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.
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.
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 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.
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.