on friends and drunken munkeys

a SoHo street with Freedom Tower doing the photobomb

From Freedom Tower, it was time to hit some coffee shops and saunter around the neighborhoods of New York’s innermost borough. There were the much lauded SoHo – the first hip neighborhood of America to be referred to by its first syllables – and the aptly named, cute and quaint West Village, which should not be confused with the utter nightmarish spectacle of East Village. West Village is best known as the home of “the Friends,” where somehow a chef and a waitress had a good enough rent control deal to afford that massive two-bedroom flat that should have cost around $5,000 a month (adjusted for inflation, of course) – every New Yorker thanks God for their dead relatives.

Both of the two neighborhoods we visited were a little more comfortable than Lower Manhattan. Less tourist traffic, more beautiful and cozier buildings, lines of brown houses and rowhomes, with their brass railings and decorated trash cans lining each street. The sun could be felt and seen, since few buildings were over five or six stories, unlike down where the sentinels that patrolled further south or north to Midtown. They were indeed, weird oases, and you do find yourself feeling somewhat like you’re in a village, especially compared to Midtown. If we were to stay in Manhattan again, it would probably be in those neighborhoods.

John's of Times Square, near the Manhattan of Times Square

From there, we met some of my wife’s friends up near Times Square, at an old church converted to a pizzeria. This was the famous John’s of Times Square – New Yorkers and their creative names! I wondered if there was even a John, or was that name summoned from the creative depths of whatever marketing company wreaked their havoc upon that corporation. In Europe, they convert churches to classical music halls, in the US, we convert them to any odd thing – pizzerias, night clubs, loft apartments. At least we haven’t gone Soviet style just yet; the Soviets often converted churches to boxing gyms, I guess they were inspired by the whole Christ coming with the sword bit. John’s’s wasn’t the best pizza, but it was perhaps one of the coolest joints I’ve eaten pizza in since Angelo’s in Denver (another church turned pizzeria). Most of the restaurant is in the central nave, under a great cupola towering high above. There are large stained glass windows surrounding it and a gigantic mural of New York City on the wall. We sat up on the mezzanine level, looking down below at where the altar once was, which was now full of tables and during events served as a dance floor. The wait there can be up to 3 hours, and as one of our friends put it, “It’s pretty normal for a New Yorker to wait three hours. If there’s nothing to wait for, then it can’t be a good restaurant!”

“They don’t take reservations?”

“You gotta get in line, pal!”

I wasn’t sure which was better – Prague’s obsession with reservations, even at bars or coffee shops, or New Yorkers’ obsession with waiting a long time for a pizza. But we lucked out, the big line didn’t happen until after we left.

The last interesting place we hit up for food was in the Upper East End, at an Indian place called the Drunken Munkey. Luckily, this was a place where reservations were in fashion and our friends had a reservation. We got there first and I felt as if I was in the way of everyone – being such a small place, it was impossible not to be in the way, something you’re quite aware of when you’re a big guy like me. Small guys might have an underachievement complex, but big guys have an in-the-way complex. I wasn’t sure what my friend’s girlfriend’s name was, and if the name on the reservation was actually hers, but I ventured to guess it was and took their seat next to the window. “But if someone else comes,” the host warned me, “then you guys will have to wait for another table.” Hopefully it wouldn’t be a three-hour wait. It was cold outside. 

The Drunken Munkey though has some fun décor inside – for the lamps, they were made of munkey statues - along with other pieces of munkey furniture - dressed up like old-school bell boys and the whole thing gave a bit of a vibe as though it were half-way in an Indiana Jones film, full of all the fun racial clichés. But racial clichés aren’t exactly a bad thing when in a restaurant, and my mango chutney held up righteously to the flavor I’ve come to expect living in the States for most of my life. I mean, Aunt Jemima ain’t so bad when you’re stuffing down the pancakes and sausage, folks; or the Redskins when they are having a good season.

A street in the Upper East End, west side of Park

The Upper East End is a weird place to walk around at night. On one side of Park Avenue, towards the park, it’s full of beautiful and elegant walk ups and brownstones, with an occasional brick ten story building squeezed in. On the East side of Park, it looks like the Left Bank of Kiev – gigantic behemoths towering over, what once were tenements with one bathroom to a floor, standing as strong evidence that Capitalism isn’t necessarily the best way to deal with the lower classes. Even the brand new, falling apart post-Soviet construction of Kiev has better living conditions than some of the older tenement housing of New York, and they look about equal in the level of hideousness. But don’t worry, one of these days though, those Upper East End massives are going to get a remodel and be multi-million dollar condos, just you wait. At night though, the buildings there look giant and foreboding, many surrounded by chain link fences, like cell blocks in some futuristic waste land, far from the inspiring and blinding lights of Alicia Keys’s New York.

on the big mac economic indicator, statue of liberty and stuffing the terrorists

View from our hotel room

Upon waking up, we had a quick, standard American breakfast of Egg McMuffins from the corner McDonald’s. I used to have a measure to tell how expensive a city was, which I called the Big Mac Economic Indicator (BMEI). In Tbilisi, the local economic school ISET uses a similar measure which they call the Khachapuri Index, to judge the relative economic changes in the various regions of Georgia. The cost of basic, cheap foodstuffs are usually fairly good ways to measure what you’re going to spend. By my international BMEI system, you can see about how much of your wallet will go missing by the end of your trip by the price of a Big Mac meal deal. This proved accurate in New York, given that the Big Mac meal deal came in above 10 dollars - en par with a city like Copenhagen.

While we were stuffing down our McDonald’s Egg McMuffin’s, which indeed are the only things of value to eat at McDonald’s and are now available 24 hours a day in the US – and in Georgia they don’t even have McDonald’s breakfast! – my wife noticed something profound:

“Why are there only black people working at McDonald’s? And, everywhere we look in service, it’s always black people.”

“Because there is a fairly large, entrenched racial divide here,” I said. “It’s funny that a lot of people from the US don’t even notice it, and you pick it up immediately. But the reasons are longer and more complex than I can mention over a meal in a fast food restaurant.” We always keep are conversations light over meals.

The Statue of Liberty and the Jersey skyline

After our nourishing grease soaked breakfast, we were off to see the Statue of Liberty. There are roughly two ways to see our vigilant maiden, and that’s from a crazy expensive tour agency which will take you straight to the island and let you see up her skirt – there’s no entry into the Statue herself, she is a maiden after all – or via the free Staten Island Ferry, which takes you on a path right alongside the Statue and then on to Staten Island.

When we emerged from the metro station, we were immediately accosted by touts. “Did you reserve your place?”

“Do you need a place to sit?” The flow of people suddenly ebbed to a stop, being blockaded by all the rip-off “information helpers” that abounded along the port, skimming up lost tourists as the pool man skims up lost frogs and spiders. “No man, thanks.”

“Don’t worry, I’m an official guide,” the man said, showing his “official” badge. Of course, all scamming tourist touts are “official guides”.

“So you have reservations already?” the man blocking us asked.

“No, we don’t. Reservations?” I asked.

    

“You need reservations to ride. They’re 60 dollars, straight to the island and you can walk around.”

“I can do that for free.”

“No you can’t,” he said.

“Yes, I can, it’s always been free. Last time I was here it was free.”

“Oh, wait, where are you going?”

“Staten Island,” I said.

“Oh, that’s that way.”

View from the State Island ferry

From the metro, you take an immediate right and avoid the hustlers. Then through the big doors labeled Staten Island and wait a few minutes for the next ferry (generally every 30 minutes and 24 hours a day). We got on, immediately got to the starboard deck to get a good and long view of the Statue. Then for inexplicable reasons, we had to get off the boat. I figured that that was because otherwise you could find a place to sleep there and use the place as a hotel, which many members of the homeless community seemed to be doing – though interrupted every thirty minutes to get off and back on. Life on a yacht, not bad.

Landing back on Manhattan, we immediately headed to the Bull statue, which was decked out in Christmas wreaths and lights. Who says stockbrokers can’t have a bit of Christmas spirit while they’re busy embezzling your money in offshore accounts? There’s a similar and smaller statue in Frankfurt, which is partly why Frankfurt is called the “New York of Europe”. Everywhere must have its somewhere of anywhere else.

From the Bull statue, it’s only two blocks to Wall Street, which is an incredibly short street and ends, with no irony, in a graveyard. Also on Wall Street is the site of the second City Hall of New York and first Capitol building of the United States, built in the 1700s, where Jefferson himself once helped pen the Constitution. It's now called the Federal Hall Memorial Museum, and is unfortunately not the original building, the latest building having been built in 1842. The interior is modeled after the Pantheon and serves as a memorial to the democracy of the Greeks - think, a vote for ever single white male! 

Inside St. Paul's Chapel

There is also the infamous New York Stock Exchange, which dictates the waning and waxing of economic power across the globe. If money is the root of all evil, then that building must be where the 7th seal is located, and when it cracks, there cometh the great beast, rearing its seven heads. From Wall Street, we made our way up to St. Paul’s Chapel, where George Washington regularly attended mass. It’s more recent claim to fame was as a headquarters for humanitarian workers helping the injured and maimed from the terrorist attack of 9/11. From there, it’s only a spit to Freedom Tower, which even after 14 years, it’s still impressively under construction, as if we’re telling the terrorists, “We will build freedom forever!” 

first settlers, first visits

Ellis Island from the ferry

Millions upon millions of economic migrants and refugees have poured into the United States during its 200 years of existence. The first settlers were religious refugees, fleeing from the wars of religion in France, England and elsewhere, later economic migrants and ex-criminals, looking for a new life to make. Then Irishmen, Scots, Poles, and so on. The gateway for many of these groups was Ellis Island, a humble fortress standing strong against the crosswinds of the Hudson River and the Bay. The interiors were a swirling storm of settlers, huddled masses yearning to be free and live their long dreams in the open, empty lands of the New World (well, not quite open and empty, but that’s a footnote in history). 

It seemed reasonable then that this should be my wife’s introduction to the United States. As special as she is to me, I wanted something extra special for her. Though my home lies deep in the wintry highlands of the Rocky Mountains, it was something she was used to, being from a mountainous homeland herself. So it would be New York, with its hundreds of skyscrapers and millions of people pushing and shouting and generally sick and tired of the bullshit about freedom as they’re trying to cram onto the subway and dodge tourists and make it finally home then getting called back in to work a few hours later because the banks are having some emergency about the sovereign fund of a no-name Pacific state which might lead all the numbers to various pissed off investors into the red, and so it goes.

So what can you do in three days when it’s your first time?

“Are you going to see a show?” my friend Frederick asked us as we ate dinner on night one. Already one night down, another night with another friend, we don’t have time for that. The only thing that currently intrigues me on Broadway at the moment is Hamilton. All the new and cool stuff costs too much and/or is sold out. As for something off Broadway, you can see off Broadway plays anywhere.

Scenes from Hamilton

Back to prioritizing. I’ve talked extensively about prioritizing when traveling. You can’t see everything, so you should see what’s most important to you. Knock a few off the bottom and then you can have a nice and relaxing trip.

After some discussion, we were able to narrow my wife’s interests and what I thought she should see down to these: the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, the Rock, Central Park, Freedom Tower, the Empire State Building, a winter market, a taste of some neighborhoods, Wall Street, and a St. Paul’s Chapel.

Times Square at Manhattan

I found us a hotel on Times Square. Believe it or not, there are some “affordable” places right in the center of the city. They usually go by very innocuous names since their limited budget can’t get them better marketing groups. The one I chose was The Manhattan at Times Square – what a brilliant name! At 150 dollars a night after taxes and surcharges, it definitely ranks as one of the cheaper choices around in a city where the average hotel price seems to be around 300 dollars – there are cheaper hostels around, but with the surging homeless population and America’s general anti-hostel vibe, buyer beware. The hotel itself is more than passable in every respect – you can even pass right by it without noticing. The outside architecture looks as though it were built in the golden age of American architecture of the 70s and 80s – a giant box with smaller boxes for windows. Strangely though, the rooms seem to be about 50 or 60 years past their prime, with a kind of never updated art deco feel, paint peeling off the walls which themselves seemed to be leaning in under the burden of weight they had been carrying for ages. But whatever, it was comfortable enough.

As soon as we landed, we went for the hotel to drop our bags and clean up. Then we headed off for a walk. We had to meet Frederick at Ilili at 7, which gave us a good deal of time to knock a few things off the list. From Times Square, we jumped over to Avenue of the Americas and 5th Avenue, both great locations for the tourist gauntlet – bumping and grinding with foreigners from all across the world; it’s also no doubt a pickpocket’s dreamland. Luckily, the only place we were robbed by gave us coffee in red cups – there’s a Starbucks on so many corners in New York you would think you’re in Seattle!

St. Patrick's

There walking down those two streets, we were able to knock a lot off the list. There’s the big tree at the Rock! There are lots of pretty, decorated windows! There’s a bunch of guys scamming your way to the top of the Empire State, offering you their low deal of 60 dollars to the top (it’s 32 online and at the cash desk)! We added on Grand Central Station and the Ghostbusters’ Library, both on our route to the restaurant. And luckily at the library, there was a big winter market. After wandering around there for a bit, finding only souvenir shops and coffee stands, we decided American winter markets weren’t as much fun as their European equivalents. No mulled wine? No hot alcoholic punch? No hot alcoholic cider? No Feuerzangenbowle? Was this the Sharia law all the Conservatives have been on about?

Finally, satisfied with our walk, we were able to sit with Frederick and eat some fairly decent Lebanese food, at a place that doesn’t cost too insanely much, just around ten dollars for a portion, and about two portions per person. The beer was the typical eye-goggling New York price – 10 dollars for a micro-bottle (.33 liters, again an effect from the Sharia law, in Europe the standard serving size is .5 liters, the tiny size is always a shocker for me when I visit home).

After visiting Frederick, we took a taxi back to Times Square, being too cold to walk back. Taxis aren’t cheap folks – twenty dollars to traverse barely a quarter of the Big Apple. The subway is always better in this case, unless you’re just too tired and cold as we were. But we made it back okay and were able to regroup for the next day.