Liberty, Freedom and the American Dream

I feel sad that visiting the Statue of Liberty did not evoke all the emotion, all the feels in me that the sight of it must have is so many people coming to New York, looking for the American Dream. Much like our experience at the Tenement museum yesterday, where we experienced the living space of families creating and nurturing their dreams, here on this ferry, sailing past the grand dame on the Hudson river, we are retracing the steps of so many immigrants, fleeing their homelands and often very hard circumstances, to come to America, in search of that dream. I have no doubt that, at the first sight of the welcoming lady, holding high her torch to light the way, that people's hearts were filled with hope, their eyes with wonder, their souls with happiness, that upon reaching this new place, they would find their new place in this world.  On the other hand, I saw a great feat of architecture and engineering, a mass of copper skin covering a skeleton of iron trusses - still beautiful, still inspiring, but not in the same emotional way. And I am sad that I did not get that rush of emotion, as I feel many do get here, reliving their ancestors' past. I felt more like a visitor, like a tourist seeing something from the outside, and not fully appreciating the experience, which, if you've read any other of my blogs, you know that this is what I try to achieve in my travels, as best I can. So here is my recounting of the day as an outsider:

I booked our ferry from Liberty State Park which, looking back, is the best decision for visiting Liberty and Ellis Islands. Since Mario and I are staying in New Jersey and busing our way into the city, taking the ferry from New York would have added time and money onto our trip for nothing. Instead, I chose the NJ ferry, so we drive the car to Liberty State Park, where we find plenty of parking next to the old rail terminal. Once processed, newcomers would make their way here, to the Central Railroad of New Jersey Terminal, to then travel on to their next destination, if that destination wasn't New York City. The rails and platforms are still here, though crumbling slowly into the ground, but the main building has been refurbished and is now the ticketing center for Statue Cruises, the only ferry service to Liberty and Ellis Islands. Further along, we pass through airport-like security before boarding the ferry. Curious observation: the family behind us stops halfway through to take pictures of their daughter, maybe age 5 or 6, passing through the metal detector. The security officer scolds them, explaining that there is absolutely no photography allowed in this high-level security area, to which the mother responds, "But officer, it's her first time." This whole interaction made me confused, amused, and sad all at the same time.

We sail all the way to Liberty Island first, taking advantage of our early ticket time to enjoy lesser crowds at the statue. We discover that, even on a 7-minute river crossing, people still rush to the snack bar on board, and that the speakers hidden in the rafters of the boat are deafening if you are standing directly beneath one. We also discover that the view from the boat is closer, and so significantly more impressive than the one we got from the Staten Island ferry 2 years ago. We disembark on Liberty Island.


Essentially, this island is all about the Statue. Sure, there is a cafeteria, a gift shop(or two), and a decent museum which just opened a few months ago, but the reason you come to this island is for the Statue of Liberty. A wide walkway curls its way around the base, inside which the pedestal rises, providing the elevated focal point where Lady Liberty stands tall, torch in hand, tablet(of stone, not Samsung) in the the other. If we had been more prepared, we could have secured tickets to climb up into the pedestal, or even the crown, for panoramic views of Manhattan across the water, but you have to purchase your tickets at least 3 months in advance for that privilege, and I procrastinated a little too much, unfortunately. In my opinion, the views from the ferry were just as impressive. We did take a walk around the museum before talking a walk around the island, learning about the design and engineering behind the  construction of the statue, the lengths taken to fund-raise for its completion, both in France and in the Unites States, and the less-than-stellar reception of such a financial undertaking when the population of the city was much more in need of money than a statue in the harbour.

Next, we head to Ellis Island, first stop for anyone immigrating through New York from 1892 to 1954. So many people have family ties here, histories that begin anew here, American dreams that began here. I have to say, if you are going start living your "American Dream" somewhere, this building is the place to do it. The registry room's soaring arched ceiling, vast central space, gorgeous tile work above and below - it's enough to inspire anyone! However, the adjacent dormitories and and nearby hospitals speak differently of the conditions some where forced to endure should they not pass preliminary inspection and interrogation. Here, people come to reconnect with their ancestors, their history. My history is back in Canada, partly at the Pier 21 immigration center in Halifax, partly on a boat from France long ago(I think), so my lack of connection to this place makes me simply a visitor of it all. But it is an impressive complex, a beautiful place with a certain serenity about it, which envelopes me when I sit in the shade to eat a picnic of leftover New York cheese pizza.

The sun beats down on us, and as the day wears on, the crowds only seem to intensify, so somewhere around mid-afternoon, Mario and I make our way to the return ferry to New Jersey, then to the sun-baked car in the parking lot, then to the interstate that will bring us back home. The ride is long, and the early morning wake-up makes us sleepy, so the drive is interrupted by stops at services areas, and cups of coffee to energize our trip home. It has been another wonderful weekend in New York City, learning and doing and just being, and I look forward to doing it all again next year.

Until next time.

Trying to take it easy...

The coffee on this trip has been terrible. We've had some that have been weaker than tea, stronger than tar, bitter or watery or flavourless - it's all bad. This morning's discovery of the Puerto Rico Importing Company in the newly-opened Essex Market, and the subsequent perfectly poured cappuccino that followed were only bettered by the accompanying conversation with the barista and his apprentice. And it was a great way to start the day.

We find ourselves in this corner of the city, the Lower East Side, to learn about the history of immigrants and the tenement houses of the 19th - 20th century. The Tenement Museum offers fantastic guided tours through actual ruined and restored buildings, some lovingly brought back to the state they were in when last housing families, pre-1930. We tour the apartment of a Jewish tailor, who worked out of his home in the 1890s, and learn how the stigma of "sweatshops" we imagine today are not what they started out being. These people, often accompanied by 2 or 3 employees, would create garments for department stores in their parlour, the largest of 3 rooms in their homes. The apartments measured about 325 square feet, and could house up to 12 people at times, so running a business inside one was quite the feat! What's even more amazing are the layers of history on the walls and floors and ceilings of the tenements. There have been 22 layers of wallpaper discover in some rooms, and the wooden railing to the central staircase is original, preserved with the oils of thousands of tenants' hands, and now ours, too. It gives us a renewed interest in the buildings we walk past now on the neighboring streets, wondering about the stories of those families, what shops or business were run out of their buildings, what history their walls might hold.

One family that still runs their business, 4 generations later, is the Russ family, specializing in smoked fish, so our next stop is Russ & Daughters, for bagels and smoked salmon. The Russ family was exceptional for the time, since keeping business in the family was common practice, but rarely passed on to girls. Currently, it is the grandson who is owner of the shop, and with a new cafe open a few streets away from the original location, this family business will keep going strong, especially if their smoked fish stay this delicious! Sitting on the grass in Tompkins Square Park, snacking on our bagels, we watch the city happen around us, with a greater appreciation for where it has come from and how it has grown.

When planning this trip, I mapped out a few walking tours in the Lower East Side, marked off a whole slew of places to eat at, foods we needed to try. Sitting in Davey's Ice Cream shop, pouring over the map with a scoop of pistachio in hand, we realize that we are too stuffed to eat anymore, feet too tired to walk very far, heads too foggy to appreciate it all. Yesterday was a long day, with a lot of walking, and between Mario's old injuries and my new ones(hello blisters!), we might be better off cutting our losses and taking it easy. So back to Essex market we go, for one more delicious coffee to keep up our stamina, and then it's a comfy ride on the subway to Central Park to recharge our batteries in nature. 







We laze on a rock next to the Pond, taunting ducks and chasing turtles for an hour, feeling refreshed again. Then, it's back to the bus to New Jersey, but not before picking up a whole cheese pizza from the same place as last night, and for less than the price of the transit tickets! Delivery, anyone?

Oh, and we get off at the right stop today, too, thank you very much.

Forever city-walking

When you're on your third visit to a city, you start running out of ideas for things to see. No, scratch that. You've checked off all the main things to see, scratched the surface, and begin digging deeper for more in-depth experiences to have, more intimate moments with the location. Our day began with one goal: reach the TKTS booth at Lincoln Center and  acquire tickets for a Broadway performance. Which one? Who knows! Matinee or evening performance? Doesn't matter. If we accomplished only this one task today, we would be happy. Anything else was bonus - and thus began our day of small bonuses!

We love staying at the Quality Inn Meadowlands, as it is easy to get to, has ample parking and  comfortable rooms, located relatively close to the city. In fact, after indulging in a rather generous and varied breakfast, included with our stay, all we have to do is head outside to the street corner, where all the 190-something buses pass, and catch one for a smooth 15-minute ride to Port Authority bus terminal, a block away from Times Square. It's so handy, and takes all the guesswork out of travelling into the city!

We trek to the Upper West Side, a slightly more posh side of town, walking along 9th through Hell's Kitchen. It feels a lot more "real" compared to 8th or Broadway, and there are significantly less tourists here. The street is lined with so many restaurants, we ponder how any one of them can stand out from the crowd and make enough noise to garner a following, and what they must do in such a saturated market to survive past their first 6 months. We then muse on what the average turnaround might be for fledgling establishment on this street, and begin a game of guessing the ages of all the eateries.

We realize we are too quick in arriving for Broadway tickets, as the TKTS branch is still closed until noon, so we make our way along the scorching pavement of 65th street into Central Park, seeking out the cool shade of the trees, and maybe a patch of grass on which to sit. We swing by a familiar haunt, Au Pain Quotidien, for cold-brew coffee, and break for a moment on one of the many benches of the Mall, people-watching and listening to the buskers.

Back at TKTS, while waiting in line, we discover that many people are getting tickets refunded - turns out that there was a major blackout yesterday, with all but FOUR theatres on Broadway having no electricity and having to cancel their performances. We read up on the news of the blackout, and related tales of how people coped, research the shows we might have a chance to see, and exit with tickets in hand, to attend a new show called "Be More Chill".

After a lunch of the tastiest burgers ever at Shake Shack(as usual), we cross through the cacophony of Times Square to the Lyceum Theatre. Taking our seats, we are surrounded by a musical score that draws from computer sound effects, and catch sight of a musician on stage playing a Theremin, and we know we are in for a hell of a show(a Theremin is the electronic wave instrument that Sheldon plays in "Big Bang Theory"). What follows is the story of an unpopular high schooler who ingests a microscopic super-computer pill, with the promise that the resulting AI will teach him how to be cool(It's from Japan!). It's fantastical, it's crazy, it's a happy mix of an episode of Glee with a dash of the Matrix mixed in, complete with Keanu Reeves impressions, and a splash of Mountain Dew for good measure. It's a lot of fun - though this being a Sunday matinee, some of the main roles are being played by their understudies rather than the star actors, so some of the performances are ever-so-slightly less impressive. But still good - I leave the theatre humming the songs, and taking to heart the moral of the story: If you really love somebody, you put on your pants.

Exiting the theatre, we get hit with a wave of heat, and the sun glares down at us - it's still daytime, after all, and it seems too early to hang up our touring hats and call it a day. We continue on down from Broadway, along the Hudson River to the High Line, hoping to enjoy it in the golden hues of the setting sun. We curled around the Hudson Rail Yards, under hundreds of flags flapping in the wind, part of an art installment, between tall glass-like building and through paths of wild grasses. As we path each cross-street on our elevated walkway, we glimpse the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky, each scene a deeper shade of golden glow, a more burnt version of orange. Just past the Chelsea Market, we shed our footwear, soaking aching feet into the cooling waters of the low-profile river alongside the path. The day has been long, and we feel it now.

One last walk back to Port Authority, picking up delicious thin-crust cheese pizza on our way, from a place where the line is long and the clients are all local. We board the bus back to hotel, glad to finally be off our feet, but not before we miss our stop, and only realize it 3 stops later, adding an extra 30 minutes to our walk home. Boo.

An unexpected early departure

Through a series of fortunate events, Mario and I find ourselves settled in our hotel room in Lyndhurst, New Jersey, a whole 12 hours before we are supposed to even be setting out on this weekend away from home. Why, you ask? Because of an early departure, the result of a very benevolent employer, and, as luck would have it, an available room the day before our scheduled reservation.

I spent my morning getting everything ready, packing my bag, cooking up a tasty brunch picnic for our early morning departure on Sunday, prepping the house for our absence - when the phone rang. My wonderful boss was offering me the night off, to get ready for the trip, to get some sleep, heck, to get on the road early should I wish it. Of course, I refused several times before finally giving in and gladly accepting the gift. The wheels began turning: I wondered if the possibility of a early start would be too much and now with all this free time, if Mario and I might not be better off just hitting the road as soon as possible, drive late into the night, and get a good sleep in the hotel instead. This way, we would get a fresh start in the morning. I consulted with my other half, and Mario agreed. I made the call. The room was available. I booked it. And here we are - 5 and a half hours of bad drivers, good music and crazy singing later, refreshed after a nice, long shower, and relaxing in a plush king-sized bed. And so very happy to not have to wake up at 5 am tomorrow!

Get ready, New York, because here we come! See you on the flipside.