new york

The TWA Terminal at JFK

Our last stop in New York was the TWA terminal at JFK airport. Getting there was a testament to patience. At Rhinecliff station we arrived with plenty of time for our train only to find it was delayed, and delayed a bit more. Eventually, people at the station started muttering and working out what had happened. A handy Amtrak app showed the train was moving at 1mph and was 18 hours away, so we would be in for a wait. I foolishly assumed another train would come and rescue us but the entire line was buggered, so we got a taxi with a couple who were waiting at the station. They were very modern and suggested we Venmo them the cab fare. I still don’t know what a Venmo is. We took the cab to Poughkeepsie and got the “express” train to New York. It was described as the world’s slowest express train and that was true. It crawled through to Grand Central, sometimes going so slowly it felt like we might be moving backwards, but we got back to the city eventually. 

Far later than planned, we got to our airport hotel and hot footed it to the TWA terminal, which I had become obsessed with. The terminal was built between 1959 and 1962, and had a Jetsons-era feel about it; a future full of grand curving lines and optimism for the future. The terminal’s roof was designed in the shape of a wing and corridors in the terminal were created as dramatic tubes. The terminal was dreamed up by Finnish architect Eero Saarinen with an economy that seems perfectly Scandinavian but also exciting enough to make flying from the terminal seem like an adventure in itself.

All the curves

Everything about the design was entirely perfect, save for one vital detail. The expectation was that the terminal would be used by just over a million people a year, but within a year of the terminal opening, one and a half million people a year used it, turning the flowing space into a jumble. The age of the jumbo jet also made the terminal seem obsolete soon after opening and gradually the terminal became less important, by 2001 it was closed entirely. 

Everything in its right place

Turning the terminal into something magnificent again appeared to be an impossible task; since it closed, the Port Authority asked organisations for proposals to bring the building back to life. Many ideas for hotels, conference centres and the like were suggested, but they kept falling through. Eventually, in 2014 a plan was presented and accepted, and today there’s a 500-room hotel, conference centre and renewed architectural gem in place. Everywhere inside the terminal are references to TWA. Naturally the hotel rooms have branding everywhere, and they don’t come cheap, with the frugal guest shelling out $261 plus the ubiquitous fees and taxes, coming to $364 a night. For this, you do get a room filled with midcentury furniture, the second most soundproof glass in the world, and as many international and national calls as you can do. To make this feel like a bargain, I’d spend the entire time on the blower, whether the recipient of the call liked it or not. 

The sunken lounge

Arriving at the terminal is wonderful, and the elegance of the building shines through the dreck of a busy modern airport. A mixture of people are milling about but my favourite sight of the visit was to see two women in dressing gowns, plastered with the TWA logo, strolling around the terminal, clearly staying at the hotel. They sat near us in the Sunken Lounge bar, reclining in a chair, closing their eyes as if in a spa while surrounded by people using up some spare time before their flight. To their right, a bored kid on his phone. To their left, a family eating food from a plastic container. It immediately showed up the best and most jarring aspects of the TWA terminal. It’s open to the public so anyone can show up but it’s also wildly expensive. And where these two meet up – the whole thing becomes a bit confusing. I am delighted that everything is open to all, but it loses some of the style I was expecting when there. It’s the same on the gorgeous Connie jet, which is now a cocktail bar. The chic style of the jet age, the atmosphere of a Wetherspoons. 

The Connie – with cocktail bar inside

However, it’s an airport, and nobody goes to an airport for the vibes, and I will defend that belief as someone who wishes to spend the absolute minimum amount of time in an airport. I have endured many – far too many – exhausting runs in airports simply because I didn’t want to spend enough time in my personal vision of hell. 

That being said, would I recommend the TWA terminal to a visitor to NYC? Yes. It’s a one of a kind marvel of travel architecture and I am so glad I got to experience it.

New York, New York part 2

I was desperate to go on a ferry at some point, what with New York being a watery place, so we went to the East Ferry stop at Dumbo and we asked to buy a ticket. Buying a ticket in the queue is not possible, so a delightful man told us we could buy tickets “over there” as he wildly pointed in every direction, even the water.  The ferry criss-crossed the river to Manhattan on another glorious day. Seeing the skyscrapers loom into view over the water was wonderful as there’s so much of it, though it does give you a chance to see how many of the skyscrapers look pretty rubbish. For every UN building, a symbol of architectural perfection, there are plenty of dusty and grey blocks that offer nothing to the skyline whatsoever.

I love you, UN building

An example of a truly awful building I will pick entirely at random is Trump World Tower, which is a big slap of blah. Totally ugly. We walked and walked through midtown, and it really is a boring part of the city with little in the way of diversion. As we made our way down to the East village, things livened up and the city started to look exciting again. We met some friends that live in New York and we celebrated with moreish apple sangrias and ate well for a small fee at David’s Cafe. Eating outside in the sunshine, in late October, felt quite magical but also a bit odd. After this, we explored Grand Central and I pretended I was in Carlito’s Way, but in a supporting role where I didn’t get killed. Other New York directors are available, but Brian De Palma does it for me. 

Grand Central is indeed, grand and central

We tried to see the film Aftersun at the Lincoln Center but arrived a few minutes late. The cinema there doesn’t show trailers and ads so while that was sad for us, it’s a benefit for anyone in New York. The Lincoln Center and surroundings are beautiful and I wandered around trying to recall what the complex reminded me of, and it’s ever so slightly like Kim Il-Sung Square in glamorous Pyongyang. I am sure any Republicans reading this (the chance of that is close to zero) will be livid that I dare say an arts centre in New York looks a bit communist, but that’s free speech for you. Also, Republicans and arts centres doesn’t seem to make sense in a sentence. 

In the absence of a film to watch, we walked to Central Park which we spent some time in but saw just a fraction of the park. It was remarkable to see the skyline wrap around the park but then a few minutes walk away you feel far away from the city but never far from Horse turd. The new pencil thin skyscrapers around 57th street are an odd bunch. They almost work but at the same time absolutely wreck the views of the older buildings such as Essex House and the elegant tower just by Grand Army Plaza. Here, the super rich live a life of luxury but also in a building that sways in the wind and regularly leaks. This is some minor compensation for the beautiful views that are no more. 

Central Park is very central and is a park

After the park, we walked through theatreland. It was both impressive and oppressive; the sheer busyness and use of lights was overpowering and also struck me as a reminder that while Europe is turning off plenty of lights to conserve energy (though not the UK, because we don’t have a functioning government) America has no such need and if anything, was hurling light and energy in our faces. The sensory overload got a bit much and after a while we felt the need to escape and find a quieter street. Walking past the Radio City hall was somehow exciting just like the first time.

Broadway, overwhelming but gorgeous

We strolled to a cocktail bar I was really interested in visiting called The Campbell Apartment, nestled in Grand Central Station. It is a beautiful wood panelled bar that is the epitome of relaxation. It is a delight of candles and low lighting, with attentive staff just waiting to raid your wallet for an exceptional cocktail. I read up on the history of the room and it has had an interesting past. It was used initially as an office by John W Campbell who worked at New York Central railroad, then it was used as a gun store for the railway police and even a prison for a short period. As a prison, I suspect the cocktails were thin on the ground. It genuinely feels a part of the history of the city and a wonderful place to have a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. I’d say that The Campbell Apartment feels like a must-do in New York if you like cocktails and sinking into blissfully comfortable chairs, but book in advance. 

The Campbell Apartment. Cocktail bar of dreams.

Day 4

Our fourth day was another busy one of sightseeing, with the New York public library being the architectural highlight. We joined a tour and a fast-talking-fast-sleeping (her words) New Yorker took us around the building she clearly adored. We were told that the building was created in a beaux arts style many times and was designed to be a genuine palace of the people. Much of the marble was of the highest quality from Vermont and some marble from the same quarry that brought you icons such as the Athens Parthenon. 60% of the marble was sent back, such was the architect’s obsession with luxury. They bought lights from Tiffany and even the waste paper baskets were made to order. It is a stunning building. The main reading room is sensational and one of the best I have ever seen. I am always a fan of great municipal architecture and seeing people researching and reading in such a refined space brought me great joy. 

A little part of the magnificent reading room at New York Public Library

Bryant park, just outside the library, used to be known for drug users congregating there but now it’s full of food stalls and people playing chess, which shows you how much New York has changed over the years. After the library, we went to the High Line, old rail tracks converted to a panoramic elevated walkway through the city. It was a very busy tourist site with attendant coffee stalls but also the best value stall in all of the city; I bought 3 good quality fridge magnets for $5. I think it might be, alongside metro tickets, the only other good value in the city. We had planned on going into the Whitney museum but we were tired by all the walking about so we went to see the Oculus, designed by Calatrava. It looks like an incredible fish skeleton from the outside and on the inside, the vaulted ceiling is a modern take on a cathedral. And lo, Calatrava has squared the circle of turning shopping into a religion. In true Calatrava form, the floor already looks knackered but at least bits of the building didn’t fall on me. It was supposed to cost $2bn but it ended up costing $4bn, so it wasn’t the easiest of structures to build but it’s a sensational landmark whichever way you look at it. When standing by Oculus and being so close to Ground zero, it’s astonishing to see the changes that have happened to New York since 2001. 

For our evening’s entertainment we went to Nitehawk cinema by Prospect Park. We wanted to experience an all-American cinema so naturally chose to see Aftersun, which is as quiet a film as you can imagine, with Paul Mescal being beautiful in Scottish. It’s a stunning film that requires you to give all your attention to the screen. Unfortunately, Nitekawk cinema does something absolutely mindboggling; you can order food at your seat and throughout the incredibly quiet and delicate movie patrons were bought giant plates of food that are designed to be eaten very sloppily. The staff, it being Halloween, were wearing massive pointy witch hats. So, the pointy hats shuffled along the rows of seats to take orders, then deliver food, then take plates and then, 30 minutes before the film, take payment and then come back with receipts and bits of paper to sign because America struggles with the ease and simplicity of contactless. I didn’t know where to start on my indignation. The near-constant interruption made me wonder if the cinema owners hate film. And yet, despite the trauma, the film was just the most gorgeous thing. Luckily for Nitehawk, the nearby Provini restaurant was an absolutely delightful Italian joint that helped me regain my composure and stop me writing an entirely devastating letter to the cinema owners.

A birdy bonus

New York, New York part 1

New York, the city that has insomnia and forgets things so named itself twice. What an exciting place to visit after staying within the 80,000 square miles of Great Britain since February 2020. As you might imagine, I was feeling incredibly giddy about getting a chance to set foot into a different country, but one where people spoke the same language and some even carried weapons so as to be much safer. 

Before leaving, I worked out all the disasters that might befall me. I expected the airport experience to be a form of torture as that seems to be the vibe of 2022, but it was all very simple. Even our flight was gloriously smooth, giving me the chance to half watch a few films on board and on landing in NY, with my tourist visa because I went to Syria, I wondered what passport control would be like. Would I be sent into a room and grilled or toasted, or waved through with cheery joy? A sort of halfway point is what happened; I was asked lots of questions. Who was I travelling with? My husband. Where is he? Er…he was behind me but now… he isn’t. How much money do I have? Nothing because it’s all on a card? Where am I staying? In Brooklyn!

Welcome to America, sir!! And on we went. 

I want one of these in my home

Getting from JFK to our Air BnB in Brooklyn – a journey of about 20 miles – took forever and via a more-complicated-than-is-right route. We took an airport shuttle to Jamaica and then instead of exiting the station, we had to buy a ticket so that we could exit the station. However, we got to use the very glamorous ticket machines which just look gorgeous. Then, using MTA services, we were directed to a train platform. Or a subway platform? It’s unclear. We weren’t on London’s integrated TfL network anymore so it’s anyone’s guess if the MTA logo is simply a ruse. The travel card looks like the Weetabix logo so anything could happen. It turned out that we actually needed to buy a ticket for the Long Island Railroad from somewhere far from the platform. It was not the breeze I thought it would be. Once on the train, the carriage emitted a foul smell like hot vomit and on looking to my left, I saw the offending item dribbling down a seat. We moved on, and saw many people dressed up as ghosts, Scooby-Do, prisoners of some war. Oh yes, the extended Halloween weekend was in full flow. 

New York does Halloween well

We arrived at our lovely Air BnB after trying to locate it using just brains and an offline map. Hurling our bags to the ground, we immediately headed out for food at Alta Calidad where it being something like 2am UK time and 9pm NY time, we were asked lots of chirpy questions by chirpy people, responding to them in grunts. The crispy tempura shrimp tacos and pea shoots and crispy chickpea tacos were both excellent but we remained in a slump. Then the crispy brussels sprouts, guajillo honey and lemon arrived. Loving sprouts, this was a genuine life-changing moment for me; these crispy brussels were astounding and drenched in flavour, with the bitterness of the sprouts matched perfectly with the sweetness of the honey and the deep flavours from being roasted just topping everything off. Their tacos were also wonderful and we left very happy people, who through the magic of air travel had eaten 5 times in a day. 

We had thought that we could swan around town jumping from wifi hotspot to wifi hotspot and not pay £6 a day for data but this failed within two hours. Asking for the wifi password that no one had felt somehow like Richard E Grant in Withnail and I repeating “we’re from London, we’ve come on holiday by mistake!” After a quick drink in a bar in Brooklyn, where we really just wanted to use wifi which didn’t work, it dawned on us that £6 really doesn’t get you much in New York and the people next to us were far too loud, so we went to bed, with their terrible cackles ringing in our ears. 

Day 2 

Brooklyn in Autumn

Brooklyn, in the intensely blue light and autumn colours, is really very gorgeous. When I first came to NY, ten years back, I thought Brooklyn was a scary place and avoided it. I was shepherding 30 students though, so everything is a risk on those trips. Nowadays, it’s very much a yoga-coffee-ceramics-small-plates-massive-houses sorta place. It’s built for long walks and photo taking but it also has lots of outlet stores so I dived into Banana Republic and Gap within moments, scouring the piles of goods for discounts. In Gap, a clearly ill man wanted my phone number in between coughing fits, so I could obtain some sort of discount. However, he didn’t really understand the whole +44 and take off the 0 bit about phone numbers from abroad, so he proceeded to invent a phone number, advising me to remember this fake number for the future. He then sweated a bit more while his boss fixed the calamity, and I saved $2. 

As we explored Brooklyn, I craned my neck at the elegant buildings of which there are many, taking a million photos and sighing at the new builds, which look like LEGO but much more drab. Even so, the brownstones are stunning and give New York a special feeling of its own. 

When we went to the Instagram pulsepoint of Dumbo (down under Manhattan bridge overpass) expecting endless hordes of tourists, we were pleasantly surprised to see that it was busy, but manageable. The view is just so glorious, that it was possible to forget the crowds. It’s a perfect slice of architecture that is a must-see in New York. Dumbo has appeared in countless film and TV shows, including Once upon a time in America and Bananarama filmed their song ‘Cruel Summer’ in the area so if it feels familiar, that’s because it is. 

After looking at Dumbo and taking 1000+ photos, we headed to the subway towards Park Slope. The subway is ok, but it was like being hit by the 1980s or time travelling into a Brian De Palma thriller. My camera enhanced the garish oranges of the carriage interiors, much to my delight. There was a smattering of people muttering sinister sounding things to themselves but nothing too unnerving. The subway made me think about the Tube’s moquettes, which are charming but through time rub threadbare and will become a breeding ground for germs that will eventually kill everyone. Both systems are crummy in their own ways, but the subway works overtime to look brute. 

We had lunch at Olmstead, because I forgot to check the prices beforehand and upon being seated, it felt a bit too late to run away screaming at the injustice of it all. I’m glad we didn’t run, as the food was magnificent. It was a procession of sharing plates and we were advised to have between 6 and 40 plates to get us started. There was beer battered delicata squash rings, more brussels sprouts, this time incinerated a few stops from ashes, some gorgeous mushrooms and shrimps on a plate with shiso, radish, pear and cashew satay. It looked sensational. It was at this point, two days in, that I started to wonder why nobody was congratulating me on my cute English accent and do I know the Queen? It felt weird, considering I travelled across an ocean to be complimented. Sure, lots of British people go to New York all the time, but it just felt unfair.

If a metro system could punch you, this one would

Back at the apartment, we had a restorative nap in the few moments that the drivers on the street below weren’t beeping their horns angrily. The beeping achieved nothing and the cars remained in a state of stationary rage. The only thing missing from this meleé was someone going “what’s the big idea?!” so I dragged myself out of bed, thoroughly unrested but excited at the prospect of more things to look at and more things to eat. 

Our evening began with a promenade on the Brooklyn Heights promenade. We walked through street after street of incredible homes, all lit up for halloween. New York does halloween so well. If I am at home for halloween, I pull down the living room blinds and turn the doorbell off. In New York, it’s the total opposite where everyone celebrates wildly. My cynical heart secretly loved seeing the efforts people went to. 

Turning the corner onto the promenade, we were struck by the grandeur and familiarity of the Manhattan skyline and bridges. It’s quite overwhelming but it feels like you’re somewhere very important and the lights of the city are hypnotic, even if you do wonder if the lights even need to be on. Are people really working up there?

After this, we were excited to walk to La Vara as the pudding menu looked incredible, and I don’t really care for pudding. It was another sharing plates restaurant, obviously. We were advised to have between 45 and 90 plates to get us started. But those spicy, crispy chickpeas were sent from the kitchen of heaven. The lentils and black eye peas salad was delicious and the star of the show was lobster in a creamy tomato and bomba rice gloop. The puddings were almond cake and chocolate flan with ice cream. We waddled back to our apartment, very content. Having not set foot in Manhattan, I realised that as much as I might heart NY, I hearted BKN a lot, too.