Day Seven - New York

Sundays are strange days full of ritual. I realise that this is a sweeping statement but before you decline to read any further, give it some consideration. Sunday is the sabbath day, a rest day, a day for gardening in England and also a day for washing the car in England (I know because a neighbour of mine who never acknowledges anyone elses existence washes his car every Sunday and he is English - he has not garden though). This was a slightly different Sunday though for New York is a slightly different place.

It is the capital of the world, yet another sweeper of a statement but really the arguement is too strong and way too long for me to fit into this but it is a cultural centre, an economic centre and has such a massive influence on all other centres of such that it commands attention and on this Sunday it was certainly getting some. Tourists were teeming to the usual sites and Harlem, where we had arrived the night before was awake to the sound of gospel singing.

The night before in the hostel we met a guy who I decided to nickname Taz on account of me forgetting his real name (Ruud) and he warned me that breakfast was served between 9 and 10 and not a minute earlier or later. He seemed a nice guy, a big fan of discount cars from Pathmark for cheaping up on the food and drink scene and splurted like Taz (the Tasmanian Devil) when he wanted to, in Harlem speak, "diss" something (homie). Upon arriving downstairs at a few minutes past ten to find he was correct, he approached, sufficiently full of breakfast himself to inform me that I had missed it but that he would wake me in the morning to ensure I wouldn't. I think this may have saved him a broken jaw because it indicated that he was trying to be nice, not really rubbing it in that I missed the food and tea/coffee. So he's going home to Holland perfectly healthy don't you worry.
Now obviously Donal and I couldn't function without some breakfast so we exited the hostel to a heat that was comparible to a working steel furnace. We should have expected this really, it being the end of June, it being NYC and it being close to midday. But we didn't, who are we Einstein?!

Walking through New York is an expericne but Harlem is a place apart really. The night before certainly sent a bit of a culture shock my way in that I had never really seen any people openly dance in the street to Michael Jackson music but with the sunlight of Sunday allowing me to see clearly, the shock was gone and an understanding set in. This was a real community, people looked after each other and though there were few chain stores or fancy houses, it was the closeness of locality, the intimacy of community that bound people together. Perhaps this sounds a little romantic but Harlem's dodgy reputation didn't look deserved to me, it has it's own charcter and if you can't deal with that then it ain't about to change for you but if you simply go with the flow then things will be fine and you will enjoy yourself all the more. I suppose, as travellers, we have to remember that we are treading on land that others live on, it isn't ours to shape to our temporary needs as oppossed to their permanent needs. With this in mind, in a more or less subconscious way, we walked down Lenox Avenue, in the sun, hearing gospel music waft from open church windows and my God was there a lot of churches. We reahced the top of Central Park, the north side of it and then went in search of Broadway. The plan was to go to a diner I had eaten in last year in order for us to get breakfast and so off we went. It was a long walk but at least it gave us a view of the city and eventually we indeed stumbled upon the diner next door to the Newton Hotel on upper Broadway.

For us, days are days and that is all there is to it so we weren't expecting it to be too busy but it was. It was Sunday after all but that had slipped our minds a bit as days melted into one another. We sat down to fine breakfasts all the same but as Donal noted, as nice as the waiters were (I didn't spot a waitress), they were still able to get you to leave, but in a nice way. Typical New York!

Having bought a Metrocard that was valid for a week ($25) on the Saturday night when we arrived into a mental and messy but all too characterful Chinatown, we out ourselves on to the subway to bring us to the South of Manhattan. Ground Zero, Wall Street and Batter Park were on our to-do lists but as with anything in New York, new things cropped up all of the time, as they do in a city of it's size where permanence is but a word and nothing more. There wasn't much to see of Ground Zero really unless you wanted to see the museum but personally I find it a little strange to have a museum dedicated to a tragedy that occurred so recently - time should be allowed to mellow it out a little, to heal the wounds in a natural way rather than for that wound to be kept open for so long. I am sure you have your own valid opinion on this but for what it is worth, that is mine.
We walked past the rebuilding site, which does a lot on its own to reveal to you the scale of the destruction, despite the fencing that prevents you from viewing it properly, and came across St Peters Church which was left unharmed by the whole tragedy and indeed provided a place of refuge and shelter to rescue workers and others who were there to help in the days and weeks after 9/11. The stories exhibited in there were fascinating, moving and true. No need for me to tell you but there were some Irish flags in there even.

At this point we were either both so covered in sweat that we really didn't care anymore or else the day had cooled a little. There was certainly more shade under the tall buildings around Wall Street although I distinctly remember that at one point in St Peters I felt like I was in heaven due to a fan being close by; until some idiot walked in front of the air. He moved thankfully because that was keeping me alive more or less!
Looking around Wall Street was great in itself and stepping inside nearby Trinity Church was quite an experience but the real highlight of the day was the visit to Staten Island.

Taking the Staten Island Ferry is a great experience really, the views are good, it isn't too quick, it doesn't rock around on the water and it's free. Really that's hard to beat and as we passed Lady Liberty we thought about getting some food on Staten Island which, according to most, isn't frequented all that often by tourists. Worth a look then. I'll never forget where we ended up. It was a restarant with a distinctly Mediterrean feel to it and a lady/manager who was quick with the smiles but was also clearly in need of more staff or less of her friends as staff. Efficiency was not it's key point and you know what, that was just as well for it wouldn't have been the same otherwise. My thoughts, while there, was that this was some mad experiement by a well-off lady who wanted to see what she could do in retirement with her friends. Well she, or her freind, whoever the chef was, certainly put up a fine plate of cheese as a starter. There was even some left over for Taz which we had wrapped up and brought back! There was a lady playing soothing guitar music in there too by a window which framed her against the Manhatten skyline over the Hudson River. They say that New York is a place everyone knows, that you become familiar with it from tv and movies and was this view just this - a reminder in real life.

On the way back to the hostel we took a slight diversion from the ferry and went to see the Vietnam War Memorial near the ferry terminal and Battery Park. Letters home from guys in the front lines, a memorial to the youngest US figher killed, 15 years old, he had changed his birth cert to say he was of age. Seeing it at night made it all the more sombre and Donal and I were the only ones there. It was fitting that it was empty except for us as that allowed time to reflect on what we were reading as did the time it took to take photos without flash. It wasn't overly showy and you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it but as with a lot of things in life once you went and saw beneath the surface then a lot more becomes revealed.