Wednesday April 28
I knew Wednesday in NYC would be the busiest. Unofficially, this was “monument day”. And there was a lot to see.
The day began at the infamous Algonquin Hotel restaurant. Made famous by Dorothy Parker and the literati that dined and drank here in the 20s, we enjoyed an overpriced but adequate breakfast almost a century later. But we were pretty much alone and our waiter was a charming man hailing from, guessing from his accent, somewhere in Eastern Europe. Our table was just across from the historic Round Table.
We then cabbed it to Battery Park to catch our ferry to Liberty and Ellis islands. We’ve been to New york a few times yet have missed these significant landmarks each time. Not so, this trip. Before describing these historic monuments I must describe the trip itself. To put things in context, we visited on an overcast late morning Wednesday. Still the crowds were large. We meandered through a line for fifteen or so minutes before passing through what was described as “airport style security”. Needless to say, removing articles of clothing was not high on my list of entertaining activities. We were surrounded by tourists from all over -- France, Germany, Spain, Israel, China, and many more countries. This only added to the complexity of the security check. But we made it through, even if we were both a bit cranky upon boarding the ferry -- an overcrowded tourist trawler with little seating.
Of course the hassle was worth it. The Statue of Liberty is breathtaking. We walked the grounds for a while, snapping gorgeous pictures of the Manhattan skyline. The wind was extremely strong (making the ferry crossing extraordinarily difficult) and clouds hung behind the statue -- which seemed smaller than popular culture implies. We skipped the pedestal due to more overwhelming lines and a stronger desire to spend time at Ellis. So we boarded the next ferry (still overcrowded, still no seating) and sailed off.
Ellis Island is pretty magical, at least for me. A placard at the entrance claims that 100 million Americans can trace their roots back to Ellis. That’s one-third of the US population. Astounding. I think some of my paternal ancestors came through in the mid-nineteenth. I’ll have to remember to ask my relatives at the next family reunion. On a related note, Ellis was hosting a temporary exhibit highlighting Basque culture and immigration. A happy coincidence, to be sure.
Ellis is relatively small considering the volume of immigrants it processed. The Registration Hall was most impressive, restored to its original grandeur in the late 1980’s. Interestingly enough, Ellis was abandoned in the mid-50’s and was only recently declared a National Historic park. The museum hosted a wing of relics and photography from the pre-restoration period which was quite beautiful. I’ll have to remember to look for a book on the subject when we return.
After a stay on Ellis we headed back into Manhattan. Although we had meant to lunch at Delicatessen, a cab error (on my part) landed us in Greenwich. So we went to NY-favorite Sushi Samba 7 instead. After a good lunch -- our first real meal all day -- we wandered around the Village. We did get turned around a bit; my native sense of direction led us afoul and we kept heading south instead of north. But we got back on track and visited our favorite stores: Flight 001 and Mxyplyzyk.
Dinner was at another New York favorite: Tamarind. We’d been there a few years back with friends and enjoyed what, at the time, was the best Indian meal ever. Plus we saw both Marissa Tomei and Solomon Rushdie dining there, as well. Needless to say, we had to visit once more. The dinner was delightful, but Vij’s in Vancouver still holds the Best Indian title in my mind. And, sorry, no celebrity sightings this time!
Our final landmark was the iconic Empire State Building. I had read (on Frommer’s, I think) that nighttime viewing was the best so, pre-purchased tickets in hand, we made our way through the deserted lobby to scale New York’s most famous skyscraper. The first observation deck, on the 86th floor, provided a spectacular view. The night was clear and a full moon reflected gently on the East River. While chilly, the wind had died down, allowing us a leisurely stroll around the outside deck. The view was so beautiful that I almost forgot my fear of heights -- that is, until I looked down. My heart may have raced, but the view was worth it. We sprang extra to go to the absolute top floor -- 102. the view wasn’t so different but it was a closer, more intimate space. I would say, for most folks, the main observation deck is all you need to do. That said, I don’t regret the extended visit to the highest floor.
We ended our last day, nearly fourteen hours later, with a nightcap at the Hudson’s Library bar. Sadly, it was packed with drunk pretty people seeking the Hook Up. One strange fellow stared intently at me for a good two minutes, his eyes watery and stance wobbly. Eventually he thrust his hand out, shook mine, and mumbled (I think) “chill.” As fun as that sounds, we elected to drink and dash back to the room to get some sleep.
Thursday April 29
The day started out with a breakfast bar in the hotel room -- no time for a sit down this morning. After packing we caught a cab back to Chelsea. Mark Ryden was slated to exhibit at the Pail Kasmin gallery. Sadly, the show didn’t open until five that evening -- exactly when we were scheduled to leave port for Southampton. Disappointed, we peeked through the window to see a few of his new pieces. Alas no one took pity on us and we headed out to lunch at DBGB. Luckily the lunch was one of our best meals, leaving us with a wonderful last memory of New York.
Or, at least, that’s what it should have been. Instead, we landed the worst cab driver, ever, on the most important ride of this leg. After collecting our bags at the Hudson, our cabbie sped away not knowing where the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal -- departure point for Cunard -- was. I tried to tell him, but he either wasn’t listening to me or, perhaps, unable to understand me. Instead he kept fiddling with his GPS (not allowed for NYC cabs). After doubling back on his route, I compelled him to follow my written instructions. While unnerving, we did make it with plenty of time to spare. The cabbie, embarrassed, admitted he’d never been to this locale before. Really? We would have never guessed. Lesson learned: if you’re going somewhere important, don’t let the cabbie leave the curb until you both know exactly where you’re going!
Keep reading about the rest of our Thursday on the first QM2 post.
Picture slideshows? Why, yes: