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We rolled to
Grand with no bags to check in - I didn't even have a purse. I don't lug purses around as they are a drag to carry and a magnet for muggers. We stopped at a bodega and bought a toothbrush, toothpaste and contact lens solution for me - $9, not a bargain but who cared? We then hit hotel and noted hopping scene at bar - and walked right past it. We fell into bed and slept blissfully - though by morning's light we discovered room was tiny. Didn't this used to be an old SRO hotel? They certainly didn't increase room size when it was converted to a profit center. John pointed out view from our window and what it was missing - World Trade Center. Solemn moment.
We got a late check out and debated what to do. Well, eating was going to happen, but first some great walking and a truly wonderful cup of coffee at a place we ducked into. Don't ask me name. New York is teeming with picturesque side streets with tiny cafes, shops, galleries and what not. We ended up at Veselka around 2 p.m. This is a classic Eastern European restaurant at 10th and 2nd Avenue. I got stuffed cabbage and borscht and even went for dessert. We read NY Times at our window table and watched world go by. But break was over. One of people we were to meet at last returned a cell call. Okay, I admit it, we turned phone off for hours so as to be unreachable. I mean, ahem, conserve battery. We arranged to meet him in midtown and walked all way (40 blocks or so, but John native assured me they were short blocks, not crosstown blocks). The walk took us across strange diagonal which Broadway becomes and I started to get a feel for geography of city, something that's hard to do in a cab, bus or car. We met my friend for drinks at another "guys' bar" with an after work crowd culled from Wall Street. John had a White Russian that seemed to be made with maple syrup. More of a beer and scotch place I guess.
Then it was time for a hellish run to Port Authority, both needing to find a bathroom and desperate to catch bus in time to make it back to Jersey and a long-arranged night with family at Scots-American social club. Back in Jersey, Manhattan was a vision across water again. John's brother-in- law Joey kept wine and beer going as it was his night to tend bar, but after night before we kept it light. I persuaded my native hosts to go back to Manhattan next day, this time to hit Natural History Museum. We drove over with John's Pop at wheel of his car, nice enough to drive to a city he hates. He used to have a sidewalk stand in Village, where John sold his original paintings as well. He reminisced about those days, and really old days, when he met John's mom at a Catholic dance in 1949 and by age 18 was married.
We tried for close to 25 minutes to find parking near museum and actually succeeded. Pop and I were on lookout for a spot while John napped, still catching up on sleep after another night back on lumpy mattress. He woke up just in time to find a spot for us, claiming we needed his expertise. Okay, but who drove up and down ten square blocks until we found an undiscovered street? Now I was feeling real New York. Scour place for parking or pay astounding rate of $24 for 2 hours. Pleased with our find, we trudged to museum where a huge line meant we could not possibly get in. What to do?
How about a trip to Hoboken? But first I felt I had to see Ground Zero. It was a crisp December Saturday as we edged through typically hellish traffic down to tip of Manhattan. Everyone had warned me that it was just a big hole in ground surrounded by a chain link fence. We couldn't park or get much closer but circled a little. I could see fence was decorated - and perhaps still is - with tattered mementoes of dead. Pictures, ribbons, poems, posters. A faded picture of a young woman stays in my mind. She is smiling in a stiff pose; maybe it's some kind of studio shot. I glimpsed hawkers selling shirts, flags and buttons - post Christmas vacation crowd had a festive feel but I didn't get close enough to feel other vibe I knew was there. The sad one. And angry one.
So it was back through Lincoln Tunnel to Jersey. We toured Hoboken, where both John's parents were born. We drove past Sinatra's birthplace, very well marked and easy to find within two square miles which is Hoboken. We then prepared to double or maybe even triple park, per tradition, outside Biggie's Clams. It was a 1940's social club/illegal gambling joint that served food so good it had become mostly a restaurant by '50's. I had raw clams on half shell and was very content. East coast seafood is cold water seafood, somehow brinier and crisper than Gulf seafood where I grew up. Maybe there is an argument for cold climates after all.
We were soon back at Pop's, greeted by his cat Duke, standoffish as ever. The guys had managed to find a New York Times for me after three tries at local Kearny newsstands. They watched football and I read paper. We drank hot tea and ate cake and it was hard to imagine that high rises of New York were so close to this cozy middle class street. There was more eating that night. Italian food, of course. Huge portions for your average "gavone" - Italian for what I had become on trip -someone who eats everything in sight. But, New York in winter is made for eating…when in Rome.
Laura Glendinning is a travel writer and Content Director for www.threedayweekends.com
