We went downtown for the first time today, using the subway for first time as well. I was a little bit hungover I think, but I found it rather confusing and frustrating. I couldn't work out where we were, which line we were on or where we were meant to be going, partly I think, because I thought I was on the red line, but was on the yellow line (though I am far from certain about that) and was expecting a map with stops on it to be displayed at the platform, but instead had to get on a train with a certain letter (when I had thought it was going to be about colours) to get where I wanted to go.
In the end we just jumped on the first train heading downtown and got off it when it had got as far south as I guessed it could go without leaving Manhattan (this one was going to Coney Island). We ended up in Canal Street, quite a few blocks away from Battery Park which is where I had been hoping to end up.
I felt immasculated and cross about my failure to negotiate public transport and had been unable to enjoy the ride.
Still it meant we could go and see the World Trade Centre before we got a ferry to the Statue of Liberty. I had loved coming here in 1999 and was really looking forward to visting the Windows on the World restaurant again.
But you'll never guess what has happened. They've chosen to demolish the whole thing for some reason, which seems like a shame. The whole place was just a building site. I was astonished. And yet everyone I stopped to ask what had happened to the World Trade Centre looked at me as if I was mad or sick in the head. One bloke tried to punch me.
Jesus!
Ha ha, I am funny.
I felt a little bit ghoulish going to look at the absence of something, but the events of 11/9 are still very hard to comprehend as real and to actually see this vast abscence of buildings does make it all seem a bit more real. Sadness and despair and disbelief still hung around the perimeter of the site. Even now I could see it (or not see it) it was still pretty hard to believe it had really happened. It is a reminder of what man is capable of, both in terms of creation and destruction. But the city goes on despite this sucker punch. And New York itself gives hope of what the world could be if we all just start to realise that we're the same.
The queues for the ferry were too long and we decided we'd rather walk around down town and see the sights, as we'd already seen the statue at close quarters on our boat trip.
We walked up past Wall St and through Chinatown (or Chinesetown as I insist on calling it), Soho, Greenwich Village and then stopped off in Washington Square for a soda. It was abuzz with life and there was the odd person trying to relive the hippy dreams of the 1960s strumming on a guitar or trying to draw attention to themselves by singing loudly as they walked through.
A bedraggled guy stopped by us as we read our books and held up a poor pencil sketch of a tree. "Do you like my picture?" he asked, clearly fishing for a sale. Both me and my girlfriend both said, "No!" which came out a bit harsher than either of us had intended, as we were both trying to say we weren't interested in buying it, but ended up looking like we were making a critical judgement. A correct critical judgement as it happens.
The man became lightly defensive. "Hey, no problem," he replied, "I just thought you looked like a couple of rockers and would be cool and interested in art." (we were both wearing leather jackets, which is I presume why he made this assumption, and I have quite a full beard and long hair)
Neither of us were sucked in by this incorrect attempt at flattery.
"I'm just an old hippy, you know, I'm a child of the sixties and thought you might like this."
I didn't bother to point out that being born in the sixties doesn't make you a hippy any more than I was going to point out that being cool does not mean you no longer have any critical faculty and will like all art regardless of his merit. I suppose I knew in my heart that he was just a guy down on his luck who was trying to make some money in a less humiliating way than out and out begging and I felt embarrassed for having appeared so callous. But also amused that he thought I was a rocker.
At Madison Square we stopped again, chancing across a little hut in the middle that was selling hot dogs and shakes. We'd had neither of these things yet on the holiday and so decided to have a late afternoon snack. The queue at the shack suggested that the produce would be good and indeed both shake and dog were very impressive. Business was booming, proving that if you put some care and effort into producing a top product then people will patronise your establishment. Sitting eating that hot dog and drinking my strawberry milk shake was one of the highlights of the trip for me. We had earned it with all the walking we'd already done and were still a couple of miles from the hotel.
After that we went a bit crazy at Macy's (mainly buying underwear on my part) and got to the point where my credit card was blocked. Though I had just made three purchases in rapid succession on different floors of the same shop.
We then completed our walk up the island and got back to the hotel at about 9pm. We ate at the posh restaurant here, having cocktails and a five course meal, though each course was, as is the fashion, very tiny. It was absolutely delcious though and the portions small enough that I didn't feel stuffed at the end (like I had last night after eating the best part of a 17 inch pizza). I still think I preferred the hot dog and shake though.
