ and purchased a box of the most delightful, colourfully, hand frosted cup cakes ever created, including one for myself for the road. They don’t just look like they belong in the world of Barbie, they actually taste like a sweet summers day, sitting on a swing in a playground, birds humming and the smell of freshly cut grass in the air. Yes, in America they make an artificial flavour for that, I tell you! A perfect end to a perfect day of exploring the city, Steph style.
