Three Man Crush

~ During the whole seven months I was travelling in 2008, I only experienced one incident which had the potential to spoil what had up until that point, been a fantastic vacation. Just days before I was due to leave Greece and fly to London before my return to Australia, a team of pickpockets tried to steal my wallet.

It was the classic 'three man crush' routine (that's the name I am given it anyway), which goes like this: a team of three thieves unobtrusively surrounds you just as you are about to board a train - as in my case - a bus, or while you are caught in a large crowd.

One person stands directly in front of you while the other two stand on either side of you. Depending on where your wallet or purse is being held - mine was in my left-side pants pocket - the team moves in for the steal. Just as I was about to board the train, the man on my right bumps into me, knocking me slightly off balance into his accomplice in front of me. In the few seconds that I am distracted and trying to regain my balance, the man on my left is putting his hand into my pocket trying to lift my wallet out.

While this routine was being put into effect, I was thinking: Hey, there's no need to push and shove! Let the disembarking passengers get off first. But I could also feel something tickling my thigh! It was not until I was in the carriage that I realised what had taken place, and that the thing tickling my thigh had been someones hand.

Thankfully, the trousers I was wearing that day had deep pockets. Literally. And the thief was unable to steal my wallet. The bizarre thing is, that since we were all in the process of boarding the train when all this was happening, the three man team had to enter the carriage as well. Of course, they pretended they didn't know each other, but I couldn't help notice the little sidelong glances that passed between them before they left the subway train at the next station.

To this day, I regret not confronting the three thieves in some way, or alerting authorities, but then I hadn't lost anything, and they of course, would have denied everything.

I'm pretty certain they were not Greek nationals themselves, and I'm also sure that this type of thing probably takes place every day in every major city in the world.

The lesson here is to wear trousers with deep pockets, and keep your wits about you - you never know when you might be caught in a three man crush.

New York Impressions

~ In a previous entry (My New York Marathon), I wrote about my first full day walking from Greenpoint, Brooklyn across the Williamsburg Bridge to Chinatown and the Lower East Side, down past City Hall, then back across the East River via the Brooklyn Bridge, and back to Greenpoint after passing through the Hasidic Jewish enclave in Williamsburg. Although I described in some detail my route on that extended - and exhausting - walk, on reading through it again, I see that it was light on my actual impressions of New York City. So I've decided to remedy that oversight in this post.

Some people travel only to see the famous attractions, while others travel to immerse themselves as much as possible in the locations they have chosen to visit. I prefer the immersive experience, and as such, I was happy to explore the city on foot as far as I was able to. Right from the start, I tried to blend in as much as I could with native New Yorkers. Of course, this was an almost impossible task given that everywhere I went I carried a digital still camera and a video camera - and nothing cries out 'tourist' more than someone running around taking lots of photographs of tall buildings and famous landmarks. However...

Maybe it's the songwriter and composer in me, but I loved listening to the sound and rhythm of the city. The wailing sirens of emergency service vehicles, the subway trains, the car horns, the whistles and shouts of traffic cops, and the constant hum a city like New York imparts 24 hours a day. But most of all, I tried to tune into the voices. The cadences and rhythms of the staff and regular customers at the Brooklyn diner where I ate breakfast each morning; the heavy accents of the Polish immigrants around Greenpoint; the Russians in Coney Island, and the Hasidic Jews of Williamsburg; and most common of all, the voices of so many African-Americans and Hispanics that now call New York City, home.

Although I was on my first visit to New York City, I had in a sense been there a thousand times before. In many respects I have grown up visiting New York vacariously over a period of some 50 years in the form of feature films, novels, television series, evening news reports, music videos, documentaries, and even Batman and Superman comics. However, it doesn't matter how many movies, television programs or other forms of second-hand experiences you use to form your opinions of New York City, nothing can match the experience of walking those city streets for yourself, taking in the scale of the place with your own eyes.

I loved the familiarity of the city, but even more I loved the serendipidous nature of simply wandering hapazardly around the neighbourhood of the Greenpoint YMCA and over to Manhattan and back again, all the while following anything that caught my attention, or looked or sounded interesting. In fact, New York is a city that engages all the senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and even feel.

New York was everything I expected it to be - and more. Bigger, louder, faster, brasher, taller, grander, and so on. It was also safer, friendlier, easier to get around, and surprisingly, cheaper than I expected it to be. Unfortunately, it was also dirtier. But then the city does have a permanent population of around eight million, which is boosted on any given day by thousands of visitors who help add to the problem of trash creation and disposal.

Browsing through the hundreds of photographs I took during those first days, I see images of brownstone buildings, fire escapes, stoops leading directly onto New York sidewalks, a bright yellow Hummer, Polish language business signs, graffiti and large murals adorning city walls, and colourful dispensers for the many free publications that can be found all over New York. Then there are the images of unusual and interesting architectural features that are waiting to be discovered right across the city. Everyone takes photographs of the skyscrapers, of course, but my eyes were also drawn towards the swirling iron rails and curved wooden seating on the forecourt of the US Social Security Administration building on Federal Plaza.

Another series of images tries to record many of the other buildings around City Hall: The New York City Supreme Court; the United States Courthouse, and the US Court of Appeals office where I saw my first protest by (presumably) court workers, over some matter of great importance - to them, at least.

And there, in the midst of all this legal activity, I also discovered the magnificent African Burial Ground Monument (designed by Haitian-American architect Rodney Leon). The monument preserves a site containing the remains of more than 400 African Americans buried during the 17th and 18th centuries. According to the Wikipedia entry on the burial ground, historians estimate there may have been 15,000-20,000 burials there. The site's excavation and study was regarded as the most important historic urban archeological project in the United States, which in turn has led to the site being designated a National Historic Landmark and National Monument.

My first photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge fail to do that magnificent structure any sort of justice and are hardly worth keeping - but I keep them anyway. What is it about the Brooklyn Bridge that makes it such an iconic attraction anyway? Why do hundreds, if not thousands of visitors line up every day to take photographs of this bridge, and why do they not also line up to take photographs of themselves standing on the Manhattan Bridge? Or the Williamsburg or Queensboro bridges? I don't know the answer, but I too stood on the Brooklyn Bridge and tried without much success to capture an angle; a vision; a unique perspective that hadn't been photographed a thousand times before.

Back on the Brooklyn side of the East River I stumbled across the first of many public art works that are scattered across New York. This was the wonderful NMS - Nature Matching System mural created by Tattfoo Tan (see image above) with the help of the DUMBO Neighborhood Association. This huge, beautiful work can be found directly beneath the Manhattan Bridge on Front Street, Brooklyn.

And so it went. My two months in New York passed far too quickly, and I only got to scratch the surface of this vast metropolis. That I will return next year for another look is a guarantee I am prepared to make right here and now. If you have yet to visit for yourself, I urge you to put the city at the top of your 'bucket list' and start your planning now.

My New York Marathon

~ The weather for the first full day of my New York adventure promised to be cloudy but fine (and bloody freezing).

And just so you are not expecting an account of my running of the New York marathon – a feat I am never going to perform – this entry refers to my marathon walking tour through Greenpoint, Brooklyn, across the Williamsburg Bridge to Chinatown and the Lower East Side, back across the East River via the Brooklyn Bridge, and on to my accommodations at the YMCA through the suburbs of Williamsburg and beyond.

I left the YMCA at around 9am and went for my first breakfast at the Manhattan 3 Decker Restaurant just down the road. The 'Y' gives you a voucher for free breakfast, which you redeem when you order your food. I had eggs, bacon, toast and fried potatoes (a bit like potato fritters), and coffee. You can sit up at the counter (just like you see in the movies), or you can sit at tables. I got the impression that if you are eating alone, they prefer you to eat at the counter where you occupy one seat instead of a table for four, but if there are several people dining, you are expected to sit at the tables.

After breakfast I went off to explore the neighbourhood, and before I knew it, I was at the Williamsburg Bridge. The bridge is one of several which spans the East River linking Long Island, where Brooklyn is, to Manhattan.

The Williamsburg Bridge is a suspension bridge across the East River connecting the Lower East Side of Manhattan at Delancey Street with the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn on Long Island. Construction on the bridge, the second to cross the East River, began in 1896. The bridge opened on December 19, 1903 and was completed at a cost of $12,000,000. At the time it was constructed, the Williamsburg Bridge set the record for the longest suspension bridge span in the world – the main span of the bridge being 1600 feet (488 m) long. (Source: Wikipedia.org)

I was feeling pretty good, so away I went across the Williamsburg Bridge to Manhattan.

By the way, I was delighted to see that the final confrontation between Denzel Washington and John Travolta in the recent remake of The Taking of Pelham 123 took place on the same pedestrian walkway I myself used to cross the bridge to Manhattan. But I digress.

After crossing the bridge, I came to ground around the Lower East Side where Chinatown and Little Italy are located, and where I stumbled across the Lower East Side Tenement Museum at 97 Orchard Street.

The Lower East Side Tenement National Historic Site (designated a National Historic Landmark in April, 1994), preserves a six-story brick tenement building that was home to an estimated 7,000 people, from over 20 nations, between 1863 and 1935. In that year, the owner, rather than continue to modify the building, evicted the residents and the building was boarded up and sealed, leaving only the storefronts open for business. The building is able to convey a vivid sense of the deplorable living conditions experienced by its tenants, especially the top two floors which contain rooms, wallpaper, plumbing and paper preserved as they were found in 1988. (Source: Wikipedia.org)

By this time I had been walking for around three hours, and I knew I needed to sit down for a while, so I sat down in the museums little theatre to watch a couple of short videos about the history of the building. An hour later, feeling somewhat more refreshed, I went off through Chinatown in search of something to eat.

Bearing in mind the adage: “When in Rome, eat where the Romans do,” or something to that effect. I found a tiny little Chinese restaurant which seemed to be popular with the local population so I pointed to a couple of things on display in the window, and sat down to eat a full plate of rice, chicken, and vegetables. The whole meal cost me a whopping $3.00, which made it the cheapest meal by far on the whole trip.

Manhattan's Chinatown is one of the largest Chinese communities outside of Asia. After an enormous growth spurt during the 1990s, it has been declining in recent years, partly as a result of the terrorist events of September 11, 2001, which forced the relocation of many Chinese businesses and residents, and also as a result of Manhattan's high rent increases. Unlike most other urban Chinatowns, Manhattan's Chinatown is both a residential area as well as commercial area – most population estimates are in the range of 90,000 to 100,000 residents.

The only park in Chinatown, Columbus Park, was built on what was once the center of the infamous Five Points neighborhood of New York. During the 19th century, this was the most dangerous slum area of immigrant New York (as portrayed in the movie Gangs of New York). (Source: Wikipedia.org)

I was to return to Chinatown several times during my New York stay, but on this visit, my explorations where kept brief since I still had much to discover.

From Chinatown I headed down into the Financial District, and started noticing signs pointing to the Brooklyn Bridge. Well, it was on my list of must see attractions, so off I went.

The Brooklyn Bridge is one of the oldest suspension bridges in the United States, stretching 5,989 feet (1825 m) over the East River, connecting the New York City boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn. Upon completion in 1883, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world (the Williamsburg Bridge took that title 20 years later), the first steel-wire suspension bridge, and the first bridge to connect to Manhattan.

Originally referred to as the New York and Brooklyn Bridge, it was dubbed the Brooklyn Bridge in an 1867 letter to the editor of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, and formally given that name by the city government in 1915. Since its opening, it has become an iconic part of the New York skyline, and was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1964. (Source: Wikipedia.org)

Of course, hundreds of other tourists also had the bridge on their list of must see places, and sure enough, they had turned out to see one of New York City’s most iconic images at exactly the same time as I had. Undaunted, I headed out across the Bridge for the Long Island side, snapping photos, and shooting video as I went. Having made it to the other side, I figured there was no point in walking back to Manhattan, so I started out for Greenpoint.

Big mistake. I had no idea where I was going, except that I worked out that as long as I kept roughly parallel to the East River, and headed west, I would eventually get to Greenpoint.

By now it was around 4pm and I had been walking for some eight hours.

It was around this time that I also faced a problem I was to encounter constantly during my New York stay. Namely, the lack of accessible public toilets and restrooms throughout the city. Thankfully, the New York headquarters of the Jehovah’s Witnesses came to the rescue! Seriously. Tired, feet aching, and with a bladder fit to burst I entered this imposing building (located on Columbia Heights, Brooklyn), in search of desperate relief. An impeccably dressed young man pointed my towards the restrooms and I quickly found the salvation I was seeking!

Off I headed again, through Brooklyn Heights and Vinegar Hill, and on past the New York Naval yards. On a whim I decided to hop on a bus which seemed to be going in my direction. After a short ride I saw Driggs Avenue, and thought I must have been getting close to Greenpoint, so I jumped off the bus.

Big mistake. Again.

Up Driggs Avenue I plodded (or was it down?) towards Williamsburg, and stumbled headlong into the heart of the Orthodox Jewish community in New York.

Williamsburg is inhabited by tens of thousands of Hasidic Jews, most belonging to the Satmar Hasidic court. Satmar is among the fastest-growing communities in the world, as its families have a very high number of children. The Satmar community of Williamsburg is no exception, and typically celebrates eight to ten sholom zochors (male births), and the same number of female births, each week. In addition, each year the community celebrates between 300 and 400 weddings. To date there are over 60,000 Satmar hasidim living in Williamsburg. (Source: Wikipedia.org)

The sight of hundreds of Jewish men and boys dressed in traditional black outfits (long black coats, wide brimmed black hats, etc), was a sight to behold. There were men, women and kids everywhere, and all seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. There were also men, women and young girls pushing prams around the streets, and not all of the prams had babies in them. Some were just being used to move stuff around the neighbourhood. From what I could hear, almost no-one spoke English. They were all speaking Yiddish – men, women, and children. In deed, the Wikipedia entry cited above confirms that the Satmar hasidim study almost exclusively in Yiddish in their schools.

It was like being caught in a time warp. It was as if I had crossed an invisible boundary into this community, and then just as oddly, crossed another invisible boundary out of it again.

By now, I was exhausted. I had been on my feet for close to ten hours and they were killing me. Some how or other, I found myself back on Bedford Avenue, and knew I was getting close to ‘home’. I decided I should have dinner before I want back to the 'Y', and discovered a Greek restaurant on Bedford called Socrates. I walked in and tired and close to collapse, I ordered a meal of roast beef and vegetables, which I ate without much enthusiasm or appetite.

I finally got back to the YMCA at around 8pm, almost twelve hours after first setting out that morning. I got my shoes off as quickly as I could. I didn’t think I was every going to walk again, my feet hurt so much.

After downloading all the photographs and video footage from my cameras onto my laptop, I finally collapsed into bed for a much needed rest.

And so ended my first full day in New York City.