The Big Apple to Home

I Will Cross This Bridge

Growing up a New Hampshire country boy I spent my youth with a notion that New York City was quite possibly the most vile place on earth. I visited the city only a handful of times during my childhood and was always overwhelmed with the scale of it all, the noise and the grungy, dirty streets. But that was then, and it may surprise you learn that I’m a bit of a different person then I was 15 years ago.

Bathroom Graffiti

I first fell for New York on repeated trips to visit the many friends who took the short bus trip from Ithaca to New York after graduation. Once I learned the neighborhoods, figured out the subway and explored the streets, I started seeing New York as a vast array of interesting places instead of one monolithic giant, and once you’ve hit that point you realize the possibilities are too numerous to be ignored. I guess what I’m trying to say is that New York’s an acquired taste, and like coffee, now that I’ve gotten a taste for it, I just can’t get enough (sip, sip).

New York is also one of the world’s most (if not the most) international cities. The place is just really, really big (I can't stress this enough), very diverse, and from neighborhood to neighborhood the mix of people and cultures varies with surprising speed. That’s one of the great things about the place – from the skyscrapers of midtown to the low rooftops of Brooklyn, they’ve got just about anything you could ask for.

Manhattan from the Roof

This trip to New York turned out to be a special one since I had the pleasure of crashing in Brooklyn for the first time and with its great bars, hip coffee shops and the wonderful Prospect Park only two blocks away life was, indeed, very good.

Bocce Bar


Prospect Park Tree

Now accustom to checking out new places, I immediately grabbed my buddy’s bike to see Brooklyn. I cruised Prospect Park through the warm spring air and then headed down Beach Ave for Coney Island and the Atlantic Ocean. The ride through Brooklyn was fascinating as I flew through traditional Jewish neighborhoods, Italian neighborhoods and navigated through the veritable sea of baby strollers.

Brownstones

It was early in the season for Coney Island, but warm enough for the large, shirtless Italians to strut their stuff down the wide boardwalk, and though mildly disturbing, I wouldn’t of had it any other way. After a hotdog at the original Nathan’s hotdog stand (stand being an interesting descriptor considering that the place takes up a whole city block), I jumped back on the bike and moved on past the closed amusement parks, freak shows and the museum. The place must be hectic in the height of the season, but right now it was rather low-key which was alright by me. I then cut through Bensonhurst and onto the brand new greenway trail which follows the East river under the Verrazano narrows bridge for great views of lower Manhattan.

Coney Island Boardwalk

Also of note, I spent a day visiting the MOMA which was fantastic, and after convincing my friend Chris to shirk his responsibilities on this particularly perfect Friday afternoon, lazed about in central park and stopped by the new Grecian/Roman wing of the MET for a extravaganza of carved stone . To round out the weekend, I walked from Park Slope to Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge, ate nachos and drank margaritas in Tribeca to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, ate a delicious Israeli brunch, and enjoyed a fine evening back yard barbecue in Williamsburg. I’ve been told that I visited New York on the best week of the year and I certainly believe it. The weather was mid 70s and sunny, there wasn’t a drop of rain the whole time, and the flowers were out in force while the trees glew a brilliant green with new growth.

Manhattan and the Bridge


Brooklyn, For Lack of a Better Title

Other than that, life in New York involved catching up with old friends, making new friends, relaxing in the park, fighting off offers of places to crash in the city and engaging in further contemplation about begrudgingly reentering the “real world” as they refer to it.

Speaking of which, yesterday evening, after six hours of contemplation while winding through New England on the train, I finally arrived in New Hampshire six months to the day after setting out and on the eve of my 27th birthday, thus officially marking the end of this incredible experience - a sad moment no doubt, but it certainly feels good to see my family again and to unpack my bag for the last time… or at least for a while anyway…

Colonial Drive - Walpole, NH


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