A very memorable long weekend

When you move to a city like New York, the concept of a staycation over a long weekend is never a trial.  In fact, you wear the goofiest of grins when the drizzly rain and thunderstorms clear out and you get bright sunshine soaking right through your skin and down into your bones.  Such was the experience for New Yorkers this long weekend, capped off with Memorial Day celebrations that herald the official start of summer.

I had a fairly low-key Saturday, filled with the sorts of errands that everybody puts off doing during the week.  Come Sunday though, I was ready to face the City and like most New Yorkers, that meant the most delicious of weekend institutions: brunch.

Alder is one of those tiny restaurants that line the stretch of Second Avenue in the East Village.  Blink and you'd miss it, but that would be a shame.  Their outdoor dining space is also small, but we snagged a great table in the sun, and shared the bacon, egg & cheese gyoza, and a serve of pickled beets, before I tucked in to my delicious pastrami hash, with a soft-boiled egg that oozed gooey yolk like liquid sunshine.  The barista at Alder knows a thing or two about coffees as well, and on that front I was not disappointed.

A few blocks away, the predominantly Puerto Rican community on the Lower East Side hit the streets on Avenue C to celebrate The Loisaida Festival 2014, a massive community street fair that stretched for blocks.  In a neighbourhood that used to be racked by drugs, violence, and gangs, fed-up local residents started the Festival in the mid-1970s as an attempt to rebuild their little corner of New York.  Over the years, the annual celebration has grown to embrace other Hispanic nationalities, but the Puerto Rican flags were still flying high yesterday.  There were little stalls selling grilled meats, roasted corn, and the most refreshing pina coladas for $5.  A large concert stage set up at the very end of the Festival showcased a number of bands that inspired couples of all ages to get up and dance.  My friends from Brazil and El Salvador could not stand still and I have to say, despite not having any salsa rhythm to speak of, I found it hard not to shimmy along.  If you can't beat 'em, join' em!

Regretting my decision to wear 3" heels, I left the Festival and hobbled a few blocks to Ninth Ward, a narrow and dark Louisiana bar back up on Second Avenue.  Walk through the dim, wood-paneled bar area and you'll find  the restrooms (unisex - and rather cheekily labelled "Sex", "Drugs" and "Rock n Roll").  Continue further on and you emerge into a beer garden that is a real treat.  The sun was still warm, the drinks were ice-cold, and our smiles were large.

It must have been the day for friends and cold beers, because after our refreshing pit-stop, we persuaded a lovely taxi driver to take us a few blocks south, just past Houston Street.  We called into Fool's Gold, which was having its "soft opening" yesterday - prior to its official launch on 1 June.  With a massive selection of craft beers, and very knowledgeable staff, we sipped our drinks and watched the sign-writer paint the brand-new gastropub's name on its front doors.  It's not often that you get to see a New York bar before the "welcome" sign paint even dries!

When my alarm went off this morning, and the sun was already shining on Memorial Day, I don't mind admitting that I cursed the impromptu bar crawl of the day before.  But I did not roll over and go back to sleep, because I'd made a deal with myself to head to the Upper West Side and observe the Memorial Day ceremony at the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument at Riverside Park.  I'd never been up to this part of the Upper West Side, and on such a beautiful and important day, it seemed silly to stay under the covers.

So off to the Upper West Side I went, and with a cool breeze blowing off the Hudson River, just past the tree line, I sat and watched the crowd grow for the Memorial Day service.  Pipers were warming up not too far away, and the Navy band was in place and ready to go.

The Soliders' and Sailors' Monument was created in homage to the Civil War soldiers that served and gave their lives to protect the Union.  Then-Governor Theodore Roosevelt laid the cornerstone of the Monument in 1900 and it was dedicated two years later.  Now the monument comes under the care of the NYC Parks Department.  They completed a major restoration in 1960 and the plaza (where we sat today) was reconstructed in 2008.

There was a huge turnout today - hundreds of people came to pay their respects.  The old ladies in my row handed me a giant American flag and designated me the official flag-waver for our group.  At various points in the ceremony I was prodded to lift the flag high and wave it proudly.  The only time they gave me a break was during the Star Spangled Banner, which was just as well because I always get a bit weepy during that song.  I know, I'm not even from here - I can't help it.

The line-up of guest speakers for this morning's ceremony included a who's who of the City of New York.  Mayor De Blasio was there and delivered a stirring address, speaking quite personally about growing up in an Army household and the importance of always remembering the fallen.  The Mayor was followed by the Secretary of the Navy, the City Comptroller, the Borough President of Manhattan, and a Brigadier General from the 2nd Marine Division.

After a group of young cadets recited the Gettysburg Address, wreaths were laid in memory of those who had given their lives for their country.  Before long, the base of the Monument was a sea of lush green foliage and bright, colourful flowers.

The ceremony only last about 90 minutes but it was a beautiful tribute to past and present men and women in the armed forces.

Walking back through Riverside Park, I enjoyed the cool Hudson River breeze on my face, and just watched the families, joggers, cyclists, and dogs all out and about on this sunny public holiday.

My belly was growling for lunch by the time I reached the steps of The Boat Basin Cafe, which has finally re-opened for the season.  The hostess was kind enough to find me a table right by the water, and somehow I bypassed the 25-minute wait for tables.  My Australian accent wins again!  I had already had one of the most American days in living memory, so I continued the theme with beers and a burger - now that, my friends, is the real American dream!

Giving in to wanderlust

Photo Credit: Living in Neverland

I went on my first overseas holiday in 1995, as a chaperone for my sister's school trip to New Caledonia.  The idea of me being a chaperone for anyone is as humorous now as it was back then, but I remember the trip being amazing.  The girls in my sister's school group were as excited as I was to be away from home, seeing new sights and grappling with the challenge of applying our limited high school French to everyday situations.

When I got back to Australia after that brief time away, I knew that the travel bug had bitten me.  I wasn't working full time back then, so although my mind and body wanted to be elsewhere, my bank balance kept me grounded.

But it couldn't keep me out of the bookstores.

I became the most prolific armchair traveller you would ever find.  I think I single-handedly kept Lonely Planet in business back then, buying all the visitor guides for destinations I desperately wanted to see (Venice, Rome, Paris).  But I mixed those up with a diverse collection of travel books written by ordinary people who'd had extraordinary adventures in places I probably couldn't find on a map (Bhutan, Greenland, Madagascar).  Their stories taught me the difference between being a tourist and a traveller - and there was no question which one I wanted to be.

In conversation with my friend's great aunt, I learned the word peripatetic, describing a person who travels from place to place.  It gave an air of sophistication to the sort person I wanted to become.  My bookshelf groaned under the weight of journeys not yet taken, and I continued to work and save hard.

The obligatory week in Bali that seems such a right of passage for young Australians was a hedonistic affair.  But even then, I remember preferring the cool tranquility of temples over the gallons of 'jungle juice' and thumping music into the pre-dawn hours.  A month of intensive and immersive French study in Vichy, France left me lonely and sobbing in public phone boxes, regretting my decisions and desperate to come home.  The week-long Contiki tour through Italy afterwards put me back on track.

When my boss gave me permission to take a "gap year" in 2005, I all but put my hand on my heart and vowed to be back at my desk a year later.  As I stood there at my farewell party, colleagues told me "you'll never come back", "you've gone for good now" - and I swear, I didn't believe them.    But then you leave Australia in blistering summer heat, you transit through the cosmopolitan craziness of Hong Kong, you land in Paris where you see snow falling for the first time (outside of the ski resort), and your whole world changes.

Spurred along by that common thread of wanderlust than ran through all the travel stories I'd read at home, my adventure took me back to France, through Italy, Switzerland, Turkey, and finally to rest in Scotland for six months.

I've come to New York via all these places, plus Chicago, and London (stories for another time), so I know how it feels to be in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar language.  I'd like to think that I have an affinity with the streams of tourists that come through New York City every year, because even though I've been here for three years already, my tiny bookshelf still strains under the weight of New York travel books.  Photo guides and travel journals sit alongside history books which in turn prop up biographies of famous New Yorkers.  And even though the city is right outside my door, I can't stop reading about how others have experienced it.

Book 3 in the series

Innocent though they are in enabling this compulsion, the fantastic independent bookseller McNally Jackson is a must-visit when you come to New York.  Their mission is to celebrate Manhattan's literary culture - they want you to read about New York and get to know it better through its books and writers.  But of course they offer books from all over the world too.

But naturally I love the place because their travel book section is quite extensive, with maps and stories galore.  I grabbed a couple of titles yesterday including the third - and latest - "Have A NYC" book, an annual anthology of short stories about New York.  This third installment has been dedicated to the memory of actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, who died in February this year.  I've already finished the book (of course) and while you won't learn any statistics or detailed history about New York from reading it, the book does give you a handle on the diversity of people in the City.  Its stories span the 1960s to present-day, and are set against the backdrop of neighbourhoods that, in many cases, have changed quite substantially over the years.  Whether you're an armchair traveller or an actual one, it's definitely worth keeping an eye out for this series.

A place that presents the "Truth From The Ashes"

Sandwiched in between the Hudson River to the west, Greenwich Village to the north, Soho to the east, and Tribeca to the south is a little patch of New York City called Hudson Square.  Most people will probably tell you it's West Soho but whatever you call it, this little area is one of the oldest districts of New York and still retains some of the gorgeous architectural features of the time.

My purpose for coming here today was to visit the New York City Fire Museum, located in the former quarters of the Fire Department of New York's Company No.30, and renowned as "one of the nation's most prominent collections of fire-related art, artifacts, gear, and apparatus from the late 18th Century to the present".

The three-storey building is chock-full of memorabilia and is a celebration of the FDNY family.  The very top floor is now a party space, and there was a kid's birthday celebration in full swing when I was there.  I was just grateful that the kids had run rampant though the museum before I actually arrived, because I have to say that I quite enjoyed having the exhibits to myself.

The New York Fire City Fire Department (FNDY) wasn't always a homogenous organisation, and the Museum shows you photos and badges and helmets from back when Brookyn and Queens were separate units.

Even back in the old days, "badge bunnies" were a thing - and women across the City would fan themselves at the strength and bravery of the City's firefighters - both voluntary and paid.  The fire departments were not ignorant of this either, and there was a lot of competition between the different companies for who could get to a fire the fastest, and who could exhibit the most superior fire-fighting prowess.

The upstairs level of the Museum walks you through you all the history of the FDNY from its earliest days, at a time when bucket brigades were the norm and little glass jars of chemicals were thrown onto smaller fires, and man-powered buggies were used to fight bigger ones.

Brooklyn became part of NYC in 1898 and with it came its firefighting force (and their 113 years of experience).  The Long Island City Fire Department in Queens also came into the FDNY fold that same year, adding to the reserves of manpower available to save the City.

Horse-drawn steam engines were the next innovation and the Museum provides beautifully-preserved examples of this period in history.  The Museum has some stories about how the FDNY responded to the Great Fire of NYC in December 1835, when the frigid temperatures froze both the steam engines and the water reserves, so the FDNY Chief's only option was to blow up the threatened buildings to contain the damage.

All throughout the Museum, you're given the clear message that the FDNY is a real family, one that takes its motto "Truth From The Ashes" very seriously.  They are a company that takes care of its own, and videos around the room interview FDNY members who talk about the generations of firefighters in their family and why they signed up.

This family spirit also extends to stories of their beloved canine mascots, one of whom was a stray who wandered into the fire house one day and began fearlessly dashing into burning buildings to save stranded humans and animals.  He had been repeatedly injured in the line of duty, and was finally killed in a hit and run - but the FDNY had his body stuffed and kept in the firehouse as a lasting reminder of his courage and service.  The pooch now peers out from behind glass at the Museum - slightly creepy perhaps, but a lovely tribute when you know the backstory.

Part of the museum that is definitely not creepy is the 9/11 tribute to the 343 FDNY personnel who died that horrible day.  Indeed, the courage of the FDNY on September 11 was part of the reason I came to the Museum today.  During the week I watched a Netflix documentary called "The Saint of 9/11" which profiled the story of the FDNY Chaplain, the Franciscan priest Father Mychal Judge, who was declared the first official victim of 9/11.  As you can see here, Father Mychal's FDNY uniform is on display in the 9/11 section of the Museum and it is a sombre area of the firehouse.

The exhibit also includes twisted FDNY tools and dusty, broken helmets that were recovered during the rescue efforts (but never claimed), as well as some beautiful photographs of what was a tragic day.  I understood pretty quickly why the Museum had put two boxes of tissues next to their guest book.

The New York City Fire Museum is a great catalogue of the brave men and women who work together as a family to save the City in its worst hours.  And while this is largely a celebratory effort, I have to say I needed a palate cleanser, particularly after the still-warm reminder of 9/11.

A few blocks west of the Museum is one of the oldest bars in the City.  "The Ear Inn" opened in 1817 and other than the staff, a coat of paint or two, and the installation of some modern beer taps, I doubt anything has changed inside.

The Ear Inn is one of those dive bars in New York where you can just feel the history and what it would have been like back in the day.  There is actually a painting on the bar of the Ear Inn with oil lamps outside and the water of the Hudson River lapping almost at its front door.  That's exactly what it would have been like at the time, before the City expanded and pushed the River over a few blocks to make way for urban development.  Perching myself up at the bar, I had a pint of "Ear Inn Ale", made especially for the place by Brooklyn Brewery.

The building used to belong to an African-American man named James Brown (not the one you're thinking of!).  He was a Revolutionary War veteran who owned a tobacco store where the bar is now.  During the Prohibition it was a speakeasy (called "Green Door"), and a brothel too.

Now a City Landmark and listed on the National Register of Historic Places, "The Ear Inn" was doing a quiet trade today, but with some lively, regular customers and a lovely bartender who took great care of everyone.  It is a definitely must-visit place in the City.

New Yorkers have dirty minds

There was a time when almost every episode of CSI:NY would start with a crowd of pretty young things partying in some secret and usually illegal New York nightspot.  Who knows what it takes to be invited to those events, but it is still possible to visit some unique – and entirely legal – places in Manhattan that definitely fly under the tourist radar.  

Consider the New York Earth Room.  

Located on the second floor of an anonymous storefront on Wooster Street in Soho, the Earth Room is a 335 square-metre space covered with 197 cubic metres of dirt.  But it’s not just any dirt.  New York’s Earth Room is a celebration of a lot of rich, loamy topsoil.  Measuring 56-centimetres deep, the entire “art installation” by Germany’s Walter de Maria weighs a staggering 127,300 kilograms!  Admission is (fortunately) free.

And before you wonder whether everyone in this town has officially lost their marbles, it’s worth noting that New York’s Earth Room has actually been on view to the public since 1980.  It’s also the third Earth Room de Maria ever created; the first two works were exhibited in Germany, but they no longer exist.  New York, for the win!

That haunting feeling

People have reported seeing ghosts in New York City for hundreds of years.

The cemetery of Old St. Patrick's Cathedral on Mulberry Street is said to be haunted by Pierre Toussaint, a former slave from Haiti who became an in-demand hairdresser to NYC's socialites in the 19th Century, not to mention a generous philanthropist.    Toussaint was actually the first non-religious person to be buried beneath the crypt in the Cathedral, a site normally reserved for members of the clergy.

On opening nights, Radio City Music Hall's builder (and Rockettes founder), Roxy Rothafel, has been spotted parading through the Radio City lobby with a glamorous woman on his arm.  

At the historic New Amsterdam Theatre just off Times Square, the ghost of silent film and stage star Olive Thomas has been seen in the dressing room, in full Follies chorus girl regalia.  It is said that in her hands she still clutches her husband's bottle of syphilis medication that she drank to kill herself.  

Just under the Brooklyn Bridge is the Bridge Café, a former brothel turned dining establishment where patrons have reported seeing the ghosts of burly pirates who frequented the bar when it first opened in 1847. 

The ghost of John Lennon is said to lurk around the gates of The Dakota apartment building off Central Park, where he was murdered in 1980 (and where "Rosemary's Baby" was also filmed - double the dose of eerie!).  

But the prize for the creepiest ghostly site must go to the dramatically-named "House of Death" inGreenwich Village.  This beautiful brownstone was constructed in the early 19th Century and over the years, twenty-two people (including Mark Twain) have died there, in all manner of circumstances.  By all accounts, none of their souls have ever left.  Bwahahaha!