NOO YAWK, NOO YAWK !!

9th - 12th February.

On finals to NYC ( Manhattan Island )

Well, we made it ashore. The much feared immigration guys turned out, contrary to dreaded expectations, to be rather jolly! No hassle and their 'leader' even said good luck and please spend lots of your money in NYC, we need it. He needn't have worried on that score!

Left: Claude and PP approaching NYC ( actually going left to Newark container port) )

  

 
 

Claude, Oxbridge and I got a 'taxi', mini-bus, into 'midtown' NYC ( $100 ). Florian was going on to Boston. Oxbridge announced that he hadn't got any money! Guess who paid. I had decided to go to the Algonquin Hotel ( pic on left ) near Times Square, which I had heard of. Oxbridge came with me to dump his luggage ( consisting largely of academic notes and journals ) at the hotel, and they didn't bat an eye-lid! Part of the extraordinary 'service culture' that subsequently amazed me. He said he would come back to collect and repay me the $30 taxi fare he owed. Oh yeah. But he did, and I bought him a gin & tonic. That, coincidently, cost $27 plus a $3 tip! I began to realise that a) I was taken for a mug and b) life in NYC was not going to be cheap.

He then went on his 'academic' way, Claude had apparently gone to a cheapo hostel on 'upper Eastside' and I settled into the Algonquin. It is a place of historical note. Lots of writers and 'celebs' have used it in the past. It is one of NY's oldest and certainly has a quaint dark oak-panelled feel to it. Sandwich, $ 24 + tip. I was quickly made aware that every bar/restaurant service has at least 2 extra 'taxes' added, plus you are expected to pay a 15% tip on top of that!

Next day I wandered up to Central Park. The temperature was below freezing but blue skies and bright sunshine. Extraordinarily opulent and expensive areas around 5th Avenue. The nags pulling the tourist carriages didn't look very opulent.  Pic of one on the right...... just before collapsing with colic from eating pigeons ( no, only joking! )

Left: Bit of the south edge of Central Park.

I wandered. Went to an extraordinary 'secret bar' in East Village ( Downtown ). This was on the advice of a friend. It was at 113 St Mark's, if anyone becomes interested. Place is fronted by a small Hot Dog restaurant called 'Crif Dogs'. In there they have a telephone kiosk. I was instructed to go into the kiosk and wait. I did, nothing happened. I banged on various walls getting a bit claustrophobic. Then I saw a sign which told me to dial a number. Did so, and the back of the kiosk opened into a rather small, but smart, 'cocktail bar' with stuffed animals around the walls. Fun ( and thanks for the info Bella ). I had a beer, wisely as it turned out, because: WARNING: beware American cocktails.

Travelled around in both 'yellow' taxis and on the subway. Both excellent. Both cheaper than London. Of course it is all made easier by the 'Grid' system of the city's streets/avenues, and actually Manhattan, where I was exclusively, is not that big, geographically.

Right: Subway train. Spacious and clean and not so many unintelligible bloody 'announcements' as on the cacophonous London system.

Met up with an old army aquaintance who showed me around a bit. Went for a brilliant lunch in a pub in West Village called 'The Spotted Pig', run by an English lady. Served sensible food and real ale! I must say, I couldn't fathom out the New York nosh ( or drinks, for that matter ). Over the counter stuff was all hot-dogs, hamburgers ( which had to be wheeled in, not carried ), and something called 'Pastrami', which, to date, I have yet to find out what it actually is. They love to cover their food with 'gloop' and all the drinks tend to be sweet, even their beer. So the 'Spotted Pig' was a breakthrough in British cuisine ( thanks Paddy ). This mate of mine encouraged me to go to a place called Schillers' Liquor Store, East Village again, to experience a good all American night out with good cocktails. He said I must, when in Manhattan, try a Manhattan. I did, and the 'Manhattan' was a 'big' drink ( $12 ) and tasted quite revolting, somewhat akin to a sweet cough medicine. I managed half. Any more and I would definitely have thrown up spectacularly, hence: beware American cocktails.

I didn't tell them about the infamous ' Spiny Norman'. I don't think America is ready for that yet.

Visited Ellis Island, the place where the ( poorer ) immigrants were processed, largely between 1880 - 1920. Quite interesting. Didn't see any record of anyone I might be related to. 

Right: Baggage Hall in the Ellis Island Reception Centre. Not much different to Terminal 5, on a good day.

Above: Reception Hall at Ellis Island

Right: Dock and reception building at Ellis Island.

Whizzed around and changed hotels ( wallet not big enough for long at the Algonquin ). Moved into a curious place called the 'Ace Hotel', 29th/Broadway. Not too expensive (by NY standards) and 'quirky'. I think they said it was 'Street Chique and Antique'. Difficult to describe, but had strange furnishings. Recommended.

Left: Had to take a photo of this on the way over to Ellis Island. If this was in UK it would likely be sporting a Man United football shirt and have a traffic cone on it's head.

I found all people that I spoke to so utterly, embarrasingly, hospitable. They ( people in the street, pubs etc. ) were genuinely curious about who I was and where I came from. OK, maybe I did look a bit out of place with my tweed cap and plus-fours. Nevertheless, when I said I was from England, after the inevitable "aarsum" several asked me.... 'and how is The Queen?' Extraordinary! None of them had heard of, let alone cared about, our pontificating politicians, but they seemed to know and care about our Royal Family! They all knew about the forthcoming 'Wedding'. I said, as far as I am aware, she is well. Is there a lesson to be learnt  here?

      

Right: View of south Manhattan from our ferry.

          

Below: this statue is supposed to represent 'pleading and grateful immigrants'.  It looks to me like the end of any good squadron piss-up.

Went on a recce of Times Square There is no real Square, just a wide bit of the street with lots of theatres around and neon lights and prancing show-off fancy dress 'artistes'. Yawn yawn. I wasn't tempted to go to see any 'show', because I recognised that most of them were British imports and were done better and cheaper in London's West-End anyway.

Right: Times Square. Prancing 'artistes' of the 'vermin' variety, just before the machine gun opened up.

Had to go up to the 'Top of the Rock' (that's the Rockefeller Building ). Supposed to get photos before sunset and after. 70 stories high, and a good lift. Needs to be. It took less time to go up 70 floors than the lift in my apartment block in London takes to go up 3. Went up at 1630hrs ( daylight ), and had to hang about up there ( no cafe or any 'facilities' etc ) until 1800hrs to get night pics. A bit boring, but I got the photos so you have to look at them.

Left: View south from the 'Rock' ( Empire State Building centre ) daytime.







Then, below: same view night-time. OK, a bit dull, but it cost me $21 for the priviledge.

Went home via Grand Central Station. This really puts any railway station we Brits might possess into the shade. Not only architecturally impressive, but so clean and bright and user friendly. Incorporates smart restaurants and bars and shops. Spectacular ( especially the ceiling ). 

Below: Grand Central station concourse.

I went lots of places elsewhere too, and one could spend 3 weeks merely to scratch the surface of Noo Yawk City ( tourist wise ). I never even touched the museums and art galleries.

 One over-riding impression I have of New York ( and it may be true of all USA for all I know ), is the amazing service one receives.  It may be vastly expensive ( on the eating/drinking/accomodation fronts ), but you are always impressively well looked after. Hotel, bar, restaurant, shop, services staff, as well as anyone you ask for help on the street, falls over themself to welcome you, to give every assistance and to wish you farewell and do it with (I think) a genuine smile and seems to get pleasure from doing so. It rather puts into perspective the often surly, sullen and reluctant service given by our indolent, unhelpful, rude and selfish 'jobsworth' equivalents in UK. It makes them look utterly pathetic in comparison. I don't suppose I am the first to notice this! But we do have better, and cheaper, beer.

 I move on tomorrow, by train, to Virginia, as guest of an infamous ex-army friend. I will send photos, and some might even recognise him. I dare not reveal his address and the photos will have his eyes blacked out...............hang on in here!

Noo Yawk, Noo Yawk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!